'I don't.' Dumarest jerked open the door of the cabin. 'Pacula. Usan, please step outside. I want to talk to the girl alone.'
'What do you intend?' Pacula was suspicious. 'If-'
'Don't be a fool!' snapped Usan impatiently. 'Earl has his reasons and he won't hurt her. Let him do as he wants. I trust him if you don't.'
Alone with the girl, Dumarest stood for a moment with his back to the closed door, then stepped to where she sat.
Abruptly he moved his hand toward her eyes, halting his fingers an inch from the blank orbs.
'You almost touched me,' she said evenly.
'You felt the wind?'
'That and more, Earl. I may call you that?'
'Yes, Embira, but how did you know it was me?'
His tread, perhaps, sharp ears could have distinguished it. His odor, the normally undetectable exudations from his body, recognized by a dog so why not by a girl trained to use the rest of her senses?
'Your aura,' she said. 'I can tell your aura. You carry metal and wear more. The others do not.'
The knife he carried in his boot and the mesh buried in the plastic of his clothing. An electronic instrument could have determined as much-was she no more than that?
Stepping back from the chair Dumarest said, 'I am going to move about the cabin. Tell me where I am and, if possible, what I am doing.'
He moved toward the door, stepped to the right, the left, approached her and retreated and, each time, she correctly gave his movement. A small block of clear plastic stood on a table, an ornament containing an embedded flower. He picked it up, tossed it, threw it suddenly toward her.
His aim had been good, it missed her face by more than an inch, but she had made no effort to ward off the missile.
'Did you see that?'
'See?'
'Observe, sense, become aware.' Baffled he sought for another word to explain sight. 'Determine?'
'Krang,' she said. 'At the laboratory they called it krang. No, I could not krang it.'
'Why not?'
'It had no aura.'
Plastic and a dead flower, yet both were mass and a radar installation would have been able to track the path of the object. Too small, perhaps? A matter of density?
He said, 'How many others ride this ship?'
'Seven.' Frowning, she added, 'I think, seven. One is hard to determine. His aura is hazed and lost at times.'
The engineer, his aura diffused by the energies emitted by the generator-if she was registering raw energy. If she could see, or krang it.
Sitting on the cot Dumarest tried to understand. A mind which could determine the presence of energy or mass if it was large or dense enough. Every living thing radiated energy, every machine, every piece of decaying matter. To be blind to the normal spectrum of light, yet to be able to 'see' the varying auras of fluctuating fields, to isolate them, to state their movements against the background of other auras.
What else was normal sight? Only the terminology was different. He saw in shape and form and color, she distinguished patterns. He saw solid objects of isolated mass, she recognized force fields and stress-complexes, 'auras' of varying size, hue, and form.
Sufan's guide to find a dream.
He said, 'Embira, how long were you with the Schell-Peng?'
'All my life.'
'As far back as you can remember, you mean. They wouldn't have taken you as a baby. Was your past never mentioned?'
'No, Earl. They trained me. Always they trained me, and sometimes they hurt me. I think they did things-' Her hands lifted toward her face, her eyes. 'No. I can't remember.'
It was kinder not to press. Rising, Dumarest said, 'I want to examine you, Embira. I may touch you, do you mind?'
'No.'
Her face turned up toward him as he lifted fingers beneath her chin, the cheeks petal-smooth, the forehead unlined. Her skin was warm with a velvet softness and the perfume Pacula had sprayed onto her hair rose to engulf him in a scented cloud. Carefully he studied her eyes, seeing no sign of scars or adapted tissue. The balls seemed to be covered with an opaque film shot with lambent strands, the irises and pupils invisible.
'Earl, your hands, they are so firm.'
'I won't hurt you. Can you move your eyes? No? Never mind.'
The gown had long sleeves. He lifted them and looked at the expanse of her arms.
'Do you want to see the rest of me, Earl?' Her voice was innocent of double meaning. 'Shall I undress?'
'No, that won't be necessary. Do you know why you are here, Embira?'
'Sufan Noyoka told me. I am to guide you.'
'Can you?'
'I don't know, Earl, but I will try. I will do anything you want.'
'No, Embira,' he said, harshly. 'Not what I want. Not what Sufan Noyoka wants or any other person. You're not a slave. You do as you want and nothing else. You understand?'
'But I was bought-'
'You were stolen,' he interrupted. 'You belong to no one but yourself. You owe nothing to anyone.'
A lesson he tried to drive home. The girl was too vulnerable and had yet to be armored against the cruel reality of life.
For a long moment she sat, silent, then said, slowly, 'You mean well, Earl, I know that. But you are wrong. I do owe you something. But only you, Earl. For you I would do anything.'
A child speaking with an unthinking innocence, unaware of the implication, the unspoken invitation. Then, looking at her, he realized how wrong that was. She was not a child but a fully mature woman with all a woman's instincts. His touch had triggered a response to his masculinity; a biochemical reaction as old as time.
Aware of his scrutiny she said, 'At the laboratories they told me I was very beautiful. Am I?'
'Yes.'
'And you like me?'
'You're a member of this expedition. I like you no more and no less than the others.'
Outside the cabin Pacula was waiting, Marek at her side. As she brushed past Dumarest and closed the door he smiled.
'The girl has stimulated her maternal instincts, Earl. Twice I had to stop her from interfering. And, of course, there could be a touch of jealously. The girl is very lovely, don't you agree?'
Dumarest said, 'I owe you thanks.'
'For the scream? It was nothing, a diversion created without personal danger, and it amused me to see you overcome those men.' Pausing, Marek added casually, 'One other thing, Earl. It might interest you to know we are being followed.'
'A ship?'
'From Chamelard. It left shortly after we did, but don't worry, we are pulling ahead. And contact is impossible. A small accident to the radio, you understand. I thought it wise.'
How much did the man know or suspect? A lover of puzzles, a man proud of his talent, could he have associations with the Cyclan? And Dumarest could guess what the following ship contained. A cyber who had predicted his movements and had arrived on Chamelard a little too late.
He said, 'The Schell-Peng must be eager for revenge.'
'That's what I thought.' Marek's eyes were bland. 'And with a captain like ours it would be stupid to take chances. He would think nothing of cooperating if the reward were high enough. Us evicted, the girl handed over, money received, the
