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------------------ Norton, Andre - Uncharted Stars (v1.0) (html).htmlScanned
by Highroller.Proofed by Wordsmith.Made prettier by use of EBook Design Group
Stylesheet.Uncharted Stars by Andre Norton Chapter OneIt was like any other
caravansary at a space port, not providing quartersfor a Veep or some
off-planet functionary, but not for a belt as sparselypacked with credits as
mine was at that moment either. My fingers twitchedand I got a cold chill
in my middle every time my thoughts strayed to howflat that belt was at
present. But there is such a thing as face, orprestige, whatever name
you want to give it, and that I must have now orfail completely. And my
aching feet, my depressed spirits told me that I wasalready at the point
where one surrendered hope and waited for theinevitable blow to fall.
That blow could only fell me in one direction. Iwould lose what I had
played the biggest gamble of my life to win--a shipnow sitting on its tail
fins in a field I could have sighted from this hotelhad I been a Veep and
able to afford one of the crown tower rooms withactual windows. One may be
able to buy a ship but thereafter it sits eatingup more and more credits in
ground fees, field service--more costs than myinnocence would have believed
possible a planet month earlier. And onecannot lift off world until he
has a qualified pilot at the controls, thewhich I was not, and the which I
had not been able to locate.It had all sounded so easy in the beginning. My
thinking had certainly beenclouded when I had plunged into this. No--been
plunged! Now I centered mygaze on the door which was the entrance to what
I could temporarily call"home," and I had very unkind thoughts, approaching
the dire, about thepartner waiting me behind it.The past year had certainly
not been one to soothe my nerves, or lead me tobelieve that providence
smiled sweetly at me. It had begun as usual. I,Murdoc Jern, had been going
about my business in the way any roving gembuyer's apprentice would. Not
that our lives, mine and my master VondarUstle's, had been without exciting
incident. But on Tanth, in the spin of adiabolical"sacred" arrow, everything
had broken apart as if a laser ray had been usedto sever me not only from
Vondar but from any peace of mind or body.When the sacrifice arrow of the
green-robed priests had swung to a stopbetween Vondar and me, we had not
feared; off-worlders were not meat tosatisfy their demonic master. Only we
had been jumped by the tavern crowd,probably only too glad to see a choice
which had not included one of them.Vondar had died from a knife thrust and I
had been hunted down the byways ofthat dark city, to claim sanctuary in the
hold of another of their grislygodlings. From there I had, I thought, paid
my way for escape on a FreeTrader. But I had only taken a wide stride
from a stinking morass into abush fire--since my rise into space had started
me on a series of adventuresso wild that, had another recited them to me, I
would have thought them theproduct of fash-smoke breathing, or something he
had heard from a storytape. Suffice it that I was set adrift in space
itself, along with acompanion whose entrance into my time and space was as
weird as his looks.He was born rightly enough, in the proper manner, out of
a ship's cat. Onlyhis father was a black stone, or at least several men
trained to observe theunusual would state that. Eet and I had been drawn by
the zero stone--thezero stone! One might well term that the seed of all
disorder!I had seen it first in my father's hands--dull, lifeless, set in a
greatring meant to be worn over the bulk of a space glove. It had been found
onthe body of an alien on an unknown asteroid. And how long dead its
suitedowner was might be anyone's guess--up to and including a million
years onthe average planet. That it had a secret, my father knew,
and itsfascination held him. In fact, he died to keep it as a threatening
heritagefor me. It was the zero stone on my own gloved hand which had drawn
me, andEet, through empty space to a drifting derelict which might or
might nothave been the very ship its dead owner had once known. And from
that alifeboat had taken us to a world of forest and ruins, where, to
keep oursecret and our lives, we had fought both the Thieves' Guild (which my
fathermust have defied, though he had once been a respected member of its
uppercircles) and the Patrol. Eet had found one cache of the zero stones.
Bychance we both stumbled on another. And that one was weird enough to make
aman remember it for the rest of his days, for it had been carefully laid
upin a temporary tomb, shared by the bodies of more than one species of
alien,as if intended to pay their passage home to distant and unknown planets
oforigin. And we knew part of their secret. Zero stones had the power to
boostany energy they contacted, and they would also home on their
fellows,activating such in turn. But that the planet we had landed upon by
chancewas the source of the stones, Eet denied. We used the caches for
bargaining,not with the Guild, but with the Patrol, and we came out of the
deal withcredits for a ship of our own, plus--very sourly given--clean
records andour freedom to go as we willed. Our ship was Eet's
suggestion. Eet, acreature I could crush in my two hands (sometimes I
thought that solutionwas an excellent one for me), had an invisible presence
which towered higherthan any Veep I had ever met. In part, his feline
mother had shaped him,though I sometimes speculated as to whether his
physical appearance did notcontinue to change subtly. He was furred, though
his tail carried only aridge of that covering down it. But his feet
were bare-skinned and hisforepaws were small hands which he could use to
purposes which proved themmore akin to my palms and fingers than a feline's
paws. His ears were smalland set close to his head, his body elongated and
sinuous. But it was hismind, not the body he informed me had been "made"
for him, which counted.Not only was he telepathic, but the knowledge which
abode in his memory, andwhich he gave me in bits and pieces, must have rivaled
the lore of the famedZacathan libraries, which are crammed with centuries of
learning. Who--orwhat--Eet was he would never say. But that I would ever be
free of him againI greatly doubted. I could resent his calm dictatorship,
which steered meon occasion, but there was a fascination (I sometimes
speculated as towhether this was deliberately used to entangle me, but if
it was a trap ithad been very skillfully constructed) which kept me his
partner. He had toldme many times our companionship was needful, that I
provided one part, hethe other, to make a greater whole. And I had to admit
that it was throughhim we had come out of our brush with Patrol and
Guild as well as wehad--with a zero stone still in our possession.For it was
Eet's intention, which I could share at more optimistic times, tosearch out
the source of the stones. Some small things I had noted on theunknown planet
of the caches made me sure that Eet knew more about theunknown
civilization or confederation which had first used the stones thanhe had told
me. And he was right in that the man who had the secret of theirsource could
name his own price--always providing he could manage to marketthat secret
without winding up knifed, burned, or disintegrated in somemessy fashion
before he could sell it properly.We had found a ship in a break-down yard
maintained by a Salarik who knewbargaining as even my late master (whom I had
heretofore thought unbeatable)did not. I will admit at once that without Eet
I would not have lasted tenplanet minutes against such skill and would
have issued forth owning themost battered junk the alien had sitting
lopsidedly on rusting fins. But theSalariki are feline-ancestered, and
perhaps Eet's cat mother gave himspecial insight into the other's mind.
The result was we emerged with auseful ship. It was old, it had been
through changes of registry many times,but it was, Eet insisted, sound. And
it was small enough for the planethopping we had in mind. Also, it was,
when Eet finished bargaining, withinthe price we could pay, which in the end
included its being serviced forspace and moved to the port ready for
take-off.But there it had sat through far too many days, lacking a pilot.
Eet mighthave qualified had he inhabited a body humanoid enough to
master thecontrols. I had never yet come to the end of any branch of
knowledge in mycompanion, who might evade a direct answer to be sure, but
whose supremeconfidence always led me to believe that he did have the correct
one.It was now a simple problem: We had a ship but no pilot. We were piling
uprental on the field and we could not lift. And we were very close to the
endof that small sum we had left after we paid for the ship. Such gems
asremained in my belt were not enough to do more than pay for a couple
moredays' reckoning at the caravansary, if I could find a buyer. And that
wasanother worry to tug at my mind.As Vondar's assistant and apprentice, I had
met many of the major gem buyerson scores of planets. But it was to Ustle
that they opened their doors andgave confidence. When I dealt on my own I
might find the prospect bleak,unless I drifted into what was so often the
downfall of the ambitious, thefringes of the black market which dealt in
stolen gems or those with dubiouspasts. And there I would come face to face
with the Guild, a prospect whichwas enough to warn me off even more than a
desire to keep my record clean.I had not found a pilot. Resolutely now I
pushed my worries back into theimmediate channel. Deal with one thing at a
time, and that, the one facingyou. We had to have a pilot to lift, and we had
to lift soon, very soon, orlose the ship before making a single venture into
space with her.None of the reputable hiring agencies had available a man who
would bewilling--at our wages--to ship out on what would seem a desperate
venture,the more so when I could not offer any voyage bond. This left the
rejects,men black-listed by major lines, written off agency books for some
mistakeor crime. And to find such a one I must go down into the Off-port, that
partof the city where even the Patrol and local police went on sufferance and
incouples, where the Guild ruled. To call attention to myself there was
askingfor a disagreeable future--kidnaping, mind scanning, all the other
illegalways of gaining my knowledge. The Guild had a long and accurate
memory.There was a third course. I could throw up everything--turn on my heel
andwalk away from the door I was about to activate by thumb pressure
onpersonal seal, take a position in one of the gem shops (if I could
findone), forget Eet's wild dream. Even throw the stone in my belt into
thenearest disposal to remove the last temptation. In fact, become as
ordinaryand law-abiding a citizen as I could.I was greatly tempted. But I
was enough of a Jern not to yield. Instead Iset thumb to the door and at the
same time beamed a thought before me ingreeting. As far as I knew, the
seals in any caravansary, once set toindividual thumbprints, could not be
fooled. But there can always be a firsttime and the Guild is notorious for
buying up or otherwise acquiring newmethods of achieving results which even
the Patrol does not suspect havebeen discovered. If we had been traced
here, then there just might be areception committee waiting beyond. So I
tried mind-touch with Eet forreassurance. What I got kept me standing
where I was, thumb to doorplate,bewildered, then suspicious. Eet was there. I
received enough to be sure ofthat. We had been mind-coupled long enough for
even tenuous linkage to beclear to my poorer human senses. But now Eet was
withdrawn, concentratingelsewhere. My fumbling attempts to communicate
failed.Only it was not preoccupation with danger, no warn-off. I pressed my
thumbdown and watched the door roll back into the wall, intent on what
laybeyond. The room was small, not the cubby of a freeze-class traveler,
butcertainly not the space of a Veep suite. The various fixtures
werewall-folded. And now the room was unusually empty, for apparently Eet
hadsent every chair, as well as the table, desk, and bed back into the
walls,leaving the carpeted floor bare, a single bracket light going.A circle
of dazzling radiance was cast by that (I noted at once that it hadbeen set on
the highest frequency and a small portion of my mind begancalculating
how many minutes of that overpower would be added to our bill).Then I saw what
was set squarely under it and I was really startled.As was true of all port
caravansaries, this one catered to tourists as wellas business travelers.
In the lobby was a shop--charging astronomicalprices--where one could buy
a souvenir or at least a present for one'sfuture host or some member of
the family. Most of it was, as always, aparade of eye-catching local
handicrafts to prove one had been on Theba,with odds and ends of exotic
imports from other planets to attract theattention of the less
sophisticated traveler. There were always in suchshops replicas of the
native fauna, in miniature for the most part. Somewere carved as art, others
wrought in furs or fabrics to create a very closelikeness of the original,
often life-size for smaller beasts, birds, orwhat-is-its. What sat now in
the full beam of the lamp was a stuffed pookha.It was native to Theba. I had
lingered by a pet shop (intrigued in spite ofmy worries) only that morning to
watch three live pookhas. And I could wellunderstand their appeal. They
were, even in the stuffed state, luxury itemsof the first class. This one was
not much larger than Eet when he drew hislong thin body together in a
hunched position, but it was of a far differentshape, being chubby and plump
and with the instant appeal to my species thatall its kind possess. Its
plushy fur was, a light green-gray with a faintmottling which gave it the
appearance of the watered brocade woven onAstrudia. Its fore-paws were
bluntly rounded pads, unclawed, though it waswell provided with teeth, which
in live pookhas were used for crushing theirfood--rich leaves. The head was
round with no visible ears, but between thepoints where ears might normally
be, from one side of that skull-ball to theother, there stood erect a broad
mane of whisker growth fanning out in finedisplay. The eyes were very large
and green, of a shade several tints darkerthan its fur. It was life-size and
very handsome--also very, very expensive.And how it had come here I did not
have the slightest idea. I would havemoved forward to examine it more
closely but a sharp crack of thought fromEet froze me where I stood. It was
not a concrete message but a warning notto interfere. Interfere in what? I
looked from the stuffed pookha to myroommate. Though I had been through
much with Eet and had thought I hadlearned not to be surprised at any
action of my alien companion, he nowsucceeded very well in startling me. He
was, as I had seen, hunched on thefloor just beyond the circle of intense
light cast by the lamp. And he wasstaring as intently at the toy as if he
had been watching the advance ofsome enemy. Only Eet was no longer entirely
Eet. His slim, almost reptilianbody was not only hunched into a contracted
position but actually appearedto have become plumper and shorter, aping
most grotesquely the outwardcontours of the pookha. In addition, his dark
fur had lightened, held agreenish sheen. Totally bewildered, yet
fascinated by what was occurringbefore my unbelieving eyes, I watched him
turn into a pookha, altering hislimbs, head shape, color, and all the rest.
Then he shuffled into the lightand squatted by the toy to face me. His thought
rang loudly in my head."Well?""You are that one." I pointed a finger, but I
could not be sure. To the lastraised whisker of crest, the last tuft of soft
greenish fur, Eet was twin tothe toy he had copied."Close your eyes!" His
order came so quickly I obeyed without question.A little irritated, I
immediately opened them again, to confront once moretwo pookhas. I guessed
his intent, that I should again choose between them.But to my closest survey
there was no difference between the toy and Eet,who had settled without any
visible signs of life into the same posture. Iput out my hand at last and
lifted the nearest, to discover I had the model.And I felt Eet's satisfaction
and amusement."Why?" I demanded."I am unique." Was there a trace of
complacency in that remark? "So I wouldbe recognized, remarked upon. It is
necessary that I assume another guise.""But how did you do this?"He sat back
on his haunches. I had gone down on my knees to see him thecloser, once
more setting the toy beside him and looking from one to theother for some
small difference, though I could see none."It is a matter of mind." He seemed
impatient. "How little you know. Yourspecies is shut into a shell of your own
contriving, and I see little signsof your struggling to break out of it." This
did not answer my question verywell. I still refused to accept the fact that
Eet, in spite of all he hadbeen able to do in the past, could think himself
into a pookha.He caught my train of thought easily enough. "Think
myself into ahallucination of a pookha," he corrected in that superior
manner I foundirking."Hallucination!" Now that I could believe. I had never
seen it done withsuch skill and exactitude, but there were aliens who dealt
in such illusionswith great effect and I had heard enough factual tales of
such to believethat it could be done, and that one receptive to such
influences andpatterns could be made to see as they willed. Was it because I
had so longcompanied Eet and at times been under his domination that I was
so deceivednow? Or would the illusion he had spun hold for others also?"For
whom and as long as I wish," he snapped in reply to my
unaskedquestion."Tactile illusion as well --feel!" He thrust forth a furred
forelimb, whichI touched. Under my fingers it was little different from the
toy, exceptthat it had life and was not just fur laid over stuffing."Yes." I
sat back on my heels, convinced. Eet was right, as so often hewas--often
enough to irritate a less logical being such as I. In his ownform Eet was
strange enough to be noticed, even in a space port, where thereis always a
coming and going of aliens and unusual pets. He could furnish aclue to our
stay here. I had never underrated the Guild or their spy system.But if they
had a reading on Eet, then how much more so they must have meimprinted on
their search tapes! I had been their quarry long before I metEet, ever
since after my father's murder, when someone must have guessedthat I had
taken from his plundered office the zero stone their man had notfound. They
had set up the trap which had caught Vondar Ustle but not me.And they had
laid another trap on the Free Trader, one which Eet had foiled,although I did
not know of it until later. On the planet of ruins they hadactually held me
prisoner until Eet again freed me. So they had hadinnumerable chances
of taping me for their hounds--a fact which wasfrightening to
consider."You will think yourself a cover." Eet's calm order cut
across myuneasiness."I cannot! Remember, I am of a limited species--" I
struck back with thebaffled anger that realization of my plight aroused in
me."You have only the limits you yourself set," Eet returned
unruffled."Perceive--"He waddled on his stumpy pookha legs to the opposite
side of the room, andas suddenly flowed back into Eet again, stretching
his normal body upagainst the wall at such a lengthening as I would not have
believed even hissupple muscles and flesh capable of. With one of his
paw-hands he managed totouch a button and the wall provided us with a mirror
surface. In that I sawmyself. I am not outstanding in any way. My hair is
darkish brown, which istrue of billions of males of Terran stock. I have
a face which is wideacross the eyes, narrowing somewhat to the chin,
undistinguished for eithergood looks or downright ugliness. My eyes are
green-brown, and my brows,black, as are my lashes. As a merchant who travels
space a great deal, I hadhad my beard permanently eradicated when it first
showed. A beard in a spacehelmet is unpleasant. And for the same reason I wear
my hair cropped short.I am of medium height as my race goes, and I have
all the right number oflimbs and organs for my own species. I could be
anyone--except that theidentification patterns the Guild might hold on me
could go deeper and befar more searching than a glance at a passing
stranger.Eet flowed back across the room with his usual liquid movement, made
one ofhis effortless springs to my shoulder, and settled down in position
behindmy neck, his head resting on top of mine, his hand-paws flat on either
sideof my skull just below my ears."Now!" he commanded. "Think of another
face--anyone's--"When so ordered I found that I could not--at first. I looked
into the mirrorand my reflection was all that was there. I could feel Eet's
impatience andthat made it even more difficult for me to concentrate. Then
that impatiencefaded and I guessed that he was willing it under control."Think
of another." He was less demanding, more coaxing. "Close your eyes ifyou
must--"I did, trying to summon up some sort of picture in my mind--a face
which wasnot my own. Why I settled for Faskel I could not say, but somehow my
fosterbrother's unliked countenance swam out of memory and I concentrated upon
it.It was not clear but I persevered, setting up the long narrow
outline--thenose as I had last seen it, jutting out over a straggle of
lip-grown hair.Faskel Jern had been my father's true son, while I was but one
by adoption.Yet it had always seemed that I was Hywel Jern's son in spirit
and Faskelthe stranger. I put the purplish scar on Faskel's forehead
near hishairline, added the petulant twist of lips which had been
his usualexpression when facing me in later years, and held to the whole
mentalpicture with determination."Look!"Obediently I opened my eyes to the
mirror. And for several startled secondsI looked at someone. He was
certainly not me--nor was he Faskel as Iremembered him, but an odd,
almost distorted combination of us both. It wasa sight I did not in the least
relish. My head was still gripped in the visemaintained by Eet's hold and I
could not turn away. But as I watched, themisty Faskel faded and I was myself
again."You see--it can be done," was Eet's comment as he released me and
floweddown my body to the floor."You did it."Only in part. There has been,
with my help, a breakthrough. Your species useonly a small fraction of your
brain. You are content to do so. This wastageshould shame you forever.
Practice will aid you. And with a new face youwill not have to fear going
where you can find a pilot.""If we ever can." I push-buttoned a chair out of
the wall and sat down witha sigh.    My worries were a heavy burden. "We
shall have to take ablack-listed man if we get any.""Ssssss--" No sound,
only an impression of one in my mind. Eet had flashedto the door of the
room, was crouched against it, his whole attitude one ofstrained listening, as
if all his body, not just his ear, served him forthat purpose. I could
hear nothing, of course. These rooms were completelyscreened and
soundproofed. And I could use a hall-and-wall detect if Iwished to prove
it so. Spaceport caravansaries were the few places where onecould be truly
certain of not being overlooked, overheard, or otherwisechecked upon. But
their guards were not proofed against such talents asEet's, and I guessed
from his attitude not only that he was suspicious ofwhat might be arriving
outside but that it was to be feared. Then he turnedand I caught his thought.
I moved to snap over a small luggage compartmentand he folded himself into
hiding there in an instant. But his thoughts werenot hidden."Patrol snoop on
his way--coming here," he warned, and it was alert enoughto prepare
me.Chapter TwoAs yet, the visitor's light had not flashed above the door. I
moved, perhapsnot with Eet's speed, but fast enough, to snap the room's
furnishings outand in place so that the compartment would look normal even to
the searchingstudy of a trained Patrolman. The Patrol, jealous of its
authority afterlong centuries of supremacy as the greatest
law-enforcement body in thegalaxy, had neither forgotten nor forgiven the
fact that Eet and I had beenable to prove them wrong in their too-quick
declaration of my outlawry (Ihad indeed been framed by the Guild). That we had
dared, actually dared, tostrike a bargain and keep them to it, galled them
bitterly. We had rescuedtheir man, saved his skin and his ship for him in
the very teeth of theThieves' Guild. But he had fought bitterly against the
idea that we did havethe power to bargain and that he had to yield on what
were practically ourterms. Even now the method of that bargaining made me
queasy, for Eet hadjoined us mind to mind with ruthless dispatch. And such an
invasion, mutualas it was, left a kind of unhealed wound. I have heard it
stated that theuniverse is understood by each species according to the sensory
equipment ofthe creature involved, or rather, the meaning it attaches to the
reports ofthose exploring and testing senses. Therefore, while our universe,
as we seeit, may be akin to that of an animal, a bird, an alien, it still
differs.There are barriers set mercifully in place (and I say mercifully
aftertasting what can happen when such a barrier goes down) to limit
one'sconception of the universe to what he is prepared to accept. Shared
mindsbetween human and human is not one of the sensations we are fitted
toendure. The Patrolman and I had learned enough--too much--of each other
toknow that a bargain could be made and kept. But I think I would face a
laserunarmed before I would undergo that again.Legally the Patrol had
nothing against us, except suspicions perhaps andtheir own dislike for what
we had dared. And I think that they were in ameasure pleased that if they
had to swear truce, the Guild still held us asa target. And it might well be
that once we had lifted from the Patrol basewe had been regarded as
expendable bait for some future trap in which tocatch a Veep of the
Guild--a thought which heated me more than a littleevery time it crossed
my mind.I gave a last hurried glance around the room as the warn light
flashed on,and then went to thumb the peephole. What confronted my eye was
a wrist,around which was locked, past all counterfeiting, the black and
silver of aPatrol badge. I opened the door."Yes?" I allowed my real
exasperation to creep into my voice as I frontedhim. He was not in uniform,
wearing rather the ornate, form-fitting tunic ofan inner-world tourist. On
him, as the Patrol must keep fit, it lookedbetter than it did on most of
the flabby, paunchy specimens I had seen inthese halls. But that was not
saying much, for its extreme of fashion wastoo gaudy and fantastic to suit
my eyes."Gentle Homo Jern--" He did not make a question of my name, and
his eyeswere more intent on the room behind me than on meeting mine."The same.
You wish?""To speak with you--privately." He moved forward and involuntarily I
gave astep before I realized that he had no right to enter. It was the
prestige ofthe badge he wore which won him that first slight advantage and he
made themost of it. He was in, with the door rolled into place behind him,
before Iwas prepared to resist"We are private. Speak." I did not gesture him
to a chair, nor make a singlehospitable move."You are having difficulty in
finding a pilot." He looked at me about halfthe time now, the rest of his
attention still given to the room."I am." There was no use in denying a
truth which was apparent. Perhaps hedid not believe in wasting time either,
for he came directly to the point"We can deal--"That really surprised me.
Eet and I had left the Patrol base with theimpression that the powers
there were gleefully throwing us forth to whatthey believed certain disaster
with the Guild. The only explanation whichcame to me at the moment was
that they had speedily discovered that theinformation we had given them
concerning the zero stones had consisted ofthe whereabouts of caches only
and they suspected the true source was stillour secret. In fact, we knew no
more than we had told them."What deal?" I parried and dared not mind-touch Eet
at that moment, much asI wanted his reception to this suggestion. No
one knows what secretequipment the Patrol had access to. And it might well
be that, knowing Eetwas telepathic, they had some ingenious method of
monitoring our exchange."Sooner or later," he said deliberately, almost as
if he savored it, "theGuild is going to close in upon you--"But I was ready,
having thought that out long ago. "So I am bait and youwant me for some
trap of yours."He was not in the least disconcerted. "One way of putting
it.""And the right way. What do you want to do, plant one of your men in
ourship?""As protection for you and, of course, to alert us.""Very altruistic.
But the answer is no." The Patrol's highhanded method ofusing pawns made me
aware that there was something to being their opponent."You cannot find a
pilot.""I am beginning to wonder"--and at that moment I was--"how much my
presentdifficulty may be due to the influence of your organization."He
neither affirmed nor denied it. But I believe I was right. Just as apilot
might be black-listed, so had our ship been, before we had even had achance
for a first voyage. No one who wanted to preserve his legal licensewould sign
our log now. So I must turn to the murky outlaw depths if I wasto have any
luck at all. I would see the ship rust away on its landing finsbefore I would
raise with a Patrol nominee at her controls."The Guild can provide you with
a man as easily, if you try to hire anoff-rolls man, and you will not
know it," he remarked, as if he were verysure that I would eventually be
forced to accept his offer.That, too, was true. But not if I took Eet with
me on any search. Even ifthe prospective pilot had been brainwashed and
blanked to hide his trueaffiliation, my companion would be able to read
that fact. But that, Ihoped, my visitor and those who had sent him did
not know. That Eet wastelepathic we could not hide--but Eet himself--"I will
make my own mistakes," I allowed myself to snap."And die from them," he
replied indifferently. He took one last glance atthe room and suddenly
smiled. "Toys now--I wonder why." With a swoop asquick and sure as that of
a harpy hawk he was down and up again, holding thepookha by its whisker mane.
"Quite an expensive toy, too, Jern. And you mustbe running low in funds,
unless you have tapped a river running withcredits. Now why, I wonder,
would you want a stuffed pookha."I grimaced in return. "Always provide my
visitors with a minor mystery. Youfigure it out. In fact, take it with
you--just to make sure it is not asmuggling cover. It might just be, you
know. I am a gem buyer-- what betterway to get some stones off world than in
a play pookha's inwards?"Whether he thought my explanation was as lame as it
seemed to me I do notknow. But he tossed the toy onto the nearest chair and
then, on his way tothe door, spoke over his shoulder. "Dial 1-0, Jern,
when you have stoppedbattering your head against a stone wall. And we shall
have a man for you,one guaranteed not to sign you over to the
Guild.""No--just to the Patrol." I countered. "When I am ready to be bait, I
shalltell you."He made no formal farewell, just went. I closed the door
sharply behind himand was across the room to let Eet out as quickly as I
could. My aliencompanion sat back on his haunches, absent-mindedly smoothing
the fur on hisstomach."They think that they have us." I tried to jolt him--
though he must alreadyhave picked up everything pertinent from our
visitor's mind, unless thelatter had worn a shield."Which he did," Eet
replied to my suspicion. "But not wholly adequate, onlywhat your breed
prepares against the mechanical means of detecting thoughtwaves. They are
not," he continued complacently, "able to operate against mytype of talent.
But yes, they believe that they have us sitting on the palmof a hand"--he
stretched out his own--"and need only curl their fingers, so--" Hisclawed
digits bent to form a fist. "Such ignorance! However, it will bewell, I
believe, to move swiftly now that we know the worst.""Do we?" I asked
morosely as I hustled out my flight bag and began to pack.That it was not
intelligent to stay where we were with Patrol snoops about,I could well
understand. But where we would go next--"To the Diving Lokworm," Eet replied
as if the answer was plain and he wasamused that I had not guessed it for
myself.For a moment I was totally adrift. The name he mentioned meant
nothing,though it suggested one of those dives which filled the murky shadows
of thewrong side of the port, the last place in the world where any sane man
wouldventure with the Guild already sniffing for him.But at present I was
more intent on getting out of this building withoutbeing spotted by a
Patrol tail. I rolled up my last clean undertunic andcounted out three
credit disks. In a transit lodging one's daily charges areconspicuous each
morning on a small wall plate. And no one can beat theinstant force field
which locks the room if one does not erase these chargeswhen the scanner
below says he is departing. The room might be insured forprivacy in other
ways, but there are precautions the owners are legallyallowed to install.
I dropped the credits into the slot under the chargeplate and that winked
out. Thus reassured I could get out. I must now figurehow. When I turned it
was to see that Eet was again a pookha. For a moment Ihesitated, not quite
sure which of the furry creatures was my companionuntil he moved out to
be picked up. With Eet in the crook of one arm and mybag in my other hand, I
went out into the corridor after a quick look toldme it was empty. When I
turned toward the down grav shaft Eet spoke:"Left and back!"I obeyed. His
directions took me where I did not know the territory,bringing me to
another grav shaft, that which served the robos who took careof the rooms.
There might be scanners here, even though I had paid my bill.This was an exit
intended only for machines and one of them rumbled alongtoward us now. It
was a room-service feeder, a box on wheels, its topstudded with call
buttons for a choice of meal. I had to squeeze backagainst the wall to
let it by, since this back corridor had never been meantfor the human and
alien patrons of the caravansary."On it!" Eet ordered. I had no idea what he
intended, but I had been broughtout of tight corners enough in the past to
know that he generally did havesome saving plan in mind. So I swung Eet, my
bag, and myself to the tabletop of the feeder, trying to take care that I
did not trigger any of thebuttons. My weight apparently was nothing to the
machine. It did not pausein its steady roll down the remainder of the
corridor. But I was tense andstiff, striving to preserve my balance on this
box where there was nothingto grip for safety. When it moved without pause
off the floor and onto theempty air of the grav shaft I could have cried out.
But the grav supportedits weight and it descended as evenly under me as
if it had been a liftplatform bringing luggage and passengers out of a
liner at the port. Asweeper joined us at the next level, but
apparently the machines wereequipped with avoid rays, as they did not
bump, but kept from scrapingagainst each other. Above and below us, in the
dusk of the shaft, I couldsee other robo-servers descending, as if this was
the time when they werethrough their morning work. We came down floor by
floor, I counting them aswe passed, a little more relieved with each one we
left behind, knowing thatwe were that much nearer our goal. But when we
reached ground level we facedonly blank surface, and my support continued to
descend.The end was some distance below the surface, at least equal. I
believed, tothree floors above. And the feeder, with us still aboard,
rolled out inpitch dark, where the sounds of clanging movement kept me
frozen. Nor didEet suggest any answer to this.I did gain enough courage to
bring out a hand beamer and flash it about us,only to gain disturbing
glimpses of machines scuttling hither and thitheracross a wide expanse of
floor. Nor were there any signs of human tenders.I was now afraid to dismount
from my carrier, not knowing whether the avoidrays of the various busy robos
would also keep them from running me down. Tothis hour I had always taken
the service department of a caravansary forgranted and such an establishment
as this I had never imagined.That the feeder seemed to know just where it was
going was apparent, for itrolled purposefully on until we reached a wall with
slits in it. The machinelocked to one of these and I guessed that the refuse
and disposable disheswere being deposited in some sort of refuse system. Not
only the feeder wasclamped there. Beyond was a sweeper, also dumping its
cargo.A flash of my beamer showed that the wall did not reach the roof, so
theremight be a passage along its top to take us out of the paths of the
rovingmachines-- though such a way might well lead to a dead end.I stood up
cautiously on the feeder, and Eet took the beamer between hisstubby pookha
paws. The bag was easy to toss to the top of the wall, myfurry companion
less so, since his new body did not lend itself well to suchfeats. However,
once aloft, he squatted, holding the beamer in his mouth,his teeth gripping
more easily than his paws.With that as my guide I leaped and caught the top of
the wall, though I wasafraid for a moment my fingers would slip from its
slick surface. Then Imade an effort which seemed enough to tear my muscles,
and drew my wholebody up on an unpleasantly narrow surface.Not only was it
narrow but it throbbed and vibrated under me, and I mentallypictured some form
of combustion reducing the debris dumped in, or else aconveyer belt running on
into a reducer of such refuse.Above me, near enough to keep me hunched on
my hams, was the roof of theplace. A careful use of the beamer showed me
that the wall on which Icrouched ran into a dark opening in another wall
met at right angles, as ifit were a path leading into a cave.For want of a
better solution I began to edge along, dragging my bag, mydestination that
hole. Luckily Eet did not need my assistance but balancedon his wide pookha
feet behind me.When I reached that opening I found it large enough to give me
standing roomin a small cubby. The beam lighted a series of ladder steps
bolted to thewall, as though this was an inspection site visited at
intervals by a humanmaintenance man. Blessing my luck, I was ready to try
that ladder, for theclanging din of the rushing machines, the whir of their
passing rung in myears, making me dizzy. The sooner I was out of their domain
the better.Eet's paws were not made for climbing, and I wondered if he would
loose thedisguise for the attempt. I had no desire to carry him; in fact I
did notsee how I could.But if he could release the disguise he was not
choosing to do so. Thus, inthe end, I had to sling the bag on my back by its
carrying strap and loosenmy tunic to form a sling, with Eet crawling
part-way down inside my collarat my. shoulders. Both burdens interfered
cruelly with my balance as I beganto climb. And I had had to put away the
beamer, not being convenientlyendowed with a third hand.For the moment all I
wanted was to get out of the dark country of therobo-servers, even though I
was climbing into the unknown. Perhaps I hadcome to depend too much on
Eet's warnings against approaching dangers. Buthe had not communicated with me
since we had taken transport on the feeder."Eet, what is ahead?" I sent that
demand urgently as I became aware of justwhat might lie ahead of
us."Nothing--yet." But his mind-send was faint, as a voiced whisper might
be,or as if most of his mind was occupied with some other pressing problem.I
found, a second or two later, the end of the ladder, as my hand, rising
togrope for a new hold, struck painfully instead against a hard surface.
