the other side of the mountain.'
'Where water is scarce and game even scarcer. Well, you are here now, and can have all you need.' Chenault gestured toward the open doors. 'Shall we go in?'
The hall matched the barbaric splendor of the great doors; a place of vast dimensions, the roof peaked, the floor tessellated in garish diamonds of red and green. Colors repeated on the walls together with others of smoldering vividness set in a profusion of designs which Dumarest found vaguely familiar. As the doors closed behind them the air seemed to vibrate and the designs to blur, to seem to move as perspective changed, to freeze in a series of grotesque parodies.
Faces distorted by the painted masks peculiar to clowns.
A circus!
Dumarest halted as he recognized the vague familiarity for what it was. The floor, the hall, the peaked roof which depicted the summit of a tent, the designs themselves all reflections of a small and bizarre world. Now he could recognize the semblance of cages, the hint of watching beasts, the shape of a ring, the tiered seats, the hanging strands of a trapeze. An illusion created with paint and light and undoubted genius.
'You noticed.' Chenault stood facing Dumarest his bright eyes direct. 'What do you see?'
'A circus tent, of course. But-'
'Lopakhin created it. He felt the need and I permitted it. Tyner is a genius and, I suppose, I have a weakness for the grandiose. A happy combination and one which allows of such indulgences. Others also find it amusing and, at times, they come to stare and gawk and make their observations. Fools for the most part, but it does no harm to cater to their whims as long as they do not clash with my desires.' Casually Chenault added, 'Perhaps you have met those I'm talking about. Jaded dilettantes from the great Houses. Those of influence and position with too little to do and too much time in which to do it. At times they visit me and request permission to view my hall. Sometimes I accommodate them.'
'You are gracious.'
'Sensible. Why arouse antagonism when there is no need?' Chenault turned and moved down the hall. As Dumarest fell into step beside him he said, 'I give a little and receive much in return. If they think I am an amusing eccentric then that is to my advantage. Also, from such people, information can be gained.'
As to his own presence on Lychen and what had happened since he had landed. Dumarest glanced at his host and wondered just how much the man knew and what he intended. An academic question; if the information he had gathered was true then he had no choice but to stay close to the man until he had gained the coordinates of Earth. The secret Chenault owned-or did he?
Always there was doubt and there had been too many disappointments and yet, this time, Dumarest felt close to success. A conviction based on instinct but which he knew could be contaminated by hope. And if this was another blind lead it would be best to discover the truth without waste of time.
Dumarest said, bluntly, 'Shakira gave me your name and that of this world. He said you would help me.'
'Of course. And I shall.'
'Then it might help if I told you what I'm looking for and-'
'But later.' Chenault halted as they reached the end of the hall. 'There is a time and place for all things and welcome guests are too rare to be hurried. You are in need of food and rest and other comforts. Later we shall talk.' The clap of his hands created echoes which murmured to silence. As they faded, a man appeared, standing, waiting, in the age-old attitude of one who served. 'Baglioni,' said Chenault. 'He will guide you to your room and attend you. Until later, my friend.'
A wave and he was gone leaving Dumarest with his guide. Baglioni was small; a man with the body of a child but with the face of an old man. A midget who bowed and gestured for Dumarest to follow as he stepped to a wall. He froze as Dumarest dropped a hand on his shoulder.
'Can you hear?'
'Yes, my lord.'
'And speak too, so I see. Are there many like you in this place?' He smiled as the man remained silent. 'Would money persuade you to find your tongue? No? I thought not. Your master is fortunate in having so devoted a servant.' Without change of tone Dumarest added, 'When did you leave the circus?'
'My lord?'
'What were you? Acrobat? Tumbler? Clown?' Pausing, he added, 'Or were you in a sideshow with the rest?'
Baglioni was stiff. 'I don't understand what you mean, my lord. Now, if you will follow me, I will guide you to your room.'
Chapter Two
Bizarre luxury everywhere, the walls painted in striations of complementary colors, the furnishings adorned with grotesque carvings depicting men and beasts and things of the sea and air. The bed was wide, soft, the woven cover resembling an ancient tapestry. The bathroom adjoining was bright with mirrors and gilded metal work.
Dumarest stripped and stood beneath the shower, washing away the sweat and grime of his journey with blasts of hot and icy water, foaming unguents and cleansing soap. With a sponge he tended to his clothing, removing dirt and stains from the neutral gray plastic. Dried, naked aside from a towel wrapped around his waist, he padded into the bedroom and moved toward the window.
He had seen this window from below, a round eye which gave a view of the valley, set, he guessed, to one side of the great doors and high in the cliff. The pane was immovable to his touch, locked or sealed to the frame; even if broken it would give only to the sheer face of the cliff. If the door to the room should be locked from the outside it would become a prison despite its luxury.
A fact assessed and dismissed; if Chenault intended him harm the danger lay in the man himself and not the furnishings of his house. Leaning forward Dumarest studied the terrain below. The valley was dark now, filled with gloom alleviated only by the starlight which touched trees and shrubs with a silver glow. A wrongness; the windows should be streaming light unless the glass had been treated to blank it from within. That explained their dark and empty appearance from outside and he wondered how many had watched his progress down the valley.
Turning, he made for the switch and killed the interior illumination. The window, now filled with the silver glow of starlight, painted the chamber with a ghostly luminescence.
One broken by a warm fan of brilliance as the door opened and Govinda stepped into the room.
'Earl?' She had not expected the dimness and drew in her breath as she saw him move. 'Oh, there you are.'
The door closed behind her and she stepped toward him, her hair black in the pigment-robbing light. Her gown was formal, high at the neck, covering her arms, falling to just above her feet.
Around her the air was heavy with the scent of flowers.
'It's beautiful, isn't it?' She gestured toward the window. 'It can be darkened if the light bothers you. See?' At her touch the round eye grew dim and finally dark. 'You need only turn the control. One way for total darkness the other for as it was.' The room grew palely bright again as she demonstrated. 'I came to see if there was anything you needed.'
'That was kind.'
'Tama likes his guests to be comfortable.'
'Is it your job to see they are?'
'I don't want you to miss anything. Look!' She pointed at the window. 'See?'
Beyond the pane, in the valley, came a sudden dart of brilliance. It was joined by another, more, and within seconds the area was filled with a host of scintillant streaks of burning colors which moved and died as quickly as they had appeared.
'Firebirds,' she explained. 'They rest and eat and glow as they fly.'
Nocturnal creatures and there could be others yielding equal pleasure. Dumarest turned as the woman pressed close beside him, her face and eyes turned toward the view outside. In the pale light her face looked oddly different from what he remembered, even more unformed than it had when she returned with the water. A
