A grip which would kill within seconds. Dumarest looked at the guards, helpless to fire because of the crowd, at the girl, the creature which held her.
Moving as he looked, his hand dropping to his boot, lifting with the knife as he closed the distance between himself and the mutant, steel flashing as he aimed the blade.
Dulling as he drove it just below the round of the skull. Sending the point to shear through the matted hair, the skin, the fat, the spine. To break through the windpipe and spray the girl with a fountain of blood.
'It was vile,' she said. 'Vile. That smell-' She shuddered and stepped to where incense rose from the brazen holder. Inhaling to free her nostrils of remembered stench. 'It was good of you to wait, Earl.'
Dumarest said dryly, 'I had little choice.'
'Urich?' She smiled through the smoke. 'He is a little overbearing at times.'
And had been more than a little afraid. Dumarest remembered the man's anxiety as he had paced the room in which he had been invited to wait. A comfortable chamber and the invitation had been polite enough-but guards had stood by leaving no doubt as to his freedom to leave.
'Concerned,' said Dumarest. 'I would have said he was concerned. You are to be married, I understand.'
'It's no secret.' She stepped from the wreath of pungent vapor. 'I'm glad you waited. It gives me the chance to thank you.'
She had bathed and changed and appeared untouched by her experience. The magic of slowtime had accelerated her metabolism and turned minutes into days; subjective time during which her throat had lost its soreness, her skin its weals. Now, hungry, she reached for a fruit and Dumarest watched as she tore at the pulp, juice running to moisten her chin.
'A mess!' She threw the fruit into a basket and dabbed at her face. 'Why are nice things so troublesome? And this afternoon-why did that thing attack me?'
Because she had been there. Young and golden and laughing. A spoiled product of the Quelen and as good a target as any.
Dumarest said, 'It was frightened.'
'And so tried to kill?'
'A human trait which it shared. The best thing you can do now is to forget the incident. If you will summon the captain he will escort me from your home.'
'Urich? Let him wait. They say it does a man good to be jealous a little. And he is lucky I'm still alive. If you hadn't acted, that thing would have broken my neck.'
'I happened to be the nearest.'
'No. Urich was at my side.' She added, 'But there are enough eager to pass comment on that. What do you think of him? Urich, I mean. What impression did you get?'
That of a man worried to distraction, unsure of himself, tormented with doubt. Dumarest remembered the man's eyes, the hurt they had contained.
'That of a good man worried about his future bride. You mean a lot to him.'
'More than you suspect.' Abruptly she turned to stare through the window. It was dark, the sky a shimmering glitter of stars. 'You don't think he's too old for me?'
'What has age to do with love?'
'But do you?' Then, as he remained silent, she said, 'He is fifty-two years old. I am thirty. Does that surprise you?'
She looked barely out of her teens. A child with a woman's body, who had dressed herself in adult clothes to impress a visitor. Dumarest looked around the room, at the mirror, the dolls, the skull resting on the open book. An odd thing to be found in a playroom but the dolls were to be expected.
As were the bones, the bowl of jet, the ornate symbols.
Dumarest wondered why the window had been left unbarred.
She said, as if reading his mind, 'You think I'm deranged. Mad. Some deluded fool playing with bizarre toys.' Her laughter held the clear note of childish innocence. 'And you? What else are you with your clothes and your knife and the ship you ride in? What are those things other than toys?' Without waiting for an answer she said, 'The
'Yes, it means-'
'Earth. Mother Earth. You don't have to explain.'
Tolen had known better than to laugh but others hadn't been so restrained. To them Earth had been a joke but to Eunice the name had meaning.
Dumarest said tightly, 'You know. You know of Earth. How?'
'Books.' Her gesture embraced the tomes. 'Talk. Stories.'
'From?' He restrained his impatience. A wrong word and she would become annoyed as, if he pressed too hard, she could become bored and change the subject. 'From whom did you hear the stories?'
'From my nurse when a child, I think.' Her hand lifted to her parted lips as if she was about to suck her thumb. 'And from Urich, of course.'
'The nurse?'
'Rachel. One of the Ypsheim.' Her shrug was casual. 'She died years ago.'
But Urich was alive. Dumarest forced himself to sound indifferent. 'What made him talk about it? Earth, I mean. What did he say?'
She touched a book without answering, moved to look at the dolls, turned to stare out of the window.
'My lady?'
'Isn't it a beautiful night.' She spoke as if she hadn't heard. 'All those stars. So many stars. How I envy you being able to travel among them.'
He moved to stand beside her. 'One of them could be the sun which warms Earth,' he said. 'One day we could even find it.'
'I don't think so.' Her tone was detached. 'Earth isn't real. Not as Krantz is real. It is an abstract conception. Or an analogy. You know what an analogy is?' She moved a little closer to him, the touch of her hair soft against his cheek, the scent of her perfume heavy in his nostrils. 'Earl?'
'It's a resemblance in essentials between things otherwise different.'
'Yes.' She was pleased. 'That's what Urich said. How he explained it. The concept of a perfect place. A perfection for which we must all strive.' She swayed so as to lean against him. 'You are as clever as he is, Earl. And you saved me while he didn't. That makes you the better man, doesn't it?'
And to the victor the spoils. Dumarest felt the radiated heat of her body, sensed the vibrant femininity, the waking passion. She was a woman with the attributes of a child but still very much a woman, with a Family quick to avenge supposed insult.
He said, 'It was luck. I just happened to be there at the right time.'
'No. Not luck. You were sent to protect me. To be a guardian. To anoint me with the sacrifice of blood. And now, Earl-'
She closed the space between them, hands rising to his hair, his face. Fingers which raked like the sheathed claws of a kitten as they traced the lineaments of his eyes, his cheeks, his lips.
The touch of her own held the warm softness of flame.
A moment then he felt the pain and she was retreating, smiling, blood staining her mouth.
'Here!' The handkerchief she handed to him was of silk, edged with lace and embroidered with elaborate designs. 'Wipe away the blood, my darling.'
The carmine oozing from where she had bitten his lip. A harlot's trick-but she was no harlot and Dumarest wondered at her motivation. A sudden whim, a childish prank-but it had saved him from the task of refusing while not rejecting.
Handing back the handkerchief he said, 'A game, my lady?'
'In the old days when the Quelen first came to Krantz things were hard. Men had to fight for the right to mate. The best blood won. Your blood is good, Earl. Full and rich and strong.' Her tongue cleansed the stains from her mouth. 'Vruya will like you.'
'Vruya?'
'The head of the Yekatania. Here.' She led him to where the dolls sat in line and picked up the one in the place of honor. Hugging it, she said, 'This is Vruya. He is my special friend. And that is Maya and that Sybil and that Dallo