Ispread my fingers to read what was there. What I traced by touch was
acircular depression which must mark a trap door. Having made sure of that,
Iapplied pressure, first gently and then with more force. When there was
noreassuring yield I began to be alarmed. If the bolt hole of this door
waslocked, we would have to recourse but to return to the level of the
robos,and I did not want to think of that.But my final desperate shove must
have triggered whatever stiff mechanismheld the door and it gave, letting
in a weak light. I had wit and controlenough left to wait for a very long
moment for any warning from Eet.When he sent nothing I scrambled out into a
place where the walls werestudded with gauges, levers, and the like,
perhaps the nerve center thatcontrolled the robos. Since there was no one
there and a very ordinary doorin the nearest wall, I breathed a sigh of
heart-felt relief and set aboutmaking myself more presentable, plucking Eet
out of my unsealed tunic andfastening that smoothly. As far as I could
tell, examining my clothes withcare, I bore no traces of my late venture
through the bowels of thecaravansary and I should be able to take to
the streets without notice.Always providing that the door opposite me
would eventually lead me tofreedom. What it did give on was a very small
grav lift. I set the indicatorfor street level and was wafted up to a short
corridor with doors at eitherend. One gave upon a walled court with an
entrance for luggage conveyers.And I hop-skipped with what speed I could
along one of those, to drop intoan alley where a flitter from the port
unloaded heavier transport boxes."Now!" Eet had been riding on my shoulder,
his pookha body less well adaptedto that form of transport than his true
form. I felt his paws clamp oneither side of my head as he had earlier done
when showing me how one's facecould be altered. "Wait!"I did not know his
purpose, since he did not demand I "think" a face. Andthough that waiting
period spun out, making me uneasy, he did not alter hisposition. I was sure he
was using his own thought power to provide me with
adisguise."Best--I--can--do--" The paws fell away from my head and I
reached up tocatch him as he tumbled from his place. He was shaking as if
from extremefatigue and his eyes were closed, while he breathed in short
gasps. Oncebefore I had seen him so drained--even rendered
unconscious--when he hadforced me to share minds with the Patrolman.Carrying
Eet as I might a child, and shouldering my flight bag, I went downthe alley. A
back look at the building had given me directions. If I had atail who had
not been confused by our exit, he had no place to hide here.The side way fed
into a packed commercial street where the bulk of thefreight from the port
must pass. There were six heavy-duty transport beltsdown its middle,
flanked on either side by two light-duty, and thereremained room for a
single man-way, narrow indeed, which scraped along thesides of the
buildings it passed. There was enough travel on it to keep mefrom being
unduly conspicuous, mainly people employed at the port to handlethe
shipments. I dropped my bag between my feet and stood, letting the waycarry
me along, not adding speed by walking.Eet had spoken of the Diving Lokworm,
which was still a mystery to me, and Ihad   no intention of visiting the
Off-port before nightfall. Daytimevisitors, save for tourists herded along
on a carefully supervised route,were very noticeable there. Thus I would
have to hole up somewhere. Anotherhotel was the best answer. With what I
thought a gift of inspiration I choseone directly across from the Seven
Planets, from where I had just made myunusual exit. This was several steps
down from the Seven Planets in class,which suited my reduced means. And I
was especially pleased that instead ofa human desk clerk, who would have
added to the prestige, there was arobo--though I knew that my person was
now recorded in the files from itsscanners. Whether the confusing tactics on
my behalf via Eet's efforts wouldhold here I did not know. I accepted the
thumb lock plate with its incisednumber, took the grav to the cheapest
second-floor corridor, found my room,inserted the lock, and once inside,
relaxed. They could force that door nowonly with super lasers. Depositing Eet
on the bed, I went to the wall mirrorto see what he had done to me. What I
did sight was not a new face, but ablurring, and I felt a disinclination to
look long at my reflection. Towatch with any concentration was
upsetting, as if I found my presentappearance so distasteful that I could
not bear to study it.I sat down on the chair near the mirror. And as I
continued to force myselfto    look at that reflection I       was aware
that the odd feeling ofdisorientation was fading, that in the glass my
own features were becomingclearer, sharper, visible and ordinary as they had
always been.That Eet could work such a transformation again when the time came
to leavehere, I doubted. Such a strain might be too much, especially when it
wasimperative that his esper talents be fully alert. So I might well walk
outstraight into the sight of those hunting me. But--could I reproduce
Eet'seffect by my own powers? My trial with Faskel's features had certainly
notbeen any success. And I had had to call upon Eet's help to achieve
eventhat. But suppose I did not try for so radical a disguise? Eet had
suppliedme this time, not with a new face, but with merely an overcast of some
weirdkind which had made me difficult to look at. Suppose one did not try
tochange a whole face, but only a portion of it? My mind fastened upon
thatidea, played with it. Eet did not comment, as I thought he might. I
lookedto the bed. By all outward appearances he was asleep.If one did not
subtract from a face but added to it-- in such a startlingfashion      that
the addition claimed the attention, thus overshadowingfeatures. There
had been a time in the immediate past when my skin waspiebald, due to
Eet's counterfeiting of a plague stigma. I could rememberonly too well
those loathsome purple patches. No return to those! I had nowish to be
considered again a plague victim. However, a scar--My mind wandered to the
days when my father had kept the hock-lock shop atthe space port on my home
planet. Many spacers had sought out his inner roomto sell finds into whose
origin it was best not to inquire too closely. Andmore than one of those had
been scarred or marked unpleasantly.A scar--yes. Now where--and what? A
healed knife gash, a laser burn, an oddseam set by some unknown wounding? I
decided on a laser burn which I hadseen and which should fit in well with
the Off-port. With it as clear in mymind as I could picture it, I stared into
the mirror, striving to pucker anddiscolor the skin along the left side of my
jaw and cheek.Chapter ThreeIt was an exercise against all the logic of my
species. Had I not seen itsucceed with Eet, seen my partial change under his
aid, I would not havebelieved it possible. Whether I could do it without Eet's
help was anotherquestion, but one I was eager to prove. My dependence upon the
mutant, whotended to dominate our relationship, irked me at times.There is a
saying: If you close doors on all errors, truth also remainsoutside. Thus I
began my struggle with errors aplenty, hoping that a smallfraction of the
truth would come to my aid. I had not, since I had knownEet, been lax in
trying to develop any esper talents I might have. Primarilybecause, I was
sure, it was not in my breed to admit that a creature wholooked so much an
animal could out-think, out-act a man--though in thegalaxy the term "man"
is, of course, relative, having to do with a certainlevel of intelligence
rather than a humanoid form. In the beginning, thisfact was also difficult
for my breed, with their many inborn prejudices, torealize. We learned the
hard way until the lesson stuck.I closed the channels of my mind as best I
could, tamping down a mental lidon my worries about our lack of a pilot, a
shrinking number of credits, andthe fact that I might right now be the quarry
in a hunt I could sense butnot see or hear. The scar--that must be the
most important, the only thingin my mind. I concentrated on my reflection in
the mirror, on what I wantedto see there. Perhaps Eet was right, as he
most always was--we of Terranstock do not use the full powers which might be
ours. Since I had been Eet'scharge, as it were, I must have stretched,
pulled, without even being awareof that fact, in a manner totally unknown
to my species heretofore. Nowsomething happened which startled me. It was as
if, in that part of me whichfought to achieve Eet's ability, a ghostly
finger set tip to a lever andpressed it firmly. I could almost feel the
answering vibration through mybody--and following on that, a flood of
certainty that this I could do, aheady confidence which yet another part of
me observed in alarm and fear.But the face in the mirror-- Yes! I had that
disfiguring seam, not raw andnew, which would have been a give-away to the
observant, but puckered anddark, as though it had not been tended quickly
enough by plasta restoration,or else such a repair job had been badly
botched--as might be true for acrewman down on his luck, or some survivor of
a planetary war raid.So real! Tentatively I raised my hand, not quite daring
to touch that rough,ridged skin. Eet's illusion had been--was--tactile as
well as visual. Wouldmine hold as well? I touched. No, I was not Eet's equal
as yet, if I couldever be. My fingers traced no scar, as they seemed to do
when I looked intothe mirror. But visually the scar was there and that was the
best protectionI could have."A beginning, a promising beginning--"My head
jerked as I was startled out of absorption. Eet was sitting up onthe bed,
his unblinking pookha eyes watching me in return. Then I feared thebreak in
my concentration and looked back to the mirror. But contrary to myfears, the
scar was still there. Not only that, but I had chosen rightly--itdrew
attention, the face behind it blotted out by that line of seamed anddarkened
skin--as good as a mask."How long will it last?" If I ventured out of this
room, went delving intothe Off-port as I must, I would not be able to find
another hole in a hurryinto which I could settle safely for the period of
intense concentration Iwould need to renew my disfigurement.Eet's round
head tilted a little to one side, giving the appearance ofcritical
observation of my thought work."It is not a large illusion. You were wise to
start small," he commented."With my aid, I think it will hold for tonight.
Which is all we need. ThoughI shall have to change myself--""You? Why?""Need
you parade your incomprehension of danger?" The whisker mane hadalready
winked out of being. "Take a pookha into the Off-port?"He was right as ever.
Pookhas alive were worth more than their weight incredits. To carry one into
the Off-port would be to welcome a stun ray, iflucky, a laser burn if not,
with Eet popped into a bag and off to someblack-market dealer. I was angry
with myself for having made such a displayof nonthinking, though it was
due to the need for concentration onmaintaining the scar."You must hold
it, yes, but not with your whole mind," Eet said. "You havevery much to
learn."I held. Under my eyes Eet changed. The pookha dissolved, vanished as
thoughit were an outer husk of plasta meeting the cold of space and so
shatteringinto bits too tiny for the human eye to see. Now he was Eet again,
but asunusual to the observer as the pookha had been."Just so," he agreed.
"But I shall not be observed. I need not change. Itwill simply be a matter
of not allowing the eye to light on me.""As you did with my face, coming
here?""Yes. And the dark will aid. We'll head straight for the Diving
Lokworm--""Why?"One of my own species might have given an exaggerated sigh of
annoyance. Themental sensation which emanated from my companion was not
audible but it hadthe same meaning."The Diving Lokworm is a possible meeting
place for the type of pilot wemust find. And you need not waste time asking
me how I know that. It is thetruth."How much Eet could pick out of nearby
minds I did not know; I thought that Idid not want to know. But his certainty
now convinced me that he had someconcrete lead. And I could not argue when
I had nothing of my own to offerin return. He made one of his sudden leaps to
my shoulder and there arrangedhimself in his favorite riding position, curled
about my neck as if he werean inanimate roll of fur. I gave a last look into
the mirror, to reassuremyself that my creation was as solid-seeming as
ever, and knew a spark oftriumph when I saw that it was, even though I
might later have to dependupon Eet to maintain it. So prepared, we went
out and took the main crawlwalk toward the port, ready to drop off at the
first turn which led to themurk of the Off-port. It was dusk, the clouds
spreading like smoke across adark-green sky in which the first of Theba's
moons pricked as a single jewelof light. But the Off-port was awake as we
entered it by the side way.Garish signs, not in any one language (though
Basic was the main tonguehere), formed the symbols, legible to spacemen of
many species and races,which advertised the particular wares or strange
delights offered within.Many of them were a medley of colors meant to
attract nonhuman races, andso, hurtful to our organs of vision. Thus one was
better advised not to lookabove street level. There was also such a blare of
noise as was enough todeafen the passerby, and scents to make one long for
the protection of aspace suit which could be set to shut out the clamor and
provide breathable,filtered air. To come into this maze was to believe one had
been decanted onanother world, not only dangerous but inhospitable. How I was
to find Eet'sDiving Lokworm in this pool of confusion was a problem I saw
no way ofsolving. And to wander, deafened and half asphyxiated, through the
streetsand lanes was to ask for disaster. I had no belted weapon and I was
carryinga flight bag, so perhaps ten or more pairs of eyes had already
marked medown as possible prey for a port-side rolling."Right here--" Eet's
thought made as clean a cut as a force blade might makethrough the muddle of
my mind.Right I turned, out of the stridence of the main street, into a small,
verysmall, lessening of the clamor, with a fraction less light, and perhaps
oneor two breaths now and then of real air. And Eet seemed to know where
wewere going, if I did not.We turned right a second time and then left. The
spacemen's rests now aboutwere such holes of crime that I feared to poke a
nose into any of them. Wewere fast approaching the last refuge of the
desperate, and the stinkinghideups of those who preyed upon them, driven
from the fatter profits of themain streets. The Diving Lokworm had, not its
name, but a representation ofthat unwholesome creature set in glow lines
about its door. The designer hadchosen to arrange it so that one
apparently entered through the openmouth--which was perhaps an apt
prophecy of what might really await theunwary within. The stench of the
outside was here magnified materially bythe fumes of several kinds of
drink and drug smoke. Two I recognized aslethal indeed to those who settled
down to make their consumption the mainbusiness of what little life
remained to them. But it was not dark. Theouter Lokworm had here its
companions, who writhed about the walk in far toolifelike fashion. And though
parts of those gleaming runnels of light haddarkened through want of
replacement, the whole gave enough radiance so onecould actually see the
customers' faces after a fashion, if not what mightbe served in the cups,
beakers, tubes, and the like placed before them.Unlike the drinking and eating
places in the more civilized (if that was theproper term) part of the port,
the Diving Lokworm had no table dials tofinger to produce nourishment, no
robo-servers whipping about. The trayswere carried by humans or aliens, none
of whom had a face to be observedlong without acute distaste. Some of
them were noticeably female, others--well, it could be a guess. And
frankly, had I been drinking the localpoison, it would have stopped a
second order to have the first slopped downbefore me by a lizardoid with two
pairs of arms. Unless the drink had beenmore important than what I saw when I
looked about me.The lizardoid was serving three booths along the wall, and
doing it mostefficiently: four hands were useful. There was a very
drunk party ofRegillians in the first. In the second something gray,
large, and wartysquatted. But in the third slumped a Terran, his head
supported on one hand,with the elbow of that arm planted firmly on the table
top. He had on theremains of a space officer's uniform which had not been
cleaned for a longtime. One insignia still clung by a few loose threads to
his tunic collar,but there was no house or ship badge on the breast, only
a dark splotchthere to show he had sometime lost that mark of
respectability.To take a man out of this stew was indeed combing the depths.
On the otherhand, all we really needed to clear the port was a pilot on
board. I did notdoubt that Eet and I together could get us out by setting
automatic for thefirst jump. And to accept a blacklisted man--always
supposing he was not aplant--was our only chance now."He is a pilot and a
fash-smoker." Eet supplied information, some of which Idid not care to
hear.Fash-smoke does not addict, but it does bring about a temporary
personalitychange which is dangerous. And a man who indulges in it is
certainly not apilot to be relied upon. If this derelict was sniffing it now,
he was to bemy last choice instead of my first. The only bright
thought was thatfash-smoke is expensive and one who set light to the
brazier to inhale itwas not likely to patronize the Diving Lokworm."Not now,"
Eet answered. "He is, I believe, drinking veever--"The cheapest beverage one
could buy and enough to make a man as sick as asudden ripple of color in
the tube worm on the wall made this loungerappear. The fact that the
light was a sickly green might have had somethingto do with his queasy
expression. But he roused to pull the beaker beforehim into place and bend
his head to catch the suck tube between his lips.And he went on drinking as
we came to the side of the booth.Perhaps he would not have been my first
choice. But the stained insignia onhis collar was that of a pilot and he
was the only one I had sighted here.Also, he was the only humanoid with a
face I would halfway trust, and Eetappeared to have singled him out.He did
not look up as I slipped into the bench across from him, but thelizard
waiter slithered up and I pointed to the drinker, then raised afinger,
ordering a return for my unknown boothmate. The latter glanced at mewithout
dropping the tube from his lip hold. His brows drew together in ascowl and
then he spat out his sipper and said in a slurred mumble:"Blast! Whatever
you're offering--I'm not buying.""You are a pilot," I countered. The
lizardoid had made double time towhatever sewer the drinks had been piped
from and slammed down anotherbeaker. I flipped a tenth-point credit and
one of his second pair of handsclawed it out of the air so fast I never really
saw it disappear."You're late in your reckoning." He pushed aside his first
and now emptybeaker, drew the second to him. "I was a pilot.""System or
deep-space ticket?" I asked. He paused, the sipper only afraction away
from his lips. "Deep space. Do you want to see it all plainand proper?"
There was a sneer in his growl. "And what's it to you, anyway?"There    is
this about fash-smoking--while it makes a man temporarilybelligerent
during indulgence, it also alters the flow of emotion so thatbetween
bouts, where rage might normally flare, one gets only a flash ofweak
irritation."A lot maybe. Want a job?"He laughed then, seemingly in real
amusement. "Again you're too late. I'mplanet-rooted now.""You offered to show
your plate. That hasn't been confiscated?" I persisted."No. But that's just
because no one cares enough to squawk. I haven't liftedfor two planet years,
and that's the truth. Quite a spiller tonight, aren'tI? Maybe they've cooked
some babble stuff into this goop." He stared downinto his beaker with dim
interest, as if he expected to see somethingfloating on its turgid
surface.Then he mouthed the sipper, but with one hand he pulled at the frayed
frontseam of his tunic and brought out, in a shaking hand, a badly-worn
case,which he dropped on the table top, not pushing it toward me, but rather
asif he were indifferent to any interest of mine in its contents. I
reachedfor it just as another ripple of light in the wall pattern gave me
sight ofthe plate within that covering.It had been issued to one Kano Ryzk,
certified pilot for galactic service.The date of issuance was some ten years
back, and his age was noted asproblematical, since he had been space-born. But
what did startle me was thesmall symbol deeply incised below his name-- a
symbol which certified him asa Free Trader.From their beginnings as men who
were willing to take risks outside theregular lines, which were the
monopolies of the big combines, the FreeTraders, loners and explorers by
temperament, had become, through severalcenturies of space travel, more and
more a race apart. They tended to lookupon their ships as their home
worlds, knowing no planet for any length oftime, ranging out where only
First-in Scouts and such explorers dared to go.In the first years they had
lived on the short rations of those who snatchat the remnants of the feast
the combines grew fat upon.Not able to bid at the planet auctions when newly
discovered worlds were putup for sale to those wanting their trade, they
had to explore, take smallgains at high risks, and hope for some trick of
fate which would render abig profit. And such happened just often enough to
keep them in space.But seeing their ships as the only worlds to which they
owed allegiance,they were a clannish lot, marrying among themselves when
they wed at all.They had space-hung ports now, asteroids they had
converted, on which theyestablished quasi family life. But they did not
contact the planet-born savefor business. And to find one such as Ryzk adrift
in a port--since the FreeTraders cared for their own--was so unusual as to be
astounding."It is true." He did not raise his eyes from the beaker. He
must haveencountered the same surprise so many times before that he was
weary of it."I didn't roll some star-stepper to get that plate."That, too,
must be true, since such plates were always carried close to aman's body.
If any other besides the rightful owner had kept that plate, theinformation
on it would be totally unreadable by now, since it had aself-erase
attuned to personal chemistry.There was no use in asking what brought a
Free Trader shipless into theDiving Lokworm. To inquire might turn him so
hostile I would not be able tobargain. But the very fact he was a Free Trader
was a point in his favor. Abroken combine man would be less likely to take
to the kind of spacing weplanned."I have a ship"--I put it bluntly now--"and
I need a pilot.""Try the Register," he mumbled and held out his hand. I closed
the case andlaid it on his palm. How much was the exact truth going to serve
me?"I want a man off the lists."That did make him look at me. His pupils were
large and very dark. He mightnot be on fash-smoke, but he was certainly under
some type of mind-dampeningcloud."You aren't." he said after a moment, "a
runner.""No," I replied. Smuggling was a paying game. However, the Guild
had itsewed up so well that only someone with addled brains would try it."Then
what are you?" His scowl was back."Someone who needs a pilot--" I was
beginning when Eet's thought pricked me."We have stayed here too long. Be
ready to guide him."There was silence. I had not finished my sentence. Ryzk
stared at me, buthis eyes seemed unfocused, as if he did not really see me
at all. Then hegrunted and pushed aside the still unfinished second
beaker."Sleepy," he muttered. "Out of here--""Yes," I agreed. "Come to my
place." I was on his left, helping him tobalance on unsteady feet, my
hand slipped under his elbow to guide him.Luckily he was still enough in
command of his body to walk. I could not havepulled him along, since, though
he was several inches shorter than I, hisplanet days had given him bulk of
body which was largely ill-carried lard.The lizard stepped out as if to bar
our way and I felt Eet stir. Whether heplanted some warning, as he seemed to
have planted the desire to go in Ryzk,I do not know. But the waiter turned
abruptly to the next booth, leaving usa free path to the door. And we made
it out of the stink of the placewithout any opposition. Once in the
backways of the Off-port, I tried to puton speed, but found that Ryzk, though
he did keep on his feet and moving,could not be hurried. And pulling at
him seemed to disturb the thought Eethad put in his mind, so I did not dare to
put pressure on him. I was hauntedby the feeling that we were being
followed, or at least watched. Thoughwhether our cover had been detected or
we had just been marked down for preygenerally by one of the lurking harpies,
I did not try to deduce. Either wasdangerous. The floodlights of the port cut
out the night, reducing all threemoons now progressing at a stately pace
over our heads to pallid ghosts oftheir usual brilliance. To pass the gates
and cut across the apron to ourship's berth was the crucial problem. If,
as I thought, the Patrol andperhaps the Guild were keeping me under
surveillance, there would be a watchon the ship, even if we had lost them in
town. And my scar, if I still woreit, would not stand up in the persona
scanner at the final check point.Escape might depend on speed, and Ryzk did
not have that.I lingered no longer at the first check point than it took to
snap down myown identity plate and Ryzk's. Somehow he had fumbled it out of
hiding as weapproached, some part of his bemused brain answering Eet's
direction. Then Isaw a chance to gain more speed. There was a luggage
conveyer parked to oneside, a luxury item I with my one flight bag had never
seen reason to wastehalf a credit on. But there was need for it now.Somehow I
pushed and pulled Ryzk to it. There was a fine for using it as apassenger
vehicle, but such minor points of law did not trouble me at thatmoment. I got
him flat on it, pulled a layer of weather covering over hismore obvious
outlines, and planted my flight bag squarely on top to suggestthat it did
carry cargo. Then I punched the berth number for our ship, fedin my credit,
and let it go. If Ryzk did not try to disembark en route Icould be sure he
would eventually arrive at the ramp of our ship.Meanwhile Eet and I had to
reach the same point by the least conspicuous andquickest route. I glanced
around for some suggestions as to how toaccomplish that. A tourist-class
inter-system rocket ship was loading, witha mass of passengers waiting below
its ramp and more stragglers headed forit. Many of the travelers were
being escorted by family parties orboisterous collections of friends. I
joined the tail of one such, matchingmy pace to keep at the end of the
procession. Those I walked with wereunited in commiserating with a
couple of men wearing Guard uniforms andapparently about to lift to an
extremely disliked post on Memfors, the nextplanet out in this system, and
one which had the reputation of being farfrom a pleasure spot. Since most
of the crowd were male, and looked likerather hard cases, I did not feel
too conspicuous. And it was the best coverI saw. However, I still had to
break away when we reached the rocket slotand cross to my own ship. It
was during those last few paces I would beclearly seen. I edged around the
fringes of the waiting crowd, putting asmany of those between me and the
dark as I could, trying to be alert to anyattention I might attract. But as
far as I could see, I might once more beenveloped in Eet's vision-defying
blur.I wanted to run, or to scuttle along under some protective shell
like apictick crab. But both of those safety devices were denied me. Now I
darednot even look around as though I feared any pursuit, for wariness
alonecould betray me. Ahead I saw the luggage conveyer crawling purposefully
on acourse which had been more of a straight line than my own. My bag had
notshifted from the top, which meant, I trusted, that Ryzk had not moved.
Itreached the foot of the ramp well before me and stood waiting for
thelifting of its burden to release it."Watcher--to the right--Patrol--"Eet
came alive with that warning. I did not glance in the direction
heindicated."Is he moving in?""No. He took a video shot of the carrier. He
has no orders to preventtake-off--just make sure you do go.""So they can
know the bait is ready and they need only set their trap. Veryneat," I
commented. But there was no drawing back now, and I did not fearthe Patrol
at this moment half as much as the Guild. After all, I had someimportance to
the Patrol--bait has until the moment for sacrificing itcomes. Once we
were off planet I had the feeling it was not going to be soeasy for them to
use me as they so arrogantly planned. I still had what theydid not suspect I
carried--the zero stone.So I gave no sign that I knew I was under
observation as I hauled Ryzk offthe luggage carrier, guided him up the ramp,
snapped that in, and sealedship. I stowed my prize, such as he was, in
one of the two lower-levelcabins, strapped him down, taking his pilot's
plate with me, and climbedwith Eet to the control cabin.There I fed Ryzk's
plate into the viewer to satisfy the field law andprepared for take-off,
Eet guiding me in the setting of the automatics. ButI had no trip tape to
feed in, which meant that once in space Ryzk wouldhave to play his part or
we would find another port only by the slim marginof chance. Chapter
FourSince we lacked a trip tape, we could not go into hyper until Ryzk found
usjump co-ordinates. So our initial thrust off world merely set us
voyagingwithin the system itself, an added danger. While a ship in hyper
cannot betraced, one system-traveling can readily be picked up. Thus,
when Irecovered from grav shock, I unstrapped myself and sought out my
pilot, Eetmaking better time, as usual, down the inner stair of the ship.Our
transport, the Wendwind, was not as small as a scout, though not aslarge
as a Free Trader of the D class. She might once have been the privateyacht of
some Veep. If so, all luxury fittings had long since been torn out,though
there were painted-over scars to suggest that my guess was correct.Later she
had been on system runs as a general carrier. And her final fatehad been
confiscation by the Patrol for smuggling, after which she had beenbought by
the Salarik dealer as a speculation.She had four cabins besides the regular
crew quarters. But three of thesehad been knocked together for a
storage hold. And one feature withinattracted me, a persona-pressure
sealed strongbox, something a dealer ingems could put to use. At one time
the Wendwind must have mounted strictlyillegal G-lasers, judging by the
sealed ports and markings on decks andwalls. But now she had no such
protection.Ryzk had been left in the last remaining passenger cabin. As I
came in hewas struggling against the grav straps, looking about him
wildly."What--where--""You are in space, on a ship as pilot." I gave it
to him without longexplanation. "We are still in system, ready to go into
hyper as soon as youcan set course--"He blinked rapidly, and oddly enough,
the slack lines of his face appearedto firm, so that under the blurring of
planetside indulgence you could seesomething of the man he had been. He
stretched out his hand and laid it palmflat against the wall, as if he needed
the reassurance of touch to help himbelieve that what I said was true."What
ship?" His voice had lost the slur, just as his face had changed."Mine.""And
who are you?" His eyes narrowed as he stared up at me."Murdoc Jern. I am a gem
buyer."Eet made one of his sudden leaps from deck to the end of the bunk,
where hesquatted on his haunches, his handpaws resting on what would have
been hisknees had he possessed a humanoid body.Ryzk looked from me to Eet and
then back again. "All right, all right! I'llwake up sooner or later.""Not"--I
picked up the thought Eet aimed at Ryzk --"until you set us acourse--"The
pilot started, then rubbed his hands across his forehead as if he couldso rub
away what he had heard, not through his ears, but in his mind."A course to
where?" he asked, as one humoring some image born out offash-smoke or
veever drink."To quadrant 7-10-500." At least I had had plenty of time to lay
plans suchas these during the past weeks when I feared we would never be
space-borne.The sooner we began to earn our way the better. And I had
Vondar'sexperience to suggest a good beginning."I haven't set a course
in--in--" His voice trailed off. Once more he puthis hand to the ship's
wall. "This is-- this is a ship! I'm not dreamingit!""It is a ship. Can
you get us into hyper now?" I allowed some of myimpatience to show.He
pulled himself out of his bunk, moving unsteadily at first. But perhapsthe
feel of a ship about him was a tonic, for by the time he reached thecore
ladder to the control cabin he had picked up speed, and he swung upthat
with ease. Nor did he wait to be shown the pilot's seat, but crossed tosit
there, giving quick, practiced looks to the control board."Quadrant
7-10-500--" It was not a question but a repetition, as if it werea key to
unlock old knowledge. "Fathfar sector--"Perhaps I had done far better than
I had hoped when I had picked up aplaneted Free Trader. A pilot for one
of the usual lines would not haveknown the fringes of the travel lanes
which must be my hunting trails now.Ryzk was pushing buttons, first a little
slowly, then picking up speed andsureness, until a series of equations flashed
on the small map screen to hisleft. He studied those, made a correction or two
with more buttons, and thenspoke the usual warning--"Hyper."Having seen that
he did seem to know what he was doing, I had alreadyretired to the
second swing chair in the cabin, Eet curled up tightlyagainst me, ready
for that sickening twist which would signal our snap intothe hyper space of
galactic travel. Though I had been through it before, ithad been mostly on
passenger flights, where there had been an issue ofsoothe gas into the
cabin to ease one through the wrench.The ship was silent with a silence that
was oppressive as we passed into adimension which was not ours. Ryzk pushed
a little away from the board,flexing his fingers. He looked to me and those
firmer underlines of his facewere even more in evidence."You--I remember
you--in the Diving Lokworm." Then his brows drew togetherin a frown.
"You--your face is different."I had almost forgotten the scar; it must be gone
now."You on the run?" Ryzk shot at me. Perhaps he was entitled to more of
thetruth, since he shared a ship which might prove a target were we
unlucky."Perhaps--"But I had no intention of spouting about the past, the
secret in my gembelt, and the real reason why we might go questing off
into unexploredspace, seeking out uncharted stars. However, "perhaps" was
certainly not anexplanation which would serve me either. I would have to
elaborate on it."I am bucking the Guild." That gave him the worst, and
straight. At least hecould not jump ship until we planeted again.He stared at
me. "Like trying to jump the whole nebula, eh? Optimistic,aren't you?" But
if he found my admission daunting, it did not appear in anyexpression or
hesitation in his reply. "So we get to the Fathfar sector, andwhen we set
down--on which world by the way?--we may get a warm welcome,crisped right
through by lasers!""We set down on Lorgal. Do you know it?""Lorgal? You
picked that heap of sand, rock, and roasting sun for ahide-out? Why? I
can give you a nice listing of more attractive places--" Itwas plain he did
know our port. Almost I could suspect he was a plant,except that I had
voiced to no one at all my selection for my first essay asa buyer. Lorgal was
as grim as his few terse words had said--with hellishwindstorms and a few
other assorted planetside disasters into the bargain.But its natives could
be persuaded to part with zorans. And I knew a placewhere a selection of
zorans, graded as I was competent to do, could give ushalf a year's supply of
credits for cruising expenses."I am not hunting a hide-hole. I am after
zorans. As I told you, I buygems."He shrugged as if he did not believe me
but was willing to go along with mystory, since it did not matter to him one
way or another. But I triggeredout the log tape and pushed its recorder
to him, setting before him theaccompanying pad for his thumbprint to seal the
bargain.Ryzk examined the tape. "A year's contract? And what if I don't sign,
if Ireserve the right to leave ship at the first port or call? After all,
Idon't remember any agreement between us before I woke up in this spinner
ofyours.""And how long would it take you to find another ship off Lorgal?""And
how do you know I'll set you down there in the first place? Lorgal isabout
the worst choice in the Fathfar sector. I can punch out any course
Iplease--""Can you?" inquired Eet. For the second time Ryzk registered
startlement. Hestared now at the mutant and his gaze was anything but
pleasant."Telepath!" He spat that out like a curse."And more--" I hastened to
agree. "Eet has a way of getting things we wantdone, done.""You say that you
have the Guild after you and you want me to sign on for ayear. Your first pick
of a landing is a hellhole. And now this--this--""Partner of mine," I supplied
when he seemed at a loss for the proper term."This partner suggests he can
make me do as he wishes.""You had better believe it.""What do I get out of it?
Ship's wages--?"This was a fair enough protest. I was willing to concede
more."Take Trade share--"He stiffened. I saw his hand twitch, his fingers
balled into a fist whichmight have been aimed at me had he not some control
over his temper. But Iread then his dislike for my knowledge of that fragment
of his past. That Ihad used a Free Trader's term, offering him a Trader
deal, was not to hisliking at all. But he nodded.Then he pressed his thumb on
the sign pad and recited his license number andname into the recorder,
formally accepting duty as pilot for one planetyear, to be computed on
the scale of the planet from which we had justlifted, which was a matter of
four hundred days.There was little or nothing to do while the ship was in
hyper, a matter ofconcern on the early exploring and trading ships. For
idle men causedtrouble. It was usually customary for members of a ship's
crew to develophobbies or crafts to keep their minds alert, their hands busy.
But if Ryzkhad had such in the past, he did not produce them now.He did,
however, make systematic use of the exercise cabin, as I did also,keeping
muscles needed planet-side from growing flabby in the reducedgravity of
space flight. And as time passed he thinned and fined down untilhe was a far
more presentable man than the one we had steered out of theOff-port drinking
den.My own preoccupation was with the mass of records I had managed, with
thereluctant assistance of the Patrol, to regain from several storage
pointsused by Vondar Ustle. With some I was familiar, but other tapes,
especiallythose in code, were harder. Vondar had been a rover as well as
a gemmerchant. He could have made a fortune had he settled down as a designer
andretailer on any inner-system planet. But his nature had been attuned
towandering and he had had the restlessness of a First-in Scout.His designing
was an art beyond me, and of his knowledge of stones I hadperhaps a
tenth--if I was not grossly overestimating what I had been able toassimilate
during the years of our master-apprentice relationship. But thetapes, which I
could claim under the law as a legally appointed apprentice,were my
inheritance and all I had to build a future upon. All that wasreasonably
certain, that is. For the quest for the source of the zero stonewas a gamble
on which we could not embark without a backing of credits.I watched the viewer
as I ran the tapes through, concentrating on that whichI had not already
absorbed in actual tutelage under Vondar. And my own stateof ignorance at
times depressed me dismally, leaving me to wonder if Eet hadsomehow moved me
into this action as one moves a star against a comet inthat most widely
spread galactic game of chance, named for its pieces--Starsand Comets.But I
was also sure that if he had, I would never be really sure of thatfact, and
it was far better for my peace of mind not to delve into suchspeculation.
To keep at my task was the prime need now and I was setting up,with many
revisions, deletions, and additions, a possible itinerary for usto follow.
Lorgal had been my first choice, because of the simplicity of itsprimitive
type of exchange barter. In my first solo deal I needed thatsimplicity.
Though I had cut as close as I could in outfitting the Wendwind,I had had to
spend some of our very meager store of credits on trade goods.These now
occupied less than a third of the improvised storeroom. But themajor part of
the wares had been selected for dealing on Lorgal.As wandering people,
traveling from one water hole to the next across a landwhich was for the most
part volcanic rock (with some still active conesbreathing smoke by day, giving
forth a red glow at night), sand, wind to apunishing degree, and pallid
vegetation growing in the bottom of sharp-cutgullies, the Lorgalians wanted
mainly food for their too often emptybellies, and water, which for far
too many days seemed to have vanishedfrom, or rather into, their earth's
crust.I had visited there once with Vondar, and he had achieved
instantaneousresults with a small solar converter. Into this could be fed
the scabrousleaves of the vegetation, the end product emerging as small
blocks about afinger in length containing a highly nutritious food which
would keep a mangoing for perhaps five of their dust- and wind-filled days,
one of theirplodding beasts for three. The machine had been simple, if
bulky, and hadhad no parts so complicated that a nontechnically-inclined
people could putit out of running order. The only trouble was that it was
so large that ithad to be slung between two of their beasts for
transport--though that hadnot deterred the chieftain from welcoming it as he
might have a supernaturalgift from one of his demon gods.I had found, in my
more recent prowlings through supply warehouses where theresidue of scout and
exploration ships was turned in for resale, a similarmachine which was but
half the size of that we had offered before. And whileI could raise the price
of only two of these, I had hopes that they wouldmore than pay for our
voyage.I knew zorans, and I also knew the market for them. They were one of
thosespecial gems whose origin was organic rather than mineral. Lorgal must
oncehave had an extremely wet climate which supported a highly varied
vegetablegrowth. This had vanished, perhaps quite suddenly in a series of
volcanicoutbreaks. Some gas or other had killed certain of those plants, and
theirsubstance was then engulfed in earth fissures which closed to apply
greatpressure. That, combined with the gas the plants had absorbed, wrought
thechanges to produce zorans.In their natural state they were often found
still in the form of a mat ofcrushed leaves or a barked limb, sometimes even
with a crystalized insect(if you were very lucky indeed) embedded in them.
