arrested. He knew the door codes, he could gain easy access, he was trusted as a supposed friend. The men who had died had walked in on him while committing the crime and had been slaughtered for their bravery. Those behind them would see to that.
He could do nothing but take the money and run. To the field, the handler who, for a price, would arrange his passage. Shipping him to another world, there to begin the quest which would dominate his life.
CHAPTER TEN
An intriguing story.” Shandaha poured wine into two goblets, red and sparkling with drifting bubbles of a deeper hue. Red as the wine he had drunk with the grafter had been red, as the blood he had shed, as the water he had bathed in, as his discarded garments had displayed. Dumarest found the association distasteful. “You are disturbed, Earl?”
“Disgusted would be a better word. There are some things better not remembered, still less to be relived.”
“Yet, surely, it must be a comfort to know that all was not lost. The woman would have lived as the man had promised. He would have become her partner and guardian. And you escaped the trap with your life.” Shandaha paused then added, “You realise it was a trap? The woman, Yanya, set you up by hinting you were to be passed on. Naturally you would want to discuss it with Sardia. Knowing that those who intended her harm would have a perfect opportunity to dispose of her and to saddle you with the blame. Yanya would have known the entry codes. All they had to do was wait. They grew impatient when you failed to arrive on time and did what they came to do.”
To maim, torture, rob and gloat at a helpless woman’s pain. But Shandaha was right. On reflection the trap had been obvious, but he had been too young to recognise it, too emotionally involved to retain mental clarity.
“Drink, Earl, forget.” Shandaha passed him the goblet. “On the whole I would say it would be best to regard the incident as your rite of passage. You first met the woman as a boy and left her as a man. An unusual episode but often followed in many cases mostly by those alone and isolated. In modern cultures, naturally. In primitive societies they know how to conduct ceremonies.”
With rituals, with trials of endurance, of hardship, of combat. With struggle and introspection and visions summoned by various hallucinogens. The survivors were accepted as men.
“Earl?”
“You could be right.”
“You know I am right.” Shandaha lifted his goblet. “To you, Earl Dumarest! I greet you as one who has earned the right to be accepted as a man among men!”
One who had learned to love, to struggle, to fight, to kill. Who had run and who had been running ever since.
Dumarest reached for the brimming container. The wine was like water but it was far from that. Something within himself seemed to be a barrier against the effects of alcohol. He knew what it was.
He said, “We had an agreement. Will you keep to it?”
Shandaha frowned. “An agreement?”
“Provisions, transport, tools, release from this place for Chagal and myself. All in return for allowing you to drag me through a trip to hell. My hell-you probably enjoyed it.”
“It was interesting.”
“But, for you, disappointing,” said Dumarest. “It wasn’t the journey you wanted. Not the ending you hoped for.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You wanted to accompany me on the most important journey of my life. One which would dominate my future. You gained what you asked for but it wasn’t what you intended. You wanted to be with me, inside my head, watching through my eyes when I was given a gift stolen for the Cyclan. But you would have made another mistake. I didn’t know I had been given the gift. You would have been no wiser.”
And now would never be. The secret of the affinity twin, as far as Dumarest was concerned, would remain that. The possible sequences in which the fifteen biological units could be assembled ran into millions. The Cyclan knew their composition but had lost the sequence in which they had to be assembled.
Shandaha said, “I don’t understand. I agree we had an agreement. I will double the items you desire if you will-”
“Grant you another trip into my past?” Dumarest shook his head. “No.”
“Must I remind you that I need give you no choice?”
“And give me further proof of how badly I was mistaken?” Dumarest drank more of the wine enjoying the moment. “The second time when I returned to the chamber in which you had arranged the chess pieces I sat and studied the situation. Only the Cyclan could have gained control of Earth. A Cyclan vessel attacked our ship and brought us down. The Cyclan could have spotted our signals and known of our position and our hopeless situation. They probably thought I was dead but, being what they are, they had to be sure. So they sent you. I assumed you were a cyber masking himself in a bizarre disguise. Creating a habitation out of illusion. Now I know that cannot be the case.”
“Then who and what am I?”
Dumarest paused before answering, studying the man, noting small details which increased his conviction. Things overlooked before had grown a new clarity and, within his skull, he felt what seemed to be a subtle movement of cranial tissue.
“Who you are is a matter of title. What you are is a farmer.”
“A farmer!”
“Or a herdsman. The title isn’t important. My guess is that you are a minion of the Cyclan. You have been given the task of rearing and breeding cattle to be checked and tested and then to be harvested when the crop is ripe.” Dumarest leaned forward, his words like ice. “Cattle, Shandaha. Men and women. The children of Earth. People just like me!”
“No, Earl! You are mistaken!”
“Why bother to deny it? What difference can it make? You and others like you scattered over the planet, have a single task. That of selecting, rearing, and farming humans to gain an ingredient vital to the Cyclan. The homochon elements growing in the mutated brains.”
“This is madness!” Shandaha’s hand shook as he poured the goblets full of wine, the ruby liquid splashing to soil the table. “Earl, what has come over you? Shall I summon Chagal?”
“Do you want him to hear what I have to say?” Dumarest paused, waiting, then as the other remained silent said, “As I thought. Now take a drink, you are shaking and we both know why. You have tried to control me and have failed to do so. And if the Cyclan discover what you have tried to do they will not be gentle.”
“Dare you tell them?”
“When you have lost everything then what do you have to lose?” Dumarest drank and shrugged. “It seems we are back on logic, again. Of question and answer. So tell me this-how can a blind man complete a jigsaw?”
“By touch.”
“You are correct but most would say it was impossible as he could not see the picture or pattern and so would have no visual guide. But he has hands and fingers and could feel, imagine and remember. As I did when I tried to find a way out of this maze. To find motive, means and opportunity. I found them, but I had some help. In the secret chamber I fell into after I had broken the wall. The barrier of crystal which you said didn’t exist,” he explained. “The odd area in an odd place which also had no existence. But it held something else and it taught me things I had never suspected.”
Shandaha said nothing, waiting, looking at his wine.
“All planets have their speciality,” continued Dumarest. “But none the exact history of Earth. The surface ravaged by cycles of destruction from meteoric impact and climatic change and, always, the lashing storms of solar radiation. Then the suicidal impact of atomic wars. The climax which slaughtered billions and started the panic which caused those who could to leave and find other worlds to live on. To abandon those who couldn’t to survive as best they could.”
