broke off, recognizing the false reality induced by the demonstration.
Then, defiantly, she added, 'I've never seen anyone move so fast or shoot as straight. Right, Nowka?'
He glared his rage. 'I'll take the gun!'
It still held a third of its load. Dumarest emptied it, working the action to spill the cartridges on the ground before throwing it into the extended palm.
The last of the suppliants had gone, the benediction light now dark, the interior of the church a place of shadowed gloom. Brother Weyer rose, stretching, feeling old muscles register their protest, old sinews making their complaint. It had been a long session, but now it was over and he could relax. He stepped from the chair and out of the enclosed space where tormented souls had found comfort and forgiveness. A bolt rolled beneath his sandal and he staggered and almost fell, conscious of the sudden pain around his heart. An accident and a warning, but the fault was equally his. Knowing of the danger he should have carried a light. Certainly he needed to avoid stress.
Outside he leaned against a stanchion and looked at the sky. The Lonagar Drift burned in an awesome splendor, its light silvering the bulk of the newly constructed church, shadowing the materials lying bulked within. Soon now the task would be completed, the debris cleared away and the church once again would dominate the area.
Until some fool would amuse himself and all would have to be done again.
A bad thought and Weyer dismissed it. To anticipate disaster was to invite it and to stand in judgement on others was to ape divinity. It was not for him to determine how others should lead their lives. Instead he listened to the noises of the night. Distant laughter, metallic clangings from the field, the working chant of teams of ganni blending with the soft keening of those mourningtheirdead.Loudersounds swamped the others; a formless yammering stemming from a dozen throats, the noise quelled by a sudden blast of searing anger.
'Shut up, damn you! The Council made the selection! You'll abide by it! And remember – stowaways will be evicted!'
Dumarest and, from the sound of him, at the end of his patience. Weyer lifted a hand in greeting as he came forward in the starlight.
'Welcome. You look as if you could use a drink. I have some wine inside. Would you care to share it?'
Dumarest followed the monk into the church. A lantern glowed into life at his touch, yellow light illuminating a closed area holding a cot, a table, chairs, a cabinet of charred wood. From it Weyer produced a bottle and goblets.
'Some food?'
'Just the wine.'
It was better than he'd expected and the monk smiled as he refilled the goblet. 'A gift from the one of the Kaldari,' he explained. 'A lady we were able to comfort. In return we gained her gratitude.'
'A rare achievement,' said Dumarest. He sipped at his wine. 'You sent a message. It sounded urgent. You want to see me. Why?'
'It was good of you to come. You must be very busy.'
'Completing final checks,' agreed Dumarest. 'We leave at dawn. What is it you want? A berth? I can arrange it if you wish.'
'The offer is tempting,' said Weyer. 'To search for a planet most believe to be a legend. An adventure with many attractions; the lure of the unknown, rich rewards, fabulous achievements. On Kaldar who could resist them? But there are other legends and they promise far less. Earth need not be a paradise. Find it and you could discover abomination.'
'From which men ran in the old days?'
'I don't understand.'
'No?' Dumarest shrugged. 'Maybe not, but I think you do.' His voice deepened, took the pulse of drums as he quoted. 'From terror they fled to find new places on which to expiate their sins. Only when cleansed will the race of Man be again united.'
The creed of the Original People, but if the monk knew of them he made no comment.
'Terror,' said Dumarest. 'Or Terra – another name for Earth. It fits with what you are saying. A world abandoned because of some terrible catastrophe. Forgotten, ignored, all references to it eliminated from the almanac. An entire planet relegated to the status of a legend. But Earth is not a legend. It exists. I shall find it.'
A statement of fact as Weyer recognized. He looked at his hands, locked as if in prayer, then at his guest. A hard man and not one to be easily dissuaded.
He said, quietly, 'There are many legends. One is about a box. The comfort and safety of a world rested on the fact that it should never be opened. But someone was curious. The box was opened and terror was released. You recognize the analogy?'
'Earth is not a box.'
'And the galaxy is not a world, but the similarity is the same.' Weyer's voice held a desperate intensity. 'All legends hold a grain of truth. Why else should a planet be abandoned? The thing which destroyed a world could still exist. The hope of the Church is that the vileness which contaminates the human race can be contained and, in time, neutralized. But if the galaxy is again exposed to the essence of horror which could still reside on Earth then what hope for Mankind?'
A man of intelligence and understanding repeating dogma learned when young. A doctrine designed to shape minds to serve a particular end.
'You talk of legends,' said Dumarest impatiently. 'Use logic and reason instead. I am living proof that the planet is harmless. I was born on Earth. If there is contamination then I must carry it. Am I such a dangerous threat to the safety of the galaxy?'
'You could be unique,' said Weyer. 'Immune. The possibility exists. As does the threat you could present. You are not as other men. Your reflexes are amazingly fast and you seem to constantly benefit from a succession of fortuitous circumstances. Luck,' he explained. 'Good luck. Also there is something within you which seems to radiate a determined strength. A violence and intensity of purpose.' He moved his hands in a helpless gesture. 'I can't explain it, but it is present and it sets you apart. The Kaldari will be freshly exposed. They are savage barbarians of the worst kind. Selfish, uncaring, devoid of any sense of responsibility. Once contaminated they would be irresistible. Such a scourge must not be permitted to exist!' His right fist drove into his left palm. 'No matter how remote the possibility it cannot be allowed!'
Dumarest said, 'The Kaldari are no problem. Have the ganni refuse their labor. Move into the hills.'
'The Kaldari would follow them.'
'And return to ashes. I've looked around. Their strongholds, factories, warehouses, workshops – all are vulnerable. Fire could cleanse this world. There are enough men wearing the collar to take care of it.'
'They won't,' said Weyer. 'You could and would, but they can't and neither can I. It's advice I cannot accept. It is not what I want from you.'
'What is?'
'For you to give up your search for a legend. I beg you – do not find Earth!'
A useless plea. As it ended Dumarest heard sounds from outside the room. A scrape, the clink of metal, a sharp inhalation as of a stifled curse.
'Down!' His hand lashed out to kill the lantern. Pushed Weyer to lie beside it. 'Stay on the floor!'
In darkness Dumarest lunged towards the wall, plastic yielding to the slash of his knife. Easing himself through the gap he crouched, immobile, eyes and ears strained for movement and sound. The interior of the church was dark aside from the nacreous glow of starlight filtering through the translucent material of its construction. The stacked materials on the floor provided both traps and cover.
Metal clinked to one side.
An accident or noise deliberately created to attract attention? As it came again Dumarest moved to a pile of crates, hugging their shelter as he searched the area. Was that a bale or a crouching man? Sacks or a lurking menace? Was the intruder still within the church?
Dumarest knew he was lurking in the shadows. Sooner or later he would move to the attack or decide to retreat. When he did would be the time to act. Time would provide the answer. All he need do was wait.
Weyer lacked his patience. Within the room the monk stirred, fumbled for the lantern, triggered it into glowing