But once polished and cut,they were a deep purple-blue-green through which
ran streaked lines ofsilver or glittering gold. Or else they were a
crystalline yellow (probablydepending upon some variation in the plant, or in
the gas which had slainit) with flecks of glittering bronze.The chunks or
veins of the stuff were regularly mined by the nomads, who,until the arrival
of the first off-world traders, used it mainly to tiptheir spears. It
could be sharpened to a needle point which, upon enteringflesh, would break
off, to fester and eventually kill, even though theinitial wound had not
been a deep one.And during the first cutting a zoran had to be handled with
gloves, sinceany break in the outer layer made it poisonous. Once that had
been buffedaway, the gems could be shaped easily, even more so by the
application ofheat than by a cutting tool. Then, plunged into deep freeze,
they hardenedcompletely and would not yield again to any treatment. Their
cutting wasthus a complicated process, but their final beauty made them
prized, andeven in the rough they brought excellent prices.So it would be
zorans, and from Lorgal we could lift next to Rakipur, wherezorans could be
sold uncut to the priests of Mankspher and the pearls oflonnex crabs
bought. From there perhaps to Rohan for caberon sapphires or--But there was
no use planning too far ahead. I had learned long ago that alltrading was a
gamble and that to concentrate on the immediate future was thebest way. Eet
wandered in and out while I studied my tapes. Sometimes he saton the table to
follow with a show of interest some particular one, at othertimes curling up
to sleep. At length Ryzk, probably for lack of something todo, also found his
way to where I studied, and his casual interest gave wayto genuine
attention."Rohan," he commented when I ran through Vondar's tape on that
world. ThaxThorman had trading rights on Rohan back in 3949. He made a good
thing outof it. Not sapphires, though. He was after mossilk. That was
before thethrinx plague wiped out the spinners. They never did find out
what startedthe thrinx, though Thorman had his suspicions.""Those being?" I
asked when he did not continue."Well, those were the days when the combines
tried to make it hard for theFree Men." He gave their own name to the Free
Traders. "And there were a lotof tricks pulled. Thorman bid for Rohan in a
syndicate of five Free ships,and he was able to overtop the Bendix Combine
for it. The Combine had theauction fixed to go their way and then a Survey
referee showed up and theirbribed auctioneer couldn't set the computer. So
their low bid was knockedout and Thorman got his. It was a chance for him.
Bendix had a good idea ofwhat was there, and he was just speculating because
he knew they were set onit."So--he and the other ships had about four planet
years of really skimmingthe good stuff. Then the thrinx finished that. Wiped
out three of the othercaptains. They had been fool enough to give credit
for two years running.But Thorman never trusted Bendix and he kind of
expected something mightblow up. No way, of course, of proving the B
people had a hand in it.Nowadays, since the Free Men have had their own
confederation, combinescan't pull such tricks. I've seen a couple of
those sapphires. Tough tofind, aren't they?""They wouldn't be if anyone could
locate the source. What is discovered arethe pieces washed down the north
rivers in the spring--loose in the gravel.Been plenty of prospectors who tried
to get over the Knife Ridge to hunt theblue earth holes which must be there.
Most of them were never heard fromagain. That's taboo country in
there.""Easier to buy 'em than to hunt them, eh?""Sometimes. Other times it is
just the opposite. We have our dangers, too."I was somewhat irked by what I
thought I detected underlying his comment.But he was already changing the
subject. "We come out of hyper on the yellowsignal. Where do you want to
set down on Lorgal, western or easterncontinent?""Eastern. As near the
Black River line as you can make it. There is no realport, as perhaps you
know.""Been a lot of time spinning by since I was there. Things could be
changed,even a port there. Black River region." He looked over my shoulder
at thewall of the cabin as if a map had been video-cast there. "We'll fin down
inthe Big Pot, unless that has boiled over into rough land again."The Big Pot
was noted on Lorgal, a giant crater with a burned-out heartwhich was
relatively smooth and which had been used as an improvised spaceport.
Though we had not landed there on my one visit to Lorgal, I knewenough
from what I had heard then to recognize that Ryzk had chosen the bestlanding
the eastern continent could offer.Though the Big Pot was off the main nomad
route along the series of waterholes the Black River had shrunk to, we had a
one-man flitter in our tailhold. And that could scout out the nearest camp
site, saving a trek over thehorribly   broken land, which could not be
traveled on foot by anyoff-worlder. I looked to the recorded time dial.
It was solidly blue, whichmeant that the yellow signal was not too far off.
Ryzk arose and stretched."After we come out of hyper, it will take us four
color spans to get intoorbit at Lorgal, then maybe one more to set down, if
we are lucky. How longdo we stay planetside?""I cannot say. Depends upon
finding a tribe and setting up a talk fire. Fivedays, ten, a couple of
weeks--"He grimaced. "On Lorgal that is too long. But you're the owner, it's
yourration supply. Only hope you can cut it shorter."He went out to climb to
the control cabin. I packed away the tapes and theviewer. I certainly shared
his hope--though I knew that once I entered uponthe actual trading, I would
find in it the zest which it always held for me.Yet Lorgal was not a world on
which one wanted to linger. And now it was forme only a means to an end, the
end still lying too far ahead to visualize.I was not long behind Ryzk in
seeking the control cabin and the second seatthere. While I could not second
his duties, yet I wanted to watch thevisa-screen as we came in. This was my
first real venture, and success orfailure here meant very much. Perhaps Eet
was as uncertain as I, for thoughhe curled up in his familiar position
against my chest and shoulder, hismind was closed to me.We snapped out of
hyper and it was plain that Ryzk deserved so far the trustI had had to place
in him, for the yellow orb was certainly Lorgal. He didnot put the ship on
automatic, but played with fingers on the controls,setting our course,
orbiting us about that golden sphere.As we cut into atmosphere the contours of
the planet cleared. There were thehuge scars of old seas, now shrunken into
deep pockets in the centers ofwhat had once been their beds, their waters
bitterly salt. The continentsarose on what were now plateaus, left well
above the dried surface of thealmost vanished seas. In a short time we could
distinguish the broken chainsof volcanic mountains, the river valley with
lava, country in between.And then the pockmark of the Big Pot could be seen.
But as we rode our deterrockets into that promise of a halfway fair landing, I
caught a startlingglimpse of something else.We sat down, waiting that one
tense moment to see if it had indeed been afair three-fin landing. Then, as
there came no warning tilt of the cabin,Ryzk triggered the visa-screen,
starting its circular sweep of our immediatesurroundings. It was only a
second before I was able to see that we wereindeed not alone in the Big
PotThere was another ship standing some distance away. It was plainly
atrader-for-hire. Which meant dire competition, because Lorgal had only
onemarketable off-world product--zorans. And the yield in any year from
onetribe was not enough to satisfy two gem merchants, not if one had to have
alarge profit to continue to exist. I could only wonder which one of
Vondar'sold rivals was now sitting by a talk fire and what he had to offer.
The onlyslim chance which remained to me was the fact that he might not have
one ofthe reduced-in-size converters, and that I could so outbid
him."Company,"   Ryzk commented. "Trouble for you?" With that question
hedisassociated himself from any failure of mine. He was strictly a wage
manand would get his pay, from the value of the ship if need be, if I
wentunder."We shall see," was the best answer I could make as I unstrapped to
go andsee the flitter and make a try at finding a nomad camp.Chapter FiveMy
advantage lay in that I had been to Lorgal before, though then the
traderesponsibility had lain with Vondar, and I had only been an observer.
Oursuccess or failure now depended upon how well I remembered what I
hadobserved. The nomads were humanoid, but not of Terran stock, so dealing
withthem   required   X-Tee techniques.    Even Terrans,    or Terran
colonistdescendants, could not themselves agree over semantics, customs, or
moralstandards from planet to planet, and dealing with utterly alien mores
addedjust that much more confusion.The small converter I selected as my best
exhibit could be crowded into theflitter's tail storage section. I strapped
on the voca-translator and madesure that a water supply and E-rations were
to hand. Eet was already curledup inside waiting for me."Good luck." Ryzk
stood ready to thumb open the hatch. "Be sure to keepcontact beam--""That
is one thing I will not forget!" I promised. Though we had little incommon,
save that we shared the same ship and some of the duties of keepingit
activated, we were two of the same species on an alien world, a situationwhich
tended to make a strong, if temporary, bond between us now.Ryzk would monitor
me all the time the flitter was away from the ship. And Iknew that, should
disaster strike either of us the other would do what hecould to aid. It was
a ship law, a planet law--one never put onto actualrecord tape but one
which had existed since the first of our breed shot intospace. My memory of my
first visit to Lorgal gave me one possible site for anomad meeting, a deep
pool in the river bed which had been excavated timeand time again by the
wandering tribes until they were always sure of somemoisture at its bottom.
I set off in that direction, taking my marking fromtwo volcanic cones.The
churned ground passing under the flitter was a nightmare of
brokenridges, knife-sharp pinnacles, and pitted holes. I do not believe that
eventhe nomads could have crossed it--not that they ever wandered far from
thefaint promise of water along the ancient courses of the river.While most
of the rock about the Big Pot had been of a yellow-red-brownshade, here it
was gray, showing a shiny, glassy black in patches. We hadplaneted about
midmorning and now the sun caught those gleaming surfaces tomake them
fountains of glare. There were more and more of these as theflitter
dipped over the Black River, where even the sands were of thatsomber
color. Here the water pits broke the general dark with their sidemounds
of reddish under-surface sand, which had been laboriously dug out inthe past
by the few native animals or the nomads. And on the inner sides ofthose
mounds, ringing what small deposits of moisture there might be, grewthe
stunted plants which were the nomads only attempts at agriculture.They saved
every seed, carrying them where they went, as another race on amore
hospitable world might treasure precious stones or metal, planting themone by
one in the newly-dug sides of any hole before they left. When theycircled
back weeks or months later, they found, if they were fortunate, ameager
harvest waiting.Judging by the height of the scrubby brush around the
first two pits Idipped to inspect, the Lorgalians had not yet reached
them--which meant Imust fly farther east to pick up their camp.I had seen no
sign of life about that other ship as I had taken off. Nor hadmy course taken
me close to it. However, I had noted that its flitter hatchwas open and
guessed that the trader was already out in the field. Timemight already
have defeated me.Then the Black River curved and I saw the splotch of
tents dotted about.There was movement there, and as I throttled down the
flitter to lowestspeed and came in for a set-down I knew I was indeed late.
For the cloakedand cowled figures of the tribesmen were moving with rhythmic
pacing aboutthe circumference of their camp site, each swinging an arm
to crack along-lashed whip at the nothingness beyond, a nothingness
which theybelieved filled with devils who must be driven away by such
precautionsbefore any ceremony or serious business could be transacted.There
was another flitter parked here. It had no distinguishing companymarkings, so
I was not about to buck a combine man. Of course I hardlyexpected to
find one here. The pickings, as far as they were concerned, weretoo small. No,
whoever was ready to deal with the camp was a free lance likemyself. I set
down a length from the other transport. Now I could hear thehigh-pitched,
almost squealing chant voiced by the devil-routers. With Eeton my shoulders
I plunged into dry, stinging air, and the glare of a sunagainst which my
goggles were only part protection.That air rasped against the skin as if it
were filled with invisible butvery tangible particles of grit. Feeling it,
one did not wonder at the longrobes, the cowls, the half-masks the natives
wore for protection.As I approached the ring of devil-lashers two of the
whips curled out tocrack the air on either side, but I did not flinch,
knowing that much ofnomad custom. Had I shown any surprise or recoil, I
would have labeledmyself a demon in disguise and a shower of zoran-pointed
spears would havefollowed that exposure of my true nature.The tribesmen I
passed showed no interest in me; they were concentrating ontheir duty of
protection. I cut between two of the closed tents to a clearspace where I
could see the assembly the whippers were guarding.There was a huddle of
nomads, all males, of course, and so enwrapped intheir robes that only the
eye slits suggested that they were not just balesof grimy lakis-wool cloth.
The lakises themselves, ungainly beasts withbloated bodies to store the
food and water for days when there was need,perched on long, thin legs
with great wide, flat feet made for deserttravel. These were now folded
under them, for they lay to serve aswindbreaks behind their masters.
Their thick necks rested across eachother's bodies if they could find a
neighbor to so serve them, and theirdisproportionately small heads had the
eyes closed, as if they were allfirmly asleep. Facing this assembly was the
suited and helmeted figure ofone of my own race. He stood, some packages
about his feet, making the FourGestures of Greeting, which meant, considering
his ease, that he had eithervisited such a camp before, or else had made
a careful study of recordtapes. The chieftain, like everyone else in that
muffled crowd, couldcertainly not be recognized by features, but only by
his badge of office,the bloated abdomen which was the result of much
prideful padding. Thatlayer upon layer of swaddling was not simply a shield
against assassination(chieftainship among the Lorgalians was based upon
weapon skill, notbirthright); to be fat was a sign of wealth and good
fortune here. And hewho produced a truely noticeable belly was a man of
prestige and standing.I could not even be sure that this was the tribe
with whom Vondar hadtraded. Only luck might help me in that. But surely,
even if it was not,they would have heard of the wonder machine he had
introduced and would bethe more eager to acquire one of their own.When I had
entered the gathering I had come up behind the trader. And thenomads did not
stir as they sighted me. Perhaps they thought me one of thestranger's
followers. I do not think he was aware of me until I steppedlevel with him
and began my own gestures of greeting, thus signifying thathe was not
speaking for me, but that I was on my own.He turned his head and I saw one I
knew--Ivor Akkil He had been no match forVondar Ustle; few were. But he was
certainly more than I would have chosento contend against at the beginning of
my independent career. He stared atme intently for a moment and then
grinned. And that grin said that in me hesaw no threat. We had fronted each
other for several hours once at a Salarikbargaining, but there I had been only
an onlooker, and he had been easilydefeated by Vondar.He did not pause in his
ritual gestures after that one glance to assess hisopposition and dismiss it.
And I became as unseeing of him. We waved emptyhands, pointed north, south,
east, and west, to the blazing sun, thecracked, sandy earth under us,
outlined symbols of three demons, and that ofthe lakis, a nomad, and a tent,
signifying that by local custom we weredevout, honest men, and had come for
trade.By right Akki had the first chance, since he was first on the scene.
And Ihad to wait while he pulled forward several boxes, snapped them open.
Therewas the usual small stuff, mostly plastic--some garish jewelry, some
gobletswhich were fabulous treasure to the eye but all plastic to the touch,
and acouple of sun torches. These were all make-gifts--offered to the chief.
Andseeing their nature I was a little relieved.For such an array meant this
was not a return visit but a first try by Akki.If he were here on spec and had
not heard of Vondar's success with the foodconverter, I could beat him yet.
And I had had this much luck, a small flagfluttering by the chieftain's tent
told me--this was the tribe Vondar hadtreated with. And I needed only
tell them that I had a more easilytransported machine to sweep all the
zorans they had to offer out of theirbags. But if I felt triumph for a few
seconds it was speedily swept away asAkki opened his last box, setting out
a very familiar object and one I hadnot expected to see.It was a converter,
but still more reduced in size and more portable thanthose I had chanced
upon in the warehouse, undoubtedly a later and yetfurther improved model. I
could only hope that he had just the one and thatI might halve or quarter his
return by offering two.He proceeded to demonstrate the converter before that
silent, never-movingcompany. Then he waited.A hairy hand with long dirty nails
flipped out from under the bundle of thechieftain's robes, making a sign. And
one of his followers hunched forwardto unfold a strip of lakis hide on which
were many loops. Each loop held achunk    of zoran and only strict
control kept me standing, seeminglyindifferent, where I was. Four of
those unworked stones were of thecrystalline type and each held an
insect. It was a better display than I hadever heard of. Vondar had once taken
two such stones and the realization oftheir value off world had seemed
fabulous to me. Four--with those I wouldnot have to worry about a year's
running of the ship. I would not even haveto trade at all. We could be off
after the zero stone after a single sale.Only Akki was the one to whom they
were offered, and I knew very well thatnone of them was ever going to come to
me.He deliberated, of course--that was custom again. Then he made his
choice,sweeping up the insect pieces, as well as three of the
blue-green-purplestones of size large enough to cut well. What was left after
his choices hadbeen fingered seemed refuse.Then he raised his head to grin at
me again as he slipped his hoard into atravel case, clapped his hand twice on
the converter, and touched the restof the goods he had spread out, releasing
them all formally."Tough luck," he said in Basic. "But you've been having
that all along,haven't you, Jern? To expect to fill Ustle's boots--" He shook
his head."Good fortune," I said, when I would rather have voiced
disappointment andfrustration. "Good fortune, smooth lifting, with a sale at
the end." I gavehim a trader's formal farewell.But he made no move to leave.
Instead he added the insulting wave of handsignifying among the Lorgal-ians a
master's introduction of a follower. Andthat, too, I had to accept for the
present, since any dispute between usmust be conducted outside the camp.
A flare of temper would be swiftindication that a devil had entered and
all trading would be under ban, lestthat unchancy spirit enter into some piece
of the trade goods. I was almosttempted to do just that, in order to see
Akki's offerings ritually poundedinto splinters, the zorans treated the same
way. But though such temptationwas hot in me for an instant, I withstood it.
He had won by the rules, and Iwould be the smaller were I to defeat him so,
to say nothing of destroyingall thought of future trade with Lorgal not only
for the two of us, but forall other off-worlders. I could take a chance and
try to find another tribesomewhere out in the stark wilderness of the
continent. But to withdraw fromthis camp now without dealing would be a
delicate matter and one I did notknow quite how to handle. I might offend
some local custom past mending. No,like it or not, I would have to take Akki's
leavings.They were waiting and perhaps growing impatient. My hands spun into
the signlanguage, aided by the throaty rasping my translator made as it spoke
wordsin their own sparse tongue.This"--I indicated the converter--"I have
also--but larger--in the belly ofmy sky lakis."Now that I had made that offer
there was no turning back. In order to retainthe good will of the nomads I
would have to trade, or lose face. Andinwardly I was aware of my own
inaptitude in the whole encounter. I had mademy mistake in ever entering the
camp after I had seen Akki's flitter alreadyhere. The intelligent move would
have been then to prospect for anotherclan. But I had rushed, believing my
wares to be unduplicated, and so lost.Again that hairy hand waved and two of
the bundled warriors arose to tail meto the flitter, cracking their whips
above us as we crossed the line kept bythe lashing guards. I pulled the
heavy case from where I had so hopefullywedged it. And with their aid, one
protecting us from the devils, the otherhelping me to carry it, I brought it
back to the camp.We set it before the chieftain. Either by accident or design,
it landed nextto Akki's, and the difference in bulk was marked. I went through
the processof proving it was indeed a food converter and then awaited the
chieftain'sdecision.He gestured and one of my assistants booted a lakis
to its feet, thecreature bubbling and complaining bitterly with guttural
grunts. It came upwith a splayfooted shuffle which, awkward as it looked,
would take it at anunvarying pace day after day across this tormented land.A
kick on one foreknee brought it kneeling again and the two converters wereset
beside it. Then proceeded a demonstration to prove the inferiority of
myoffering. Akki's machine might be put in a luggage sling on one side of
thebeast, a load of other equipment on the other--while if it bore the one
Ihad brought, it could carry nothing else.The chieftain wriggled his fingers
and a second roll of lakis hide wasproduced. I tensed. I had thought I
would be offered Akki's leavings, but itwould seem I was too pessimistic. My
elation lasted, however, only until theroll was opened. What lay within its
loops were zorans right enough. Butnothing to compare with those shown to
Akki. Nor was I even allowed tochoose from his rejects. I had to take
what was offered--or else return tothe ship empty-handed, with a profitless
set-down to my credit, or ratherdiscredit. So I made the best of a very
bad bargain and chose. There were,naturally, no insect pieces, and only two
of the more attractive yellowones. The blues had faults and I had to
examine each for flaws, taking whatI could, though in the end I was certain I
had hardly made expenses.I still had the second converter, and I might
just be able to contactanother tribe. With that small hope, I concluded
the bargain and picked upwhat still seemed trash compared with Akki's
magnificent haul.He was grinning again as I wrapped the pieces of my choice
into a packet andstood to make the farewell gestures. All this time Eet had
been as inert asif he were indeed a fur piece about my shoulders. And it was
not until I hadto walk away from the camp, badly defeated, that I wondered
why he had nottaken some part in the affair. Or had I come to lean so
heavily on him thatI was not able to take care of myself? As that thought hit
me I was startledand alarmed. Once I had leaned upon my father, feeling
secure in his wisdomand experience. Then there had been Vondar, whose
knowledge had so farexceeded my own that I had been content to accept his
arrangement of bothour lives. Soon after disaster had broken that tie, Eet had
taken over. Andit would seem that I was only half a man, needing the guidance
of a strongerwill and mind. I could accept that, become Eet's puppet. Or
I could bewilling to make my own mistakes, learn by them, hold Eet to a
partnershiprather than a master-servant relationship. It was up to me, and
perhaps Eetwanted me to make such a choice, having deliberately left me
to my ownbungling today as a test, or even an object lesson as to how helpless
I waswhen I tried to deal on my own."Good fortune, smooth lifting--" That was
Akki mockingly echoing my farewellof minutes earlier. "Crab pearls next, Jern?
Want to wager I will take thebest there, too?"He laughed, not waiting for
my answer. It was as if he knew that anydefiance on my part would be in
the nature of a hollow boast. Instead, hetramped off to his flitter, letting
me settle into mine.I did not take off at once to follow him back to his
ship. If he alsoexpected to hunt another camp, I did not want him to follow
my path--thoughhe might put a scanner on me.Triggering the com, I called
Ryzk. "Coming in." I would not add to that. Thechannels of all flitter corns
were the same and Akki could pick up anythingI now said.Nor did I try to
contact Eet, stubbornly resolved I would leave him inmental retirement as
I tried to solve my own problems.Those problems were not going to become any
lighter, I saw as I took off.There was an odd greenish-yellow cast to the
sky. And the surface of theground, wherever there was a deposit of sand,
threw up whirling shapes ofgrit. Seconds later the very sky about us seemed to
explode and the flitterwas caught in a gust which even her power could not
fight.For a space we were caught in that whirlwind and I knew fear. The
flitterwas never meant for high altitudes, and skimming the surface beneath
theworst of the wind carried with it the danger of being smashed against
someescarpment. But I had little choice. And I fought grimly to hold the
craftsteady. We were driven south and west, out over the dead sea bottom.
And Iknew bleakly that even if I did get back to the Wendwind my chances
offinding another tribe were finished. Such a storm as this drove them
toshelter and I could spend fruitless weeks hunting them. But I was able
bitby bit to fight back to the Big Pot. And when I finally entered the hatch
Iwas so weak I slumped forward over the controls and was not really aware
ofanything more until Ryzk forced a mug of caff into my hands and I knew I
wasin the mess cabin."This pest hole has gone crazy!" He was drumming with
his fingers on theedge of the table. "According to our instruments we
are sitting over ablowhole now. We up ship, or we are blown out!"I did not
quite realize what he meant and it was not until we had spacedthat he
explained tersely; the readings of planet stability under the BigPot had
suddenly flared into the danger zone, and he had feared I would notget back
before he would be forced to lift. That I had squeezed in by whathe
considered a very narrow margin he thought luck of a fabulous kind.But that
danger was not real to me, since I had not been aware of it untilafterward.
The realization of my trade failure was worse. I must lay betterplans or lose
out as badly as I would have, had we never raised from Theba.Akki had
mentioned crab pearls--which might or might not mean that hisitinerary
had been planned along the same course as mine. I laid out thepoor results
of my zoran dealing and considered them fretfully. Akki mighthave done two
things: he might have boastfully warned me off the planetwhere he was going
to trade (his ship had lifted, Ryzk informed me, at onceupon his return), or
he might just have said that out of malice to make mechange my own plans. I
wondered. Eet could tell me. But straightaway Irebelled. I was not going
to depend on Eet!Where was my next-best market? I tried to recall Vondar's
listings. Therewas--Sororis! And it was not from Ustle's notes that memory
came, but frommy father. Sororis had been an "exit" planet for years, that is,
a very farout station in which outlaws could, if they were at the end
of theirresources and very desperate indeed, find refuge. It had no regular
serviceof either passenger or trade ships, though tramps of very dubious
registrywould put in there now and then. The refuse of the galaxy's criminal
elementconjoined around the half-forgotten port and maintained themselves as
bestthey could, or died. They were too useless for even the Guild to
recruit.However, and this was the important fact, there was a native
race onSororis, settled in the north where the off-worlders found the
land tooinhospitable. And they were supposed to have some formidable
weapons oftheir own to protect themselves against raiders from the port.The
main thing was that they had a well-defined religion and god-gifts werean
important part of it. To present their god with an outstanding gift wasthe
only real means of winning status among them. Such presentations gavethe
donor the freedom of their city for a certain number of days.My father had
been given to telling stories, always supposedly about men heknew during his
years as a Guild appraiser. I believed, however, that someconcerned his own
exploits as a youth. He had told of an adventure onSororis in detail,
and now I could draw upon that for a way to retrieve theLorgal fiasco. To the
inhabitants of Sororis these chunks of zoran would berare and strange,
since they would not have seen them before. Suppose Ipresented the largest
at the temple, then offered the rest to men who wishedto make similar gifts
and thus enhance their standing among their fellows?What Sororisan products
might be taken in exchange I did not know. But thehero of my father's
story had come away with a greenstone unheard ofelsewhere. For there was
this about the Sororisans--they traded fairly.It was so wild a chance that no
one but a desperate man would think of it.But the combination of my defeat
by Akki and the need for asserting myindependence of Eet made me consider
it. And after I had finished the caff Iwent to the computer in the control
cabin and punched the code for Sororis,wagering with myself that if I received
no answer I would accept that as ameaning there was no chance of carrying
through such a wild gamble.Ryzk watched me speculatively as I waited for
the computer's answer. Andwhen, in spite of my half-hopes, a series of
numbers did appear on the smallscreen, he read them aloud:"Sector 5,
VI--Norroute 11-- Where in the name of Asta-Ivista is that? Orwhat?"I was
committed now. "That is where we are going." I wondered if he hadheard of
it. "Sororis."Chapter Six"Where are your beam lasers and protect screens?"
Ryzk asked in the voice, Idecided, one used for addressing someone whose
mental balance was in doubt.He even glanced at the control board, as if
expecting to see such armamentsrepresented there. And so convincing was his
question that I found myselfechoing that glance--which might not have been
so fruitless had the shipstill carried what scars proclaimed she once
had."If you don't have those," he continued, his logic an irritation, "you
mightjust as well blow her tubes and end us all right here without wasting
theenergy to take us to Sororis--if you do know what awaits any ship
crazyenough to planet there. It's a rock prison and those dumped on it will
stormany ship for a way to lift off again. To set down at whatever port they
dohave is simply inviting take-over.""We are not going in--that is, the ship
is not." At least I had planned thatfar ahead, drawing on my father's very
detailed account of how his "friend"had made that single visit to the
planet's surface. "There is the LB. It canbe fitted with a return mechanism if
only one is to use it."Ryzk looked at me. For a very long moment he did not
answer, and when hedid, it was obliquely."Even a parking orbit there would
be risky. They may have a convertedflitter able to try a ship raid. And who
is going down and why?""I am--to Sornuff--" I gave the native city the best
pronunciation I could,though its real twist of consonants and vowels was
beyond the powers of thehuman tongue and larynx to produce. The Sororisans
were humanoid, but theywere not of Terran colony stock, not even mutated
colony stock."The temple treasures!" His instant realization of what I had
in mind toldme that his Free Trader's knowledge of the planet's people was
more thanjust surface."It has been done," I told him, though I was aware
that I was dependingperhaps too much on my father's story."An orbit park for
Sornuff," Ryzk continued, almost as if thinking aloud,"could be polar, and
so leave us well away from the entrance route foranything setting down at
the real port. As for the LB, yes, there can belift-off modifications.
Only"--he shrugged--"that's a job you don't oftentackle in space.""You can
do it?" I demanded. I would admit frankly that I was no mech-techand such
adjustments were beyond either my knowledge or my skill. If Ryzkcould not
provide the knowledge, then we would have to risk some other andfar more
dangerous way to gain Sornuff."I'll take a look--" He was almost grudging.
But that was all I wanted fornow. Free Traders by the very nature of their
lives were adept in morefields than the usual spacer. While the fleet men
were almost rigorouslycompartmented as to their skills, the men of the
irregular ships had to beable to take over some other's duties when need
arose. The LB must have beenperiodically overhauled or it would not have had
the certification seal onits lock. But it still dated to the original
fitting of the ship, and somust have been intended to carry at least five
passengers. Thus we werefavored in so much room. And Ryzk, dismantling
the control board with theease of one well used to such problems, grunted that
it was in better shapefor conversion than he had supposed.It suddenly occurred
to me that, as on Lorgal, Eet had made no suggestionsor comments. And that
started a small nagging worry in my mind, gave me atwinge of foreboding. Had
Eet read in my mind my decision for independence?If so, had he some measure
of foreknowledge? For never yet had I been ableto discover the limit of his
esper powers. Whenever I thought I knew, heproduced something new, as he
had on Theba. So, possessing foreknowledge,was he now preparing to allow me
to run into difficulty from which he alonecould extricate us, thus proving
for once and for all that our associationwas less a partnership than one of
master and servant, with Eet very much inthe master's seat? He had closed
his mind, offering no comments orsuggestions. Nor did he now ever
accompany us to the lock where Ryzk andI--I as the unhandy
assistant-worked to give us possible entry to a hostileworld where I had a
thin chance of winning a gamble. I began to suspect hewas playing a
devious game, which made me more stubborn-set than ever toprove I could plan
and carry through a coup which did not depend upon hispowers. On the other
hand, I was willing enough to use what I had learnedfrom Eet, even though
it now irked me to admit I owed it to him. Thehallucinatory disguise was
so apt a tool that I systematically worked at theexercise of mind and will
which produced the temporary changes. I found thatby regular effort I could
hold a minor alteration such as the scar I hadworked so hard to produce as
long as I pleased. But complete change, atotally new face for instance,
came less easily. And I must labor doggedlyeven to produce the slurring of
line which would pass me through a crowdunnoticed for a short space. It
was Eet's added force which had held thatbefore, and I despaired of ever
having enough power to do it myself.Practice, Eet had said, was the base of
any advance I could make, andpractice I had time for, in the privacy of
my own cabin, with a mirror setup on a shelf to be my guide in success or
failure.At the back of my mind was always the hope that so disguised I might
slipthrough Guild watch at any civilized port. Sororis might be free of
theirmen, but if I won out with a precious cargo, I would have to reach one
ofthe inner planets and there sell my spoil. Stones of unknown value were
onlyoffered at auction before the big merchants. Peddled elsewhere, they
weresuspect and could be confiscated after any informer (who got a percentage
ofthe final sale) turned in a tip. It did not matter if they had been
honestlyenough acquired on some heretofore unmarked world; auction tax had not
beenpaid on them and that made them contraband.So I spent our voyage time
both acting as an extra pair of inept hands forRyzk and staring into a mirror
trying to reflect there a face which was notthat I had seen all my life.We
came out of hyper in the Sororis system with promptitude, which againtestified
to Ryzk's ability, leading me to wonder what had grounded him inthe scum of
the Off-port. There were three planets, two, dead worlds, ballsof cracked
rock with no atmosphere, close enough to the sun to fuse any shipfinning down
on them like a pot to fry its crew.On the other hand, Sororis was a frozen
world, or largely so, with only abelt of livable land, by the standards of
my species, about its middle. Itwas covered by glaciers north and south
of that, save where there werenarrow fingers of open land running into
that ice cover. In one of theseSornuff was supposed to exist, well away
from the outcast settlement aboutthe port. Ryzk, whom I left at the controls,
set up his hold orbit to thenorth while I packed into the LB what I judged
I would need for my visit tothe ice-bound city. Co-ordinates would be fed to
the director, and that,too, was Ryzk's concern. On such automatic
devices would depend my safearrival not too far from Sornuff and my
eventual return to the ship, thelatter being even less sure than the
former. If Ryzk's fears were realizedand a high-altitude conditioned flitter
from the port raised with a pilotskillful or reckless enough to attempt a
take-over of the Wendwind, it mightbe that the ship would be forced out of
orbit in some evasive maneuveringduring my absence. If so, I had a warning
which would keep me planetsideuntil the ship was back on a course the LB was
programmed to intercept.I checked all my gear with double care, as if I had
not already checked itat least a dozen times while we were in hyper. I had a
small pack containingspecial rations, if the local food was not to be
assimilated, a translator,a mike call Ryzk would pick up if he were safely in
orbit, and, of course,the stones from Lorgal. There was no weapon, not even a
stunner. I could nothave smuggled one on board at Theba. I could only depend
upon my knowledgeof personal defense until I was able to outfit myself
with whatever localweapons were available. Ryzk's voice rasped over the cabin
com to say thatall was clear and I picked up the pack. Eet was stretched
on the bunk,,apparently asleep as he had been every time I had come in
recently. Was hesulking, or simply indifferent to my actions now? That
small germ of worryhis unexpected reaction to my bid for independence had
planted in me wasfast growing into a full-sized doubt of myself--one I
dared not allow if Iwere to face the tests of my resourcefulness below.Yet I
hesitated just to walk out and leave him. Our growing rift hurt in anobscure
way, and I had to hold stubbornly to my purpose to keep fromsurrender.
Now I weakened to the degree that I aimed a thought at him."I am going--" That
was weakly obvious and I was ashamed I had done it.Eet opened his eyes calmly.
"Good fortune." He stretched out his head as ifsavoring a comfort he was not
in the least desirous of leaving. "Use yourhind eyes as well as the fore." He
closed his own and snapped our linkage."Hind eyes as well as fore" made little
sense, but I chewed angrily upon itas I went to the LB, setting the door
seals behind me. As I lay down in thehammock I gave the eject signal to
Ryzk, and nearly blacked out when theforce of my partition from the ship
hit.Since I was set on automatics, using in part the LB's built-in function
toseek the nearest planet when disaster struck the ship, I had nothing to
dobut lie and try to plan for all eventualities. There was an oddly naked
feelto traveling without Eet, we had been in company for so long. And I
foundthat my rebellion did not quite blank out that sense of loss.Still,
there was an exultation born of my reckless throwing over of allprudent
warnings, trying a wholly new and dangerous venture of my own. This,too, part
of me warned against. But I was not to have very long to thinkabout
anything. For the cushioning for landing came on and I knew I had madethe
jump to planet-side and was about to be faced by situations which woulddemand
every bit of my attention.The LB had set down, I discovered, in the
narrow end of one of thoseclaw-shaped valleys which cut into the ice.
