Melome

savage.'

'I was thinking of someone else.'

'Tayu?'

'No.'

'Zucco? Reiza?' Her voice took on a note of jealousy. 'Who do you hate so much, Earl?'

'It doesn't matter.'

'No,' she said. 'As long as it isn't me.' She snuggled a little closer. 'You're strong,' she murmured. 'So strong. I felt it from the very first. In the market when you made the deal with Kamala. I wanted to sing for you and then she told me. Well, you're here now and that's all that matters. Together we're safe.'

'Yes.' Dumarest fed more fuel to the fire. 'Who else lives where you do in Shakira's private quarters? Have you seen them? Talked to them?'

'One. Elagonya's nice.'

'What does she look like?'

'I don't know. I've never seen her. She wears a cloth over her head.'

'Old? Young? How does she sound?'

'Like music. I asked Tayu about her once and he said she had a very special talent. He didn't tell me what it was but I think she makes dolls. I saw some in her room.'

Dumarest said, 'Did they look like anyone you know?'

'No, they were just dolls. Small, about that tall.' Her hands measured a distance. 'Some of them were very old.'

'And her room, was it decorated with strange signs? Like those the fortune tellers used in the market.'

'I didn't see any.' Melome twisted in his arm to look at him. 'Why so interested, Earl? What's Elagonya to you?'

'Nothing, but I knew someone once who made dolls. She tried to use them to hurt people.'

'Not Elagonya.' Her tone was emphatic. 'She's too nice.'

To her, perhaps, but to strangers she could be different. A sensitive, hidden away, unwilling even to reveal her face-what hatred could such a creature harbor against normal people?

'Earl, you're worried. I can tell it.' Against him Melome stirred, relaxing as she yielded to the pressure of his arm. 'Maybe I can help. Tell me why you're so worried.'

'Forget it now. Just listen to the wind.' It sighed as it caressed the silvered fronds, a susurration which filled the air. 'And the crackle of the fire. It's like music, isn't it. And watch the stars. Perhaps more will fall. When one does you're supposed to make a wish. Did you know that?'

She muttered, sleepily, 'Will the wish come true?'

'It might. So make sure it's a good one.' His voice droned on, soothing, hypnotic in its comforting reassurance. He felt the weight of her slender body as she slumped against him, the sound of her deep, regular breathing. 'Melome? Melome, are you asleep?'

A sigh was his answer and he fell silent looking at the fire, the smoke, the wheel of the paling stars.

The raft came two hours after dawn arrowing from the horizon directly toward the rising pillar of smoke. Dumarest watched it from where he lay buried in the vegetation far to one side of the fire. Melome, still asleep, lay where he had placed her close to the shelter of the wrecked vehicle.

She woke as the raft landed, rearing upright as Zucco strode toward her. He was tall, arrogant, wearing yellow and black, cruel colors which matched the expression on his face. The wand in his hand reached out, touched her arm, drew back as she screamed.

'Hurts, doesn't it, you bitch. Think of it the next time you're tempted to run from the circus. Where's the scum who helped you?'

'I didn't run! I-' She screamed again as the wand touched her body. 'No! Don't hurt me! Please don't hurt me!'

'Where's Dumarest?'

'I don't know! I was asleep!'

'Where's Dumarest?' The tip of the wand hovered an inch from her face. 'Why is he so interested in you? What can you do for him?' A sneer thickened his tone. 'Aside from the obvious, that is. Talk, damn you! Talk!'

From where he sat at the controls of the raft Valaban said, 'Take it easy, Jac. This isn't the way to handle the situation. The girl isn't to blame.'

'Stay out of this!'

'I'm in it. Shakira-'

'Never mind him. I'm in charge and I don't intend wasting time. If you don't like it then you know what you can do.' Zucco returned his attention to Melome. 'Well, bitch, are you going to talk?'

'We crashed. I fell asleep. When I woke he had gone.' Her arm waved at the surrounding vegetation. 'He must have tried to make it on foot.'

'In which case we can spot him.' Valaban jumped down from the raft, staggered a little, regained his balance. 'He must have left tracks and couldn't have got far. Let's load the girl and go looking.'

'I told you to stay out of this.' Zucco's voice was cold. 'The next time you open your mouth I'll shut it for good.'

'You could try.' Valaban took a step closer, one hand buried beneath his blouse. 'But it'll earn you a ruined face. I may be old and slow but this makes us equal.' His hand appeared holding a flat gun, a twin to the weapon Reiza carried in the ring. 'Now let's load the girl and lift. For all you know Dumarest could be within yards of us. Maybe hiding under the wreck and waiting his chance to jump us.'

The truth but he had realized it too late. As he had guessed wrong as to the location. Like an animal, Dumarest had moved silently through the vegetation, taking advantage of the argument to get close, rising to lunge forward as Zucco turned to face the girl.

Valaban fell as Dumarest slammed against him, snatching the gun to level it as Zucco turned, snarling, the wand lifted in his hand.

'Drop it!' Dumarest fired as the man hesitated, the shot whining inches to one side of Zucco's body. 'The next one you get in the face. Now drop that wand!'

He stepped forward as it hit the ground, thrusting back the man with the heel of his left hand, the muzzle of the gun held steady in his right.

'Melome! Get up and get over here. Move!' He didn't look toward her as she obeyed. 'Take hold of his hand, girl. Grip it tight.'

'No. I don't want to touch him.'

'He won't hurt you.' Dumarest stepped back as he heard a rustle to his rear. 'Stay out of this, Valaban. Move over to the fire and lie face down. And you,' he snapped at Zucco as the old man obeyed. 'Down and kiss the dirt.'

'Go to hell!'

'You've a choice.' Dumarest tightened his finger on the trigger. 'You've three seconds to make it.'

A moment and Zucco was down, lying with his face to the dirt, trembling with the helpless rage which consumed him.

'Right, girl, put your hand on his neck.' A glance at his face and she obeyed. 'Now sing, Melome. Sing!'

Dumarest jammed his hands against his ears as the air filled with the wailing cadences of her song.

It was different, driving through the bone and flesh and muscle of his hands, without the wail of pipe and pulse of drum and yet still it caught at his mind and sent it wheeling in a succession of phantom images. An effect lacking its true power because of the lack of contact. From where he lay beside the fire Valaban groaned and cupped his ears with veined and blotched hands.

Zucco lay as if dead.

A man lost in terror-a captive of the song.

Bound and helpless by the fantasies of his mind and suffering a greater punishment than any physical torment. Dumarest watched him and then, as Melome looked toward him, dropped one hand and sliced the edge across his throat.

An unmistakable signal and he lowered the other hand as she broke off her song.

'Into the raft, girl. Quickly!'