It’s crumbling away while we stand here.”
Eleanor gasped. “It isn’t!”
“Is Moore loyal to Verrick?”
“No! That’s why I left him. Him and his theories. That’s all he’s loyal to, them and Herb Moore.” Her good-luck charms danced furiously. “I loathe that!”
“Verrick isn’t loyal,” Benteley said carefully. He tried to measure the girl’s reaction; her face was stunned and colorless. “It isn’t Moore; don’t blame him. He’s out for what he can get. So is everybody else. So is Reese Verrick. Any one of them would throw away his oath to get hold of a little more loot, a little more pull. It’s one big scramble for the top. They’re all struggling to get up there—and nothing is going to stand in their way. When all the cards are turned up, you’ll see how little loyalty counts.”
“Verrick would never break his oath! He wouldn’t let down the people depending on him!”
“He already has. He broke a moral code when he let me swear on. You were mixed up with it; you knew. I took my oath in good faith.”
“Oh, God,” Eleanor said wearily. “You’ll never forget that, will you? You’re angry because you think you were made a fool of.”
“It’s more than that; don’t kid yourself. It’s the whole weak miserable structure showing through. You’ll find out, someday. I know now; I’m all prepared. What else can you expect in a society of games and quizzes and assassination?”
“Don’t blame Verrick. The Challenge was set up years ago when the whole bottle system, the whole M-game, was worked out and set into motion.”
“Verrick’s not even playing the M-game square. He’s trying to beat it with this Pellig strategy.”
“It’ll work, won’t it?”
“Probably.”
“Well, then what are you complaining about? Isn’t that what’s important?” Eleanor grabbed his arm fiercely. “Come on, forget it. You worry too damn much. Moore talks too much and you worry too much. Enjoy yourself—tomorrow’s the big day.”
She poured drinks and brought Benteley his. He sat sipping moodily, Eleanor beside him on the couch. In the half-light of the apartment the girl’s crimson hair glowed and sparkled. She had drawn her legs up under her. Above each ear the lead-gray spot had faded slightly; but they were still there. Leaning against Benteley, her eyes closed, glass cupped in her red-tipped fingers, she said softly, “I want you to tell me. Are you going along with us?”
Benteley was silent a moment. “Yes,” he said finally.
Eleanor sighed. “Thank God. I’m so glad.”
Benteley leaned over and set down his glass on the low table. “I swore on; I took an oath to Verrick. I don’t have any choice, unless I want to break my oath and run out on him.”
“It’s been done.”
“I’ve never broken my oath. I got fed up with Oiseau-Lyre years ago but I never tried to get away. I could have; I’d take the risk of being caught and killed. I accept the law that gives a protector the power of life and death over escaped serfs. But I don’t think an oath should be broken, by either the serf or the protector.”
“I thought you said it was crumbling.”
“It is. But I don’t want to help it along.”
Eleanor set her glass down and reached up to put her smooth bare arms around his neck. “What kind of a life have you had? What have you done? Have you lived with very many women?”
“A few.”
“What were they like?”
Benteley shrugged. “Various kinds.”
“Were they nice?”
“I guess so.”
“Who was the last?”
Benteley thought back. “A few months ago. A class 7–9 girl named Julie.”
Eleanor’s green eyes were fixed on him intently. “Tell me what she was like.”
“Small. Pretty.”
“Very much like me?”
“Your hair is nicer.” He touched the girl’s soft, flame-red hair. “You have very nice hair. And eyes.” He took her tight against him and held her for a long time. “You’re very nice.”
The girl’s small fist
Eleanor gasped. “It isn’t!”
“Is Moore loyal to Verrick?”
“No! That’s why I left him. Him and his theories. That’s all he’s loyal to, them and Herb Moore.” Her good-luck charms danced furiously. “I loathe that!”
“Verrick isn’t loyal,” Benteley said carefully. He tried to measure the girl’s reaction; her face was stunned and colorless. “It isn’t Moore; don’t blame him. He’s out for what he can get. So is everybody else. So is Reese Verrick. Any one of them would throw away his oath to get hold of a little more loot, a little more pull. It’s one big scramble for the top. They’re all struggling to get up there—and nothing is going to stand in their way. When all the cards are turned up, you’ll see how little loyalty counts.”
“Verrick would never break his oath! He wouldn’t let down the people depending on him!”
“He already has. He broke a moral code when he let me swear on. You were mixed up with it; you knew. I took my oath in good faith.”
“Oh, God,” Eleanor said wearily. “You’ll never forget that, will you? You’re angry because you think you were made a fool of.”
“It’s more than that; don’t kid yourself. It’s the whole weak miserable structure showing through. You’ll find out, someday. I know now; I’m all prepared. What else can you expect in a society of games and quizzes and assassination?”
“Don’t blame Verrick. The Challenge was set up years ago when the whole bottle system, the whole M-game, was worked out and set into motion.”
“Verrick’s not even playing the M-game square. He’s trying to beat it with this Pellig strategy.”
“It’ll work, won’t it?”
“Probably.”
“Well, then what are you complaining about? Isn’t that what’s important?” Eleanor grabbed his arm fiercely. “Come on, forget it. You worry too damn much. Moore talks too much and you worry too much. Enjoy yourself—tomorrow’s the big day.”
She poured drinks and brought Benteley his. He sat sipping moodily, Eleanor beside him on the couch. In the half-light of the apartment the girl’s crimson hair glowed and sparkled. She had drawn her legs up under her. Above each ear the lead-gray spot had faded slightly; but they were still there. Leaning against Benteley, her eyes closed, glass cupped in her red-tipped fingers, she said softly, “I want you to tell me. Are you going along with us?”
Benteley was silent a moment. “Yes,” he said finally.
Eleanor sighed. “Thank God. I’m so glad.”
Benteley leaned over and set down his glass on the low table. “I swore on; I took an oath to Verrick. I don’t have any choice, unless I want to break my oath and run out on him.”
“It’s been done.”
“I’ve never broken my oath. I got fed up with Oiseau-Lyre years ago but I never tried to get away. I could have; I’d take the risk of being caught and killed. I accept the law that gives a protector the power of life and death over escaped serfs. But I don’t think an oath should be broken, by either the serf or the protector.”
“I thought you said it was crumbling.”
“It is. But I don’t want to help it along.”
Eleanor set her glass down and reached up to put her smooth bare arms around his neck. “What kind of a life have you had? What have you done? Have you lived with very many women?”
“A few.”
“What were they like?”
Benteley shrugged. “Various kinds.”
“Were they nice?”
“I guess so.”
“Who was the last?”
Benteley thought back. “A few months ago. A class 7–9 girl named Julie.”
Eleanor’s green eyes were fixed on him intently. “Tell me what she was like.”
“Small. Pretty.”
“Very much like me?”
“Your hair is nicer.” He touched the girl’s soft, flame-red hair. “You have very nice hair. And eyes.” He took her tight against him and held her for a long time. “You’re very nice.”
The girl’s small fist
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