Perhaps the glacial covering ofSororis was now receding and these were the
first signs of thaw. There waswater running swiftly and steadily from the
very point of the earth claw,forming a good-sized stream by the time it
passed the LB. But the air was sochill that its freezing breath was a blow
against the few exposed portionsof my face. I snapped down the visor of my
helmet as I set the LB hatch onpersona lock and, taking up my pack,
crunched the ice-packed sand under myspace boots. If Ryzk's reckoning had been
successful I had only to go downthis valley to where it joined a
hand-shaped wedge from which other narrowvalleys stretched away to the north
and I would be in sighting distance ofthe walls of Sornuff. When I
reached that point I must depend upon myfather's tale for guidance. And now
I realized he had gone into exhaustivedetail in describing the country,
almost as if he were trying to impress itupon my memory for some
reason--though at the time it had not seemed so. Butthen I had listened
eagerly to all his stories, while my foster brother andsister had apparently
been bored and restless.Between me and the city wall was a shrine of the ice
spirit Zeeta. While shewas not the principal deity of the Sororisans, she had
a sizable following,and she had acted for the hero of my father's story as an
intermediary withthe priests of the major temples in the city. I say "she"
for there was aliving woman--or priestess--in that icy fane who was
deemed to be theearth-bound part of the ice spirit, and was treated as a
supernatural being,even differing in body from her followers.I came to the
join of "claw" and "hand" and saw indeed the walls of thecity--and not too
far away, the shrine of Zeeta.My landing had been made just a little after
dawn, and only now were thinbeams of the hardly warm sun reaching to raise
glints from the menace of thetall ice wall at my back. There was no sign of
any life about the shrine andI wondered, with apprehension, if Zeeta had
been, during the years sincethat other visitor was here, withdrawn, forsaken
by those who had petitionedher here. My worries as to that were quickly over
as I came closer to thebuilding of stone, glazed over with glistening ice.
It was in the form of acone, the tip of which had been sliced off, and it was
perhaps the size ofthe Wendwind. Outside, a series of tables which were
merely slabs of hewnice as thick as my arm mounted on sturdy pillars of
the same frozensubstance encircled the whole truncated tower. On each
of these wereembedded the offerings of Zeeta's worshipers, some of them now
so encased inlayers of ice that they were only dark shadows, others lying on
the surfacewith but a very thin coat of moisture solidifying over them.Food,
furs, some stalks of vegetable stuff black-blasted by frost lay there.It
would seem that Zeeta never took from these supplies, only left them tobecome
part of the growing ice blocks on which they rested.I walked between two of
these chill tables to approach the single break inthe rounded wall of the
shrine, a door open to the wind and cold. But I washeartened to see further
proof of my father's story, a gong suspended bythat portal. And I boldly
raised my fist to strike it with the back of mygloved hand as lightly as I
could--though the booming note which answered mytap seemed to me to reach and
echo through the glacier behind.My translator was fastened to my throat and I
had rehearsed what I wouldsay--though the story had not supplied me with any
ceremonial greeting and Iwould have to improvise.The echoes of the gong
continued past the time I thought they would die. Andwhen no one came to
answer, I hesitated, uncertain. The fairly freshofferings spelled
occupancy of the shrine, but perhaps that was not so, andZeeta, or her chosen
counterpart, was not in residence.I had almost made up my mind to go on when
there was a flicker of movementwithin the dark oblong of the door. That
movement became a shape which facedme. It was as muffled as a Lorgalian. But
they had appeared to have humanoidbodies covered by ordinary robes. This was
as if a creature completely andtightly wound in strips or bandages which
reduced it to the likeness of alarva balanced there to confront me.The
coverings, if they were strips of fabric, were crystaled with patternsof
ice which had the glory of individual snowflakes and were diamond-brightwhen
the rising sun touched them. But the body beneath was only
dimlyvisible, having at least two lower limbs (were there any arms they
werebound fast to the trunk and completely hidden), a torso, and above, a
roundball for a head. On the fore of that the crystal encrustrations took
theform of two great faceted eyes--at least they were ovals and set where
eyeswould be had the thing been truly humanoid. There were no other
discerniblefeatures. I made what I hoped would be accepted as a gesture of
reverence orrespect, bowing my head and holding up my hands empty and
palm out. Andthough the thing had no visible ears, I put my plea into
speech whichemerged from my translator as a rising and falling series of
trills, weirdlyakin in some strange fashion to the gong note."Hail to Zeeta of
the clear ice, the ice which holds forever! I seek thefavor of Zeeta of the
ice lands."There was a trilling in return, though I could see that the
head had nomouth to utter it."You are not of the blood, the bones, the flesh
of those who seek Zeeta. Whydo you trouble me, strange one?""I seek Zeeta as
one who comes not empty-handed, as one who knows the honorof the Ice Maiden--"
I put out my right hand now, laying on the edge of thenearest table the gift
I had prepared with some thought --a thin chain ofsilver on which were
threaded rounded lumps of rock crystal. On one of theinner worlds it had no
value, but worth is relative to the surroundings andhere it flashed bravely
in the sunlight as if it were a string of thecrystals such as adorned
Zeeta's wrappings."You are not of the blood, the kind of my people," came
her trilling inreply. She made no move to inspect my offering, nor even, as
far as I coulddeduce, to turn her eyes to view it. "But your gift is well
given. What askyou of Zeeta? Swift passage across ice and snow? Good thoughts
to light yourdreams?""I ask the word of Zeeta spoken into the ear of mighty
Torg, that I may havea daughter's fair will in approaching the father.""Torg
also does not deal with men of your race, stranger. He is the Guardianand
Maker of Good for those who are not of your kind.""But if one brings gifts,
is it not meet that the gift-giver be able toapproach the Maker of Good to
pay him homage?""It is our custom, but you are a stranger. Torg may not
find it well toswallow what is not of his own people.""Let Zeeta but give the
foreword to those who serve Torg and then let him bethe judge of my motives
and needs.""A small thing, and reasonable," was her comment. "So shall it be
done."She did turn her head then so those blazing crystal eyes were looking to
thegong. And though she raised nothing to strike its surface, it
suddenlytrembled and the sound which boomed from it was enough to summon an
army toattack."It is done, stranger."Before I could give her any thanks she
was gone, as suddenly as if her wholecrystal-encrusted body had been a
flame and some rise of wind hadextinguished it. But though she
vanished from my sight, I still lifted myhand in salute and spoke my thanks,
lest I be thought lacking in gratitude.As before, the gong note continued
to rumble through the air about me,seemingly not wholly sound but a kind
of vibration. So heralded, I began towalk to the city.The way was not quite so
far as it seemed and I came to the gates before Iwas too tired of trudging
over the ice-hardened ground. There were peoplethere and they, too, were
strangely enough clad to rivet the attention.Fur garments are known to many
worlds where the temperature is such that theinhabitants must add to their
natural covering to survive. Such as these,though, I had not seen. Judging by
their appearance, animals as large as aman standing at his full height had
been slain to obtain skins of shaggy,golden fur. These had not been cut and
remade into conventional garb but hadretained their original shape, so that
the men of Sornuff displayed humanoidfaces looking out of hoods designed from
the animal heads and still in onepiece with the rest of the hide; the
paws, still firm on the limbs, theyused as cover for hands and feet. Save
for the showing of their faces theymight well be beasts lumbering about on
their hind legs.Their faces were many shades darker than the golden fur
framing them, andtheir eyes narrow and slitted, as if after generations of
holding them so inprotection against the glare of sun on snow and ice this had
become a normalcharacteristic.They appeared to keep no guard at their gate,
but three of them, who musthave been summoned by the gong, gestured to
me with short crystal rods.Whether these were weapons or badges of office
I did not know, but Iobediently went with them, down the central street.
Sornuff had been builtin circular form, and its center hub was another cone
temple, much largerthan Zeeta's shrine. The door into it was relatively
narrow and oddlyfashioned to resemble an open mouth, though above it were no
other carvingsto indicate the rest of a face. This was Torg's place and
the test of myplan now lay before me. I could sense no change in warmth
in the largecircular room into which we came. If there was any form of
heating inSornuff it was not used in Torg's temple. But the chill did not in
any wayseem to bother my guides or the waiting priests. Behind them
was therepresentation of Torg, again a widely open mouth, in the wall facing
thedoor."I bring a gift for Torg," I began boldly."You are not of the people
of Torg." It was not quite a protest, but itcarried a faint shadow of
warning and it came from one of the priests. Overhis fur he wore a collar of
red metal from which hung several flat plaques,each set with a different
color stone and so masively engraved in aninterwined pattern that it
could not be followed."Yet I bring a gift for the pleasures of Torg, such as
perhaps not even hischildren of the blood have seen." I brought out the best
of the zorans, ablue-green roughly oval stone which nearly filled the hollow
of my hand whenI had unrolled its wrappings and held it forth to the priest.He
bent his head as if he sniffed the stone, and then he shot out a
paletongue, touching its tip to the hard surface. Having to pass it through
somestrange test, he plucked it out of my hold and turned to face the
greatmouth in the wall. The zoran he gripped between the thumb and forefinger
ofeach hand, holding it in the air at eye level."Behold the food of Torg, and
it is good food, a welcome gift," he intoned.I heard a stir and mutter from
behind me as if I had been followed into thetemple by others."It is a welcome
gift!" the other priests echoed. Then he snapped hisfingers, or appeared
to do so, in an odd way. The zoran spun out and away,falling through the
exact center of the waiting mouth, to vanish from sight.The ceremony over, the
priest turned once more to face me."Stranger you are, but for one sun, one
night, two suns, two nights, threesuns, three nights, you have the freedom
of the city of Torg and may goabout such business as is yours within
the gates which are under theGuardianship of Torg.""Thanks be to Torg," I
answered and bowed my head. But when I in turn facedaround I found that my
gift giving had indeed had an audience. There were adozen at least of the
furred people staring intently at me. And though theyopened a passage, giving
me a free way to the street without, one on thefringe stepped forward and
laid a paw-gloved hand on my arm."Stranger Who Has Given to Torg." He made a
title of address out of thatstatement. "There is one who would speak with
you.""One is welcome," I replied. "But I am indeed a stranger within your
gatesand have no house roof under which to speak.""There is a house roof and
it is this way." He trilled that hurriedly,glancing over his shoulder as
if he feared interruption. And as it did seemthat several others now coming
forth from the temple were minded to join us,he kept his grasp on my arm and
drew me a step or two away.Since time was a factor in any trading I would do
here, I was willing enoughto go with him.Chapter SevenHe guided me down one of
the side streets to a house which was a miniaturecopy of shrine and temple,
save that the cone tip, though it had been cutaway, was mounted with a
single lump of stone carved with one of theintricate designs, one which
it somehow bothered the eyes to study tooclosely. There was no door, not
even a curtain, closing the portal, butinside we faced a screen, and had
to go between it and the wall for a spaceto enter the room beyond. Along its
walls poles jutted forth to supportcurtains of fur which divided the outer
rim of the single chamber into smallnooks of privacy. Most of these were
fully drawn. I could hear movementbehind them but saw no one. My guide
drew me to one, jerked aside thecurtain, and motioned me before him into
that tent.From the wall protruded a ledge on which were more furs, as if
it mightserve as a bed. He waved me to a seat there, then sat, himself, at
the otherend, leaving a goodly expanse between us as was apparently
demanded bycourtesy. He came directly to the point."To Torg you gave a great
gift, stranger.""That is true," I said when he paused as though expecting
some answer. Andthen I dared my trader's advance. "It is from beyond the
skies.""You come from the place of strangers?"I thought I could detect
suspicion in his voice. And I had no wish to beassociated with the derelicts
of the off-world settlement."No. I had heard of Torg from my father, many sun
times ago, and it was toldto me beyond the stars. My father had respect for
Torg and I came with agift as my father said must be done."He plucked
absent-mindedly at some wisps of the long fur making a ruff belowhis shin."It
is said that there was another stranger who came bringing Torg a giftfrom
the stars. And he was a generous man.""To Torg?" I prompted when he hesitated
for the second time."To Torg--and others." He seemed to find it difficult to
put into words whathe wanted very much to say. "All men want to please Torg
with fine gifts.But for some men such fortune never comes.""You are, perhaps,
one of those men?" I dared again to speak plainly, thoughby   such speech I
might defeat my own ends. To my mind he wantedencouragement to state
the core of the matter and I knew no other way tosupply it."Perhaps--" he
hedged. "The tale of other days is that the stranger who camecarried with him
not one from-beyond-the-stars wonders but several, and gavethese freely to
those who asked.""Now the tale which I heard from my father was not quite akin
to that," Ireplied. "For by my father's words the stranger gave wonders
from beyond,yes. But he accepted certain things in return."The Sororisan
blinked. "Oh, aye, there was that. But what he took was tokenpayment only,
things which were not worth Torg's noting and of no meaning.Which made him
one of generous spirit."I nodded slowly. "That is surely true. And these
things which were of nomeaning--of what nature were they?""Like unto these."
He slipped off the ledge to kneel on the floor, pressingat the front panel of
the ledge base immediately below where he had beensitting. That swung open
and he brought out a hide bag from which he shookfour pieces of rough rock.
I forced myself to sit quietly, making nocomment. But, though I had
never seen greenstone, I had seen recordertri-dees enough to know that
these were uncut, unpolished gems of thatnature. I longed to handle them,
to make sure they were unflawed and worth atrade."And what are those?" I
asked as if I had very little interest in thedisplay."Rocks which come
from the foot of the great ice wall when it grows the lessbecause the water
runs from it. I have them only because--because I, too,had a tale from my
father, that once there came a stranger who would give agreat treasure for
these.""And no one else in Sornuff has such?""Perhaps--but they are of no
worth. Why should a man bring them into hishouse for safekeeping? They have
made laughter at me many times when I was ayoungling because I believed in old
tales and took these.""May I see these rocks from the old story?""Of a
surety!" He grabbed up the two largest, pushed them eagerly, withalmost
bruising force, into my hands. "Look! Did your tale speak also ofsuch?"The
larger piece had a center flaw, but it could be split, I believed, togain
one medium-sized good stone and maybe two small ones. However, thesecond
was a very good one which would need only a little cutting. And hehad two
other pieces, both good-sized. With such at auction I had my profit,and a
bigger, more certain one than I had planned in my complicated seriesof
tradings beginning with the zorans.Perhaps I could do even better somewhere
else in Sornuff. I remembered thoseother men who had moved to contact me
outside the temple before my presenthost had hurried me off. On the other
hand, if I made this sure trade Iwould be quicker off world. And somehow I
had had an eerie sensation eversince I had left the LB that this was a
planet it was better to visit asbriefly as possible. There were no
indications that the outlaws of the portcame this far north, but I could not
be sure that they did not. And should Ibe discovered and the LB found-- No, a
quick trade and a speedy retreat wasas much as I dared now. I took out my
pouch and displayed the two small andinferior zorans I had brought."Torg might
well look with favor on him who offered these."The Sororisan lunged forward,
his fur-backed hands reaching with the fingerscrooked as if to snatch that
treasure from me. But that I did not fear.Since I had fed Torg well this
morning, I could not be touched for threedays or the wrath of Torg would
speedily strike down anyone trying such ablasphemous act."To gift Torg," the
Sororisan said breathlessly. "He who did so--all fortunewould be his!""We
have shared an old tale, you and I, and have believed in it when othersmade
laughter concerning that belief. Is this not so?""Stranger, it is so!""Then
let us prove their laughter naught and bring truth to the tale. Takeyou
these and give me your stones from the cold wall, and it shall be evenas the
tale said it was in the days of our fathers!""Yes--and yes!" He thrust at me
the bag with the stones he had not yet givenme, seized upon the zorans I had
laid down."And as was true in the old tale," I added, my uneasiness
flooding in nowthat I had achieved my purpose, "I go again into
beyond-the-sky."He hardly looked up from the stones lying on the fur."Yes, let
it be so."When he made no move to see me forth from his house, I stowed the
bag ofgreenstones into the front of my weather suit and went on my own. I
couldnot breathe freely again until I was back in the ship, and the
sooner Igained that safety the better.There was a crowd of Sororisans in the
street outside, but oddly enough noneof them approached me. Instead they
looked to the house from which I hadcome, almost as if it had been told
them what trade had been transactedthere. Nor did any of them bar my way or
try to prevent my leaving. Since Idid not know how far the protection of Torg
extended, I kept a wary eye toright and left as I walked (not ran as I
wished) to the outer gate.Across the fields which had been so vacant at
my coming a party wasadvancing. Part of them wore the fur suits of the
natives. But among themwere two who had on a queer mixture of shabby,
patched, off-world weatherclothing. And I could only think they must have
connection with the port.Yet I could not retreat now; I was sure I had
already been sighted. My onlyhope was to get back to the LB with speed and
raise off world.The suited men halted as they sighted me. They were too far
away for me todistinguish features within their helmets, and I was sure they
could not seemine. They would only mark my off-world clothing. But that was
new, in goodcondition, which would hint to them that I was not of the port
company.I expected them to break from their traveling companions, to cut me
off, andI only hoped they were unarmed. I had been schooled by my father's
orders inunarmed combat which combined the lore of more than one planet
where manmade a science of defending himself using only the weapons with which
naturehad endowed him. And I thought that if the whole party did not come at
me atonce I had a thin chance.But if such an attack was in the mind of the
off-worlders, they were notgiven a chance to put it to the test. For the
furred natives closed aboutthem and hustled them on toward the gate of the
city. I thought that theymight even be prisoners. Judging by the tales I
had heard of the port, aninhabitant there might well give reason for
retaliation by the natives.My fast walk had become a trot by the time I passed
the shrine of Zeeta andI made the best speed I could back to the LB,
panting as I broke the sealand scrambled in. I snapped switches, empowering
the boat to rise and latchon to the homing beam to the Wendwind, and threw
myself into a hammock for atake-off so ungentle that I blacked out as if a
great hand had squeezed halfthe life out of me.When I came groggily to my
senses again, memory returned and I knew triumph.I had proved my belief in the
old story right. Under the breast of my suitwas what would make us
independent of worry--at least for a while--once wecould get it to auction.I
rendezvoused with the ship, thus proving my last worry wrong, and strippedoff
the weather suit and helmet, to climb to the control cabin. But before Icould
burst out with my news of success, I saw that Ryzk was frowning."They
spy-beamed us--""What!" From a normal port such a happening might not
have been tooirregular. After all, a strange ship which did not set
down openly butcruised in a tight orbit well away from any entrance lane would
have inviteda spy beam as a matter of regulation. But by all accounts
Sororis had nosuch equipment. Its port was not defended, needed no
defense."The port?" I demanded, still unable to believe that."On the
contrary." For the first time in what seemed to me days, Eet madeanswer. "It
came from the direction of the port, yes, but it was from aship."This
startled me even more. To my knowledge only a Patroler would mount aspy
beam, and that would be a Patroler of the second class, not a rovingscout.
The Guild, too, of course, had the reputation of having suchequipment.
But then again, a Guild ship carrying such would be the propertyof a Veep.
And what would any Veep be doing on Sororis? It was a place ofexile for the
dregs of the criminal world."How long?""Not long enough to learn anything,"
Eet returned. "I saw to that. But thevery fact that they did not learn will
make them question. We had better getinto hyper--""What course?" Ryzk
asked."Lylestane."Not only did the auction there give me a chance to sell the
greenstones asquickly as possible, but Lylestane was one of the inner
planets, longsettled, even over-civilized, if you wish. Of course the
Guild would havesome connections there; they had with every world on which
there was aprofit to be made. But it was a well-policed world, one where
law had theupper hand. And no Guild ship would dare to follow us boldly into
Lylestaneskies. So long as we were clear of any taint of illegality,
we were,according to our past bargain with the Patrol, free to go as we
would.Ryzk punched a course with flying fingers, and then signaled a
hyperentrance, as if he feared that at any moment we might feel the drag
of atraction beam holding us fast. His concern was so apparent it banished
mostof my elation. But that returned as I brought out the greenstones,
examinedthem for flaws, weighed, measured, set down my minimum bids. Had I had
moretraining, I might have attempted cutting the two smaller. But it was
betterto take less than to spoil the stones, and I distrusted my skill. I had
cutgems, but only inferior stones, suitable for practice.The largest piece
would cut into three, and the next make one flawless one.The other two might
provide four stones. Not of the first class. But,because greenstone was
so rare, even second- and third-quality stones wouldfind eager bidders.I had
been to auctions on Baltis and Amon with Vondar, though I had nevervisited the
more famous one of Lylestane. Only two planet years ago one ofVondar's
friends, whom I knew, had accepted the position of appraiser there,and I did
not doubt that he would remember me and be prepared to steer methrough the
local legalities to offer my stones. He might even suggest aprivate buyer
or two to be warned that such were up for sale. I dreamed mydreams and spun
my fantasies, turning the stones around in my fingers andthinking I had
redeemed my stupidity on Lorgal.But when we had set down on Lylestane, being
relegated to a far corner ofthe teeming port, I suddenly realized that
coming to such as a spectator,with Vondar responsible for sales and myself
merely acting as a com-binationrecording clerk and bodyguard, was far
different from this. Alone-- For thefirst time I was almost willing to ask
Eet's advice again. Only the need toreassure myself that I could if I
wished deal for and by my lone kept mefrom that plea. But as I put on the
best of my limitedwardrobe--inner-planet men are apt to dress by station and
judge a man bythe covering on his back--the mutant sought me out."I go with
you--" Eet sat on my bunk. But when I turned to face him I sawhim become
indistinct, hazy, and when the outlines of his person againsharpened I
did not see Eet, but rather a pookha. On this world such a petwould indeed be
a status symbol.Nor was I ready to say no. I needed that extra feeling of
confidence Eetwould supply by just riding on my shoulder. I went out, to
meet Ryzk in thecorridor."Going planetside?" I asked. He shook his head. "Not
here. The Off-port istoo rich for anyone less than a combine mate. This
air's too thick for me.I'll stay ramp-up. How long will you be?""I shall see
Kafu, set up the auction entry, if he will do it, then comestraight
back.""I'll seal ship. Give me the tone call." I wondered a little at his
answer.To seal ship meant expectation of trouble. Yet of all the worlds we
mighthave visited we had the least to fear from violence here.There were hire
flitters in the lanes down-field and I climbed into thenearest, dropping
in one of my now very few credit pieces and so engaging itfor the rest of the
day. At Kafu's name it took off, flying one of the lowlanes toward the heart
of the city.Lylestane was so long a settled world that for the most part
its fourcontinents were great cities. But for some reason the inhabitants
had noliking for building very high in the air. None of the structures stood
morethan a dozen stories high--though underground each went down level by
leveldeep under the surface.The robo-flitter set down without a jar on a
rooftop and then flipped out anoccupied sign and trundled oft to a waiting
zone. I crossed, to repeatKafu's name into the disk beside the grav
shaft, and received a voiceddirection in return:"Fourth level, second
crossing, sixth door."The grav float was well occupied, mostly by men in the
foppish inner-planetdress, wherein even those of lower rank went with
laced, puffed, taggedtunics. To my frontier-trained eyes they seemed more
ridiculous than infashion. And my own plain tunic and cropped hair
attracted sideways eyeinguntil I began to wish I had applied some of the
hallucinatory arts at leastto cloud my appearance. Fourth level down
beneath the ground gave Kafu'sstanding as one of reasonably high rank. Not
that of a Veep, who would havea windowed room or series of rooms above
surface, but not down to the two-and three-mile depth of an underling. I
found the second crossing andstopped at the sixth door. There was an
announce com screwed in its surface,a pick-up visa-plate above it--a one-way
visa-plate which would allow theinhabitant to see me but not reveal himself
in return. I fingered the com toon, saw the visa-plate come to life."Murdoc
Jern," I said, "assistant to Vondar Ustle."The wait before any answer came
was so long I began to wonder if perhapsKafu was out. Then there did come a
muffled response from the com."Leave to enter." The barrier rolled back to let
me into a room in vividcontrast to the stone-walled Sororisan house where
I had done my lasttrading. Though men went in gaudy and colorful wear,
this room was insubdued and muted tones. My space boots trod springy
summead moss, a livingcarpet of pale yellow. And along the walls it had raised
longer stalks withdangling green berries which had been carefully twined
and massed togetherto form patterns. There were easirests, the kind which
yielded to one'sweight and size upon bodily contact, all covered in
earth-brown. And thelight diffused from the ceiling was that of the
gentle sun of spring.Directly ahead of me as I came in, one of the
easirests had been set by thewall where the berry stalks had been trained to
frame an open space. Onemight have been looking out of a window,
viewing miles upon miles oflandscape. And this was not static but flowed
after holding for a time intoyet another view, and with such changes in
vegetation one could well believethat the views were meant to show not just
one pin net but many.In the easirest by this "window" sat Kafu. He was a
Thothian by birth, belowwhat was considered to be the norm in height for
Terran stock. His verybrown skin was pulled so tightly over his fragile
bones that it would seemhe was the victim of starvation, hardly still
alive. But from the deepsockets of his prominent skull, his eyes watched me
alertly.Instead of the fripperies of Lylestane he wore the robe of his home
world,somewhat primly, and it covered him from throat, a stiffened collar
standingup in a frame behind his skull, to ankles, with wide sleeves coming
downover his hands to the knucklebones.Across the easirest a table level had
been swung, and set out on that wereflashing stones which he was not so much
examining as arranging in patterns.They might be counters in some exotic
game.But he swept these together as if he intended to clear the board
forbusiness, and they disappeared into a sleeve pocket. He touched his
fingersto forehead in the salute of his people."I see you, Murdoc Jern.""And
I, you, Kafu." The Thothians accepted no address of honor, making avirtue
of an apparent humbleness which was really a very great sense oftheir own
superiority."It has been many years--""Five." Just as I had been suddenly
restless on Sororis, so this room, halfalive with its careful tended growth,
affected me with a desire to be donewith my business and out of it.Eet
shifted weight on my shoulder and I saw, I thought, a flicker
ofinterest in Kafu's eyes."You have a new companion, Murdoc Jern.""A pookha,"
I returned, tamping down impatience."So? Very interesting. But you are
thinking now that you did not come todiscuss alien life forms or the
passage of years. What have you to say tome?"I was truly startled then. Kafu
had thrown aside custom in coming so quicklyto the point. Nor had he offered
me a seat or refreshment, or gone throughany of the forms always used. I
did not know whether I faced veiledhostility, or something else. But that
I was not received with any desire toplease I did know.And I decided that such
an approach might be met by me with its equal incurtness."I have gems for
auction."Kafu's hands came up in a gesture which served his race for that
repudiationmine signified by a shake of the head."You have nothing to sell,
Murdoc Jern.""No? What of these?" I did not advance to spill the greenstones
onto his laptable as I might have done had his attitude been welcoming,
but held thebest on the palm of my hand in the full light of the room. And I
saw thatthat light had special properties--no false, doctored, or flawed
stone couldreveal aught but its imperfections in that glow. That my
greenstones wouldpass this first test I did not doubt."You have nothing to
sell. Murdoc Jern. Here or with any of the legallyestablished auctions or
merchants.""Why?" His calmness carried conviction. It was not in such a man
as Kafu touse a lie to influence a sale. If he said no sale, that was. true
and I wasgoing to find every legitimate market closed to me. But the
magnitude ofsuch a blow had not yet sunk in, and as yet I only wanted an
answer."You have been listed as unreliable by the authorities," he told me
then."The lister?" I clung desperately to that one way of possible clearance.
Hadmy detractor a name, I could legally demand a public hearing,
alwayssupposing I could raise the fees to cover it."From off world. The name
is Vondar Ustle.""But--he is dead! He was my master and he is dead!""Just so,"
Kafu agreed. "It was done in his name, under his estate seal."This meant I had
no way of fighting it. At least not now, and maybe never,unless I raised the
astronomical fees of those legal experts who would beable to fight through
perhaps more than one planet's courts.Listed, I had no hope of dealing with
any reputable merchant. And Kafu saidI had been listed in the name of a dead
man. By whom, and for what purpose?The Patrol, still wishing to use me in
some game for the source of the zerostones? Or the Guild? The zero stone--I
had not really thought of it fordays; I had been too intent on trying my
trade again. But perhaps it waslike a poison seeping in to disrupt my whole
life."It is a pity. They look like fine stones--" Kafu continued. I slapped
thegems back in their bag, stowing it inside my tunic. Then I bowed with
whatoutward impassiveness I could summon."I beg the Gentle Homo's pardon for
troubling him with this matter."Kafu made another small gesture. "You have
some powerful enemy, Murdoc Jern.It would be best for you to walk very softly
and look into the shadows.""If I go walking at all," I muttered and bowed
again, somehow getting myselfout of that room where all my triumph had been
crushed into nothingness.This was bottom. I would lose the ship now, since I
could not pay field feesand it would be attached by the port authorities. I
had a small fortune ingems I could not legally sell.Legally--"This may be what
they wish." Eet followed my thoughts."Yes, but when there is only one road
left, that is the one you walk," Itold him grimly.Chapter EightOn some
worlds I might have moved into the shadowy places with greater easethan I
could on Lylestane. I did not know any contacts here. Yet it seemedto me
when I had a moment to think that there had been something in Kafu'stalk with
me--perhaps a small hint--What had he said? "You have nothing to sell
with any of the legallyestablished merchants or auctions--" Had he or had
he not stressed that word"legally"? And was he so trying to bait me into an
illegal act which wouldbring him an informer's cut of what I now carried?
With a lesser man thanKafu my suspicions might be true. But I believed that
the Thothian would notlend his name and reputation to any such murky game.
Vondar had consideredKafu one of those he could trust and I knew there had
been an old and deepfriendship between my late master and the little brown
man. Did some smallfeeling of friendliness born of that lap over to me, so
that he had beensubtly trying to give me a lead? Or was I now fishing so
desperately foranything which might save me that I was letting my
imagination rule mycommon sense?"Not so--" For the second time Eet
interrupted my train of thought "You areright in supposing he had friendly
feelings for you. But there was such inthat room that he could not express
them--""A spy snoop?""A pick-up of some sort," Eet returned. "I am not as
well attuned to suchwhen they are born of machines rather than the mind.
But while this Kafuspoke for more than your ears alone, his thoughts
followed different paths,and they were thoughts of regret that he must do
this thing. What does thename Tacktile mean to you?""Tacktile?" I repeated,
speculating now as to why Kafu had been underobservation and who had set
the spy snoop. My only solution was that thePatrol was not done with me
and were bringing pressure to bear so that Iwould agree to the scheme their
man had outlined when he offered me a pilotof their choosing."Yes--yes!" Eet
was impatient now. "But the past does not matter at thismoment--it is the
future. Who is Tacktile?""I do not know. Why?""The name was foremost in this
Kafu's mind when he hinted of an illegalsale. And there was a dim picture
there also of a building with a sharplypointed roof. But of that I could
see little and it was gone in an instant.Kafu has rudimentary esper powers
and he felt the mind-touch. Luckily hebelieved it some refinement of the
spy snoop and did not suspect us."Us? Was Eet trying to flatter me?"He had a
crude shield," the mutant continued. "Enough of a one to muddlereception when
I did not have time to work on him. But this Tacktile, Ibelieve, would be
of benefit to you now.""If he is an IGB--a buyer of illegal gems--he might
just be the bait insomeone's trap.""No, I think not. For Kafu saw in him a
solution for you but no way to makethat clear. And he is on this
planet.""Which is helpful," I returned bitterly, "since I lack the years it
couldtake to run him down on name alone. This is one of the most
denselypopulated worlds in the inner systems.""True. But if a man such as
Kafu saw this Tacktile as your aid, then hewould be known to other gem
dealers also, would he not? And I wouldsuggest--"But this time I was ahead
of him. "I make the rounds, not accepting Kafu'sword that I am listed. While
you try to mind-pick those I meet."It might just work, though I must depend
upon Eet's gifts and not my ownthis time. However, there was also the thin
chance that some one of theminor merchants might take a chance at an
undercounter sale when they sawthe quality of the stones I had to offer. And I
decided to begin with thesesmaller    men. Evening was close when I had
finished that round ofdisappointing refusals. Disappointing, that is, on
the surface. For thoughsome of those I had visited looked with greed on what
I had to offer, all ofthem repeated the formula that I was listed and there
was no deal. Only Eethad done his picking of minds, and as I sat in the
ship's cabin again, verytired, I was not quite so discouraged as I might have
been, for we knew nowwho Tacktile was and that he was right here in the
Off-port.As my father had done, so did Tacktile here--he operated a
hock-lock forspacers wherein those who had tasted too deeply of the
pleasures of theOff-port parted with small portable treasures in return for
enough either tohit the gaming tables unsuccessfully again or to eat until
they shipped out.Being a hock-lock, he undoubtedly had dealings with the
Guild, no matter howwell policed his establishment might be. But, and this was
both strange andsignificant, he was an alien from Warlock, a male Wyvern,
which was queer.Having for some reason fled that matriarchy and reached
Lylestane, he kepthis own planet's citizenship and had some contact with
it still which thePatrol did not challenge. Thus his holding was almost a
quasi consulate forthe world of his birth. His relationship with the female
rulers of Warlockno one understood, but he was able to handle some off-world
matters for themand was given a semidiplomatic status here which allowed him
the privilegeof breaking minor laws.Tacktile was not his right name, but a
human approximation of the sounds ofhis clacking speech--for audible speech
was used by the males of Warlockwhile the females were
telepathic."Well"--Ryzk faced me--"what luck?"There was no reason to keep the
worst from him. And I did not think he wouldjump ship here in a port where
he had already decided he could not evenafford to visit the spacer's
resorts."Bad. I am listed. No merchant will buy.""So? Do we move out now or
in the morning?" He leaned back against the wallof the cabin. "I don't have
anything to be attached. And I can always trythe labor exchange." His tone
was dry and what lay behind it was the dulldespair of any planet-bound
spacer."We do nothing--until I make one more visit--tonight." Time, as it had
beensince the start of our venture, was our enemy. We must raise our port
feesin a twenty-four hour period or we would have the ship base-locked
andconfiscated."But not," I continued, "as Murdoc Jern." For I had this one
small thread ofhope left. If I were listed and suspect, then this ship and
its crew oftwo--for Eet might well be overlooked as a factor in our
company--would bewatched and known. I would have to go in disguise. And
already I was workingout how that might be done."Dark first, then the port
passenger section--" I thought out loud. Ryzkshook his head."You'll never
make it. Even a Guild runner could be picked up here. Thatentrance is the
focus of every scanner in the place. They screen out all theundesirables when
they are funneled through at landing.""I shall chance it." But I did not
tell him how. My attempts at Eet's artwere still a secret. And all the
advantages of any secret lie in the factthat it is not shared.We ate and
Ryzk went back to his own cabin--I think to consider gloomilywhat appeared
to be a black future. That he had any faith in me was nowimprobable. And
I could not be sure he was not rightBut I set up the mirror in my cabin and
sat before it. Nothing as simple asa scar now. I must somehow put on another
face. I had already altered myclothing, taking off my good tunic and donning
instead the worn coveralls ofan undercrew man to a tramp freighter.Now I
concentrated on my reflection. What I had set up as a model was asmall
tri-dee picture. I could not hope to make my copy perfect, but if Icould
only create a partial illusion--. It required every bit of my energy,and I
was shaking with sheer fatigue when I could see the new face. I hadthe
slightly greenish skin of a Zorastian, plus the large eyes, the show offanged
side teeth under tight-stretched, very thin, and near colorless lips.If I
could hold this, no watcher could identify me as Murdoc Jern."Not perfect." I
was shaken out of my survey of my new self by Eet'scomment."The usual
beginner's reach for the outre. But in this case, possible, yes,entirely
possible, since this is an inner planet with a big mingling of
shiptypes."Eet--I had turned to look--was no longer a pookha. Nor was he
Eet. Insteadthere lay on my bunk a serpent shape with a narrow, arrow-shaped
head. Thekind of a life form it was I could not put name to.There was no
question that Eet was going to accompany me. I could not dependnow on my
limited human senses alone, and what rested on my visit toTacktile was
more important than my pride.The reptile wound about my arm, coiled there as a
massive and repulsivebracelet, its head a little upraised to view. And we
were ready to go, butnot openly down the ramp.Instead I descended through the
core of the ship to a hatch above the fins,and in the dark felt for the
notches set on one of those supports for theconvenience of repair techs. So
that we hit ground in the ship's shadow.I had Ryzk's ident disk, but hoped I
would not have to show it. And luckilythere was a liberty party from one of
the big intersolar ships stragglingacross the field. As I had done when
disembarking from our first port, Itailed this and we tramped in a group
through the gate. Any reading on mewould be reported as my own and I had
the liberty of the port. But thescanners, being robos, would not report
that my identity did not match mypresent outward appearance. Or so I hoped as
I continued to tag along behindthe spacers, who steered straight for the
Off-port.This was not as garish and strident as that in which I had found
Ryzk--atleast on the main street. I had a very short distance to go,
since thesharply peaked roof of Tacktile's shop could be seen plainly from
the gate.He appeared to depend upon the strange shape of his roof rather than
a signfor advertisement. That roof was so sharply slanted that it formed a
verynarrow angle at the top and the eaves well overhung the sides. There was
anentrance door so tall it seemed narrower than it was, but no windows.
