Karlene?
Dumarest reached for the papers and found the one he wanted; the one from which she had read. Now the quatrain was clear.
But if in vain, down on the stubborn floor Of Earth, and up to Heaven's unopening Door You gaze Today, while You are You-how then Tomorrow, when You shall be You no more?
Earth-the one word sure to attract his attention. The tattoo she wore-the crossed circle was the astronomical sign of Earth. The hint that she knew of someone who could help him-if he was genuine.
Another trap?
The Cyclan would spare no trouble or expense to recover the secret he possessed, for it would enable them to dominate the known galaxy. It would be logical to pile trap on trap so that, if one failed, another would hold him fast. The Cyclan were masters of logic. They must know of his determination to find the world of his birth.
Was Karlene an agent of the Cyclan?
Dumarest rose and walked farther south to where the landing field sprawled well beyond the edge of town. Oetzer was a busy world and the field was heavy with ships. The air thrummed to the shouts of handlers, yells of porters, the hum of machines loading and unloading vessels eager to return to space. Even as he watched, a siren cut across the babble, and a ship, limned in the blue cocoon of its Erhaft Field, lifted to vanish into the sky.
He could have been on it. He could leave with any ship on the field, and, like them, he would vanish into the sky. Safe from Karlene and any who might be using her.
Safe to do what?
He looked at the field, the ships, seeing not the sleek or battered hulls, but the long, long years of endless travel and frustrated hope. How many more years must he search? How many more worlds must he visit? How many journeys, dangers, gambles must he face and take? And, if Karlene was what she claimed to be, he would have lost the chance now in his hand.
She could lead him to Earth-or she could lead him to death.
Which would it be?
'Earl!'
He turned, freezing the movement of his hand to the knife in his boot. The scarlet she wore was not a robe but a mantle to protect her skin from the growing savagery of the sun. Soon it would be too hot and all work would stop for the siesta.
'Earl!' She halted before him, panting, the mantle casting a warm glow over the pale face shadowed in its hood. 'A coincidence but a happy one. I had word and-'
'Word? From whom?'
'The man I told you about.' Karlene smiled her pleasure. 'It's all right, my darling. He agrees to help you, providing-but you know about that. So I came to find a ship and book passage.'
'You?'
'I've engaged a Hausi. He will get us the best and fastest journey.' She gestured at the field, the ships standing wide-spaced on the dirt. 'It saves time and it's too hot to go shopping around. With luck we could leave tonight.' She stared into his face. 'What's the matter? Is something wrong?'
'No.' He forced a smile. 'Nothing.'
'Maybe I should have waited,' she said. 'But I wanted to please you.'
Or to sweep him along in the rush of events, giving him no time to think or plan? In turn, he searched her face, seeing the blank stare of mirrored eyes, his own features reflected in the silver lenses she wore.
He said, 'Where are we bound?'
'Driest. That's all I can tell you.'
A fact he would have learned as soon as he had boarded the vessel and any name she chose to give would be meaningless. Again he searched her face, seeing his own reflection waver a little, blurring as she blinked, vanishing as she turned her head. A time for decision, of knowing that here, now, was the moment of no return.
'Earl? About the booking-did I do right?'
He nodded. A gamble-but all life was that and he was tired of running, of hiding, of living in dirt and shadows. If Earth was to be found he would find it or die in the attempt. As the man on Driest would die if he had lied.
Chapter Six
Rauch Ishikari reminded Dumarest of a snake. A tall, slim man, aged, dressed in expensive fabrics which shimmered like scales. His thin, aquiline features bore the stamp of arrogance afforded by position and wealth. His voice, though melodious, bore a trace of cynical mockery. But it was his eyes which dominated the rest: almond slits of enigmatic gray. Set in the creped face they looked like polished shards of stone.
He said, 'A final warning, Earl. I have no wish to destroy the innocent.'
A chair stood bolted to the floor before the desk behind which he sat. Steel clasps were set in the arms; more on the legs to hold the ankles. The point against which the head would rest was of polished wood. Abruptly it smoked and burst into flame from the invisible beam which ate into the wood. A moment, then the flame was gone, the charred patch a blotch against the rest.
'Lie and the beam will pass through your brain. Are you ready?'
Silently, Dumarest sat in the chair.
He relaxed as the manacles closed to hold him tight. If this was a trap he was in it and there had been no chance to escape. Not from the moment of leaving the vessel when waiting guards had closed in to escort them both to a spired and turreted mansion set high above the town. The palace of a ruler, into which Karlene had vanished leaving him to the ministrations of men more like guards than servants. Then the meeting with Ishikari, the verbal sparring, the abrupt cessation of preliminaries.
Now the manacles, the chair, the laser which, at a touch, would burn out his life.
He said, 'You play a hard game, my lord.'
'Game? Game? You think this is a game?' Anger edged Ishikari's voice. 'If it is you play with your life as the stake!'
'And you?'
Almost he had gone too far and he tensed, watching as the man behind the desk reared, stiffening as if he were a reptile about to strike. There was a long moment during which tiny gleams of light splintered in trembling reflections from the rings he wore, then, as if with an effort, he relaxed.
'I play no game,' said Ishikari. 'Unless the search for truth be a game. But the path you tread is a dangerous one. Did you tell the woman the truth?'
'About Earth, yes.'
'You were born on that world?'
'I was.'
'And?'
Ishikari listened as Dumarest went into detail, then fired other questions, probing, inhaling with an audible hiss as Dumarest spoke of the night sky, the moon which looked, when full, like a silver skull. A long time but then it was over, the manacles opening to allow Dumarest to rise. As Dumarest rubbed his wrists his host offered him wine.
'An unusual story,' he said, lifting his own glass. 'But a true one if the detectors are to be believed. I drink to you, Earl-man of Earth!'
The wine was like blood, thick, rich, slightly warm, traced with a tang of spice and the hint of salt. Dumarest sipped, feeling the liquid cloy on his lips and tongue.
'Earth,' mused Ishikari. 'A world of mystery. Ask after it and you will be told that it is a legend. A myth. A dream of something which never was. Details bolster that belief; why aren't its coordinates listed in the almanacs? If it is the repository of such enormous wealth why hasn't it yet been found by the expeditions which must have searched for it? Obvious questions but other claims negate them. You know of them?'
The question was like a bullet.
