Close enough to pin where the bore must be; a target three feet wide and about seventy long. Relatively a large area but there would be time for only one effort. His own tanks were low, Axilia's must be almost exhausted. The spares would give him a new lease on life but the miner needed to be reached before they could be used.

  Again the drill whined and the whirling plumes danced as if made of sentient golden lace. Setting the charge was a gamble; one set against the balance of the rocks and played by his skill in judging force and direction and intensity. A gamble he lost.

  "Earl!"

  He heard the cry as the roof fell in behind him; Isobel sensing or feeling the sudden shift of weight. A cry drowned in the roar and rumble of cascading stone. Dust fogged the air as he crouched, unable to do more than hug the shelter he had picked out and pray that his guess had been correct. If the ledge fell he was dead. If it held he stood a chance. How small that chance was he saw when the collapse was complete.

  "Sven?"

  Nothing, his line was trapped, the wire broken, both parted under the edge of his knife. The way he had come was blocked, even if he could have clawed his way through the compact mass he had no idea of where the tunnel he had made was situated. All that was left was the opening ahead. That, two tanks of air, some tools, a few charges and a single canteen of water.

  Resting his ear against the stone Dumarest used the hammer to pound a signaling beat.

  One answered loud and clear.

  A treble rap and Dumarest switched to a pick, using the muscles of back and shoulders to drive the point into the rock, wrenching it free, driving it again, the short handled tool awkward in the cramped space. Using it in the way he'd learned when working as a miner on a far world, cutting his way through the soft strata, kicking debris behind him, breathing tanked air and thankful it wasn't dust. Driving through at last into the bore where Axilia was waiting, vomiting for want of air.

  Isobel said, "Earl's alive! Thank God!"

  "They're both alive and now on fresh tanks," said Zalman. "But that's the good news. The bad is that the route Earl took is blocked and he's as trapped as Sven was." He paused as Tocsaw waved. "Miles wants to talk to you."

  He said, as she joined him, "It's Earl. He wants to ask you something. Here."

  The instrument was warm against her cheek. "Darling?"

  "You warned me about the region," said Dumarest. "You were right. Now our lives are in your hands. Did you plot my progress through the fissure to the bore? Good. What I want is for you to tell Tocsaw exactly where to bore so as to reach the point above the collapsed area. Do you understand what I mean?"

  "I'm not sure." She fell silent, thinking. "Are you hoping the collapse has left a cavity?"

  "Yes."

  "You could be wrong, Earl."

  "The rock fell. Something must have been left behind." She sensed his impatience and tried to imagine what it must be like down there; two men crouched in a narrow bore, air limited, heat mounting, pressures of more than one kind making themselves felt. "You studied geology, Isobel. Now use that education. You know the formation, what it's likely to do, how it will behave. Our only chance is to dig so as to meet the bore you cut. It'll have to be a short one."

  "Earl! You're five hundred feet deep!"

  "No, the bore was that long but it twisted. Our actual depth is about three hundred from the surface. If we can climb up and there is a space there could be air. If you cut down into that space—put Tocsaw back on the line."

  "No!" She smarted with the thought he regarded her as inadequate to make a judgment. "I know what to do."

  "Put him back on anyway while you plot the line." Dumarest looked at Axilia in the light of a single lantern. "She'll do it," he assured. "If anyone knows the area she does and she'll be able to guide the cutter down through the fissure lines now she knows they're present. Miles? Use everything you've got to speed the bore. Loosen the top layer with explosives. Yes, yes I know the danger. Hell, man, how much time do you think we've got?" Dumarest looked at the miner. "We'll have to cut now. Anything you want to say? No. Here we go!" His knife slashed the rope and wire. "Now up and out!"

  Axilia took the first turn, glad of the chance to stretch, strong with the euphoria of rescue. Even if he was to die it would no longer be alone and now, with the tools Dumarest had carried, he would have a chance. Rock crumbled and fell to be spread in the bore as, like a worm, he drove upward and to one side on a slanting path to the east.