Thedoor gave easily under my touch.Hock-locks were no mystery to me. Two
counters on either side made a narrowaisle before me. Behind each were shelves
along the wall, crowded with hockitems, protected by a thin haze of force
field. It would seem Tacktileconducted a thriving business, for there were
four clerks in attendance, twoon either side. One was of Terran blood, and
there was a Trystian, hisfeathered head apparently in molt, as the fronds
had a ragged appearance.The gray-skinned, warty-hided clerk nearest me I
did not recognize, butbeyond him was another whose very presence there was a
jarring note.In the galaxy there is an elder race, of great dignity and
learning--theZacathans,   of lizard descent.     These are historians,
archaeologists,teachers, scholars, and never had I seen one in a
mercantile followingbefore. But there was no mistaking the race of the
alien, who stood in anegligent pose against the wall, fitting the strip of
reader tape in hisclawed hands into a recorder. The gray creature blinked
sleepily at me, theTrystian seemed remote in some personal misery, and the
Terran grinnedingratiatingly and leaned forward."Greetings, Gentle Homo.
Your pleasure is our delight." He mouthed thecustomary welcome of his
business. "Credits promptly to hand, no hardbargaining-- we please at
once!"I wanted to deal directly with Tacktile and that was going to be a
matter ofsome difficulty--unless the Wyvern had Guild affiliations. If that
were so,I could use the knowledge of the correct codes gained from my father
to makecontact. But I was going to have to walk a very narrow line
betweendiscovery and complete disaster. If Tacktile was honest, or
wanted toprotect a standing with the Patrol, the mere showing of what I
carried wouldlead to denunciation. If he was Guild, the source of my gems
would be ofinterest. Either way I was ripe for betrayal and must make my deal
quickly.Yet I knew well the value of what I held and was going to lose no
more ofthe profit than I was forced to. I gave the Terran what I hoped
was ameaningful stare and out of the past I recalled what I hoped
wouldwork--unless the code had been changed."By the six arms and four stomachs
of Saput," I mumbled, "it is pleasing Ineed now."The clerk did not show any
interest. He was either well schooled or wary."You invoke Saput, friend. Are
you then late from Jangour?""Not so late that I am forgetful enough to wish
to return. Her tears make aman remember--too much." I had now given three of
the Guild code phraseswhich in the old days had signified an unusual haul,
for the attention ofthe master of the shop only. They had been well drilled
into me when I hadstood behind just such a counter in my father's
establishment."Yes, Saput is none too kind to off-worlders. You will find
better treatmenthere, friend." He had placed one hand palm-down on the
counter. With theother he pushed out a dish of candied bic plums, as if I must
be wooed as abuyer in one of the Veep shops uptown.I picked up the top
plum, laying the smallest of the greenstones in itsplace. A quick flicker
of eyes told him what I had done. He withdrew thedish, putting it under
the counter, where I knew a small vis-com would pickup the sight for
Tacktile."You have, friend?" he continued smoothly. I laid down one of the
lesserzorans from my unhappy Lorgal trade."It is flawed." He gave it a quick
professional examination. "But as it isthe first zoran we have taken in in
some time, well, we shall do our bestfor you. Hock or sale?""Sale.""Ah, we
can hock but not buy. For sale you must deal with the master. Andsometimes he
is not in the mood. You would do better at hock, friend. Threecredits--"I
shook my head as might a stupid crewman set for a higher price.
"Fourcredits--outright sale.""Very well, I shall ask the master. If he says
no, it will not even be hock,friend, and you will have lost all." He allowed
his finger to hover over thecall button set in the counter as if awaiting
some change in my mind. Ishook my head and with a commiserating shrug he
pressed the button.Why the elaborate byplay I did not know. Except for me
there was no one elsein the shop, and surely the other clerks were equally
well versed in thecode. The only answer must be that they feared some type
of snoop ray, atleast in the public portion of the shop.A brief spark of
light flashed by the button and the clerk motioned metoward the back of
the shop. "Don't say you weren't warned, friend. Yourstone is not enough to
interest the master, and you shall lose all the way.""I will see." I passed
the other clerks, neither of whom looked at me. As Icame to the end of the
aisle a section of wall swung in and I was inTacktile's office.It did not
surprise me to see the dish of sticky plums on his desk, thegreenstone already
laid out conspicuously in a pool of light. He raised hisgargoyle head, his
deep-set eyes searching me, and I was glad that he lackedthat other sense
given Wyvem females and could not read my thoughts."You have more of these?"
He came directly to the point."Yes, and better""They are listed stones, with a
criminal history?""No, received in fair trade."He rapped his blunted talons on
the desk top, almost uneasily. "What is thedeal?""Four thousand credits, on
acceptance of value.""You are one bereft of wits, stranger. These on the open
market--""At auction they would bring five times that amount." He did not
offer me aseat, but I took the stool on the other side of the desk."If you
want your twenty thousand, let them go at auction," he returned. "Ifthey are
indeed clean stones, there is no reason not to.""There is a reason." I moved
two fingers in a sign."So that is the way of it." He paused. "Four thousand
--well, they can gooff world. You want cash?"I gave an inward sigh of
relief. My biggest gamble had paid off--he hadaccepted me as a Guild
runner. Now I shook my head. "Deposit at the port.""Well, very well." Eet's
words were in my mind: "He is too afraid not to behonest with us."Tacktile
pulled a recorder to him. "What name?""Eet," I told him. "Port credit, four
thousand, to one Eet. To be deliveredon a voice order repeating," and I gave
him code numerals.I had come to Lylestane with high hopes. I was getting
away with a modestreturn of port fees and supplies, and the danger of
making a contact whichcould alert my enemies.Now I produced the greenstones,
and the Wyvem rapidly separated them. Icould tell by his examination that
he had some knowledge of gems. Then henodded and gave the final signal to the
recorder.I retraced my path through the shop and now none of the clerks
noticed me.The word had been passed I was to be invisible. When I reached
the outsideEet spoke."It might be well to drink to your good fortune at the
Purple Star." And soout of the ordinary was that suggestion that I was
startled into breakingstride. It would be far wiser and better to get back to
the ship, to preparefor take-off and rise off world before we got into any
more difficulty. YetEet's suggestions were, as I well knew from the
past, never to bedisregarded."Why?" I asked and kept on my way, the port
lights directly ahead."That Zacathan has been planted in Tacktile's," Eet
returned as smoothly asif he were reading it all from a tape. "He is
hunting for information.Tacktile has it. The Wyvern is to meet someone at the
Purple Star within thehour and it is of vast importance.""Not to us," I
denied. The last thing to do was to become involved in somemurky deal,
especially one with the Guild--"Not Guild!" Eet cut into my train of
thought. "Tacktile is not of theGuild, though he deals with them. This is
something else again. Piracy--orJack raiding--""Not for us!""You are listed.
If the Patrol has done this, you can perhaps buy your wayout with pertinent
information.""As we did before? I do not think we can play that game twice. It
would haveto be information worth a lot--""Tacktile was excited, tempted. He
visualized a fortune," Eet continued."Take me into the Purple Star and I can
discover what excites him. If youare listed, what kind of future voyages
can you expect? Let us buy ourfreedom. We are still far from seeking the
zero stones."The source of the zero stones had receded from my mind to a
half-remembereddream, smothered by the ever-present need to provide us with a
living. Allmy instincts told me that Eet proposed running us headlong
into a meteorstorm, but the gamble might go two ways. Supposing he could
mind-read ameeting between the Wyvern and some mysterious second party
--the affairmust be important if the Zacathans had seen fit to plant an
agent in theshop. And having a drink in a spacers' bar would add to my
disguise as analien crewman who had made a successful deal at the
hock-lock."Back four buildings," Eet dictated. And when I turned I saw the
purplefive-pointed light.It was one of the better-class drinking places and
the door attendant eyedme questioningly as I entered with all the
boldness I could muster. Ithought he was going to bar me, but if that was
so he changed his mind andstepped aside."Take the booth to the right under
the mask of Iuta," Eet ordered. There wasanother beyond that but the curtain
had been dropped to give its occupantsprivacy. I settled in and punched the
robo-server on the table for the leastexpensive drink in the house--it was all
I could afford and I did not intendto drink it anyway. The lights were dim
and the occupants very mixed, butmore were of Terran descent than alien.
I had no sight of Tacktile. Eetmoved on my arm so that his arrow head now
pointed to the wall between meand the curtained booth."Tacktile has arrived,"
he announced. "Through a sliding wall panel. And hiscontact is already there.
They are scribo-writing."I could hear the murmur of voices and guessed that
those behind me werediscussing some ordinary matter while their fingers
were busy with thescribos, which could communicate impervious to any snoop
ray. But if theirthoughts were intent upon their real business, that dodge
would not hidetheir secrets from Eet."It is a Jack operation," my companion
reported. "But Tacktile is turning itdown. He is too wary--rightly so--the
victims are Zacathans.""Some archaeological find, then--""True. One of great
value apparently. And this is not the first one to be soJacked. Tacktile says
the risk is too great, but the other one says it hasbeen set up with much
care. There is no Patrol ship within light-years, itwill be easy. The
Wyvern is holding fast, telling the other to tryelsewhere. He is going
now."I raised my glass but did not sip the brew it contained."Where and when
is the raid?""Co-ordinates for the where--he thought of them while talking. No
when.""No concrete proof then for the Patrol," I said sourly, and spilled
most ofmy glass's contents on the floor."No," Eet agreed with me. "But we do
have the coordinates and a warning tothe intended victims--""Too risky. They
might already have been raided and then what? We are caughtsuspiciously near a
Jack raid.""They are Zacathans," Eet reminded me. "The truth cannot be hid
from them,not with one telepath contacting another.""But you do not know
when--it might be Now!""I do not believe so. They have failed with Tacktile.
They must now huntanother buyer, or they may feel they can eventually
persuade him. You took agamble on Sororis. Perhaps this is another for you,
with a bigger reward atthe end. Get Zacathan backing and your listing will be
forgotten."I got up and went out on the noisy street, the port my goal. In
spite of myintentions it would seem that Eet could mold my future, for reason
and logicwere on his side. Listed, I no longer had a trade. But suppose I did
manageto warn some Zacathan expedition of a Jack raid. Not only would it mean
thatI would gain some very powerful patrons, but the Zacathans dealt only
inantiquities and the very great treasure the stranger had used to
temptTacktile might well be zero stones!"Just so." There was a smug
satisfaction in Eet's thought. "And now I wouldadvise a speedy rise from this
far from hospitable planet."I jogged back to the ship, wondering how Ryzk
would accept this latestdevelopment. To go up against a Jack raid was no one's
idea of an easy life.More often it was quick death. Only, with Zacathans
involved, the odds werethe least small fraction inclined to our side.Chapter
NineBelow us the ball of the planet was a sphere of Sirenean amber, not
thehoney-amber or the butter-amber of Terra, but ocher very lightly tinged
withgreen. The green areas grew, assumed the markings of seas. There were
novery large land masses but rather sprays of islands and archipelagoes,
withonly two providing possible landing sites.Ryzk was excited. He had
protested the co-ordinates we had brought back fromthe Purple Star, saying
they were in a sector completely off any known map.Now I think all his Free
Trader instinct awoke when he realized that we hadhomed in on an uncharted
world. We orbited with caution, but there was notrace of any city, no
sign that this was anything but an empty world.However, we decided at last
that the same tactics used at Sororis would bebest here--that Eet and I
should leave the ship in orbit and make anexploratory trip in the
converted LB. And since it seemed logical that thetwo largest land masses
were the most probable sites for any archaeologicaldig, I made a choice of the
northern. Dawn was the time we descended. Ryzk,having experimented with the
LB, had added some refinements to his originaladaptations, making it possible
to switch from automatics to hand controls.He had run through the drill
patiently with me until he thought I couldmaster the craft. Though I did
not have the training of a spacer pilot, Ihad used flitters since I was a
child and the techniques of the LB were nottoo far from that skill. Eet, once
more in his own form, curled up on thesecond hammock, allowing me to
navigate unhindered as we went in. As thelandscape became more distinct on
the view-plate I saw that its ocher colorwas due to trees, or rather giant,
lacy growths, waving fronds with delicatetrunks hardly thicker than my two
fists together. They were perhaps twentyor thirty feet tall and swayed and
tossed as if they were constantly sweptby wind. In color they shaded
from a bright rust-brown to a palegreen-yellow with brighter tints of
reddish tan between. And they seemed togrow uniformly across the ground, with
no sign of any clearing where the LBmight set down. I had no desire to crash
into the growth, which might be fartougher than it looked, and I went on
hand controls to cruise above it,searching vainly for some break. So
untouched was that willowy expanse thatI had about decided my choice of island
had been wrong and that we musthead south to investigate the other.Now the
fronds gave way from taller to shorter. Then there was a stretch ofred sand
in which the sunlight awoke points of sharp glitter. This waswashed by the
green waves of the sea, and such green I had only seen in theflawless surface
of a fine Terran emerald.At this point the beach was wide and in the
middle of it was my firstsignpost, a broad blot of glassified sand blasted
by deter rockets, a ship'slanding place. I guided the LB past that a little
along the fringe of thegrowth, bringing it down under the overhang of
vegetation with a care ofwhich I was rightfully proud. Unless that mark
had been left by a scout, Ishould be able to find traces of the
archaeological camp not too far away,or so I hoped. The atmosphere was
breathable without a helmet But I tookwith me something Ryzk had put
together. We might not be allowed lasers orstunners, but the former Free
Trader had patiently created a weapon of hisown, a spring gun which shot
needle darts. And those darts were tipped withmy contribution, made from
zorans too flawed to use, cut with a jeweler'stool, and deadly. I have used
a laser and a stunner, but this, at closerange, was to my mind an even
deadlier weapon, and only the thought that Imight have to front a Jack crew
prepared me to carry it. Those in spacelearned long ago that the first
instinct of our species, to attack thatwhich is strange as being also
dangerous, could not be allowed to influenceus. And in consequence, mind
blocks were set on the first explorers. Suchprecautions continued until those
who were explorers and colonizers becameinhibited against instant
hostility. But there were times when we stillneeded arms, mainly against
our own species. The stunner with its temporaryeffect on the opponent was the
approved weapon. The laser was strictly a warchoice and outlawed for most
travelers. But as a former Patrol suspect, Icould not have my permit to
carry either renewed for a year. I was a"pardoned" man, pardoned for an
offense I never committed--something theyconveniently forgot. And I had no
wish to demand a permit and give them someform of control over me again. Now
that I dropped out of the LB, Eet ridingon my shoulder, I was very glad
Ryzk had found such an arm. Not that thisseemed a hostile world. The sun was
bright and warm but not burning hot. Andthe breeze which kept the fronds ever
in play was gentle, carrying with it ascent which would have made a Salarik
swoon in delight. From ground level Icould see that the trunks of those
fronds had smaller branches and thosebent under the weight of brilliant
scarlet flowers rimmed with gold andbronze. Insects buzzed thickly about
these. The soil was a mixture of redsand and a darker brown earth where the
beach gave way to forested land. ButI kept to the edge between sand and wood,
angling along until I was oppositethat patch of glass formed by the heat
of the rockets at some ship'sfin-down. There I discovered what had not
been visible from above, coveredby the trees and vegetation--a path back into
the interior of the forest. Iam no scout, but elementary caution suggested
that I not walk that roadopenly. However, I soon found that forcing a
passage along parallel to theroute was difficult. The clusters of flowers
beat against my head andshoulders, loosing an overpowering scent, which,
pleasant as it was, becamea cloying, choking fog when close to the nose.
That and a shower of floury,rust-yellow pollen which made the skin itch where
it settled finally forcedme into the path. Though fronds had been cut down
to open that way, yet thepress of the thick growth had spread out overhead
to again roof in thechannel, providing a dusky, cooling shade. On some of
the trees the clustersof flowers were gone and pods hung there, pulling the
trunks well out ofline with their weight. The path ran straight, and in the
ground underfootwere the marks of robo-carriers. But if the camp had
been so wellestablished, why had I not been able to sight it from the air
as the LB hadpassed overhead? Certainly they must have cut down enough fronds
to make aclearing for their bubble tents.Suddenly the trail dipped, leaving
rising banks on either side. They had nothad to cut a path here, for the
earth had been scraped away by theircarriers to show a pavement, while
the fronds growing on the bank spread tocover the cut completely.I knelt to
examine the pavement, sure that it had been set of a purpose along time
ago, that it was no fortuitous rock shelf! Thus the banks oneither hand
might well be walls long covered by earth.The passage continued to deepen and
narrow, growing darker and more chill asI went. I slowed my advance to a
creep, trying to listen, though theconstant sighing of the wind through the
fronds might cover any sound."Eet?" Finally, out of a need for more than my
own five senses, I appealedto my companion."Nothing--" His head was raised,
swaying slowly from side to side. "This isan old place, very old. There have
been men here--" Then he stopped shortand I could feel his small body tense
against mine."What is it?""Death smell--there is death ahead."I had my weapon
ready. "Danger for us?""No, not now. But death here--"The cut had now led
underground, the earth lips closing the slit above, andwhat lay ahead was
totally dark. I had a belt beamer, but to use it mightbring on us the very
attention which would be danger."Is there anyone here?" I demanded of Eet as
I halted, unwilling to enterthat pocket of utter black."Gone," Eet told me.
"But not long ago. And--no--there is a trace of life,very faint. I think
someone still lives--a little--"Eet's answer was obscure, and I did not know
whether we dared go on."No danger to us," he flashed. "I read pain--no
thoughts of anger or ofwaiting our coming--"I dared then to trigger the
beamer, which flashed on stone walls. The blockshad been so set together
that only the faintest of lines marked theirjoining, with no trace of
mortar at all, only a sheen on their surface, asif their natural roughness
had been either polished away or given a slickcoating. They were a dull red
in hue, a shade unpleasantly reminiscent ofblood. As we advanced the space
widened, the walls almost abruptly expandingon either side to give one the
feeling of being on the verge of some vastunderground chamber. But my beamer
had picked up something else, a tangle ofwrecked gear which had been thrown
about, burned by lasers. It was as if abattle had been fought in this
space.And there were bodies--The too-sweet scent of the flowers was gone,
lost in the stomach-twistingstench of seared flesh and blood-- until I wanted
to reel out of that holeinto the clean open.Then I heard it, not so much a
moan as a kind of hissing plaint, with thatin it which I could not refuse to
answer. I detoured around the worst of theshambles to a place near the wall
where something had crawled, leaving aghastly trail of splotches on the
floor that glistened evilly in the beamray. It was a Zacathan and he had
not been burned down in a surprise attackas had the others I had caught
glimpses of amid the chaos of the camp. No,this was such treatment as only
the most sadistic and barbaric tribe of somebackward planet might have dealt a
battle slave.That he still lived was indicative of the strong bodies of his
species. Thathe would continue to live I greatly doubted. But I would do all
I could forhim. I summoned up determination enough to search through the
welter of thecamp until I found their medical supplies. Even these had
been smashedabout. In fact, the whole mess suggested either a wild hunt for
somethinghidden or else destruction for the mere sake of wanton pillage.One
who roves space must learn a little of first aid and what I knew Iapplied
now to the wounded Zacathan, though I had no idea of how one treatedalien
ills. But I did my best and left him what small comfort I could beforeI went
to look about the chamber. To take him back to the LB I needed someform of
transportation and the camp trail had the marks of robo-carriers. Ihad not
seen any such machines among the wreckage, which might mean theywere
somewhere in the dark.I found one at last, its nose smashed against the
wall at the far end ofthat space as if it had been allowed to run on its
own until the stonebarrier halted it. But beside it was something else, a
dark opening wherestones had been taken out of the wall, piled carefully to
one side.Curiosity was strong and I pushed in through that slit and
flashed thebeamer. There was no mistaking the purpose of the crypt. It had
been a tomb.Against the wall facing me was a projecting stone outline, still
walled up.Instead of being set horizontally as might be expected of a
tomb, it wasvertical, so that what lay buried there must stand erect.There
were shelves, but all of them were now bare. And I could imagine thatwhat
had stood there once had been taken to the camp and was now Jack loot.I had
been too late. Perhaps he who had dealt with Tacktile had not knownthat the
raid was already a fact, or had chosen to suppress that knowledge.I returned
to the carrier. In spite of the force with which it had rammedthe wall it
was still operative, and I put it in low gear, so that itcrawled, with
a squeal of protesting metal, back to the Zacathan. Since hewas both taller
and heavier than I, it was an effort to load his inert bodyon the top of the
machine. But fortunately he did not regain consciousnessand I thought one of
the balms Eet had suggested I employ had acted as ananesthetic. There was
no use searching the wreckage. It was very plain thatthe raiders had found
what they came for. But the wanton smashing wassomething I did not
understand--unless Jacks were a different breed of thieffrom the calmly
efficient Guild."Can you run the carrier?" I asked Eet. It obeyed a simple set
of buttons,usable, I believed, by his hand-paws. And if he could run it I
would be freeto act as guard. Though I thought the Jacks had taken off,
there was nosense in not being on the alert."Easy enough." He leaped to squat
behind the controls, starting the machine,though it still complained
noisily.We reached the LB without picking up any sign that the raiders had
lingeredhere or that there were any other survivors of the archaeological
party.Getting the Zacathan into the hammock of the craft was an exhausting
job.But I did it at last and flipped the automatic return which would take us
tothe Wendwind. With Ryzk's help I carried the wounded survivor to one of
thelower cabins. The pilot surveyed my improvised treatment closely and at
lastnodded."Best we can do for him. These boys are tough. They walk away from
crashesthat would pulp one of us. What happened down there?"I described what I
had found--the opened tomb, the wreckage of the camp."They must have made a
real find. Now there's something worth more than allyour gem hunting, even if
you made a major strike! Forerunner stuff--musthave been,"Ryzk said
eagerly.The   Zacathans are the historians of the galaxy. Being
exceptionallylong-lived by our accounting of planet years, they have a
bent for thekeeping of records, the searching out of the source of
legends and thearchaeological support for such legends. They knew of
several star-wideempires which had risen and fallen again before they
themselves had comeinto space. But there were others about whom even the
Zacathans knew verylittle, for the dust of time had buried deep all but the
faintest hints.When we Terrans first came into the star lanes we were
young compared tomany worlds. We found ruins, degenerate races close to
extinction, tracesover and over again of those who had proceeded us, risen
to heights we hadnot yet dreamed of seeking, then crashed suddenly or
withered slowly away.The Forerunners, the first explorers had called them.
But there were manyForerunners, not just of one empire or species, and those
Forerunners hadForerunners until the very thought of such lost ages could make
a man's headwhirl.But Forerunner artifacts were indeed finds to make a
man wealthy beyondeveryday reckoning. My father had shown me a few pieces,
bracelets of darkmetal meant to fit arms which were not of human shape, odds
and ends. He hadtreasured these, speculated about them, until all such
interest had centeredupon the zero stone. Zero stone--I had seen the ruins
with the caches ofthese stones. Had there been any in this tomb which the
Zacathans hadexplored? Or was this merely another branch of limitless
history, having noconnection with the Forerunner who had used the stones
as sources offantastic energy?"The Jacks have it all now anyway," I
observed. We had rescued a Zacathanwho might well die before we could get
him to any outpost of galacticcivilization, that was all."We did not miss
them by too much," Ryzk said. "A ship just took off fromthe south
island--caught it on radar as it cut atmosphere."So they might have set down
there and used a flitter to carry out theraid--which meant they had
either scouted the camp carefully or had astraight tip about it. Then what
Ryzk had said reached my inner alarms. "Youpicked them up--could they have
picked us up in return?""If they were looking. Maybe they thought we were a
supply ship and that'swhy they cut out so fast. In any case, they will not be
coming back if theyhave what they wanted."No, they would be too anxious to
get their loot into safe hiding. Zacathans,armed with telepathic powers, did
not make good enemies, and I thought thatthe Jacks who had pulled this raid
must be very sure of a safe hiding placeat some point far from any port or
they would not have attempted it at all."Makes you think of Waystar,"
commented Ryzk "Sort of job those pirateswould pull."A year earlier I would
have thought Ryzk subscribing to a legend, one of thetall tales of space. But
my own experience, when Eet had informed me thatthe Free Traders who had
taken me off Tanth, apparently to save my lifeafter Vondar's murder, had
intended to deliver me at Waystar, had givencredibility to the story. At
least the crew of that Free Trader had believedin the port to which I had been
secretly consigned.But Ryzk's casual mention of it suddenly awoke my
suspicions. I had had thatnear-fatal brush with one Free Trader crew who had
operated on the shadyfringe of the Guild. Could I now have taken on board
a pilot who was alsotoo knowing of the hidden criminal base? And was Ryzk--had
he been planted?It was Eet who saved me from speculation and suspicion which
might have beencrippling then."No. He is not what you fear. He knows of
Waystar through report only.""He"--I indicated the unconscious
Zacathan--"might just as well write offhis find then."My try at
re-establishing our credit had failed, unless the Zacathan livedlong enough
for us to get him to some port. Then perhaps the gratitude ofhis House
might work in my favor. Perhaps a cold-blooded measuring ofassistance to
a fellow intelligent being. Only I was so ridden by myever-present
burden of worry that it was very much a part of mythinking--though
I would not have deserted any living thing found in thatplundered camp. I
appealed to Ryzk for the co-ordinates to the nearest port.But, though he
searched through the computer for any clue as to where wewere, he finally
could only suggest return to Lylestane. We were off anychart he knew of and
to try an unreckoned jump through hyper was a chance noone took, except a
First-in Scout as part of his usual duty.But we did not decide the matter,
for as we were arguing it out Eet brokeinto our dispute to say that our
passenger had regained consciousness."Leave it up to him," I said. "The
Zacathans must have co-ordinates fromsome world to reach here. And if he can
remember those, we can return him tohis home base. Best all around--"However,
I was not at all sure that the alien, as badly wounded as he was,could
guide us. Yet a return to Lylestane was for me a retracing of a waywhich
might well lead to more and more trouble. If he died and we turned upwith
only his body on board, who would believe our story of the Jacked camp?It
could be said that we had been responsible for the raid. My thinking
wasbecoming more and more torturous the deeper I went into the muddle.
Itseemed that nothing had really gone right for me since I had taken the
zerostone from its hiding place in my father's room, that each move I
made,always hoping for the best, simply pushed me deeper into trouble.Eet
flashed down the ladder at a greater speed than we could make. And wefound
him settled by the head of the bed we had improvised for the woundedalien.
The latter had his bandaged head turned a little, was watching themutant
with his one good eye. That they were conversing telepathically wasclear. But
their mental wave length was not mine, and when I tried to listenin, the
sensation was like that of hearing a muttering of voices at the farside of the
room, a low sound which did not split into meaning.As I came from behind Eet
the Zacathan looked up, his eye meeting mine."Zilwrich thanks you, Murdoc
Jern." His thoughts had a sonorous dignity."The little one tells me that
you have the mind-touch. How is it that youcame before the last flutters of
my life were done?"I answered him aloud so Ryzk could also understand, telling
in as few wordsas possible about our overhearing of the Jack plot, and why
and how we hadcome to the amber world."It is well for me that you did so, but
ill for my comrades that it was notsooner." He, too, spoke Basic now. "You are
right that it was a raid for thetreasures we found within a tomb. It is a very
rich find and a remainder ofa civilization not heretofore charted. So it is
worth far more than just thevalue of the pieces--it is worth knowledge!" And
he provided that last wordwith such emphasis as I might accord a flawless
gem. "They will sell thetreasure to those collectors who value things enough
to hide them for justtheir own delight. And the knowledge will be lost!""You
know where they take it?" Eet asked."To Waystar. So it would seem that that is
not a legend after all. They haveone there who will buy it from them, as has
been done twice lately with suchloot. We have tried to find who has betrayed
our work to these stit beetles,but as yet we have no knowledge. Where do you
take me now?" He changed thesubject with an abrupt demand."We have no
co-ordinates from here except those for return to Lylestane. Wecan take you
there.""Not so!" His denial was sharp. "To do that would be to lose important
time.I am hurt in body, that is true, but the body mends when the will is bent
toits aid. I must not lose this trail--""They blasted into hyper. We cannot
track them." Ryzk shook his head. "Andthe site of Waystar is the best-guarded
secret in the galaxy.""A mind may be blocked where there is fear of losing
such a secret. But ablocked mind is also locked against needful use,"
returned Zilwrich. "Therewas one among those eaters of dung who came at the
last to look about, seethat nothing of value was left. His mind held what we
must know--the path toWaystar.""Oh, no!" I read enough of the thought behind
his words to deny what hesuggested at once. "Maybe the Fleet could blast
their way in there. Wecannot.""We need not blast," corrected Zilwrich. "And
the time spent on the way willbe used to make our plans."I stood up. "Give us
the co-ordinates of your base world. We will set youdown there and you can
contact the Patrol. This is an operation for them.""It is anything but a
Patrol operation," he countered. "They would make it aFleet matter, blast to
bits any opposition. And how much would then be leftof the treasure? One man,
two, three, four"--he could not move his head farbut somehow it was as if he
had pointed to each of us in turn--"can go withmore skill than an army. I
shall give you only those co-ordinates."I had opened my mouth for a firm
refusal when Eet's command rang in my head."Agree! There is an excellent
reason."And, in spite of myself, in spite of knowing that no excellent
reason forsuch stupidity could exist, I found myself agreeing.Chapter TenIt
was so wild a scheme that I suspected the Zacathan of exerting somemental
influence to achieve his ends--though such an act was totally foreignto all I
had ever heard of his species. And since we were committed to thisfolly, we
would have to make plans within the framework of it. We dared notgo blindly
into the unknown.To my astonishment, Ryzk appeared to accept our destination
with equanimity,as if our dash into a dragon's mouth was the most natural
thing in theworld. But I held a session in which we pooled what we knew
of Waystar.Since most was only legend and space tales, it would be of little
value, astatement I made gloomily.But Zilwrich differed. "We Zacathans are
sifters of legends, and we havediscovered many times that there are rich
kernels of truth hidden at theircores. The tale of Waystar has existed for
generations of your time, MurdocJern, and for two generations of
ours--""That--that means it antedates our coming into space!" Ryzk
interrupted."But--""Why not?" asked the Zacathan. "There have always been
those outside thelaw. Do you think your species alone invented raiding,
crime, piracy? Do notcongratulate or shame yourselves that this is so. Star
empires in plentyhave risen and fallen and always they had those who set their
own wills anddesires, lusts and envies, against the common good. It is
perfectly possiblethat Waystar has long been a hide-out for such, and was
rediscovered by someof your kind fleeing the law, who thereafter put it to
the same use. Do youknow those co-ordinates?" he asked Ryzk.The pilot shook
his head. "They are off any trade lane. In a 'dead' sector.""And what better
place--in a sector where only dead worlds spin aboutburned-out suns? A
place which is avoided, since there is no life to attractit, no trade, no
worlds on which living things can move without cumbersomeprotection which
makes life a burden.""One of those worlds could be Waystar?" I hazarded."No.
The legend is too plain. Waystar is space-borne. Perhaps it was evenonce a
space station, set up eons ago when the dead worlds lived and boremen who
reached for the stars. If so, it has been in existence longer thanour
records, for those worlds have always been dead to us."He had given us a
conception of time so vast we could not measure it. Ryzkfrowned."No station
could go on functioning, even on atomics--""Do not be too sure even of
that," Zilwrich told him. "Some of theForerunners had machines beyond
our comprehension. You have certainly heardof the Caverns of Arzor and of that
Sargasso planet of Limbo where a deviceintended for war and left running
continued to pull ships to crash on itssurface for thousands of years. It is
not beyond all reckoning that a spacestation devised by such aliens would
continue to function. But also it couldhave been converted, by desperate men.
And those criminals would thus have apossession of great value, if they
could continue to hold it--somethingworth selling--""Safety!" I cut in.
Though Waystar was not entirely Guild, yet surely theGuild had some ties
there."Just so," agreed Eet. "Safety. And if they believe they have utter
safetythere we may be sure of two things. One, that they do have some
defenseswhich would hold perhaps even against Fleet action, for they cannot
thinkthat the situation of their hole would never be discovered. Second,
thathaving been so long in the state of safety, they might relax
strictvigilance."But before Eet had finished, Ryzk shook his head. "We had
better believe theformer. If anyone not of their kind had gotten in and out
again, we wouldknow it. A story like that would sweep the lanes. They have
defenses whichreally work."I called on imagination. Persona detectors, perhaps
locked, not to any onepersonality, but rather to a state of mind, so that any
invader could passonly if he were a criminal or there on business. The
Guild was rumored tobuy or otherwise acquire inventions which the general
public did not knowexisted. Then they either suppressed them or exploited
them with care. No,such a persona detector might be possible."But such could
be 'jammed,' " was Eet's answer. Ryzk, who could followEet's mental
broadcast but not mine (which was good for us both, as I wellknew), looked
puzzled. I explained. And then he asked Eet:"How could you jam it? You can't
tamper with a persona beam.""No one ever tried telepathically," returned the
mutant. "If disguise candeceive the eye, and careful manipulation of sound
waves, the ear, a changein mental channels can do the same for a persona
detector of the type Murdocenvisioned."That is so," Zilwrich agreed. I must
accept the verdict of the two of ourcompany who best knew what was possible
with a sixth sense so few of my ownspecies had.Ryzk leaned back in his seat.
"Since we two do not have the right mentalequipment, that lets us out. And
you, and you"--he nodded to Eet andZilwrich--"are not able to try it
alone.""Unfortunately your statement is correct," said the alien. "Limited as
I nowam by my body, I would be a greater hindrance than help--in person--to
anysuch penetration. And if we wait until I am healed"--he could not
moveenough to shrug--"then we are already lost. For they will have disposed
ofwhat they have taken. We were under Patrol watch back there--"I stiffened.
So we had been lucky indeed in our quick descent and exit fromthe island
world. Had we come during a Patrol visit--"When the expedition's broadcast
signal failed they must have been alerted.And since the personnel of our
expedition are all listed, they will be awareof my absence. But also they have
evidence of the raid. The Jacks must haveforeseen this, since they have
been acting on a reliable source ofinformation. And so they will be quick
to dispose of their loot."I thought I saw one fallacy in his reasoning. "But
if they have taken theloot to Waystar, and they need not fear pursuit there,
then they may believethey have plenty of time to wait for a high bid on it and
not be so quick tosell.""They will sell it, probably to some resident buyer.
