Straightening, he turned up a narrow alley and made his way back to the road running north, turning to head back to the one curving around the field.
The tavern was like most of its type, a place where men journeying between the stars could find the comforts they lacked on their ships, the dissipations offered for their enjoyment. Dumarest shook his head as a pert young girl offered her invitation, shook it again as an older matron repeated it with added detail, shrugged as a man hinted at more exotic delights. None was offended at his refusal, no recent arrival could be considered a real prospect but it did no harm to try. Later, when alcohol had worked its magic, or when drugs had dulled the sharp edges of discrimination, they and others would try again.
Varn Egulus was a tall man of middle age with a long, serious face, a beaked nose and hair which was cut and lifted in an elaborate forelock. His lips were thin, the jaw pronounced, the cheeks hollowed as if with privation. Beneath thin brows his eyes were shrewd, watchful, calculating.
He said, 'It seems we have a mutual friend. Sit and order some wine. Good wine-I can afford it since you are paying.'
Dumarest obeyed, watching as the man poured, barely sipping at what his own goblet contained. The woman must have sent word ahead for Egulus to expect him and he would take his own time in getting to the point.
'Good wine, this.' Egulus lifted his glass and studied the play of color trapped in the crystal. 'Such a wine makes a man glad to be alive.' And then, without changing tone, he said, 'Why did you kill Menser?'
'Did I?'
'Perhaps not, but you match the description of the man who did. The one who brought the news was most explicit as to detail. He was also amazed at the speed you-the man- operated. It was like watching the dart of lightning, he said. Movements faster than the eye could follow.' Egulus tilted his goblet and slowly drank the wine it contained. Emptied, he lowered it toward the table. Then, before it could hit the surface, he flung it directly at Dumarest's face.
He smiled as it scattered on the floor.
'Clever,' he mused. 'You did not catch it as I thought you might and, most certainly, could have done. You didn't simply block it, and so risk cuts to hand and face. Instead, you deflected it as if by accident, to smash on the floor. Which proves nothing to any who might be watching. Well, to business.
'I command the Entil. A trader. One of the rules we follow is that nothing should ever be done without some form of return. To do otherwise would be to operate at a loss and only the stupid do that. A cooperative, you understand. We work, take risks, carry any cargo we can get, and go anywhere a profit is to be made.'
And run a ship more like a heap of wreckage than a vessel designed to survive in the void. One that is undermanned, with faulty equipment and dangerous installations.
Egulus smiled again as he guessed Dumarest's thoughts.
'A ship such as you imagine wouldn't last long in the Rift. Also I have a regard for my life, which is why the Entil is as good as I can make her. But obviously, you've had experience. What as? Steward? Handler?'
'Both.'
'And?'
'I know a little about engines. A little more about caskets. And,' Dumarest added, 'I can operate a table should the need arise.'
'A gambler?' Egulus pursed his lips as Dumarest nodded. 'And one who can take care of himself if he has to. Good. That's an advantage. Now, this is the situation. You give me the cost of a double High passage and work as one of the crew. When you decide to quit, I'll compute what is your share of the profit and pay you off. Fair enough?'
For the captain, more than fair. Unless he was more honest than his fellows there would be no profits and he and the others would have gained passage money and service for nothing.
Dumarest said, 'About the tables. What I win I keep?'
'You know better than that. It goes into the common fund.'
'And if I lose?'
'You pay.' The captain's tone hardened a little. 'And I should warn you that I have no intention of haggling. The cost of a double High passage, take it or leave it. And I want the money now.'
'No.' Dumarest reached for the wine and called for a new goblet to replace the broken one. 'You'll get it after I'm on the ship and we're on our way.'
'You have it?' Egulus didn't wait for an answer. 'You're committing suicide if you haven't. Unless I get paid, you'll be evicted into the void.'
He meant it. Dumarest said, 'Don't worry about the money. You'll get it. When do we leave?'
'At noon.' Egulus reached for the wine Dumarest had poured. 'But we'll hit the gate an hour before dawn. The guards will be sleepy then. I'll arrange for a uniform for you before we leave here and they'll take you for one of my crew.'
Chapter Three
The Entil was a pleasant surprise. Despite what the captain had claimed, Dumarest had expected to see the usual dirt and neglect of those sharing partnership and unwilling to perform more than the essential tasks. A ship run on a shoestring, with patches and stained paint and filters which passed dust and tanks which leaked air. He had worked on such vessels and traveled on them too often to have retained any illusions, but the Entil was the exception to the rule.
Dumarest checked it after Egulus had seen him aboard and then moved on to the control room. The passageway was brightly illuminated, the cabins opening on it clean and neat, the paint shining as if newly washed. The salon was well furnished, the gaming table covered in clean, unworn baize, the light above throwing a neatly defined cone of brilliance. Testing the spigots, Dumarest found they not only supplied the normal water, but also a weakly alcoholic fruit drink. Unexpected luxury in any trader or in any vessel lower than the luxury class.
Allain, his guide, shrugged when he mentioned it. The steward was pushing middle age, his face smooth, bland with the diminution of curiosity. A man who had found his niche and who now observed the universe with cynical detachment and an extended palm.
'Egulus is smart. Advertise free wine and it adds the edge to persuading customers to ride with us instead of another. And it whets their appetites for something stronger!'
'Which you can supply?'
'Naturally, and you, too.' Allain glanced at the table. 'Get them a little high and they get careless. A smart man can really clean up if he puts his mind to it. Well, you'll learn. Now come and meet Jumoke.'
Jumoke was the navigator. He was younger than the steward, with intense blue eyes and a mouth which betrayed an inner sensitivity. He rose from the edge of his bunk as Dumarest entered his cabin, extending his hand, lowering it as Dumarest touched the fingers. They were smooth and cool, the nails rounded and neatly polished.
He said, 'So you have learned the old customs.'
'On a world far from here, yes.'
'The touching of hands,' explained Jumoke to the steward. 'A civilized act or an act performed among civilized peoples to show they have no hostile intent. On some worlds both hands are extended, on others only the empty palms are displayed.' To Dumarest he said, 'From Naud, perhaps?'
'No.'
'Hagor, then? Fiander? Or even Grett? All three worlds use the old custom. Rumor has it they gained it from the Original People, but so often does rumor lie. Personally, I come from Vult. You know it?'
'The cesspool of the Rift,' said Allain, before Dumarest could answer. 'Every man is a thief or murderer, every woman a harlot, even the children learn to lie and cheat at their mother's knee. A world of madness.'
'And our next port of call.' Jumoke looked at the steward. 'Aren't you supposed to be checking the stores?'
'It's done.'
'Completely? You've checked the sensatapes? The rare and delicate wines? The stronger liquors? The preserved delicacies which fetch so high a price? Be careful, my friend. If, by your neglect, we lose a profitable