  When he flagged Dumarest spelled him, extending the shaft, cutting around a stubborn mass, delving always into the softest strata. Twice they retreated while the charges blasted a quick extension, taking chances for the sake of speed. To find the opening which logically had to be present, to gain its relative comfort and security, the air which could have seeped in via radiating cracks.

  "Earl!" Axilia, in the lead, halted. "There's a fissure running across up here. Left or right?"

  "Left."

  They mounted into a gallery less than shoulder wide to shuffle along it until stopped by a blank wall, to retrace their steps and find the walls closing in to a space of inches.

  "Up," said Dumarest. He had craned so as to see above. "It widens out up above."

  Another gallery, this time long and low and bearing traces of mineral deposits. A place to sit and lift the masks and cautiously sniff the stale and acrid air.

  Stripping off his mask Axilia rested his ear against the stone.

  "Nothing." He shook his head at Dumarest's question. "If the cutters were close we should be able to hear something."

  "If they're working. The engine could have broken down again."

  "A hell of a time to do it." The miner inhaled deeply, inflating his lungs. "Well, we can stay here for a while. We've air and water and can do without food though we might even be able to find that given luck. Insects," he explained. "Amphibians. Things with no eyes and damp hides. Small usually but find enough and you can get a meal. You'd be surprised what you can find in rocks like this."

  "Lichens. Fungi. Molluscs."

  "Fish too if there's water," agreed Axilia. "You've had experience, Earl. I guess you'd get along where an ordinary man would starve. A betting man too, right? What odds would you give on us getting out of here?"

  "We're alive," said Dumarest. "And better off than we were."

  "Alive thanks to you—it's not something I'll forget." Axilia dug casually at the rock with the point of his pick. "Sometimes I think we must all be crazy. Here we are, on a world which gives us all we could ever want, and we turn our back on it. Instead we dig into the ground to get what? Metal which will buy us all we could ever want—or so we think. Me, I know better." He picked a fragment from the crushed rock. Another, a third. "Earl!"

  "What is it?"

  "Your lamp, man. Shine it this way!" Axilia sucked in his breath as the beam filled his palm with rich blueness. "Well, look at that!"

  "Juscar?"

  "Lying around for the picking. Look at it!" He grabbed the lantern and shone it on the roof, the walls. Dust showered as he swung the pick against the surface, blue fragments thick in the debris. "Juscar, Earl, the place is solid with it. Man, we've found the nexus!"

  Chapter Fourteen

  They had dug their way into its very heart and Dumarest sat, thinking, remembering the drawings he had studied, the maps. Had Rudi found the place where they now waited? If so there had to be a way to the shaft in which he had been buried. Finding it would lead him close to the vicinity of the body, the precious medallion it wore.

  "Earl?" Axilia turned from where he sat with his ear against the rock. "You moving?"

  "Just want to look around. Hear anything?"

  "I'm not sure. I—" The miner broke off, lifting a hand. "Something. What do you make of it?"

  It was a whisper, a grinding susurration heard through muffling layers of varying densities. The sound of a giant gnashing its teeth. It continued, faded, became loud then faded again.

  "The cutter," said Dumarest, straightening from the wall. "Rescue."

  If it came in time. If the engine didn't break beyond repair. If the bore had been aimed correctly and could be directed to the narrow gallery or close enough for them to reach. If its vibration didn't trigger a crushing fall.

  Things he didn't mention as he left the miner and moved down the gallery. The luck which had kept them alive could change at any moment but, if it did, there was nothing either could do about it. For now it was best to keep himself busy.

  The body—where was the body?

  The shaft had faced toward the west, turning shortly after leaving the entrance, hitting a gradient and swinging to the south. The tunnel he had used had lain toward the east and the bore he'd reached had been somewhere between. Afterward they had dug themselves up toward the north and east—but at what level?

  How to determine the exact point he occupied in this three-dimensional maze?

  There was no way aside from shrewd guesswork and instinct. If Rudi had found the nexus he must have come close to the gallery in which Dumarest stood and from it to where he was now buried must lie a negotiable path. But had he found the gallery or had he only hit rich color toward the perimeter?