No Jack ship will havethe patience to sit on a good haul." Surprisingly Ryzk
took up the argument."They may even have a backer. Some Veep who wants the
stuff for a privatedeal.""Quite true," said Zilwrieh. "But we must get there
before the collection isdispersed, or even, Zludda forbid, broken up for the
metal and gems! Therewas that among it--yes, I will tell you so you may know
the prime importanceof what we seek. There was among the pieces a star
map!"And even I who was sunk in foreboding at that moment knew a thrill at
that.A star map--a chart which would give those who could decode it a chance
totrace some ancient route, even the boundaries of one of the fabled
empires.Such a find had never been made before. It was utterly priceless and
yet itsworth might not be understood by those who had stolen it.Not be
recognized for what it was--my thoughts clung to that. From it spranga wilder
idea. My father had had fame throughout the Guild for appraisingfinds,
especially antiquities. He had had no ambition to climb to Veepstatus
with always the fear of death from some equally ambitious rivalgrinning
behind his shoulder. He had indeed bought out and presumedlyretired
when his immediate employer in the system had been eliminated. Buthe was so
widely known that he had become an authority, borrowed at timesfrom his
Veep to assist in appraising elsewhere. And he had been noted fordealing with
Forerunner treasure. Who would be the appraiser on Waystar? Hewould have to
be competent, trusted, undoubtedly with Guild affiliations.But supposing that
a man of vast reputation turned up at Waystar fleeing thePatrol, which was a
very common occupational hazard. He might make his wayquietly at first, but
then that very reputation would spread to the Veep whohad the treasure and
he might be asked for an independent report. All aseries of ifs, and's,
but's, but still holding together with a faint logic.The only trouble was that
the man who could do this was dead.I was so intent upon my thoughts that I
was only dimly aware that Ryzk hadbegun to say something and had been
silenced by a gesture from Eet. Theywere all staring at me, the two who
were able to follow my thoughtsseemingly bemused. My father was dead,
and that appeared to put a verydefinite end to what might have been
accomplished had he been alive. It wasa useless speculation to follow,
yet I continued to think about theadvantages my father would have had.
Suppose an appraiser in good standingwith the Guild when he retired, one
with special knowledge of Forerunnerartifacts, were to show up at
Waystar, settle down without any overtapproach to the Veep who had the
treasure. It would very logically followthat he would be asked to inspect the
loot and then-- But at that point myspeculation stopped short. I could
not foresee action leading to theretaking of the treasure--that could only
be planned after the setup onWaystar had been reconnoitered.Must be planned!
I was completely moon-dazed to build on somethingimpossible. Hywel
Jern was dead for near to three planet years now. And hisdeath, which had
undoubtedly been ordered by the Guild, would be commonknowledge. His
reputation, in spite of his years of retirement, was toowidespread for it
to be otherwise. He was dead!"Reports have been wrong before." That
suggestion slid easily into mythoughts before I knew Eet had fed it."Not
in the case of executions carried out by the Guild," I retorted,aroused
from my preoccupation with a plan which might have been useful had Ionly stood
in my father's boots.My father's boots--had that been a sly manipulation
of Eet's? No, I wassensitive enough now to his insinuations to be sure that
it had been borninside my own mind. When I was a child I had looked forward
to being a copyof Hywel Jern. He had filled my life nearly to the exclusion of
all else. Idid not know until years later that my luke-warm feeling for his
wife, son,and daughter must have come from the fact that I was a "duty" child,
one ofthose babies sent from another planet for adoption by a colony
family inorder to vary what might become too inborn a strain. I had felt
myselfJern's son, and I continued to feel that even when my foster
motherdisclosed the true facts after Jern's death, jealously pointing out that
my"brother" Faskel was the rightful heir to Jern's shop and estate.Hywel Jern
had done as well by me as he could. I had been apprenticed to agem buyer, a
man of infinite resources and experience, and I had been giventhe zero
stone, as well as all I could absorb of my father's teachings. Hehad
considered me, I was fully convinced, the son of his spirit, if not ofhis
body. There might be some record somewhere of my true parentage; I hadnever
cared to pursue the matter. But I thought that the same strain ofaloof
curiosity and restlessness which had marked Hywel Jern must also havebeen born
into me. Given other circumstances I might well have followed himinto the
Guild. So--I had wanted to be like Hywel Jern. Would it be possiblefor me to
be Jern for a period of time? The risk such an imposture wouldentail would
be enormous. But with Eet and his esper powers--""I wondered," the mutant
thought dryly, "when you would begin to seeclearly.""What's this all
about?" Ryzk demanded with some heat. "You"--he lookedalmost accusingly at
me--"you have some plan to get into Waystar?"But I was answering Eet, though I
did so aloud, as if to deny the very helpwhich might be the key to the whole
plan. "It is too wild. Jern is dead,they would be sure of that!""Who is Jern
and what has his death got to do with it?" Ryzk wanted to know."Hywel Jern was
the top appraiser for one sector Veep of the Guild, and myfather." I stated
the facts bleakly. "They murdered him--""On contract?" asked Ryzk. "If he's
dead, how is he of any use to us now?Sure, I can see how an appraiser
with Guild rank might get into Waystar.But--" He paused and scowled. "You
got some idea of pretending to be yourfather? But they would know--if there
was a contract on him, they'd know."Only now I was not quite so sure of that.
My father had been in retirement.True enough, he had been visited from time
to time by Guild men. I had hadmy proof of that when I had recognized as one
of those visitors the captainof the Guild ship who had ordered my questioning
on the unknown world of thezero-stone caches. Jern must have been killed
by Guild orders for thepossession of the zero stone, which his slayers did
not find. But supposingthey had left a body in which they thought life
extinct and my father hadrevived? There had been a funeral service carried
out by his family. Butthat, too, was an old cover for a man's escape from
vengeance. And on thesparsely settled frontier planet he had chosen for his
home, they could nothave investigated too much for fear of detection.So, we
had Hywel Jern resurrected, smuggled off world perhaps-- There weremany
radical medical techniques--plastic surgery which could alter a man.No,
that was wrong. It must be an unmistakable Hywel Jern to enter Waystar.I tried
again to dismiss the plan busy fitting itself together piece bypiece in
my mind--utter folly, logic told me it was. But I could not. I mustlook like
Hywel Jern. And my appearance would be baffling, for who wouldbelieve
that someone would assume the appearance of a dead man, and one whohad been
killed by Guild orders? Such a circumstance might give me evenquicker
access to the Veeps on Waystar. If past rumor spoke true, there wasa rivalry
between the Veeps of Waystar and the center core of the Guild. Theformer
might well receive a fugitive, one they could use, even if he werenow
Guild-proscribed. After all, once at their station, he would be largelya
prisoner they could control utterly. Thus--Hywel Jern, running from
thePatrol. After all, I had been a quarry of both sides for a while because
Ihad the zero stone. The zero stone. My thoughts circled back to that. I
hadnot put to any use the one I carried next to my body--not experimented
tostep up the Wendwind's power as Eet and I had discovered it could do. I
hadnot even looked at it in weeks, merely felt in my belt at intervals to
knowI still carried it. To dare even hint that I carried such would make me
aninstant target for the Guild, break the uneasy truce, if that still
held,between the Patrol (who might suspect but could not be sure) and me.
No,that I could not use to enter the pirate station. Back to Hywel Jern. He
hadnever been on Waystar. Of that I was reasonably certain. So he would
nothave to display familiarity with any part of it. And with Eet to pick out
ofminds what I should know-But could I be Hywel Jern for the length of time
itwould--might well--take for the locating of the loot?I had held my
scar-faced disguise for only hours, the alien countenance Ihad devised for
the Lylestane venture even less. And I would have to beHywel Jern perhaps
for days, keeping up that facade at all times lest I besnooped or
surprised."It cannot be done, not by me," I told Eet, since I knew that
he, of thethree facing me, was the one waiting for my decision, preparing
arguments tocounter it."You could not hold it either," I continued, "not for
so long.""There you speak the truth," he agreed."Then it is impossible.""I
have discovered"--Eet assumed that pontifical air which I found
mostirksome, which acted on me as a spur even when I was determined not to
beridden by him in any direction--"that few things, very few things,
areimpossible when one has all the facts and examines them carefully. You
didwell with the scar--for one of your limited ability--your native
ability.You did even better with your alien space man. There is no reason
why youcannot--""I cannot hold it--not for the necessary length of time!"
I shot back athim, determined to find, for once and all, an answer which would
satisfy myown thoughts as well as the subtle compulsion I sensed coming
from bothtelepaths."That, too, can be considered," Eet returned evasively.
"But now, rest isneeded for our friend."And I awoke to the fact that the
Zacathan had indeed slumped on his bed. Hiseye was near closed and he
appeared to be completely exhausted. Togetherwith Ryzk I worked to make him
as comfortable as possible and then I went tomy own cabin. I threw myself on
my bunk. But I found that I could not shutoff my thoughts, bent as they
were, in spite of my desires, on the solvingof what seemed to be the first
of the insurmountable problems. So I laystaring up at the ceiling of the
cabin, trying to break my problem downlogically. Hywel Jern might get into
Waystar. Possibly I could use Eet'sform of disguise to become Hywel Jern.
But the exertion of holding thatwould be a drain which could exhaust both of
us and might not leave my mindclear enough to be as alert as I must be to
cope with the dangers awaitingus in the heart of the enemies' territory. If
there was only some way toincrease my power to hold the illusion without
draining myself and Eet. ForEet must have freedom for the mind reading which
would be the additionalprotection we had to have. Increase the
power--just as we were able toincrease the power of the Patrol scout with
the zero stone. The zero stone!My fingers sought that very small bulge in my
belt I sat up and swung myfeet to the cabin floor. For the first time in
weeks I unsealed that pocketand brought out the colorless, unattractive lump
which was the zero stone inits unawakened phase.Zero stone--energy, extra
energy for machines, for stepping up their power.But when I strove to create
the illusions, I used energy of another land.Still it was energy. But my
race had for so long been used to the idea ofenergy only in connection with
machines that this was a new thought. Iclosed both my hands over the gem,
so that its rough edges pressed tightly,painfully, into my flesh. The zero
stone plus a machine already alive withenergy meant a heightened flow, an
output which had been almost too much forthe engine in the scout ship to
handle. Zero stones had apparently poweredthe drifting derelict we had
found in space, Eet and I. And it had beentheir energy broadcast that had
activated the stone I then carried, causingit to draw us to the derelict in
the first place. Just as on the unnamedplanet a similar broadcast had guided
us to the long-forsaken ruins wherethe stones' owners had left their caches.
Energy-- But the idea which was inmy mind was no wilder than others that had
visited me lately. There was avery simple trial. Not on myself, not yet. I
was wary of experimentation Imight not be able to control. I looked about me
hurriedly, seeing Eet curledapparently asleep, on the foot of my bunk. For
a moment I hesitated--Eet?There was humor in that, and something else--the
desire to see Eet for oncestartled out of his usual competent control over
the situation.I stared at Eet. I held the zero stone, and I thought--The cold
gem between my hands began to warm, grew hotter. And the lines ofEet's body
began to dim. I dared not allow one small spark of triumph tobreak my
concentration. The stone was afire almost past the point where Icould
continue to hold it. And Eet--Eet was gone! What lay on the foot of mybunk now
was what his mother had been, a ship's cat.I had to drop the stone. The pain
was too intense for me to continue to holdit. Eet came to his feet in one of
those quick feline movements, stretchedhis neck to right and left, to look
along his body, and then faced me, hiscat's ears flattened to his skull, his
mouth open in an angry hiss."You see!" I was exultant. But there was no answer
to my mind-touch--nothingat all. It was not that I met the barrier
which Eet used to cut offcommunication when he desired to retire into his
own thoughts. Rather itseemed that Eet was not! I sank down on the pull
seat to stare back at theangry cat now crouched snarling, as if to spring for
my throat Could it betrue that I had done more than create an illusion? It
was as if Eet was nowa cat and not himself at all! I had indeed stepped up
energy and to whatdisastrous point? Frantically I took the stone tightly into
my seared hands,grasped it between my painful palms, and set about undoing
what I had done.No cat, I thought furiously, but Eet--Eet in his mutation
from the enragedbundle of fur now facing me with anger enough, had it been
larger, to tearout my life. Eet, my thoughts commanded as I fought panic and
tried only toconcentrate on what I must do--get Eet back again.Again the
stone warmed, burned, but I held it in spite of the torment to myflesh. The
furry contours of the cat dimmed, changed. Eet crouched therenow, his rage
even somehow heightened by the change into his rightful body.But was it truly
Eet?"Fool!" That single word, hurled at me as a laser beam might be aimed,
mademe relax. This was Eet.He leaped to the table between us, stalked back
and forth, lashing hisridged tail; in his fury, very feline."Child playing
with fire," he hissed. I began to laugh then. There had beenlittle to amuse
one in the weeks immediately behind us, but the relief ofhaving pulled
off this impossibility successfully, plus the pleasure ofhaving at last
surprised and bested Eet in his own field, made me continueto laugh
helplessly, until I leaned weakly back against the wall of thecabin,
unwitting of the pain in my hands. Eet stopped his angry pacing, satdown in a
feline posture (it seemed to me his cat ancestry was more no-tablethan before)
with his tail curled about him so that its tip rested on hispaws. He had
closed his mind tightly, but I was neither alarmed nor abashedby   his
attitude. I was very sure that Eet's startled reaction
totransformation was only momentary and that his alert intelligence
wouldspeedily be bent to consider the possibilities of what we had learned.
Istowed the stone carefully in my belt and treated my burned hands with
asoothing paste. The mutant continued to sit statue-still and I made
nofurther attempts at mind-touch, waiting for him to make the first move.That
I had made a momentous discovery exhilarated me. At that moment nothingseemed
outside my grasp. It was not only machine energy which the zero
stonefurthered; it could also be mental. As a cat, Eet had been silenced and,
Iwas sure, unable by himself to break the image I had thought on him,
evenfor his own defense. This must mean that any illusion created with the
aidof the stone would have no time limit, remaining so until one thought
itaway."Entirely right." Eet came out of his sulk--or perhaps it was a deep
study.His rage also seemed to have vanished. "But you were indeed playing
with afire which might have consumed us both!" And I knew that he did not mean
theburns on my hands. Even so, I was not going to say that I was sorry
theexperiment had worked. We needed it. Hywel Jern could indeed go to
Waystarand it would require no expenditure of energy to keep the illusion
intact aslong as he carried the zero stone."To take that in," remarked Eet,
"is a great hazard." And his reluctancepuzzled me."You suspect"--I thought
I guessed what bothered him--"they might have one,able to pick up emanations
from ours?""We do not know what the Guild had as their original guide to the
stones.And Waystar would be an excellent stronghold for the keeping of such.
But Iagree that we cannot be choosers. We must take such a chance."Chapter
Eleven"It must be here." Ryzk had brought us out of hyper in a very old
systemwhere the sun was an almost-dead red dwarf, the planets orbiting
around itblack and burned-out cinders. He indicated a small asteroid.
"There is adefense shield up there. And I don't see how you are going to
break throughthat. They must have an entrance code and anything not
answering that andgetting within range--" He snapped his fingers in a
significant gesture ofinstantaneous extinction. Zilwrich studied what showed
on the small relayvisa-screen we had set up in his cabin. He leaned against
the back rest wehad improvised, his inert head frill crumpled about his neck.
But though heappeared very weak, his eye was bright, and I think that the
interest in theunusual which motivated his race made him forget his wounds
now."If I only had my equipment!" He spoke Basic with the hissing intonation
ofhis species. "Somehow I do not believe that is a true asteroid.""It may be
a Forerunner space station. But knowing that is not going to getus in
undetected," rasped Ryzk."We cannot all go in," I said. "We play the same game
over. Eet and I shalltake in the LB.""Blasting through screens?" scoffed
Ryzk. "I tell you our detect picked upemanations as strong as any on a
defensive Patrol outpost. You'd be laseredout of existence quicker than one
could pinch out an angk bug!""Suppose one dogged in a ship which did have
the pass code," I suggested."The LB is small enough not to enlarge the warn
beep of such a one--""And when are you going to pick up a ship to dog in?"
Ryzk wanted to know."We might hang here for days--""I think not," Eet cut in.
"If this is truly Waystar, then there will betraffic, enough to cut down days
of waiting. You are the pilot. Tell us ifthis could be done--could the LB
ride in behind another ship in that way?"It secretly surprised me that there
were some things Eet did not know. Ryzkscowled, his usual prelude to
concentrated thought."I could rig a distort combined with a weak traction
beam. Cut off the powerwhen that connected with another ship. You'd have this
in your favor--thosedefenses may only be set for big stuff. They'd expect the
Fleet to burn themout, not a one-man operation. Or they might detect and let
you through. Thenyou'd find a welcome-guard waiting, which would probably be
worse than beinglasered out at first contact."He seemed determined to paint
the future as black as possible. I had onlywhat I had learned of the zero
stone to support me against the veryunpleasant possibilities ahead. Yet
the confidence my experiment had bred inme wavered only in the slightest
degree.In the end, Ryzk turned his Free Trader's ingenuity to more work on the
LB,giving it what defenses he could devise. We could not fight, but we were
nowprovided with distorters which would permit us to approach the blot
ourship's radar told us was Waystar, and then wait for the slim chance
ofmaking a run into the enemies' most securely guarded fortress.Meanwhile, the
Wendwind set down on the moon of the nearest dead planet, aball of creviced
rock so bleak and black that it should afford a good hidingplace. And the
co-ordinates of that temporary landing site were fed into thecomputer of the
LB to home us if and when we left the pirate station--thoughRyzk was certain
we would never be back and said so frankly, demanding atlast      that I
make a ship recording releasing him from contract andresponsibility
after an agreed-upon length of time. This I did, Zilwrichacting as
witness. All this did not tend to make me set about the next partof our
venture with a great belief in success. I kept feeling the lump ofthe zero
stone as a kind of talisman against all that could go wrong, toolong a list
of possible disasters to count.Eet made a firm statement as we prepared our
disguise."I choose my own form!" he said in a manner I dared not question. We
were inmy cabin, for I had no wish to share the secret of the zero stone
witheither Ryzk or the Zacathan --though what they might think of our
disguisesI could not tell.But Eet's demand was fair enough. I took the dull,
apparently lifeless gemand laid it on the table between us. My own change
was already thought out.But in case I needed a reminder of some details, I
had something else, avividly clear tri-dee of my father. He had never
willingly allowed such tobe taken, but this had belonged to my foster mother
and had been the onething I had taken, besides the zero stone, from my
home when his deathclosed its doors to me. Why I had done so I could not
have said--unlessthere was buried deep inside me a fragment of true esper
talent, that ofprecognition. I had not looked at the tri-dee since the day
I had liftedfrom that planet. Now, studying it carefully, I was very glad I
had it. Theface I remembered had, as usual, been hazed by time, and I
found memorydiffered from this more exact record. Warned by the fury of
heat in thestone when I had used it on Eet, I touched it now with some
care, myattention centering on the tri-dee, concentrating on the face
appearingtherein. I was only dimly aware that Eet crouched on the table, a
clawedhand-paw joining mine in touching the jewel. I could not be sure of
thechange in my outward appearance. I felt no different. But after an
intervalI glanced at the mirror ready for the necessary check, and indeed
saw astrange face there. It was my father, yes, but in a subtle way younger
thanI remembered him last. But then I was using as my guide a picture
takenplanet years before I knew him, when he had first wed my foster
mother.There could certainly be no mistaking his sharp, almost harsh
features byanyone who had ever known him. And I hoped that Eet could help me
carry outthe rest of the deception by mind reading and supplying me with the
memoriesnecessary to make me a passable counterfeit of a man known in Guild
circles.Eet--what had been his choice of disguise? I fully expected
something suchas the pookha or the reptilian form he had taken on Lylestane.
But this Idid not foresee. For it was no animal sitting cross-legged on the
table, buta humanoid perhaps as large as a human child of five or six
years.The skin was not smooth, but covered with a short plushy fur, much like
thatof the pookha. On the top of the head this grew longer, into a
pointedcrest. Only the palms of the hands were bare of the fur, which in color
wasan inky black, and the skin bared there was red, as were the eyes, large
andbulging a little from their sockets, the red broken only by vertical
pupils.The nose had a narrow ridge of fur up and down it, giving a
greaterprominence to that feature. But the mouth showed only very narrow
slits oflips and those as black as the fur about them.To my knowledge I had
neither seen nor heard described such a creature, andwhy Eet had chosen to
assume this form first intrigued and then bothered me.Space-rovers    were
addicted to pets and one met with many odditiesaccompanying their
masters. But this was no pet, unusual as it looked. Ithad the aura of an
intelligent life form, one which could be termed "man.""Just so." Eet gave
his old form of agreement. "But I think you willdiscover that this
pirate hold will have varied life forms aboard. And alsothis body has
possibilities which may be an aid in future difficulties.""What are you?"
curiosity made me ask."You have no name for me," Eet returned. "This is a
life form which Ibelieve long gone from space."He     ran his red-palmed
hands over his furred sides, absent-mindedlyscratching his slightly
protrudent middle. "You, yourselves, admit you arelate-comers to the stars.
Let it suffice that this is an adequate body formy present need."I hoped Eet
was right, as there was no use in arguing with him. Now I sawsomething else.
That hand not occupied with methodical hide-scratchinghovered near the
zero stone--though if Eet was preparing to snatch thattreasure I did not
see where, in his present unclothed state, he would stowit. However, my
fingers closed promptly on the gem and sealed it back in mybelt. Eet was
apparently not concerned, for his straying hand dropped backon his knee. We
bade good-by to Ryzk and the Zacathan. And I did not missthat Zilwrich
watched Eet with an attention which might have been rooted inpuzzlement but
which grew into a subdued excitement, as if he recognized inthat black-furred
body something he knew.Ryzk stared at us. "How long can you keep that on?"
It was plain that hethought our appearances the result of some plasta
change. But how he couldhave believed we carried such elaborate equipment with
us I did not know."As long as necessary," I assured him and we went to
board the greatlyaltered LB.As we took off, forceably ejected from the
parent ship by the originalescape method, we aimed in the general direction
of the pirate station. ButRyzk's modifications allowed us to hover in
space, waiting a guide. And itwas Eet in his new form who took over the
controls.How long we would have to patrol was the question. Waiting in any
form isfar more wearisome than any action. We spent the slowly dragging
time insilence. I was trying to recall every small scrap of what my father had
saidabout his days with the Guild. And what lay in Eet's mind I would not
havetried to guess. In fact, I was far too occupied with the thought that
myfather had been remarkably reticent about his Guild activities and
thatthere might be as many pitfalls ahead as those pocking the dead moon,
withonly hair-thick bridges spanning them.But our silence was broken at last
by a clatter from the control board and Iknew our radar had picked up a moving
object. The tiny visa-screen gave us aship heading purposefully for the
station. Eet glanced over his shoulder andI thought he was looking at me for
orders. The mutant was not accustomed,once a matter had been decided, to
wait for permission or agreement. I foundmyself nodding my head, and his
fingers made the necessary adjustments tobring us behind that other ship,
a little under its bulk where we mightapply that weak traction beam without
being sighted, or so we hoped.The size of the newcomer was in our favor. I had
expected something such asa scout ship, or certainly not larger than the
smallest Free Trader. Butthis was a bulk-cargo vessel, of the smallest
class, to be sure, but stillof a size to be considered only a wallowing
second-rate transfer ship.Our traction beam centered and held, drawing us
under the belly of thebigger vessel, which overhung us, if anyone had been
out in space to see, asa covering shadow. We waited tensely for some sign
that those in the othership might be alarmed. But as long moments slipped
by we breathed morefreely, reassured by so much, though it was very
little.However, on the visa-screen what we picked up now was not the ship, but
whatlay ahead. For additional safety Eet had snapped on the distort beam
andthrough that we could see just a little of the amazing port we
neared.Whatever formed its original core--an asteroid, a moon, an ancient
spacestation--could not be distinguished now. What remained was a mass of
ships,derelicts   declared so by their broken sides, their general
decrepitappearances. They were massed, jammed tightly together into an
irregularovoid except in one place directly before us, where there was a
dark gap,into which the ship controlling our path was now headed."Looted
ships--" I hazarded, ready to believe now in every wild story ofWaystar.
Pirates had dragged in victim ships to help form their
hidingplace--though why any such labor was necessary I could not guess.
Then Isaw--and felt--the faint vibration of a defense screen. The LB
shuddered butit did not break linkage with the ship. Then we were through
without anyattack. As the wall of those crumpled and broken ships funneled
about us, Iforesaw a new danger, that we might be scraped or caught by the
wreckage,for that space down which we were being towed narrowed the
farther weadvanced. Also, though the ships had seemed tightly massed at first
sight,this proved not to be so upon closer inspection. There were evidences
thatthey had been intended as an enveloping cover for whatever core lay at
theheart. There were girders and patches of skin welded together, anchoring
onewreck to another. But it was a loose unity and there were spaces in
between,some large enough to hold the LB.Seeing those, and calculating that
we might come to grief ahead were thepassage to narrow to the point
where only the cargo ship might wedgethrough, I decided one gamble was
better than another."Wedge in here"--I made this more a suggestion than an
order--"then suit upand go through?""Perhaps that is best," Eet answered.
However, I suddenly remembered thatthough I might suit up, there was no
protective covering on board whichwould take Eet's smaller body."The disaster
bag," Eet reminded me as his hands moved to loose our tie withthe bulk of ship
overhead.Of course, the baglike covering intended to serve a seriously
injuredescapee using the LB, one whose hurt body could not be suited up if
theemergency landing had been made on a planet with a hostile atmosphere and
itwas necessary to leave the boat. I unstrapped, and opened the cupboard
wherethe suit lay at full length. The disaster bag was in tight folds beside
itsbooted feet. Passage in that would leave Eet helpless, wholly dependent
onme, but there was hope it would not be for long.He was busy at the
controls, turning the nose of the LB to the left,pointing it into one of
those hollows in the mass of wreckage. The impetusleft us by the pull of
the ship sufficed to give us forward movement, andtwo girders welded just
above the hole we had chosen held the pieces ofwreckage forming its walls
steady. There was a bump as we scraped in, andanother, moments later, as the
nose of the LB rammed against some obstacle.We could only hope that the
crevice had swallowed us entirely and that ourtail was not sticking
betrayingly into the ship passage.I suited up as fast as I could, wanting to
make sure of that fact--thoughwhat we could do to remedy matters if that
had happened I did not have theslightest idea. Then I hauled out the
disaster bag and Eet climbed in sothat I could make the various sealings
tight and inflate its air supply.Since it was made for a man he had ample
room, in fact moved about in it inthe manner of one swimming in a very
limited pool, for there was no gravityin this place and we were in free
fall.Activating the exit port, I crawled out with great care, fearing more
than Iwanted to admit some raw edge which could piece the protecting fabric of
thesuit or Eet's bag. But there was space enough to wriggle down the length
ofthe LB, mostly by feel, for I dared not flash a beamer here.Fortune had
served us so far. The tail of the LB was well within the hole.And I had to
hitch and pull, the weight of Eet dragging me back, by graspingone piece of
wreckage and then the next for several lengths until I was inthe main
passage.There was a weak light here, though I could not see its source,
enough totake me from one handhold to the next, boring into the unknown. I
made thatjourney with what speed I could, always haunted by the fear that
anothership might be coming in or going out and I would be caught and
groundagainst the wreckage. The band of murdered ships ended suddenly in a
clearspace, a space which held other ships--three I could see. One was the
cargoship which had brought us in, another was one of those needle-nosed,
deadlyraiders I had seen used by the Guild, and the third was plainly a
yacht.They were in orbit around what was the core of this whole amazing world
inspace. And it was a station, oval in shape like the protecting mass
ofwreckage, with landing stages at either end. Its covering was opaque,
butwith a crystalline look to the outer surface, which was pitted and
pockedand had obviously been mended time and time again with substances that
didnot match the original material. The cargo ship had opened a hatch and
swungout a robo-carrier, heavily laden. I held on to my last anchorage
andwatched the robo spurt into a landing on a stage. The top half carrying
thecargo dropped off and moved into an open hatch of the station while the
robotook off for another load. There was no suited overseer to be seen,
justrobos. And I thought I saw a chance to make use of them to reach
thestation, just as we had used the robos to leave the caravansary.Only I was
not to have an opportunity to try. Out of nowhere came a beam,the force of
which plastered me as tightly to the wreckage at my back as ifmy suit had
indeed been welded in eternal bondage.There was no breaking that hold. And my
captors were very tardy about comingto collect me, finally spurting from the
hatch of the yacht on a mini airsled. They lashed me into a tangle cord
and used it as a drag to pull mebehind them, not back to the ship from
which they had issued, but to thelanding stage where the robo had set
down. Then, dismounting from theirnarrow craft, they tugged us both through
a lock and into the interior ofthe station, where a weak gravity brought my
boots and Eet's relaxed body tothe floor. Those who had taken me prisoner
were humanoid, perhaps even ofTerran breed, for they had that look. They
snapped up their helmets and onedid the same for me, letting in breathable
air, though it had that peculiarfaint odor of reprocessed oxygen. Leaving
the tangle about my arms, theyloosed me enough to walk, pointing with a laser
to enforce my going. One ofthem took the bag from me and towed Eet, turning
now and then to study themutant narrowly. So it was as prisoners that we
came to the legendaryWaystar, and it was an amazing place. The center was
open, a diffused lightfilling it, a greenish light which gave an unpleasant
sheen to most of thefaces passing. By some unknown means there was a light
gravity giving a trueup and down to the corridors and balconies opening on
that center. I caughtsight of what could be labs, passed other doors
tightly shut. There waspopulation enough to equal that of a village on an
ordinary planet--though,as I guessed, those who used the station as home
base were often in spaceand the permanent dwellers were limited in number.It
was one of the latter I was taken before. He was an Orbsleon, his barrelbulk
immersed in a bowl chair with the pink fluid he needed for
constantnourishment washing about his wrinkled shoulders, his boneless
uppertentacles floating just beneath its surface.His head was very broad in
the lower part, dwindling toward a top in whichtwo eyes were set far apart,
well to the sides. His far-off ancestor of thesquid clan was still
recognizable in this descendant. But that alien bodyhoused a very shrewd and
keen intelligence. A Veep in Waystar would be aVeep indeed, no matter what
form of body held him.A tentacle tip flashed from the bowl chair to
trigger keys on a Basictalker, for the Orbsleon was a tactile
communicator."You are who?""Hywel Jern." I gave him an answer as terse as
his question. Whether thatname meant anything to him I had no way of
knowing. And I received no aidfrom Eet. For the first time I doubted that the
mutant could carry someof the burden of my impersonation. It might well be
that the alien thoughtprocess would prove, in some cases, beyond his reading.
Then I would be indanger. Was this such a time?"You came--how?" The tentacle
tip played out that question."On a one-man ship. I crashed on a moon--took an
LB--" I had my story ready.I could only hope it sounded plausible."How
through?" There was of course no readable expression on the alien'sface."I
saw a cargo ship coming in, hung under it. The LB played out
halfwaythrough the passage. Had to suit up and come along--""Why come?""I am
a hunted man. I was Veep Estampha's value expert, I thought to buyout, live
in peace. But the Patrol were after me. They sent a man oncontract
when they could not take me legally. He left me for dead. I havebeen on the
run ever since." So thin a tale it might hold only if I wererecognized as
Hywel Jern. Now that I was well into this I realized more andmore my utter
folly. Suddenly Eet spoke to me. "They have sent for one whoknew Jern. Also
they did not register 'dead' when you gave your name.""What do here?" my
questioner went on."I am an appraiser. There is perhaps need for one here.
Also--this is theone place the Patrol is not likely to take me." I kept as
bold a front as Icould. A man came in at the slow and rather stately pace
the low gravityrequired. To my knowledge I had not seen him before. He was
one of themutants of Terran stock having the colorless white hair and goggle
protectedeyes of a Faltharian. Those goggles made his expression hard to
read. ButEet was ready."He did not know your father well, but had seen him
several times in VeepEstampha's quarters. Once he brought him a Forerunner
piece, a plaque ofirridium set with bes rock. Your father quoted him a price
of three hundredcredits but he did not want to sell.""I know you," I said
swiftly as Eet's mind read that for me. "You had apiece of Forerunner
loot--irridium with bes setting--""That is the truth." He spoke Basic with a
faint lisp. "I sold it to you.""Not so! I offered three hundred, you thought
you could do better. Did you?"He did not answer me. Rather his goggled head
swung toward the Orbsleon. "Helooks like Hywel Jern, he knows what Jern would
know.""Something--you do not like?" queried the tentacles on the keys."He is
younger--"I managed what I hoped would register as a superior smile. "A man on
the runmay not have time or credits enough for a plasta face change, but
he cantake rejub tablets."The Faltharian did not reply at once. I wished I
could see the whole of hisface without those masking goggles. Then, almost
reluctantly, he did answer."It could be so."During all those moments the
Orbsleon's gaze had held on me. I did not seehis small eyes blink; perhaps
they did not. Then he played the keys of thetalker again."You appraiser,
maybe use. Stay."With that, not sure whether I was a prisoner or perhaps now
an employee, Iwas marched out of the room and led to a cubby on a lower
level, where Eetand I, having been searched for weapons and had the suit and
bag taken fromus, were left alone. I tried the door and was not surprised
to find itsealed. We were prisoners, but to what degree I could not be
sure.Chapter TwelveWhat I needed most at that moment was sleep. Life in
space is always livedto an artificial timetable which has little
relationship to sun or moon,night or day, in the measured time of
planets. In hyper, when there islittle to do for the smooth running of
the ship, one simply sleeps whentired, eats when hungry, so that regular
measurement of time does not apply.I did not know really how long it had been
since I had had a meal or slept.But now sleep and hunger warred in me.The
room in which we had been so summarily stowed was a very small one,having
little in the way of furnishings. And what there was resembled thatplanned
for the economy of space, such as is found in a ship. There was apull-down
bunk, snapped up into a fold in the wall when not in use, afresher,
into which I would have to pack myself, when needful, with somecare, and a
food slot. On the off chance that it might be running, I whirledthe single
dial above it (there seemed to be no choice of menu). Andsomewhat to my
surprise, the warn lights in the panel snapped on and thefront flipped
open to display a covered ration dish and a sealed containerof liquid. It
would appear that the inhabitants of Waystar were on tightrations, or else
they believed that uninvited guests were entitled only tothe bare minumum of
sustenance. For what I uncovered were truly spacerations,        nutritious
and sustaining,    to   be sure,    but practicallytasteless--intended to
keep a man alive, not in any way to please his tastebuds. Eet and I shared
that bounty, as well as the somewhat sickening vitadrink in the container. I
did have a fleeting suspicion that perhaps someforeign substance had been
introduced into either, one of those drugs whichwill either make a man tell
all he knows or eradicate his will, so that fora time thereafter he becomes
merely the tool of whoever exerts mastery overhim. But that suspicion did not
keep me from eating.As I dumped the empty containers down the disposal unit I
knew that just asI had had to eat, so I must now sleep. But it seemed that
Eet did not agree,or not as far as he himself was concerned."The stone!" He
made a command of those two words. I did not have to askwhat stone. My
hand was already at the small pocket in my belt."Why?""Do you expect me to go
exploring in the body of a phwat?"Go exploring? How? I had already tried the
cabin door and found it sealed.Nor did I doubt that they had guards
outside, perhaps in the very wallsabout us --scan rays--"Not here." Eet
appeared very sure of that. "As to how--through there." Heindicated a narrow
duct near the ceiling, an opening which, if the grillover it were removed,
might offer a very small exit.I sat on the bunk and glanced from the hairy
man-thing Eet now was to thatopening. When we had first tried this kind of
change I had believed it allillusion, though tactile as well as visual. But
now, had Eet really alteredin bulk so that what I saw before me was actually
many times the size of myalien companion? If so-- how had that been done?
