These damned lamps remind me of watching eyes.'… The eyes of censors which she could have hated as a child. Of their dictates which could have restricted her emotional development. Dumarest followed her from the table. The joke had turned sour or she had reason for concealment but the decision suited him. Of them both he had the greater need to lie.
'Rudi,' she said, after they had settled in an arbor protected by curved crystal from the external chill, the biting wind. 'How long would it be now? Ten years? Nine? Call it nine. I was younger then, inexperienced, perhaps over- attracted to the more mature male. Let's say he made me a proposition and I was too immature to assess it for its real worth. You understand?'
More than she guessed and Dumarest knew why she had left the table. Her time scale was all wrong and it was obvious why. Not nine years-nearer to nineteen. She had been young then and the rest would have followed. A fable to disguise her real age from herself as well as him-a weakness of feminine vanity unknowingly betrayed.
He said, 'You were emotionally involved-is that it?'
'A nice way of putting it.' She smiled and for a moment was what she must have been: alert, round of face, her mouth made for kissing, her eyes for laughter. The body would have been plumper then, the curves more pronounced, and she would have been hungry and eager for experience. 'You are discreet, Earl. I may call you that?'
'Yes, Myra.'
She stared at him, fighting her resentment, telling herself he was a stranger and couldn't know. Yet to take such a liberty! To be so familiar with a member of the Tripart faculty! Then, seeing his smile, she realized how foolish the reaction had been. How habit had betrayed her. If he had asked permission as he should, would she have refused him?
'Myra?' He was concerned. 'Is something wrong?'
'No.' Her gesture dismissed the incident. 'A local custom. Something of a ritual, I suppose, but tradition dies hard.'
'As do legends.'
'What?'
'You told me of one,' he reminded. 'The Lion's Mouth, remember? And there are others.' Many others but one in particular which was no legend but unaccepted truth. 'What happened between you and Rudi?'
'Nothing. Not really.'
'But you were close?'
'It meant nothing.' A lie the table would have noted. 'The forming of sexual relationships is a common pastime here on Ascelius. The strain of study, I suppose, of teaching. It was explained to me once that the creative urge is basically the same no matter how it manifests itself. An artist, creating a painting, is subject to the same stress as a man attempting to impregnate a woman. The reverse is true, naturally.' Pausing she added, 'Are you always so bold?'
'In which way?'
'Familiarity?' She cursed herself for having mentioned it, for having now to explain. His expression as she did so gave no comfort. 'You think it foolish?'
'Misapplied. I can understand the need for a barrier to be set between the faculty and the students for one must respect the other or nothing can be taught or learned. The same conduct governs the relationship of officers and men in an army. But I am not a student.'
'True, but you aren't-' She broke off. Why did he make her feel so confused?
'A member of the faculty?' He finished the sentence for her. 'Is that important?'
'On Ascelius, yes. If you want to be socially accepted by the upper echelons it is indispensable. Only academic ability is recognized.' Her hands rose, fluttering, a gesture she hadn't used in years and wondered at herself for using it now. How Rudi had laughed at it. Dumarest, thank God, didn't. 'What were we talking about?'
'Of Rudi.' It was hard to keep her to the point. 'Then he met Isobel?'
'She was young and new and ambitious. She listened to his promises.'
'They married?'
'That's right. They married and left to find their mine and paradise. Now Rudi's dead and Isobel with him. End of story.'
That was the end for them and for her but not for Dumarest. What Rudi had found could be rediscovered. If the chance existed he must take it no matter what the risk. Myra had known him-did she know more?
'Legends,' said Dumarest. 'Rudi was interested in them. Surely you must have talked about them? Shared his interest?'
'I had other things to think about. We weren't together all that often and when we were, well, other things came first. I'm sorry, Earl, I don't think I can help you. Is it important?'
She could never guess how much. Dumarest forced himself to relax-to reveal his eager impatience now would be to ruin everything.
'Earth,' he urged. 'Did he ever mention Earth?'
Her laughter was the gushing of fountains, the clash of shattering crystal.
'Earth? My, God, Earl, do you share his lunacy? A mythical world somewhere in space. Find it and all will be yours. Insanity! A game they play in the common rooms when bored of everything else. Intellectual titivation with points scored for the correct progression of logical sequences. Guessing games which start in madness and lead to delirium. You should meet Tomlin, he's an expert. Cucciolla's another.' Her laughter rose again, brittle with scorn. 'How can anyone even pretend to be serious about such nonsense? Earth! The very name is idiotic!'
This reaction Dumarest had heard often before, but like the others, Myra was wrong. Earth existed. He had been born on the supposedly mythical world. To find it again was the reason for his existence.
He said, 'Tomlin? Cucciolla?'
'Members of the Tripart faculty.' She sobered at his expression. 'Earl?'
'I need to meet them,' he said. 'Them and any others who were close to Rudi. Could you arrange it?'
'Perhaps.' Her eyes grew calculating, studying him as if he were part of an elaborate equation, assessing, evaluating, coming to a decision. 'There are various social gatherings and a party will be held soon. I could take you.' She paused then added quietly, 'In the meanwhile you could be my guest.'
Chapter Four
Someone with a taste for the bizarre had decorated the room with skulls and bones, death masks and symbols culled from ancient graves. The music matched the decor: wailing threnodies which stung the ears and sent ants to crawl over the skin; mathematical discords set in jarring sequences which created unease and irritation. A condition aided by the glare of strobotic lighting which threw faces into unreal prominence with various shades of livid color.
'Myra! How good to see you!' A woman called from the door and came thrusting toward them, eyes flashing toward Dumarest before returning to his companion. 'So this is your friend. Such a handsome man. Your new protege, I hear. You must introduce me.'
Jussara made her usual late entrance, demanding attention. Flaunting her feminity with a sequined gown cut and slashed to display the chocolate expanse of her breasts and thighs. Her teeth were plated with metal cut in a diffraction grating which filled her mouth with rainbows as the lights flashed.
'A professor?' Her eyebrows rose a trifle. 'He is to teach?'
'Dumarest holds a doctorate in martial arts,' explained Myra. This story, she had insisted, would give him the status necessary to be treated as an equal. 'We are investigating the possibility of his joining the faculty.'
'And, in the meantime, he shares your home.' Jussara's smile held malice. 'Such a convenient arrangement and no wonder that you look so well. I'd thought it was because you had resolved your difficulties. Okos, I presume?'
'No.'
'Well it doesn't matter as long as things have sorted themselves out. And, as for the new project-well, let's hope you are more successful this time.' She looked at Dumarest. 'We must talk again. If you can't reach agreement with Myra, I could, perhaps, find a place for you at Higham. I'm certain you'd be happy with us.'