  "Earl?" Axilia's voice rumbled down the gallery. "It's getting louder."

  "Good. Keep listening."

  Something to keep the man occupied. Dumarest moved to the end of the gallery, shining the beam of his lantern up and around. The walls closed in but there was a crack which could pass an agile man. He stripped off the tanks and padding, the belt and equipment and, retaining only the lantern, thrust himself into the opening. It turned and he followed, rasping a boot against the walls, forcing himself up and around a boss, into a branching junction, a blocked end. Twisting he returned and took the other passage, sucking in his stomach in order to wriggle through, grunting with relief as he emerged into a fissure wide enough for him to stand.

  Twenty feet down something glittered. It was the broken remnants of a bottle and Dumarest knelt to examine it. The neck had been wide, fitted with a screw lid, the container small enough to slip into a pocket. Around the broken fragments glittered others, not of glass. Rising he studied the rock, noting the place where it had been chipped, the mark ringed with minute sparkles.

  Past it the fissure turned, widened, rose to turn again and become a shaft, the walls bearing the marks of tools. A shaft blocked by a mass of debris which sloped from roof to floor.

  "Earl!" Axilia's voice, by a trick of acoustics, was strangely loud. "Earl, where are you?"

  In the place he'd wanted to be, facing where Rudi must be buried, the open air distant only by the mass of debris blocking tunnel and gully. A mass too big for him to move, too loose to be tunneled.

  "Earl?"

  "Coming!"

  The return was a nightmare of twisting and squeezing but the way could be widened. Axilia stared as Dumarest slid through the crack, dropping head first to land on his hands, to roll before rising.

  "Man, you look a mess! What did you find?"

  "A way out, maybe. The bore?"

  "Over to the east. They hit lucky from the sound of it—the cutter broke through into an opening. From the noise it must be near."

  Near enough to shake dust from the roof and to fill the air with the music of deliverance. Close enough for them to drive an opening toward it. Five hours later they were safe.

  The dinner had been an occasion and one Mtouba had enjoyed. Business was always that but, if it could be combined with social graces, then it gained an added dimension. Now, lifting his glass, he said, "My congratulations, Madam Boulaye. You have worked hard and deserve success. I offer a toast to your continued good fortune."

  A toast in which Dumarest joined as did Zalman, the only other occupants of the table.

  "Now it's my turn." Isobel refilled the glasses with her own hands. The wine was of the best, provided by the Hausi at her expense, and the food had been to match. "To those who've made all this possible!"

  She had been drinking but was far from intoxicated, the sparkle in her eyes and flush on her cheeks created from a more basic emotion than the transitory euphoria of alcohol. Watching her Mtouba knew the toast was a cover for something more limited. She had drunk, not to her associates but to one man alone. One, he guessed, she hoped to keep at her side.

  "Earl." Her hand touched his as he turned to face her. "How long will it take to clear the mine?"

  "You'd better ask Sven that. He's the expert."

  "Without you he'd be dead."

  "And without you and the others so would I." Dumarest looked at his wine, seeing drifting sparkles, but they were born of released gases and not from subtle additions. "To work a mine needs a team and no one man is more important than another. Each relies on his fellows. If that trust is absent then work would be impossible."

  "Is that why you went after Sven? Because you knew he trusted you?" She sensed his displeasure at the question and quickly changed the subject. "Do you think Sven has the right idea?"

  "As I told you, he's the expert." Dumarest set down his glass. "That's why he opened the bore and drove a shaft to the heart of the nexus and beyond. That's why he's working there now."

  With Tocsaw and Ocher who hobbled but could tend a hoist and the two others who had remained and who would now collect their reward. Days of hard work resulting in a heap of soft, blue metal with much more to come. The visual evidence of gain and eliminated debt and fat commissions to come. Mtouba had reason to be pleased.

  He said, "I've managed to find what you asked for, Earl. A case of freeze-gas; old but it should still be effective. I've taken the liberty of bringing it with me. It's in my raft it you are still interested."

  "Earl?" Isobel was puzzled. "What is it you wanted?"