And (in me a sharp fearstabbed) if one did not have the stone, would changes
remain permanent?"The stone!" Eet demanded. He did not answer any of my
thoughts. It was asif he were suddenly pressed for time and must be off
on some importanterrand from which I detained him.I knew I was not going to
get any answers from Eet until he was ready togive them. But his ability to
read minds was perhaps our best key to thisventure and if he now saw the
necessity for crawling through ventilationducts, then I must aid him.I kept
my hand cupped about the stone. Though Eet had said there were nosnoop
rays on us, yet I would not uncover that treasure in Waystar. I staredat Eet
where he hunkered on the floor and forced myself to see with themind's
eye, not a furred humanoid, but rather a mutant feline, until justthat
crouched at my feet.It was easy to screw out the mesh covering of the duct.
And then Eet, usingme as a ladder, was up into it with speed. Nor did he
leave me with anyassurance as to when he would return, or where his
journey would lead,though perhaps he did not know himself.I wanted to keep
awake, hoping that Eet might report via mind-touch, but mybody needed sleep
and I finally collapsed on the bunk into such slumber asmight indeed have
come from being drugged.From that I awoke reluctantly, opening eyes which
seemed glued shut. Thefirst thing I saw was Eet, back in his hairy disguise,
rolled in a ball. Isat up dazedly, trying to win out over the stupor of
fatigue.Eet was back, not only in this cell but in his other body. How
had hemanaged the latter? Fear sharpened my senses and sent my hand to my
beltagain, but I felt with relief the shape of the stone in the pocket.Even
as I watched bleerily, he unwound, sat up blinking, and stretched hisarms, as
if aroused from a sleep as deep as mine had been."Visitors coming." He might
give the outward seeming of one only half awake,but his thought was clear.I
shambled to the fresher. Best not let any arrival know I had warning. Iused
the equipment therein and emerged feeling far more alert. Even as Ilooked
to the food server, the door opened and one of the Orbsleon'sfollowers
looked in."Veep wants you.""I have not eaten." I thought it well to show
some independence at thesuggestion that I was now the Orbsleon's
creature."All right. Eat now." If he made that concession (and the very fact
that hedid was a matter of both surprise and returning confidence for me) he
wasnot going to enlarge upon it. For he stood in the doorway watching me
dialthe unappetizing food and share it with Eet."You--" The guard stared at
the mutant. "What do you do?""No good talking to him," I improvised
hurriedly. "You would need a sonic.He is--was--my pilot. Only fourth part
intelligence, but good as a tech.""So. What is he anyway?" Whether he
spoke out of idle curiosity or wasfollowing an order to learn more, I
did not know. But I had made areasonable start on providing Eet with a
background and I enlarged upon it alittle with the name he had given
himself."He is a phwat, from Formalh--" I added to my inventions. With so
manyplanets supporting intelligent or quasi-intelligent life in the galaxy,
noone could be expected to know even a thousandth of them."He stays here--" As
I prepared to leave, the guard stepped in front of Eet.I shook my head. "He is
empathic-oriented. Without me he will will himselfto death." Now I referred
to something I had always thought a legend--thattwo species could be so
emotionally intertied. But since I had believed,until last year, that the
place in which I now stood was also a legend,there might be truth in
other strange tales. At least the guard seemedinclined to accept what I
said as a fact; he allowed Eet to shamble alongbehind me. We did not
return to the room in which the Orbsleon hadinterviewed me, but
rather to one which might be a small edition of thehock-locks I well knew.
There was a long table with various specto-devicesclamped on it. In fact,
it was a lab which many an appraiser on a planetmight have envied. And on
the walls were outlines of "safe" cupboards, eachone with the locking thumb
hole conspicuous in the center, where only thethumb of one authorized to open
it would register to release its contents."Snooper ray on us," Eet informed
me. But I had already guessed that,knowing why I had been brought here.
They were going to prove my claim ofbeing an appraiser, which meant tricky
business. I would have to call on allI had learned from the man I seemed to
be, all that I had picked up since Ihad left his tutelage, in order to survive
such a test.The things to be valued were spread on the table, under a
protective nullweb. I went straight to it, for in that moment my lifetime
preoccupationtook command. There were four pieces in all, gemmed and set in
metal--theirglitter sparking life clear across the room.The first was a
necklace--koro stones, those prized gems from out of theSargolian seas which
the Salariki doubly value because of their ability togive forth perfume when
warmed by the body heat of the wearer.I held it up to the light, weighed each
of the jewels in my hand, sniffed ateach stone. Then I let it slide carelessly
from my grasp to the bare surfaceof the table."Synthetic. Probably the work
of Ramper of Norstead--or of one of hisapprentices--about fifty planet
years old. They used marquee scent onit--five, maybe six steepings." I
gave my verdict and turned to the nextpiece, knowing I did not have to
impress the guard, or the two other men inthe room, but rather those who held
the snooper ray on me.The second piece was set in a very simple mounting.
And its dark rich fireheld me for a moment or two. Then I put it in the cup
below the infrascopeand took two readings."This purports to be a Terran ruby
of the first class. It is unflawed, trueenough. But it has been subjected
to two forms of treatment. One I canidentify, the other is new to me.
This has resulted in a color shift. Ithink it was originally a much lighter
shade. It will pass, save for qualitylab testing. But any expert gemologist
would be uneasy about it."The third on that table was an arm band of metal
which was reddish butcarried a golden overcast that shifted across the
surface when the ornamentwas handled. The maker had taken advantage of that
overcast in working outthe pattern on it, which was of flowers and vine, so
that the gold appearedto line some of the leaves at all times. There was no
mistaking it and mymind jumped back to the day my father had shown me such
work, but then as asmall pendant he had sold to a museum."This is Forerunner,
and it is authentic. The only piece I have previouslyseen     was taken from
 a Rostandian tomb. That      was decided by thearchaeologists to be very
much older than the tomb even. Perhaps it had beenfound by the Rostandian
buried there. Its origin is unknown as yet."In contrast to the three other
offerings the fourth was dull, leaden-gray,ugly metal set with an ill-formed
cluster of badly-cut stones. It was onlythe center stone, one of perhaps
four carats, which seemed to have any realMe, and that, too, had been
unimaginately treated."Kamperel work. The centerpiece is a sol sapphire and
would pay recutting.The rest"--I shrugged--"not worth working with. A
tourist bauble. Ifthis"--I turned to the two men, who had not spoken--"is the
best you have toshow me, then indeed, rumor has greatly overrated the take of
Waystar."One of them came around the table to restow the four pieces under the
web. Iwas wondering if I were now to be returned to my cell when the
monotonousclick of the Veep's voice sounded from some concealed com."As you
think, this was test. You will see other things. The sol--can
yourecut?"Inwardly I sighed with relief. My father had not had that training,
I neednot be forced to claim it."I am an appraiser, not a cutter. It will
take skill to make the most out ofthat stone after it has been mishandled the
way it has. I would suggest thatit be offered as is"--I thought
furiously--"to such a firm as Phatka andNjila."Again I pulled names from
my memory, but this time from Vondar's warningabout borderline dealers
whose inventories of stones were kept in two orthree different
accountings, those they could sell openly, those to be soldprivately. That
they had Guild affiliations was suspected but unproved. Butmy ability to
name them would be more proof that I had dealt on the borderline of the law.
There was a period of silence. The man who had re-wrappedthe treasures in
the web now sealed them into one of the wall cubbies. Noone commented, nor
did the com speak again. I shifted from one foot to theother, wondering what
would happen now."Bring here--" the com finally clicked. So I was taken
back to the roomwhere the Orbsleon Veep wallowed in his fluid-filled seat.
Swung out overthe surface of that was a lap table and on it lay a single
small piece ofmetal. It had no gem and it was an odd size. But the shape I had
seen beforeand knew very well indeed. A ring--meant to fit, not a bare finger,
but overthe bulky glove of a space suit. Only this had no zero stone,
dull andlifeless, in its empty prongs. That it was, or had been, twin to
the ringwhich had caused my father's death, I was sure. Yet the most important
partwas missing. I knew instantly that this was another test, not of
myknowledge as an appraiser, but of how much I might know on another
subject.My story must hold enough truth to convince them."There is a snooper
ray on." Eet had picked up my thought."What this?" The Veep wasted no time in
coming to the test."May I examine it?" I asked."Take, look, then say," I was
ordered. I picked up the ring. Without itsstone it was even more like a
piece of battered junk. How much dared I say?They must know a great deal
about my father's "death"-- So I would give themall my father had known."I
have seen one of these before--but that had a stone." I began with
thetruth."A dim stone. It had been subjected to some process which
rendered itlifeless, of no value at all. The ring was found on the space
glove of adead alien--probably a Forerunner--and brought to me for
hock-lock.""No value," clicked the voice of the Veep. "Yet you bought.""It was
alien, Forerunner. Each bit we learn about such things is knowledge>which
makes some men richer. A hint here, a hint there, and one can be ledto a
find. This in itself has no value, but its age and why it was worn overa space
glove--that makes it worth payment.""Why worn on glove?""I do not know. How
much do we know of the Forerunners? They were not evenall of one
civilization, species, or time. The Zacathans list at least fourdifferent star
empires before they themselves developed a civilization, andclaim there are
more. Cities can crumble, suns bum out, sometimes artifactsremain--given
proper circumstances. Space itself preserves, as you knowwell. All we
can learn of those Forerunners comes in bits and pieces, whichmakes any bit of
value.""He asks," Eeet told me, "but the questions are now from
another.""Who?""One more important than this half-fish." For the first time
Eet used aderogatory   expression, allowed an aura      of contempt to
pervade hismind-touch."That is all I know. The other wears a protective
antiesper, anti-snoopdevice.""This was a ring," I repeated aloud and laid the
plundered circlet back onthe lap table. "It held a stone now gone, and it
resembles the one I heldfor a time which had been found on a Forerunner.""You
held--now where?""Ask that," I returned sharply, "of those who left me for
dead when theyplundered my shop." False now, but would any snooper detect
that? I waited,almost expecting some loud contradiction of my lie. If any
had been madeperhaps those in the room were not aware of it yet. And if my
last statementwere accepted as truth, perhaps there might be awkward
questions askedinside the ranks of the Guild, the which would do me no harm
at all."Enough," the voicer clicked. "You go--sales place-watch."My escort
moved for the door. He did not snap to attention as a Patrolman,but he wore a
tangler at his belt and I did not dispute his right to see meto where the
Veep ordered my attendance.We passed along one of the balcony corridors
which rimmed the open center.It was necessary to shuffle, not lifting the
feet much, keeping a handholdon the wall rail, or the low gravity became a
hazard. When our way led downon a curled rod with handholds instead of
stairsteps, we managed almost asif we were in a grav lift, coming to the
third level below that where theVeep had his quarters. This possessed some of
the bustle of a market place.There    was a coming and going of many
races and species, Terrans,Terran-mutants, humanoids, and non-humanoid
aliens.Most of them wore ship uniforms, though unmarked by any official
badges. Andall of them wore stunners, though I saw no lasers. And I
thought perhapsthere might be some rule against more lethal weapons here.The
booth into which I was ushered lacked the elaborate detection equipmentof
the lab. Another Orbsleon (plainly of inferior caste, since he still hadthe
crab legs long ago removed from the Veeps) squatted in a bowl with justenough
liquid washing in it to keep him on the edge of comfort. It was plainhe was
in charge and must have expected me. He clicked nothing on histalker,
but gestured with one tentacle to a stool back against the wall,where I
obediently sat down, Eet hunkering at my feet. There were two othersthere,
and seeing them, I realized, with a shudder I hoped I
successfullysuppressed, just how far outside the bounds of law I was.There has
always been slavery within the galaxy, sometimes planet-orientated,sometimes
spread through a solar system, or systems. But there are kinds ofslavery which
make men's stomachs turn more readily than the war-captive,farm-labor type
most widely known. And these--these--things--were the resultof selective
breeding in a slavery the Patrol had worked for years toeliminate from
any star lane.The Orbsleon's servants were humanoid--to a point. But there had
been bothsurgical and genetic modifications, so that they were not truly "men"
as theLankorox scale defines men in an alien-Terran-mutant society. They
wererather living machines, each programmed for a special type of
service,knowing nothing else. One sat now with his hands resting limply
on thetable, his whole puffy body slack, as if even the energy which
brought himpseudo life had drained away. The other worked with precise and
delicatespeed at a piece of jewelry, a gem-studded collar such as is worn at a
feastof state by a Warlockian Wyvern. He pried each gem from its setting,
sortingthem with unerring skill, and at the same time graded them, placing the
gemsin a row of small boxes before him. The many-lensed orbs in his
misshapen,too large, too round head were not turned upon what he did but
rather staredstraight ahead out of the booth, though they were not focused
on anythingbeyond."He is a detect--" Eet told me. "He sees all, reports
without defining whathe sees. The other is a relay.""Esper!" I was suddenly
afraid, afraid that that loosely sprawling hulk offlesh before us might
tune in on Eet, know that we two together were farmore than we seemed."No,
he is on a lower band," Eet returned. "Only if his master wishes--"He lapsed
into silence and I knew he, too, knew the danger.Why I had been sent here I
did not know. Time passed. I watched those go toand from outside. The detect
slave continued his work until the collar wasentirely denuded of its jewels
and then the metal went into a larger box.Now the busy fingers brought out a
filigree tiara. Selections were made fromthe boxes of gems, and with almost
the same speed with which they had beenpried forth from their first settings
they were put into the tiara. Thoughall the jewels were not used, I could see
that the result of the work wouldbe a piece which would easily bring a
thousand certified credits in anyinner planet shop. But all the time he
worked, the slave never looked atwhat he wrought. What were to be my
duties, if any, I was not told. Andwhile the activities of the detect slave
interested me for awhile, it wasnot enough to hold my attention too long. I
found the inactivity wearing andI was restless. But surely anyone in my
situation would want employmentafter awhile and no one would be suspicious
if I showed my boredom.I was shifting on what became an increasingly hard
stool the longer I sat onit when a man stepped inside the booth. He wore the
tunic of a space captainwithout any company insignia and he appeared to be
familiar with theestablishment, as he bypassed the table where the slaves
sat and camedirectly to the Orbsleon.He had been pressing his left hand
against his middle--reminding me of myown frequent check on my gem belt.
Now he unsealed his runic and fumbledunder its edge. The alien pushed
forward a swing table much like the one hisVeep had used to display the
ring.The spacer produced a wad of null web, picked it apart to show a
veryfamiliar spot of color--a zoran. The Orbsleon's tentacle curled about
thestone and without warning threw it to me. Only instinct gave me the
reflexto catch the flying stone out of the air."What!" With a sharp
exclamation the captain swung around to eye me, hishand on the butt of his
stunner. I was turning the stone around, examiningit."First grade," I
announced. Which it was--about the best I had seen for sometime. Also it was
not a raw stone but had been carefully cut and mounted ina delicate claw
setting, hooked to hang as a pendant."Thank you." There was sarcasm in the
captain's voice. "And who may you be?"He lost now some of his aggressive
suspicion."Hywel Jern, appraiser," I answered. "You wish to sell?""I wouldn't
come here just for you to tell me it's first grade," heretorted."Since
when has Vonu added an appraiser?""Since this day." I held the stone between
me and the light to look at itagain."A fleck of clouding," I
commented."Where?" He went across the booth in two strides, snatched the
jewel out ofmy hand. "Any clouding came from your breathing on it. This is a
top stone."He swung around to the Orbsleon. "Four trade--""Zorans are not four
trade," the talker clicked. "Not even top grade."The captain frowned, half
turned, as if to march out of the booth. "Threethen.""One-""No! Tardorc will
give me more. Three.""Go Tadorc. Two only.""Two and a half--"I had no idea
what they bid, since they did not use the conventionalcredits. Perhaps
Waystar had its own scale of value.The Orbsleon seemed to have reached a firm
decision."Two only. Go Tadorc--""All right, two." The captain dropped the
zoran on the lap table and thealien's other tentacle stretched to a board
of small burtons. When thatmobile tip punched out a series on it there was
no vocal reply. But he usedthe talker again."Two trade--at four wharf--take
supplies as needed.""Two!" The captain made an explosive oath of that word
as he left with aforce which might have been a stamp in a place of higher
gravity.The alien again threw the zoran, this time to be caught by the detect,
whotucked it away in one of his boxes. And it was then that my
earlierguide-guard came to the front of the booth."You"--he gestured to
me--"come along." Glad for the moment to be releasedfrom the boredom of the
booth, I went.Chapter Thirteen"Top Veep," Eet's warning came, to match my
own guess as to where we werebeing taken. We again climbed through the
levels to the higher ways of thestation, this time passing the one where the
Orbsleon had his quarters. Nowthe time-roughened walls about us showed dim
traces of what had once beenornamentation. Perhaps for whatever creatures had
built this station thishad been officer territory.I was motioned through a
roll door, my guards remaining outside. They made ahalf-hearted attempt to
stop Eet, but he suddenly developed an agility hehad not shown before and
pushed past them. I thought it odd they did notfollow. Then, a moment
later, I discovered why the inhabitant of theseparticular quarters did not
need their attendance, for with another step Istruck rather painfully
against a force wall.Also, inside this room the light gravity to which I had
partially adjustednot only had become full for my race, but had an added
pull, so it was aneffort to take a step.Beyond that invisible barrier the
room was furnished as might be one in aluxury caravansary on some inner
planet. Yet the furniture did not harmonizebut was jammed together, showing
even differences in scale size, as if somepieces had been made for bodies
smaller or larger than my own. The one thingthese had in common was their
richness, which in some cases was gaudy andblatantly flamboyant.Stretched in
an easirest was the Veep. He was of Terran descent, but withcertain subtle
differences, modifications of feature, which suggestedmutation. Probably
he came from a race which had been among the earlycolonists. His hair had
been cut so that it stood above his partially shavenskull in a stiffened
roach, making him resemble one of the mercenaries ofold times, and I wondered
how he got a space helmet over that crest, if heever did. His skin was
brown, not just space-tanned, and there were twoscars, too regular to be
anything but inflicted on purpose for a patterning,running from corner of eye
to chin on either side of his mouth.Like the gaudy room, his clothing was a
colorful mixture of planetary stylesfrom several worlds. His long legs,
stretched out in the rest, which fitteditself to give him greatest comfort,
were encased in tight-fittingbreech-legging-boots of a pliable, white-furred
hide, the fur patterned witha watered rippling. Above his waist he wore the
brilliant black-and-silvercombination of a Patrol admiral's dress tunic
complete with begemmed starsand ribbons of decorations. But the sleeves
of that had been cut out,leaving his arms bare to the shoulders. Below his
elbows he wore on botharms very wide bracelets or armlets of irridium, one
mounted with what couldonly be Terran rubies of the first water, the other
with sol sapphires andlokerals running in alternate rows, the vivid greens
and blues in harmoniouscontrast. Both armlets were barbaric in taste.In
addition, his stiffened top ridge of hair was encircled by a band of
meshmetal, green-gold--from which hung, flat against his forehead, a
pendantbearing a single koro--about ten carats and very fine. The whole
effect wasthat of what he must be, a pirate chief on display.Whether he wore
that mixture of splendor and bad taste by choice or for theeffect such a bold
showing of wealth might have on his underlings, I did notknow. The Guild men
in the upper echelons were usually inclined to beconservative in dress rather
than ostentatious. But perhaps as master, orone of the masters, of Waystar,
he was not Guild.He watched me reflectively. Meeting his dark eyes, I had the
impression thathis clothing was a mask of sorts, meant to bedazzle and
mislead those withwhom he dealt. He was holding a small plate of white
translucent jade in onehand, from time to time raising it to his mouth to
touch tongue tip in asmall licking movement to the gob of blue paste it
held."They tell me"--he spoke Basic with no definable accent--"that you
knowForerunner material.""To some extent, Gentle Homo. I have seen, have been
able to examine perhapsten different art forms.""Over there--" He pointed, not
with his empty hand, but with his chin, to myleft. "Take a look at what lies
there and tell me--is it truly Forerunner?"A round-topped table of Salodian
marble supported what he wanted appraised.There was a long string of
interwoven metal threads dotted here and therewith tiny brilliant rose-pink
gems; it could have been intended as either anecklace or a belt. Next to
it was a crown or tiara, save that no humancould have worn it in comfort,
for it was oval instead of round. There was abowl or basin, etched with lines
and studded here and there with gems, as ifthey had been scattered by
chance or whim rather than in any obviouspattern. And last of all,
there was a weapon, still in a sheath orholster--its hilt or butt of
several different metals, each of a differentcolor but inlaid and mingled
with the others in a way I knew we had no meansof duplicating. But what was
more, I knew we had found what we had enteredthis kolsa's den to seek.
This was the larger part of the treasure theZacathans had found in the
tomb; I had been too well briefed by Zilwrich tomistake it. There were four
or five other pieces, but the best and mostimportant lay here. It was the
bowl which drew my attention, though I knewif the Veep had not already
caught the significance of those seeminglyrandom lines and gems he must not
be given a hint, by any action of mine,that it was a star map. I walked
toward the table, coming up against thebarrier again before I reached it--a
circumstance which gave me a chance toassert myself as I was sure Hywel Jern
would have done."You cannot expect an appraisal, Gentle Homo, if I cannot
inspect closely."He tapped a stud on the chair arm and I could advance, but I
noted that hetapped it again, twice, when I reached the table, and I did not
doubt I wasnow sealed in.I picked up the woven cord and ran it through my
fingers. In the past I hadseen many Forerunner artifacts, some in my father's
collection, some throughthe   aid of Vondar     Ustle. Many others I      had
studied via tri-deerepresentation. But this stolen treasure was the richest
it had ever been mygood fortune to inspect. That the pieces were Forerunner
would of coursehave been apparent even if I had not known their recent past
history. But aseveryone   knew, there were several Forerunner
civilizations and thisworkmanship was new to me. Perhaps the Zacathan
expedition had stumbled uponthe remains of yet another of those forgotten
stellar empires."It is Forerunner. But, I believe, a new type," I told the
Veep, who stilllicked at his confection and watched me with an unwavering
stare. "As suchit is worth much more than its intrinsic value. In fact, I
cannot set aprice on it. You could offer it to the Vydyke Commission, but you
might evengo beyond what they could afford--""The gems, the metal, if broken
up?"At that moment his question was enough to spark revulsion and then anger
inme. To talk of destroying these for the worth of their metal and gems
alonewas a kind of blasphemy which sickened anyone who knew what they were.But
he had asked me a direct question and I dared not display my reaction. Ipicked
up each piece in turn, longing to linger in my examination of thebowl map,
yet not daring to, lest I arouse his suspicion."None of the jewels is large,"
I reported. "Their cutting is not of themodern fashion, which reduces
their value, for you would lose even more byattempting to recut. The
metal--no. It is the workmanship and history whichmakes them treasure.""As I
thought." The Veep gave a last lick to his plate and put It
asideempty."Yet a market for such is difficult to find.""There are collectors,
Gentle Homo, who are perhaps not as free-handed asthe Vydyke, but who
would raise much on all their available resources tohave a single piece of
what lies here. They would know it for a black dealand so keep what they
obtained hidden. Such men are known to the Guild."He did not answer me at
once, but continued to stare, as if he were readingmy mind more than
concentrating on my words. But I was familiar enough withmind-touch to know he
was not trying that. I judged rather that he wasconsidering carefully what I
had just said.But I was now aware of something else which first alarmed and
then excitedme. There was warmth at my middle, spreading from the pocket
which held thezero stone. And that could only mean, since I was not putting it
to service,that somewhere near was another of those mysterious gems. I
looked to themost obvious setting, that of the crown, but I saw no telltale
glow there.Then Eet's thought reached me."The bowl!"I put out my hand, as
if to reinspect that piece. And I saw that on thesurface nearest me,
luckily turned away from the Veep, there was a brightspark of light. One
of those seemingly random jewels I had thought weremeant to mark stars had
come to life!Picking up the bowl, I turned it idly around, holding my palm to
cover thezero stone, and felt both at my middle and from the bowl the heat of
life."Which do you think of greatest importance?" the Veep asked. I put down
thebowl, the live gem again turned away from him, looking over the whole
arrayas if to make up my mind."This perhaps." I touched the strange
weapon."Why?"Again I sensed a test, but this time I had failed."He knows!"
Eet's warning came even as the Veep's hand moved toward thebuttons on the
chair arm.I threw the weapon I held. And by some superlative fortune I did
not haveany right to expect, it crashed against his forehead just
beneath thatdangling koro stone, as if the force field no longer protected
him, or elseI was inside it. He did not even cry out, but his eyes closed and
he slumpeddeeper into the hold of the easirest. I whirled to face the door,
sure hehad alerted his guards. The force field might protect me, but it
would alsohold me prisoner. I saw the door open, the guards there. One of
them criedout and fired a laser beam. The force field held, deflected that
ray enoughto send a wave of flame back, and the man farthest into the room
staggered,dropped his weapon, and fell against the one behind him."There is a
way." Eet was by the easirest. He reached up and grabbed at thestrange weapon
now lying in the Veep's lap. I swept up the other treasures,holding them
between my body and arm as I followed Eet to the wall, where hefingered a
stud and so opened a hidden door. As that fell into place behindus, he
mind-touched again."That will not hold them for long, and there are alarms and
safeguards allthrough this wall way. I scouted them out when I explored.
They need onlythrow those into action and we are trapped."I leaned against
the wall, unsealing my tunic and making its front into abag to hold what I
had snatched up. It was so awkward a bundle that I haddifficulty in closing
the tough fabric over it."Did your exploring see a way out?" I asked now.
Our escape from that roomhad been largely a matter of unthinking reflex
action. Now I was not sure wehad not trapped ourselves."These are old repair
ways. There are suits in a locker. They still have topatch and repatch the
outside. It depends now upon how fast we can reach thesuit locker."The
gravity here was practically nonexistent, and we made our way throughthe
dark, which was near absolute, by swimming through the air. Luckilythere
were handholds at intervals along the outer wall, proving that thismethod of
progression had been used here before. But my mind worried at whatlay ahead.
Supposing fortune did favor us enough to let us reach the suits,get into them,
and out on the outer shell of the station. We still had along strip of
space to cross to the ring of wreckage, and then to find ourLB. This time the
odds were clearly too high against us. I believed that thewhole of Waystar
would be alerted to track us down, they to hunt overfamiliar ground, we
lost in their territory."Wait--" Eet's warning brought me up with a bump
against him. "Trap ahead.""What do we do--?""You do nothing, except not
distract me!" he snapped. I half expected him tomake some move forward, for
I thought his intention was to disarm whatwaited us. But he did not. Though
no mind-touch was aimed at me, I felt whatcould only be waves of mental
energy striking some distance ahead--and thezero stone in my belt grew
uncomfortably warm against my body."Well enough," Eet reported. "The energy is
now burned out. We have a clearpath for a space."We encountered two more of
what Eet declared to be pitfalls, but which Inever saw, before we came out
of a sliding panel in the wall into a blistercompartment on the outer skin of
the hull. There we found the suits, just asEet had foretold. Since I could
not stuff myself plus the loot I carriedinto the one nearest my size, I had
to pass the bowl and the tiara on toEet, who was in the smallest, still much
too large for him.But how we would reach the outer shell of wreckage and the
LB, I had not theleast idea. The suits were both equipped, it was true, with
blast beams,intended to give any worker who was jolted off into open space a
chance ofreturning to the surface of the station. But if we used those,
their powermight not be enough to take us all the way to the wreckage, and in
addition,we would be in plain sight of any watcher or radar screen. However,
we didhave the treasure and--"That mistake I made--does the Veep know the
importance of the bowl?" Idemanded now."Part of it. He knows it is a
map.""Which they would not destroy willingly." I hoped that was true."You
argue from hope, not knowledge," the mutant returned. "But it is allthe hope
we may have."I signaled exit from the bubble, and crawled out, the magnetic
plates on myboots anchoring me to the surface of the station. Once before Eet
and I hadso gone into space and I was touched now with the terrible fear
which hadgripped me then when I had lost my footing on the skin of the Free
Tradership and my contact with security, and floated into empty space.But
here there was a limit to emptiness. The cargo ship which we
hadfollowed into this port was gone, but the needle-nosed raider and the
yachtwere still in orbit, and above, all around, was the mass of
wreckage--though I could sight no landmarks there and wondered how we were
ever goingto discover the narrow inlet in the jagged, tangled mass which hid
the LB.I could see no reason to wait. Either we would coast across to the
wreckageor our power would fail. But to wait here any longer was to risk
beingcaptured before we had even tried. However, we did take the precaution
oflinking together by one of the hooked lines meant to anchor a worker to
thesurface of the station. So united, we took off between the two ships
hangingominously above."I cannot reach the controls of my jet--" Eet
delivered what might be afinal blow, dooming us to capture. Would the power
in my own shoulder-bornerocket be enough to take us both over?I triggered the
controls, felt the push thrust which sent me and the suitcontaining Eet away
from the station. My aim was the nearest of wreckage. Imight be able to work
my way along that in search of the passage if I couldget to it. But every
moment I expected to be caught by tangle beams, somehowsure that the Veep
would not risk an annihilating weapon which would destroyhis treasure.The
spurt of thrust behind me continued, in spite of the drag Eet caused ashe spun
slowly about at the end of the line, and there did not come anypursuit
or pressure beam. I did not feel any triumph, only a forebodingwhich wore
on my nerves. It is always worse to wait for an attack. I wascertain that
we had been sighted and that any moment we would be caught in anet. The thrust
failed while we were still well away from the wreckage. Andthough I got one
more small burst by frantic fingering of the controls, itdid little more than
set me spinning across a small portion of that gap. Eethad been carried ahead
of me by some chance of my own efforts, and now I sawhis suit roll from side
to side, as if, within it, he fought to reach hiscontrols and so activate
his own power.What he did I could not tell, but suddenly there was a lunge
forward of hisspinning suit, and he towed me with him. The power of
his progressintensified, for he no longer rolled. Now he was as straight as a
dart flungat some target, and he dragged me easily behind as he headed
for thewreckage. Still I could not guess why we had not been followed.The
splintered and dangerous mass of that wall of derelict ships grew
moredistinct. I trusted Eet could control his power, so that we would not
behurled straight into it. The merest scrape of some projection could
tearsuits and kill us in an instant.Eet was rolling again, fighting against
the full force of the power. ThoughI could do little to control my own
passage, I rolled, too, hoping to meetfeet first a piece of ship's side
which would afford a reasonably smoothlanding among the debris.We whirled on
at a faster pace than my own pack had sent us. And I guessedsuddenly that Eet
was making use of the zero stone on the map to trigger theenergy of his
rocket."Off!" I thought that as an order. "Well be cut to ribbons if you do
not."Whether he could not control the force now, I did not know, but my
feetslammed with bone-shaking impact against the smooth bit I had aimed for.
Ireached out, trying to grip Eet's suit. He had managed to turn, to
coastalongside of the debris, just far enough away not to be entangled in
it,yet. The magnetic plates in my boots kept me anchored, but not for
long.Though I stopped Eet's advance with a sharp jerk, I was
immediatelythereafter torn loose by the power which dragged him on.We nudged
along beside the wreckage, twisting and turning as best we couldto avoid any
contact. Even if we might not be picked up by sight scannersagainst the
camouflaging irregularities of that mass of metal, any heatidentification
ray could pick us up. And I did not doubt in the least thatsuch equipment
was in use at Waystar.Was it that they dared not attack for fear of losing
the treasure? Had theysent ahead of us some command to activate the outer
defenses, to keep usbottled up until they could collect us at their
leisure? Perhaps when lossof air had rendered us perfectly harmless?"I think
they want you alive." Eet's answer came in response to my last
darkspeculation. "They guess that you know the value of the map. They want
toknow why. And perhaps they know that Hywel Jern did not really rise from
thedead. I may read minds, but in that nest back there I could not sort out
allthoughts."I was not interested in the motives of the enemy. I was
absorbed now inescape, if that was at all possible. Given time, we might
work our waycompletely around the wall of debris to find the entrance. But
such time ourair supply would not offer."Ahead--the ship with the broken
hatch," Eet said suddenly. "That I haveseen before!"I could make out the
broken hatch. It took the shape of a half-opened mouth.And in me, too, memory
stirred. I had set gloved hand to the edge of thatvery same hatch just
before the pressure beam had made us captive. We couldnot be far now from the
entrance, though I could hardly believe in suchfortune. Eet put on an
extra burst of speed, drawing out a space from thewreckage, and certainly
this energy could not all come from the suit rocket.The spurt was enough to
bring us inside the ship passage. And we worked ourway back from one handgrip
to another, or rather I did so, pulling Eet'ssuit along. Only the fact
that we were both relatively weightless made itpossible. And even then, I
was weak, shaking with fatigue, not certain Icould make the full
journey. Every handhold I won to and from was astruggle. I did not
direct my attention to the whole passage yet ahead, butlimited it to the
next hold only, and then to the next. I even lost my fearof what might lie
behind my concentration was so great on just swinging tothe next hold-- We
gained, I was not quite sure how, the crevice in which wehad left the LB and
crawled to its hatch. But once I slammed the door shutbehind us I lost my
last ounce of energy, and slid down, unable to move,watching Eet, in the
clumsy suit, lift one arm with visible effort to reachthe inner controls,
fail, and then with grim patience try again.Eventually he succeeded. Air
hissed in around me and the inner hatch opened.The suit holding Eet squirmed
and wriggled, and then the mutant emerged,kicked the suit away in an
almost vindictive gesture, and scrambled over tome to fumble with the sealings
which held me in the protective covering.The ship air revived me to the extent
that I was able to shed that shell andcrawl on into the cabin. Eet had
preceded me, and now squatted in thepilot's web, fingering the buttons to
ease us out and away.I dragged myself to the hammock, lay weakly back in it. I
did not believe atthat moment that we had the least chance of breaking
through the outerdefenses of Waystar. We and our ship must meet some force
field which wouldhold us, intact, as our captors wanted. But some reckless
desire to go downfighting made me take the zero stone out in my shaking
hands. I broke thedisguise it had given me, or hoped I did. Having no
mirror I could not besure. Now--there was something I could do which would at
least confuse themif they slapped a spy ray on us."Such comes now," Eet
reported and then closed his mind tightly, intent onlyon getting us out of the
tunnel.How much time did I have? The stone burned my hands but I held on. I
had nomirror to mark the course of my transformation, but I willed it with all
theenergy and resource I had left. Then I lay back weakly, unable even to
putaway the precious source of my pain.I looked blearily down what I could see
of my prone body. There were, surelyI could not be mistaken, the furred
breeches, and above them the brillianceof a space admiral's tunic. I turned
my head a fraction from side to side.My arms were bare, below the elbow
wearing the gemmed armlets. I was, Ihoped, by the power of the zero stone,
a complete copy of the Veep. If theynow snooped us with a seeing ray, the
change might give us a smalladvantage, a few moments of confusion among
our enemies.Eet did not turn to look at me but his thought rang in my
head."Very well done. And--here comes their snoop ray!"Not having his senses,
I must take his word for that. I levered myself up inthe hammock with what
energy I could summon, which was only enough to keepme braced with some
small semblance of alertness. Eet suddenly slapped afurred fist on the board
and the answering leap of the LB pinned me againstthe hammock. My head spun,
I was sick--then I was swept into darkness.Chapter FourteenWhen I roused
groggily I lay staring at the rounded expanse above me, notable at once to
remember where I was, or perhaps even who I was. With whatseemed painful
and halting slowness, memory of the immediate past returned.At least we were
still in existence; we had not been snuffed out by somedefense weapon of
the pirate stronghold. But were we free? Or held captiveby a force beam? I
tried to lever myself up and the LB hammock swayed.But I had had a look at my
own body and I was not now wearing the semblanceof the Veep--though a furry
dwarf still hunched at the controls of the smallcraft. My hand went to the
bulge in my belt. The sooner I was sure I wasmyself again, the better. I
had a strange feeling that I could not think orplan until I was Murdoc Jern
outwardly as well as inwardly, as if the outerdisguise could change me from
myself into a weak copy of the man my fatherhad been. Eet had been a cat,
but I had willed that on him without hisdesire. This I had taken upon
myself by my own wish, meant to be outer, notcomplete. What did make sense any
more?"You are yourself," came Eet's thought. But there was something else.
