snarled as it was driven with electronic probes, an animal being taken to slaughter-but why was it being driven toward the gate?
The trap closed before he had taken three strides.
Snarling, the animal reared, stung by electronic whips, goaded beyond the endurance of its savage temper. Turning, it was stung again, back hurting still more, only by running could it escape its tormentors. And before it rested the gate and the cluster of men.
They scattered as it came, some desperately trying to climb the fence, falling back from the mesh, which gave no hold for hands and feet. Dumarest dodged, feeling the blow of a horn, the plastic of his tunic slit as by a knife, only the metal mesh embedded with the material saving him from injury. Rolling where he fell he sprang to his feet, seeing Cran running, to be caught, gored, tossed high, to fall with his intestines trailing from his ripped stomach, dead before he hit the ground.
Barely pausing, the bull reared, pawed the ground, and then, like a storm, came directly toward him.
Again he dodged, the knife in his hand darting to draw blood from the scarred hide. A blow meant to hurt, not to kill, to sting and not to maim. He backed, moving away from the gate, the helpless men crouched, watchful.
The eyes were too well protected, the head solid bone. He could slash the throat, but there was no storm to confuse the beast, and too many were watching. The snout, he decided. The muzzle would be tender. Stab it and the beast would flinch. Continue and it would turn and head toward the town.
Like a dancer he faced it, the knife glittering in his hand, darting, withdrawing as he sprang aside from the horns, the tip now stained with blood, more smearing the muzzle, the lips drawn back from the gleaming teeth.
Again, a third time, then he heard the crack of shots, bullets slamming into the beast from the guns of uniformed guards.
Guns which leveled on his body as the animal fell.
* * *
'You betrayed yourself,' said Ibius Avorot. 'I want you to understand that. I also want you to understand that I am in no doubt that you killed the bull belonging to Owner Harada. It would simplify matters if you were to confess.'
Dumarest said nothing, looking at the room to which he had been taken. It was bleak, relieved only by a bowl of flowers, a gentle touch at variance with the stark furnishings, the desk, the men who sat facing him. A man still young but with touches of premature gray showing at his temples. His uniform of ocher and green.
He was not alone. To one side sat a couple, the man older than the woman, Tien Harada and his sister Pacula. At the other sat Usan Labria, who had insisted attending the interrogation as an impartial observer. A demand Avorot could not refuse and to which Harada had been forced to agree. There must be no later suspicion of manipulated evidence-the matter was too important for that.
As the silence lengthened Avorot said, 'Your name is Earl Dumarest. You arrived on Teralde on the trader
'Laconde.'
'And before that?'
'Many worlds,' said Dumarest. 'I am a traveler.'
'A drifter,' snapped Tien Harada. 'Useless scum causing trouble.'
An interruption Averot could have done without. He said firmly, 'With respect, Owner Harada, I am conducting this investigation. You are interested, I am sure, in determining the truth.'
'The truth,' said Harada and added pointedly, 'Not your interpretation of it. I am fully aware that it would be most convenient if it was decided an outsider killed my bull.'
An implied insult which Avorot chose to ignore. Glancing at the folder lying open before him on the desk he said to Dumarest, 'Your planet of origin?'
'Earth.'
'Earth?' Averot looked up. 'An odd name for a world. I have never heard of it. But no matter. You understand why you are here and the charge made against you? It is that, on the night of the storm, you conspired with others to unlawfully slaughter a beast belonging to Owner Harada. The penalty for that is death.'
Dumarest said flatly, 'If I am guilty.'
'Of course.'
'And isn't there a matter of proof?'
'Naturally. Teralde is not a barbaric world and we observe the law. But there is proof. A confession was made before witnesses.' Avorot glanced at Usan Labria. 'You were named and implicated. Some meat was recovered and the contents of the stomach of the man killed before the gate contained more. He was your associate.'
'Was,' said Dumarest bitterly. 'Did he have to die?'
'That was unfortunate, but it was essential to prove a point. Owner Harada found it hard to believe that a man could kill a chelach with only a knife. You showed him that it could be done.'
And had shown his speed, the thing the dying man had mentioned, the incredibly fast reflexes which alone made such a thing possible. Leaning back, Avorot looked at the man before him. A hard man, he decided, one long accustomed to making his own way. Such a man would not willingly have starved.
Pacula said, 'Commissioner, what you say is impressive, but surely there is doubt? The witness could have lied. What makes you so certain this is the man?'
'Because he fits the pattern, my lady.'
'Pattern?'
'When the crime was reported I was faced with a choice of alternatives,' Avorot explained. 'An Owner could have been responsible for reasons we all know, but I could find no evidence against any of them. The alternative was that the animal had been killed solely for its meat. In that case a man of a special type had to be responsible. Consider what needed to be done. Men assembled, for he would have needed at least a guide and others to create a distraction. The fence cut, the beast killed and butchered, the meat transported to the Wilderness later to be dried in the sun.'
'For what reason?'
'Food, my lady.' Avorot masked his irritation. Why couldn't they see what to him was clear?
'But this man has money. He had no reason to steal.'
Again she had missed the point and he took a pleasure in explaining how he had arrived at what could only be the true answer.
To Dumarest he said, 'You are a clever man, shrewd and with courage, but you were unlucky. Those who deal with others always run the risk of betrayal, but it was one you had to take. Let us review the situation. You landed on Teralde with the price of a Low passage and within a matter of hours you discovered that work was unobtainable. Some men would have gambled and hoped to win, others would have used their money to buy food, but you know better than to do either. Without money you would be stranded and a man who is desperate to win never does. What remained? How to survive with your money intact so as to buy a passage to another world? And how to build up your strength so as to survive a Low passage?'
Pacula said, 'Commissioner?'
'A man needs to be strong to ride in a casket, my lady,' said Avorot, not looking at her. 'He needs fat on which to sustain his metabolism. Chelach meat is the most concentrated form of natural nourishment we know. A half pound can provide energy for a day. The dead beast provided enough to maintain a dozen men for weeks. You took a chance, Dumarest, but a good one. Simply to stay out of sight and save your money for when a ship came. To make those who had worked with you do the same. For you that would not have been difficult. The threat of your knife would have cowed them.'
'You spoke of a witness,' said Harada sharply.
'A man more greedy than the rest. I knew there would have to be such a one and took steps to take him when he appeared.'
A pity. Pecula leaned forward in her chair, looking at the accused. He stood tall and calm, his face impassive, the lines and planes firm and strong. There was a strength about him, a hard determination which appealed to her femininity. Tien was strong also, but his strength was of a different kind. A thing of impatience and bluster, quick action and ruthless drive. Would he have killed a beast, knowing the penalties and the risks of betrayal?
