'Are you?'
'I have no illusions, my lady. One day I shall return to my world but not until I have made enough money to live as I would like.' Chelhar tapped his nail against the rim of his goblet as if to provide an accompaniment to his words. 'At times I pray that it will not be long. There are worse planets than Tyumen. We have seas and plains and mountains tipped with snow. The skies are blue and the clouds are white and, at night, a great silver moon adorns the stars. It is old and scarred so that, with imagination, you can see a face looking down at you. Lovers find it pleasant to stroll in its light.'
Earth? The man could have been describing Earth-but how many planets had a single moon? A coincidence if not a deliberate trap. But why should a dealer want to set a snare?
Then Chelhar said, softly, 'Moonlight. How could you understand its magic? Sunlight, polarized and reflected but somehow magically changed so that the mundane takes on the aspect of mystery and enchantment. Moonlight and starlight, the glory of the heavens, and yet you of Zakym want none of it.'
'Can have none of it,' corrected Lavinia. 'The curfew-'
'Close the door of your prison of night.' Chelhar shrugged. 'I am in no position to question the local customs or beliefs of any world, but this is one of the strangest Yes, I know about the Pact and the Sungari, but I've also heard about ghosts and goblins and things which lurk in the mist. Superstitions which have grown to control the minds and habits of men and peoples. On Angku, for example, no woman may be seen with a naked face. All wear masks and some are fantastic in their depictions; birds, beasts, reptiles, insects, some are things of horror. Yet those same women are forbidden to cover their breasts. Odd, is it not?'
'An original belief or cultural eccentricity,' said Lavinia. 'But the Sungari are real.'
'Of course.'
'They exist!' Dumarest had not liked the glance, the hint of a sneer, the smooth manner of a man who was a guest but who seemed to have his own ideas as to how he should conduct himself. 'I know.'
Chelhar insisted on arguing. 'Are you saying that the Sungari actually and literally rule the night? That if I left this castle now, before dawn, they would kill me?'
'Something would destroy you. You would not live to see the dawn.' Dumarest halted his hand as it reached for the goblet. 'If you wish to put it to the test it can be arranged.'
'You would permit me to leave?'
'You spoke of a prison of the night,' said Dumarest. 'Every house on Zakym is such a prison but I am not your jailer. Leave if you want.'
'And die?'
Dumarest picked up his wine. 'Yes,' he said, flatly. 'And die.'
The day broke clear, the wreaths of night-mist which had gathered during the night already dissipated in the crisp, cool air. Lavinia had chosen to ride and was in the lead, the hooves of her mount ringing against the packed stone of the road, softening to a drumming beat as she led the way to a dirt path which wound up and around the point known as Ellman's Rest.
Dumarest glanced at it as he passed, seeing the gnarled old tree in whose branches a dead man sat and talked at times; a suicide who returned during delusia to warn others against the end he had chosen. Rocks were heaped at the base of the trunk and some night-mist, lingering in the protected shade, hung like wisps of gossamer.
Chelhar turned in his saddle, smiling, and pointed at the lace-like stuff with his whip.
'Food for your mysterious Sungari, Earl? It seems they had little appetite last night.'
He smiled, impeccable in his clothing, rich fabrics adorned with gilded thread. His hands were bare, heavy with rings, the nails smooth and neatly rounded. His spurs were rounds of metal rimmed with blunted spikes.
As Dumarest made no answer he said, 'I am irritating you, my friend, and for that I apologize. For the informality also if it should offend. I ask you to be generous with my failings-last night we drank deeper than was wise.'
Deep, but not too deep for caution and Dumarest wondered if they both had played the same game. As Lavinia had talked enthusiastically about her herd, the dealer making appropriate noises, he had watched with casual attention. Did the man lift his goblet too often and drink too deeply for the amount of wine it contained? Were his gestures a little too wide, his speech a little too hurried? Once he had risen and stumbled as he had crossed the floor and once his hand, as if by accident, had knocked over a glass. Had he pretended to be fuddled?
An old trick for one in his profession but others who dealt in more lethal business could have adopted the same camouflage. As the man rode ahead Dumarest brooded over what he had heard. A ship found drifting in the Rift-the Sleethan? The news was old now, the man found would have talked had he been able. It could only have been the captain or the engineer but either, if questioned, would have said too much for his safety. The trail he had thought safely buried would be clear to any with the intelligence to see. And Dumarest had no doubt as to who that would be.
'A fine day, Earl.' Roland had ridden to his side. Behind them attendants conveyed mounts loaded with packs; bales of meats and wines for the midday meal which Lavinia intended to make a social occasion. A raft would have provided better transportation but the vehicle would have frightened the beasts. 'Comfortable?'
'I can manage.'
'Of course. I didn't mean-' Roland broke off, flustered. Rising in his stirrups he looked back, then ahead to where Chelhar was riding close at Lavinia's side. 'I'd better join them. There are things I want to say to her in private. Perhaps you would engage the dealer for me, Earl?'
He was being discreet and offering an opportunity to break up the couple. A mark of his jealousy or he could have genuinely had something to tell the woman. Dumarest watched him ride ahead then urged his own mount to a faster pace. Chelhar pulled to one side and waited for him to catch up.
'The Lord Acrae tells me you have the gambler's spirit, my friend. Shall we have a wager? Ten eldrens that I reach the clump of shrub at the edge of the foothills before you. A bet?'
One he couldn't lose. The man rode as well as Lavinia and Dumarest knew himself to be hopelessly outclassed. Chelhar shrugged as, bluntly, he refused.
'I understand. No man wants to appear less than his best before his lady. But we must do something to beguile the journey. For the fun of it, then. I will give you a start. Ride ahead and, when you reach that heap of yellow boulders to the left, I will follow and do my best to win.'
Nodding Dumarest touched his heels to the flanks of his mount. The animal started a little, felt the firmness of the hands on the reins and stretched its legs into a gallop. Dumarest, riding with lengthened stirrups, standing so as to clear the jouncing of the saddle, watched as the ground streamed past. He would lose, that was certain, but he would not lose by much. His manner of riding, learned while on Ebth, made for comfort but not for continued bursts of speed. The dealer would win.
But Chelhar was slow in catching up.
Turning Dumarest saw him as he urged on his mount, lying low over the saddle, body rising and falling in perfect synchronization with the movements of the beast. As the patch of scrub came nearer he could hear the thud of hooves, the creak of leather, the pant of the animal's breath.
'Earl!' Lavinia called, waving as she rose in her saddle. 'Wait, Earl! Wait!'
Her voice was thin, barely heard over the thud of hooves, the rush of wind, but Dumarest slowed a little, swinging his mount to the side as Chelhar came up level. The man turned, smiling, teeth flashing against the ebon of his skin, eyes bright beneath the curved line of his brows.
'Fifty eldrens if you catch me, Earl. We are almost at the scrub. Fifty-'
'No.'
'Then follow me if you can!'
A stupid challenge, one born of the excitement of the moment and belonging more to a juvenile academy than to the world of grown men. Dumarest slowed even more as the other lunged ahead. He saw Chelhar reach the scrub, vanish into the patch of vegetation and heard again Lavinia's call.
'Stop him, Earl! There are crevasses-broken ground-stop him!'
A man galloping into the unknown, risking his life and that of his mount-for what?
And why?
Dumarest slowed to a walk and edged into the growth. Bushes lay ahead, broken by the passage of the other beast, leaves and broken twigs strewing the ground. Beyond lay a slope scored with shallow gullys, deeper slashes