  "Something to freeze the debris in the shaft where Rudi is buried. Mtouba has found some." Once he'd been sure he'd get paid for it but Dumarest could appreciate the man's caution.

  "Why?" She was quick to protest. "Why do we need it? Sven hasn't even mentioned the necessity and, as you said, he's the expert. There's no point in digging out the shaft. We know it doesn't contain juscar. It's effort and expense wasted."

  "My effort," said Dumarest. "And my expense. I'll take it, Mtouba. In the raft, you say?"

  "Yes."

  "Will you drop it off at the mine? Go with him, Hans, tell Sven to have it placed in the blocked shaft." After they had gone he said, quietly, "Why?"

  "Why what, Earl?"

  "Why don't you want me to find Rudi's body?"

  "Did I say that?" Wine splashed as she poured herself more, ruby droplets staining the cloth with the hue of blood. "I just don't want you taking any more risks, my darling. Surely you can understand why?" If he didn't the answer was in her smile, her eyes, the febrile heat of her body as she rose to stand close to him. "Earl?"

  "You know why I must find the body."

  "To get what Rudi wore around his neck. That stupid medallion." Not the medallion but the information it carried—a fact she chose to ignore. "We don't need it, Earl. With the juscar from the mine we are rich. Rich, my darling, can't you understand? We can take passage to a decent world and buy a house and hire servants and take our place in society. On Ascelius we'd be honored and respected. I have friends there and everything would be so easy. Will be so easy, my darling, if only you'd let me handle things. Forget the medallion. What can it give you I can't? Love? You have more than any other woman could give. Comfort? Luxury? Power? Earl, with me you can have them all. And, if you insist, we can hire men to search for this world of yours. This Earth."

  "Rudi believed in it."

  "He was a fool!" She saw his expression and looked at her glass then, as if performing an act of defiance, emptied it at a gulp. "Does that surprise you, Earl? Shock you a little? The loving, dedicated wife to speak so of her husband? But to be in love does not mean you must be blind. Rudi had his faults and I recognized them and tolerated them. What harm did it do for him to dream of mythical worlds? All men are boys at heart and it was an innocent illusion. But, for God's sake, don't share in his folly."

  "Be reasonable," said Dumarest dryly. "See things my way."

  "What?" She stared at him, frowning. "Oh, you're joking, but is it such a joke? I almost died when you went after Sven and became trapped with him. Not all the juscar ever found could have compensated me for your loss. I love you, Earl. Love you—can't you understand what that means to me? You are my life!"

  A strong woman and one who would want her own way regardless of others. One who did not hesitate to use any weapon to hand even if it was the weapon of her own body.

  As she swayed even closer to him Dumarest said, "We start tomorrow, Isobel. It would help if you were with us."

  The place had changed. Lights now dispelled the gloom and the narrow, twisting path had been widened to allow easy progress. Power tools had ripped at the rock in hungry quest of the blue metal, flexible hoses sucking the detritus up and away. Work now halted as Dumarest studied the sloping face of the blockage.

  "We need a system," said Axilia. "Have you used freeze-gas before?"

  "Not personally."

  "Then you might think it easy—most do. Just stick in a nozzle, turn a valve and the job's done. Think that way and you could wind up dead."

  "Or crippled," said Zalman. "Hands lost, feet, eyes, faces. You don't have to scare us, Sven. We know enough to be careful." He glanced to where Tocsaw stood with the other two men, at Isobel shapeless in heavy clothing. "All of us. What's to be done first?"

  For answer the miner dug a pick into the slope and tugged, scowling at the rain of loose particles. Again he attacked the rubble at different places finally standing to rub at his scarred face.

  "Any idea as to just where, Earl?"

  "No."

  "Then we'll have to take a chance. Adhesion will be stronger at the walls which isn't to say much but every little helps. I guess we'd better hit it here and here and there. Agree?"

  "You're the boss."

  "Until I hit trouble and then you come to dig me out, eh?" Axilia grunted and shook his head. "In a situation like this instinct can be as valuable as knowledge. Well, what can we lose?" He waved at Tocsaw and the others. "Get busy with those nozzles!"