taking its place. Fatherless, the boy had found a mentor. Hendaza would take the place of the missing parent.
Lekhard had been edgy, sneering, turning away as he had met Dumarest's eyes. From him, later, there could be trouble but that was not Dumarest's concern. And Kanjuk, Lekhard's companion, had spoken to him and led the man from the assembly as if he had been a child.
Hendaza shrugged as Dumarest mentioned it.
'Lekhard is too ambitious and would have caused trouble had Navalok delayed obtaining his trophy for much longer. As you may have guessed I tried to spur him to courage in my own way. Now, as a potential Elder of the Family, he will crystalize various loyalties. Kanjuk knows that and will keep his friend in check.'
'And if he doesn't?' Dumarest was blunt. 'Navalok can't meet a challenge.'
'He must if necessary.' Hendaza was equally blunt. 'That is the price he pays for being accepted as a man. But if Lekhard should challenge him without just cause he will face, not just one young man, but a line of others each of whom will challenge him in turn. Eventually he will fall. This he knows.'
A mad dog taken care of in the traditional manner, Dumarest could appreciate how it would be done. Other Houses he had known would have called on the aide of assassins, here on Emijar they were more honest-or naive.
'And you, Earl?' Hendaza glanced towards Dephine. 'When are we to celebrate your obtaining a trophy? Soon, I hope?'
'Perhaps.'
'It will be soon, Hendaza,' said Dephine firmly. 'He would have had it by now but he had no wish to spoil Navalok's moment of triumph.'
'A commendable attitude and one worthy of a man of proven courage. You should be proud, Dephine.'
'I am.' She smiled with possessive affection. 'Very proud. Earl-' The smile changed to a frown as he moved away. 'Earl!'
He said, without turning, 'I'm going to see Navalok.'
* * * * *
The boy was at practice. He stood at one end of a firing range, facing targets shaped in the image of a man, the gun in his hand lifting, to steady, to fire. A light set behind the targets showed where the bullets had struck.
'I'm getting better, Earl. I can hit a man each time I fire now.'
'You can hit a target,' corrected Dumarest. 'A target can't shoot back.'
'Neither can a man if he's dead.' Navalok lowered the gun, reloaded it, slipped it into his belt. 'Watch this, Earl!'
He was a boy, proud of his skill, a child eager to demonstrate his ability. The gun lifted from the holster, leveled, fired. On the target a light shone through a hole in the forehead.
'There!'
Dumarest said, dispassionately, 'Navalok, you're a fool. Why aim for the head when the body offers a better target? And what if your opponent is wearing armor? If you want to play this stupid game then do it properly.'
'Stupid?'
'If you want to kill a man then do it. Get in hard and fast and, above all, get in first. Don't give him a chance. To do that is to invite death. Don't waste time in talk. Just act and get it done with.'
'But Earl, the code-'
'Is a game. Why else do you wear armor at times? To fight and not get hurt-so why fight at all. Now listen to me. Lekhard is no friend of yours and will challenge as soon as he can. How will he do it? Insult you?' Dumarest thinned his lips as the boy nodded. 'Right, when he does make sure that witnesses overhear. Be polite and above all don't lose your temper. Look at him as you would vermin. Refuse to be pushed and he will try harder and then, when you've enough provocation, draw out that gun and kill him.'
'In public?' Navalok looked startled. 'But, Earl a challenge has to be met with due formality.'
'Just kill him,' snapped Dumarest. 'And argue about it later. Let Alorcene check his records for precedents. He will find them. No society could have grown as yours has without men killing others at the slightest provocation. Restore some of the old traditions-and watch how the challenges suddenly lose their appeal.'
'Face him in public,' murmured the boy. 'Warn him first and then-'
'You don't give any warnings,' snapped Dumarest impatiently. 'He isn't a friend. He isn't anything but an animal you have to kill before he kills you. So kill him.' He added, more gently, 'You'll only have to do it once, Navalok. Just let the others see that you don't intend to play their game according to their rules and you might have a chance. It's your life, remember. Don't throw it away.'
'I won't, Earl. I'll do as you say-if I can.'
He would try and either success or the dead-weight of accepted custom would lead to his death, but Dumarest had done his best and could do no more. Now it was the turn of the other to give.
'I need a raft, Navalok. Can you get me one?'
'No, Earl, you need-'
'An accepted member of the House.' Dumarest was sharp. 'You have the right, now, and I want to go to town. Will you take me?'
They left as dusk softened the outlines of the hills and early stars began to glimmer in the skies. The boy was silent, sitting hunched and thoughtful beside Dumarest as he sent the raft skimming low and straight towards the field. It was empty of vessels as he'd known and, setting down the raft, Dumarest dropped over the side.
'Thank you, Navalok.'
'Shall I wait for you, Earl?'
'No.'
'You're spending the night here?' The boy looked at the deserted streets, the sombre bulk of shadowed buildings. All were dark aside from the hotel from which came glimmers of light and the sound of thin, reedy music. 'Earl?'
Dumarest said, 'Take the raft back to the House. Goodbye, Navalok.'
He walked to the hotel without looking back, thrusting open the door and stepping into a long, narrow room. It was almost empty, a scatter of men wearing various liveries sitting at small, round tables. At the far end a staircase rose to the upper rooms. On a low dais an old man blew into a bagged flute his gnarled fingers caressing a series of holes.
'Your pleasure, sir?' A squat man wearing a greasy tunic had stepped from behind a low counter. 'My House is honored. Some wine?'
'You have rooms?'
'The choice of a score. Always it is the same until a ship arrives. But first, some wine?'
It was rough, holding the tang of smoke and metal, too acid for his taste and a fitting accompaniment to the music.
As he refilled the glass the squat man said, 'A vessel should be calling here soon. The Ahdil is about due and, naturally, there could be others. A matter of days only, but waiting can be tedious if only for a single night, so if you'd rather not be alone?'
His glance as he posed the question was suggestive.
'No,' said Dumarest. 'All I want is a room.'
It was small, cramped, the bed sagging, the floor of bare, unpolished wood, but it was cheap and would serve. During the night Dephine came to join him.
* * * * *
She entered like a ghost to stand by the door, looking at Dumarest who, roused by the creak of wood, had risen and was facing her, the naked blade of the knife in his hand glimmering in the starlight coming through the narrow window.
He said, quietly, 'Why are you here?'
'Can't you guess, Earl?'