Myhand rested upon a pocket wherein all those days, months, I had carried
thezero stone. And there was no reassuring hard lump to be felt. It
wasflat--emptyl"The stone!" I cried that aloud. I drew myself up, though my
body was weakand drained of energy. "The stone--"Then Eet turned to me. His
alien face was a mask as far as I was concerned.I could read no expression
there."The stone is safe," he thought-flashed."But where--?""It is safe," he
repeated. "And you are Murdoc Jern outwardly again. We arethrough their
defenses. The snooper ray caught you in the Veep's seeming andwas deceived
long enough for the stone to boost us out of range.""So that is the way you
used it. I will take it now." I held myself upright,though I must still
clutch at the hammock to keep that position. Eet hadused the zero stone
even as we had once used it to boost the power of aPatrol scout ship and so
escape capture. I was angry with myself for havingoverlooked that one weapon
in our armament. "I will take it now," I repeatedwhen Eet made no move to show
me where it was. Though I had worked on the LBunder Ryzk's direction I could
not be sure where Eet had put it for thegreatest effect in adding to our
present drive."It is safe," he told me for the third time. Now the
evasiveness of thatreply made an impression on me."It is mine--""Ours." He
was firm. "Or, rather, it was yours by sufferance."Now I was thinking clearly
again. "The--the time I turned you into a cat...You are afraid of that--""Once
warned, I cannot be caught so again. But the stone is danger if usedin an
irresponsible fashion.""And you"--I controlled my rising anger with all
the strength I hadlearned--"are going to see that it is not!""Just so. The
stone is safe. And what is more to the purpose--look here." Hepointed with one
of his fingers to something which, for the want of othersafekeeping, lay in
the second hammock.I loosed one hand to pull that webbing a little toward
me. There lay thebowl with the map incised on its outer surface. A moment
later I held itclose to my eyes.With the bowl turned over, the bottom was a
half sphere on which the smalljewels which must be stars winked in the light.
And I saw, now that I hadthe time and chance to view it searchingly,
that those varied. My ownspecies rate stars on our charts by color--red,
blue, white, yellow, dwarfsand giants. And here it would seem that the
unknown maker of this chart haddone the same. Save in one place alone, where
next to a yellow gem whichmight denote a sun was a zero stone!Quickly I spun
the bowl around, studying the loose pattern. Yes, there wereother planets
indicated about those colored suns, but they were done intiny, amost
invisible dots. Only the one was a gem."Why, think you?" Eet's question
reached me."Because it was the source!" I could hardly believe that we might
hold theanswer to our quest. I think my unbelief was bom in the subconscious
thoughtthat it would be one of those quests, such as fill the ancient ballads
andsagas, wherein the end is never quite in the grasp of mortals.But it is
one thing to hold a star map and another to find on it somealready
known point. I was no astro-navigator and unless some point ofreference
marked on this metal matched our known charts, we could spend alifetime
looking, unable even to locate the territory it pictured."We know where it was
found," Eet suggested."Yes, but it may be another case of a relic of an
earlier civilizationtreasured by its finder long after and buried with one
who never even knewthe life form that fashioned it, let alone the planets it
lists.""The Zacathan may furnish our key, together with Ryzk, who does know
thesestar lanes. The stars this shows may be largely uncharted now. But
still,those two together might give us one point from which we can work.""You
will tell them?" That surprised me somewhat, for Eet had never beforesuggested
hinting to anyone that the caches we had disclosed to the Patrolwere not the
sum total of the stones now in existence. In fact, our questhad been his
plan from its inception."What is needful. That this is the clue to another
treasure. The Zacathanwill be drawn by his love of knowledge, Ryzk because it
will be a chance forgain.""But Zilwrich is to be returned with the treasure to
the nearest port. Ofcourse--" I began to see that perhaps Eet was not so
reckless as he seemedin suggesting that we plunge into the unknown with a
map which might beolder than my species itself as our only guide. "Of
course, we did not saywhen we would return him."There was in the back of my
mind the thought that the Zacathan might evenwillingly agree to our plan to go
exploring along the bowl route, the thirstfor knowledge being as keen as it
was among his kind.But though I held that star map in my hand, my
attention returned to themore important point for now."The stone, Eet.""It is
safe." He did not enlarge upon that. There was, of course, this otherstone,
which, compared to the one we had used, was a mere pin point ofsubstance,
now so dull as to be overlooked by anyone not aware of itsunusual
properties. Did the amount of energy booster depend upon the size ofthe stone?
I remembered how Eet had produced that burst of power which hadbrought us
along the barrier of the wreckage. Had all that come from thisdull bit which
I could well cover with only a fraction of the tip of mylittle finger? It must
be that we had learned only a small portion of whatthe stones could do.I was
most eager to get back to the ship, away from Waystar. And as the LBwas on
course, I began to wonder at the length of our trip. Surely we hadnot been
this far from where we had set down on the dead moon."The homer--" I moved to
see that dial. Its indicator showed set to bring usback on automatics to the
Wendwind. Suddenly I doubted its efficiency. Mostof the alterations in the
controls of the LB had been rigged by Ryzk, weremeant to be only temporary,
and had been made with difficulty--though it wastrue that a Free Trader had
training in repairs and extempore rigging whichthe average spacer never
learned.Suppose the linkage with the parent ship was faulty? We could be
lost inspace. Yet it was true we were holding to a course."Certainly," Eet
broke into my ominous chain of thought. "But not, Ibelieve, to the moon.
And if they go into hyper--""You mean--they have taken off? Not waiting for
us?" Perhaps that fear, too,had ever lain in the depths of my mind. Our
visit to Waystar had been sorash an undertaking that Ryzk and the Zacathan
could well have written usoff almost as soon as we left for the pirate
station. Or Zilwrich might havebegun to fail and the pilot, realizing the
Zacathan was too far spent toobject, and wanting to get him to some aid--
There were many reasons I couldcount for myself for the Wendwind to have
taken off. But we were still oncourse for something--a course which would
hold only until the ship wentinto hyper for a system jump. If that happened,
our guide line would snapand we would be adrift-- with only a return to
Waystar or a landing on oneof the dead worlds for our future."If they left for
out-system they would hyper--""If they do not know the system they must reach
its outermost planet beforethey do," Eet reminded me."The stone--if we use
that to step up energy to join them--""Such a journey must be made with
great care. To maneuver the LB and theship together during flight--" But it
was apparent that Eet was thinking forhimself as well as for my
enlightenment. He studied the control board andnow he shook his head. "It is
a matter of great risk. These are not truecontrols, only improvised, and so
might not serve us at a moment of pressingneed.""A choice between two evils,"
I pointed out. "We stay here and die, or wetake the chance of meeting with
the ship. As long as we remain on course weare linked with her. Why
doesn't"--I was suddenly struck by a newthought--"Ryzk know we are
following? The fact that we are should haveregistered--""The indicator in
the ship may have failed. Or perhaps he does not choose towait."If the pilot
did not want to wait--he had the Wendwind, he had the Zacathan,and he had an
excellent excuse for our disappearance. He might return to thenearest port
with the rescued archaeologist, the coordinates of Waystar todeliver to the
Patrol, a ship he could claim for back wages. All in all, themaster stars lay
in his hand in this game and we had no comets to cut acrossthe playing board
to bring him down--except the zero stone."Into the hammock," Eet warned now.
"I shall cut in the stone power. Andhope that the ship does not hyper before
we can catch up."I lay down again. But Eet remained by the controls. Could the
alien body hehad wished upon himself stand the strain of not using such
protection as theLB afforded? If Eet blacked out, I could not take his
place, and we couldwell strike the Wendwind with projectile speed.In the
past I had been through the strain of take-offs in ships built forspeed. But
the LB was not such. I could only remember that the originalpurpose of
the craft was to flee a stricken ship, and that it must thus befit to take
the strain of a leap away from danger. To sustain such energy,however, was
another matter. Now I lay in the hammock and endured, though Idid not quite
black out. It seemed as if the very material of the wallsabout us,
protested against the force. And the bowl, which I still held, hada fiery spot
of light on its surface where the infinitely smaller stoneanswered the
burst of power from the larger, which Eet had concealed.I endured and I
watched through a haze the furred body of Eet, his armsflung out, his
fingers crooked to hold in position at the controls. Then Iheard the loud
rasp of painful breathing which was not mine alone. And everysecond I expected
a break in the link tying us to the ship, the signal thatthe Wendwind has
gone into hyper, vanished out of the space we knew.Either my sight was
affected by the strain or else Eet was so pinned by ourspeed that he could
not function well, but I saw mistily his one hand creepat a painfully slow
rate to thumb a single lever. Then we were free of thatpunishing pressure. I
clawed my way out of the hammock, swung across toelbow Eet aide, and took
his place, facing the small battery of winkinglights and warnings I did
understand and which Ryzk had patiently drilled meto respond to. We had
reached match distance of the Wendwind and must nowjoin her. Automatics had
been set up to deal with much of this, but therewere certain alarms I must
be ready to answer if they were triggered. And ifRyzk had ignored our
following signal, he could not, short of winkinginstantly into hyper,
avoid our present homing.I sweated out those endless seconds at the board,
my fingers poised andready to make any correction, watching the dials
whose reading could meanlife or death not only to us but to the ship we fought
to join. Then we wereat our goal. The visa-screen winked on to show the gap of
the bay for the LBand we bumped into it. The screen went dark again as the
leaves of the bayclosed about us. I was weak with relief. But Eet arose
from where he hadcrouched, hanging to one end of the other hammock."There is
trouble--"He did not complete that thought. I cannot tell now-- there are
no wordsknown to my species to describe what happened then--for we were not
beddeddown, prepared for the transition as was needful. We were not even
warned.Seconds only had brought us in before the ship went into hyper.There
was the taste of blood in my mouth. I drooled it forth to flowstickily
down my chin. When I opened my eyes I was in the dark, a dark whichbrought
the terror of blindness with it. My whole body was one great achewhich, when
I tried to move, became sheer agony. But somehow I got my handto my head,
wiped it without knowing across the stickiness of blood. I couldnot see!"Eet!"
I think I screamed that. The sound echoed in my ears, adding to thepain in
my head.There was no answer. The dark continued. I tried to feel about me
and myhand struck against solid substance as memory stirred. I was in the LB,
wehad returned to the ship just an instant before it had gone into hyper.How
badly I was hurt I did not know. As the LBs had originally
beenfashioned to take care of injured survivors of some space catastrophe,
Ineeded only get back to the hammock and the craft would be activated
intotreating me. I felt about me, seeking the touch of webbing. But though
myone arm obeyed me, I could not move the other at all. And I touched
nothingbut wall. I tried to inch my body along, sliding my fingers against
thatwall, seeking some break, some change in its surface. The quarters of the
LBwere so confined that surely I could soon find one of the hammocks. I
flungmy arm up and out, rotating it through the thick darkness. It
encounterednothing. But I was in the LB and it was too small for me not to
have foundthe hammock by now. The thought of the hammock, that it was ready
to soothemy pain, to apply restoratives and healing, so filled me that I
forcedmyself to greater efforts to find it. But my agonizing movements, so
slowand limited, told me that there was no hammock. And whatever space in
whichI now lay was not in the LB. My hand fell to the floor and touched a
small,inert body. Eet! Not as I had seen him last, my exploring fingers
reported.But Eet, the mutant, as he had been from birth.I drew my fingers down
his furred side and thought I detected a very faintfluttering there, as if
his heart still beat. Then I tried to discover bytouch alone whether he bore
any noticeable wounds. The darkness--I would notallow myself to accept the
thought that I was blind--took on a heavy,smothering quality. I was
gasping as if the lack of light was also a lack ofair. Then I feared that it
was, and that we had been sealed in somewhere tosuffocate. Eet did not answer
my thoughts, which I tried to make coherent. Ifelt on, beyond him, and
sometime later gave up the hope we were in the LB.Instead we lay in a confined
space with a door which would not yield to thesmall force I could exert
against it. We must be on board the Wendwind--andI believed we were now
imprisoned in one of those stripped lower cabinswhich had been altered
for cargo transport. This could only mean that Ryzkhad taken command. What he
might have told the Zacathan I did not know. Ouractions had been strange
enough to give credence to some story that weoperated outside the law, and
Ryzk could testify truly that we had broughthim on board without his
knowledge. The Zacathans were esper--telepaths.Ryzk could tell the exact
truth and Zilwrich would have to believe him. Wecould well be on our way
now to being delivered to the Patrol as kidnapersand shady dealers with the
pirates of Waystar. Yes, as I painfully marshaledthe facts as another would
see them I realized that Ryzk could make anexcellent case, and Zilwrich
would back him up. That we brought back part ofthe treasure meant nothing.
We could have done that and still planned tokeep it, and the Zacathan, for
ransom. Such deals were far from unknown.If Ryzk had been black-listed,
bringing us in might return him to the rolls.And if we underwent, or I
underwent, deep interrogation--the whole affair ofthe zero stone would be
known. It would be clear that we were guilty of whatthe Patrol might deem
double-dealing. Ryzk had only to play a completelyhonest man at the nearest
port and we would have lost our big gamble.It seemed so hopeless when I
thought it all out that I could see no possiblecounter on our part. Had we one
of the zero stones we might--so much had Icome to accept the unusual
powers of those strange gems-have a fightingchance. Eet--if he were not
dead--or dying--might just--I felt my way back to that small body, gathered
it carefully up so thatEet's head rested against me, and put my good arm
protectingly around it. Ithought now that I no longer felt that small stirring
of a heartbeat. Therewas no answer to my mind-call. So there was good reason
to believe that Eetwas dead. And in that moment I forgot all my annoyance at
his interferencein my life, the way he had taken over the ordering of my
days. Perhaps I wasone who needed such dependence upon a stronger will.
There had been myfather, then Vondar Ustle, then Eet--Only I would not
accept that this was the end. If Eet was dead, then Ryzkwould pay for that
death. I had thought of the aid of the stone, and the aidof Eet, and both of
them were gone. What remained was myself, and I was notready to say I was
finished.I had always believed that I was no esper. Certainly no such
talent wasapparent in me before I met Eet. He had touched my mind for
communicationand I had learned that use from him. He had at one uncomfortable
time givenme mental contact with another human in order to prove our
innocence to aPatrol officer. Then he had taught me to use the hallucinatory
change and Ihad been the one to discover that the zero stone could bring
about an almosttotal change. But Eet--he was either dead or very close to it.
I had neitherEet nor the stone. I was hurt, how badly I could not tell,
and I was aprisoner. There was only one small --very small--spark of hope
left--theZacathan. He was normally esper, as was Eet. Could I possibly reach
him now?Make some appeal?I stared into a dark which I hoped would not be my
portion all the rest ofmy life, but in my mind I pictured the face of
Zilwrich as I had seen itlast. And I strove to hold that face in mind, not
now for the purpose ofmaking it mine, but rather as a homing point for
my thought-seek. And Iaimed, not a coherent thought, but a signal for
attention, a cry for help.Then--I touched! It was as if I had put tip of
finger to a falder leaf whichhad instantly coiled away from contact with my
flesh. Then--it returned.But I was racked with disappointment. With Eet
mind-touch had been clear, asit had been with the Zacathan when the mutant was
present. This was a jumbleof a language I did not know, poured at me in a
wealth of impressions toofast for me to sort and understand, forming a
sickening, chaotic whirl, sothat I must retreat, drop touch.Eet was the
connecting link I must have. Otherwise I could only try untilthat whirl of
alien thought drove my brain into mindlessness. I consideredthe chances. I
could stay prisoner here for whatever purpose Ryzk had inmind. Or I could
try the Zacathan again. And it was not in me to accept thehelplessness of
that first choice.So, warily, as a man might seek a path across a quaking bog
ready to swallowhim up in a thousand hungry mud mouths, I sent out once more
the mind-seek.But this time I thought my message--slowly, impression by
impression, anddoggedly held to what I had to convey as the stream of the
alien mind lappedover it. I did not try to tell Zilwrich anything, as I
would have "talked"to Eet. I merely thought out over and over again what I
would have him know,letting it lie for him to pick up as he could. Though
I feared my slowchannel was as unintelligible to him as his frighteningly
swift flow was tome. Once, twice, three times, a fourth, I thought through
what I made as myplea. Then I could hold no longer. The pain of my body
was as nothingcompared to the pain now filling my mind. And I lost
contact as well asconsciousness, just as I had when we had snapped into
hyper.It was as if I were being pricked over and over again by the sharp point
ofa needle. I stirred under that torment, which was small and far away
atfirst, and then became so much the greater, more insistent. And I fought
toremain in the safety of nothingness. Prick-- the summons to what I did
notwant continued."Eet?" But it was not Eet--no--"Wait--"Wait for what, who? I
did not care. Eet? No, Eet was dead. And I would bedead. Death was not
caring, not needing to care, or feel, or think-- And Iwanted just that--no
more stirring of life, which hurt both mind and body.Eet was dead, and I
was dead, or would be if the' pricking would only stopand leave me in
peace."Awake--"Awake? I thought it was "wait." Not that it mattered. Nothing
mattered--"Awake!"A shouting in my head. I hurt and that hurting came from
outside. I turnedmy head from side to side, as if to shake out the voice in
my mind."Keep awake!" screamed that order and the pain it caused me
aroused mefurther from my stupor. I was moaning a little, whimpering through
the darka plea to be let alone, left to the death which was rest."Keep
awake!"Hammering inside my skull. Now I could hear my own whimpering plaint
and wasunable to stop. But also with the pain came an awareness which was a
barrieragainst my slipping back into the nothingness."Awake--hold--"Hold what?
My rolling head? There was nothing to hold.Then I sensed, not words echoing
through my bruised mind, but somethingelse--a stiffening, a support against
which my feeble thoughts could findroot and sustenance. And this continued
until I stared wide-eyed into thedark, as much another person inwardly as
I had been outwardly with thehallucinations born of the zero stone. For
only a limited time, somehow Iknew, would that support me. And during that
time I must make any attempt Icould to help myself. Chapter FifteenSomehow I
got to my feet, still holding Eet against me with my" good arm, myother
hanging uselessly by my side. I was ready to move, but where, againstwhat--or
whom? Realizing I was still helplessly caught in this pocket ofdark, I was
ready to slump again into a stupor."Wait--be ready--" There was a sense of
strain in that message, as if he whosent it were making a vast effort.Well, I
was waiting and ready, but for how long? And in this dark timeseemed
forever and ever, not measured by any standard I had known.Then came sound, a
small grating, and I knew a leap of heart--I was notblind after all!
There was a line of light to my right. I lurched in thatdirection as that
line grew from a slit into an opening I could squeezethrough --though I
was blinking against the discomfort of light.I brought out and up against the
wall of the well which was the core of theship, too spent for a moment to
turn and see who had freed me. But leaningone shoulder against the wall, I
was able to face about.Zilwrich, whom I had last seen lying on the pallet,
supported himself withhis two arms rigid against "the floor, clearly at the
end of the flutter ofstrength which had made him crawl to the door of my cell.
He lifted his headwith manifest effort."You--are--free-- To you--the
rest--"Free but weaponless, and as near the end of my resources as the
Zacathan,though not yet finished. Somehow I was able to lay Eet on the floor,
get mygood arm about Zilwrich, and half drag the Zacathan back to the bed
he hadcrawled from. Then I stumbled out, picked up the mutant, and brought
himback, nursed against me, though no tending would return life to that
smallbody."Tell me." I used the Basic speech, glad to be able to relinquish
touch withthat bewildering alien mind. "What happened?""Ryzk"--Zilwrich spoke
slowly as if each word came hard--"would go toLylestane--return me--the
treasure--""And turn us in," I ended, "probably as accomplices in Guild
plotting.""He--wishes--reinstatement. I did not know you had returned
alive--untilyour mind-seek. He said--you died --when we went into hyper."I
glanced down at the limp body pressed to mine. "One of us did."I might be free
inside the ship, but that I could do anything to change thecourse of events
I doubted. Ryzk would return us to Lylestane andwe--I--would find the
balance of justice heavily weighted against me. Notonly were circumstances
largely in the pilot's favor, but under the scannerthey would have out of
me all that the zero stone meant. And--the zerostone! Eet had concealed it
somewhere in the LB. As far as I knew Ryzk didnot suspect it. If I could get
hand on it again-- I was not sure how I coulduse it as a weapon. But that it
had possiblities of this sort there was nodoubt. The LB-but Eet had hidden
the stone and Eet was dead.The bowl--if I had that I could trace the zero
stone by the fire of the oneinlaid in it."The treasure--where is it?""In the
lock safe." Zilwrich's eyes were on me with piercing keenness, buthe was
ready enough with that information.The lock safe-- If Ryzk had sealed that
with his own thumb, I had no chanceof getting the bowl. The compartment
would remain closed until he chose torelease it."No." It would seem that like
Eet the Zacathan could readily read my mind,but that did not matter. "No--it
is sealed to me.""He allowed that?""He had to. What is this thing you must
have--that the bowl will bring younearer to--a weapon?""I do not know if it
can be a weapon. But it is a source of power beyond ourreckoning. Eet hid it
in the LB; the bowl will find it for me.""Help me--to the lock safe."It was a
case of the lame leading the crippled. We made a hard journey of ashort space.
But I was able to steady the alien while he activated the thumblock and I
scooped out the bowl. He held it tightly to him as I guided andsupported him
back to his bed.Before he released the bowl to me he turned it around
in his hands,examining it closely. Finally one of his finger talons tapped
the tiny zerostone."This you seek.""We have long sought it, Eet and I."
There was no use in concealing thetruth any longer. We might not make
the voyage we had planned, going outamong the uncharted stars in search of an
ancient world which was the sourceof the stones, but it was the here and now
which mattered most--the findingof the one Eet had hidden."It is a map, and
you hunt the treasure you believe lies at its end?""More than such treasure
as you found in the tomb." And, as tersely as Icould, I told him the story
of the zero stones--the one in my father's ring,those of the caches on the
unknown planet, that which Eet had secreted, andhow we had used it since."I
see. Take this then." Zilwrich held out the bowl. "Find your hiddenstone.
It would seem that we were on the edge of a vast discovery when weuncovered
this--but one which would unleash perils such as a man thinkstwice about
loosing."I held the bowl to me as I had held Eet, using my shoulder against
the wallto keep erect, shambling from Zilwrich's cabin to the ladder, down
which Ifell rather than climbed, to reach the LB's berth. The last steps of
thatjourney were such a drain that I could hardly take them.Then I was back in
the craft which had served us so well. I fought to keepmoving, holding the
bowl a little away from ne now, watching the zero stone.It glimmered and then
broke into vivid life. But it was hard to see how Icould use it as a
guide, since there seemed no variation in that light.However, I must try.I
moved jerkily, first to the tail, without any change I could detect in
thedegree of emanation from the bowl stone. But as I came up the right side
ofthe small ship on return the bowl moved in my grasp, fought my hold.
Ireleased it. As the zero stone, on its first awakening, had pulled me
acrossspace to the derelict ship where others of its kind lay, so did the
bowlcross, to hang suspended against a part of the casing. I jerked and tore
atthe rim of the casing, hoping Eet had not been able to seal in the stone
tootightly. As my nails broke and my fingers were lacerated by the sharp
edgingI began to despair. One-handed there was little I could do to force
it.But I continued to fight, and at last I must have touched what lock
wasthere, for a whole section of panel fell down and I saw the brilliant
blazeof the large stone within. The bowl snapped to meet it until stone
touchedstone, and I did not try to part them. With the bowl I began to
retrace myway. When I subsided beside Zilwrich, the bowl on the floor
between us, helooked at the gems but seemed as content as I at that moment to
do no more.Not only was I too weak to prod my body to more effort, but my
thoughts weredulled, slow. Now that I had found the second stone, I could not
see any wayto make use of it against Ryzk. It seemed that, having achieved
this onesmall success, I was finished.Eet lay on the edge of the Zacathan's
pallet and one of the alien's scaledhands rested on the mutant's head."This
one is not dead--"I was startled out of my lethargy. "But--""There is still
the spark of life, very low, very dim, but there."I was no medico, and even
if I had been I would have had no knowledge todeduce the mutant's hurts. My
own helplessness was an added burden. Eetwould die and there was nothing I
could do--Or was there?For a little beyond Eet's head was the bowl, the
stones close-weldedtogether. The zero stone was power. It had the power to
turn us into theseeming of others and hold that seeming. And I had been
able to turn Eetinto a cat because I had sprung that change on him when he
did not expectit. Could I will, not change, but will life itself into the
mutant's body?As long as there was a faint spark left, I must try.I took the
left hand on my limp and useless arm with my right, moved thenumb palm to
rest on the stones, not caring if I would be burned. At least Iwould not feel
it. The right I put on Eet's head. I set my mind to the task,summoning, not
some strange disguise for my companion, but rather the sightof him as he was
alive. So did I fight my battle--with mind, with a handwhich will always
bear the scars, with my determination, against deathitself, or what Eet's
kind knew as the end of existence. And I strove withthe power passing
through me to find that spark Zilwrich said existed, tofan it into flame.
The stones made a fire to fill one's sight, shutting outthe cabin, the
Zacathan, even Eet, but I continued to hold the image of thelive Eet in my
mind. My eyes which had been useless in the dark of the cellwere now blinded
again, by light. But I held fast in spite of that in mewhich cringed, and
cried, and tried to flee.Nor was I truly conscious of why I fought that
battle, save that it was onewhich I must face to the end. I was at last done,
my seared hand lying palmup on my knee, the bowl and stone hidden from me by
a fold of cloth. Eet nolonger lay limp, with the semblance of death, but sat
on his haunches, hispaw-hands folded over his middle, his stance one of
alert life, of completerestoration. I caught communication, or the edge of it,
between the Zacathanand my companion. But so difficult was it now for me to
hold to any thoughtthat it was more like hearing a murmur or whisper from
across a room.Eet moved with all his old agility, bringing out the aid kit,
seeing to myhand, giving me also a shot to counteract the hurt in my arm. But
to me thishad little or no meaning. I watched the Zacathan agree to
something Eetsuggested and the mutant carry the bowl out of the room--into
hiding again,I supposed. But all I wanted was sleep.Hunger awoke me. I was
still in the Zacathan's cabin. If Ryzk had paid him avisit during the time I
slept he had not seen fit to return me to custody.But that I had slept
worried me vaguely. There was much to be done and I hadfailed to do it.Eet
whisked in, almost as if my waking had sent him some signal. He carriedin
his mouth as he came two of those tubes of E-rations. And seeing them,for a
second or two I forgot all else. But when I had squeezed one into mymouth
and savored the first few swallows (though normally I would not
haveconsidered them appetizing) I had a question:"Ryzk?""We can do nothing
while in hyper," Eet reported. "And he has found his ownamusement. It seems
that this ship was not thoroughly searched when it wastaken in as a
smuggler. Somehow Ryzk uncovered a supply of vorx and is nowhaving sweet
dreams in his cabin."Vorx was potent enough to give anyone dreams-- though
whether they we'resweet was another question. It was not only an
intoxicating drink, but soacted on Terran bodies that it was also
hallucinatory. That Ryzk had beensearching the ship did not surprise me
either. The boredom of space travelwould set any man immured within these
walls during hyper passage to do suchto relieve his tedium. And Ryzk might
have known this was a smuggler soldafter confiscation."He had help--" Eet
commented. There was such a bubbling renewal ofwell-being in him as
made me envious, perhaps tired of being on the edgewash of such energy."From
you?""From our distinguished colleague." Eet nodded to the Zacathan."It would
seem that Ryzk's weakness is drink," Zilwrich agreed. "While it iswrong of
anyone to play upon another's weakness, there are times when such afall from
Full Grace is necessary. I deemed that I might take on error-loadfor once in
this way. We need Ryzk's room rather than his company.""If we come out of
hyper in the Lylestane system we shall be in Patrolterritory," I replied a
little sourly."It is possible to come out and go in again before a challenge
of boardingcan be delivered," Zilwrich returned. "I have a duty to report
the raid onour camp, that is true. But I have also a duty to those who sent
my partythere. This map is such a find as we come upon perhaps once in a
thousandyears. If we can find a clue to the location of the planet it marks,
then ascouring trip thither at this time means more than arousing the law
as towhat has happened in one raid.""But Ryzk is pilot. He will not agree to
go off known charts. And if he'smade up his mind to turn us in--""Off the
charts," repeated the Zacathan thoughtfully. "Of that we cannot besure as yet.
Look--"He produced a tri-dee projector which I knew to be part of the
equipment ofthe control cabin. At a push of his finger there flashed on
the wall ablowup of a star chart. Being no astro-navigator, I could not read
it to anyreal purpose, save that I could make out the position of stars and
sight thecoded co-ordinates for hyper jumps under each."This is on the edge of
the dead strip," Zilwrich informed me. "To your leftand third from the
corner is the blasted system of Waystar. It must havebeen scouted three
centuries ago, by your time, from the dates on thischart. This is one of
the old Blue maps. Now, look upon the bowl, imaginethat the dead sun on that
system is a red dwarf, turn the bowl two degreesleft--"I held up the bowl
and rotated it slowly, looking from it to the tri-deechart on the wall.
Though I was not taught to read such maps I could see hewas right! Not only
did the blasted system we had just fled appear on thebowl as one about the
red-dwarf star--a dying sun --but there was a courseto be traced from that
to the zero stone."No co-ordinates for hyper," I pointed out. "It would be
the most recklesskind of guesswork. And even a scout trained for exploring
jumps would takechances of two comets to a star of coming out safe.""Look at
the bowl through this." It would seem that Eet must have beengathering
aids from all over the ship, for what the Zacathan handed me nowwas my own
jeweler's lens.As   I inspected the constellation engraved on the metal
through themagnification of the lens I saw there were minute identations
there, thoughI could not translate any."Their hyper code perhaps," the
Zacathan continued."Still no good to us.""Of that I am not sure. We have those
of the dead system--from that--""You can work?" Of course, he was an
archaeologist and such puzzles werecommon to him. I lost something of my mood
of depression. Perhaps because myhunger had been satisfied and I could now
use my arm and hand to betteradvantage, I was regaining confidence not
only in myself but in theknowledge and ingenuity of my companions.When I
put the bowl on the floor, open side down so that its star-speckeddome was
revealed, Eet squatted by it. He had taken up the lens, holding itin his
paw-hands, his head bent over it as if his nose were smelling out thepictured
solar systems."It can be done." His thought was not only clear; it was as
confident as ifthere had been no obstructions at all between us and success.
"We return tothe dead system by reversing Ryzk's tape--""And so straight
into what may be a vla-wasp nest," I commented. "Butcontinue. Perhaps you
have an answer for that also. Then what do we do,unless the Honorable
Elder"--I gave Zilwrich the proper title of formaladdress--"can read these
co-ordinates."Eet did not close his mind as he had upon occasion, but I read a
side flashof what might be indecision. I had never read fear in
Eet'scommunications--awareness of danger, but not fear. But this had the aura
ofjust that emotion.And inspiration hit me in the same instant. "You can read
these!" I had notperhaps meant it as an accusation, but it came forth that
way.His head turned on his too-long neck so that he could look at me."Old
habits, memories, die hard," he answered obliquely, as he sometimesdid.
He turned the lens about, giving me the impression of uneasiness, ofone
wanting to escape coming to a decision.I caught a flicker of alien mind-flow,
and for a moment resented thatcommunication I could not share. It was my
guess that the alien and themutant might be in argument about just the
knowledge I accused Eet ofhaving."Just so." Eet resumed touch with me. "No,
I cannot read these. But they areenough like another form of record for me to
guess to more purpose than therest of you." And such was the finality of
that answer that I knew betterthan to try to pry at how he could be familiar
with any record approximatingthat of a Forerunner race living millenniums ago.
The old problem of who--orwhat--Eet was crossed my mind.Though he made no
comment, the impression remained that any guessing hewould do would be
against his inclination and that he had a personal reasonfor disliking the
situation fortune had forced upon him.It seemed that now I was to serve as
his hands. And back in the controlcabin I made ready to follow his
instructions to reverse the course Ryzk hadset and return us, as soon as we
emerged near Lylestane, to the vicinity ofWaystar. Ryzk did not appear.
Apparently the smugglers' drink was of greatpotency. What would have happened
when we came out of hyper and he was notat the controls, I do not know.
Perhaps we would have aimlessly cruised theLylestane system as a traffic
hazard until some Patrol ship linked beam anddragged us in as a derelictI
punched out the figures Eet fed me and we were wrenched back on a returncourse
once again from Lylestane. Once more in hyper, we had plenty of timeto
meditate on the numerous dangers our appearance near Waystar would
rangeagainst us. Certainly our successful escape with the treasure had
alertedall the defenses of the pirate stronghold. They would be expecting a
visitfrom the Patrol on one hand, now that strangers knew the co-ordinates
oftheir hide-out, and trouble from others, perhaps even the Guild,
demandingan account of how or why loot could be so summarily removed from
what wasbelieved to be an impregnable safe place.The only answer would be
that we dared not linger long enough in the deadsystem to be detected. Our
unarmed ship had no defense against what theJacks could easily muster.
Therefore, we must follow exactly the sameprocedure we had on emerging
near Lylestane: We must have the other courseready to punch in and spend as
little time in normal space as we could.Success in that maneuver would
depend entirely on what Zilwrich and Eetcould produce in the way of a new
course. And since I was no help to them,the ship and Ryzk were my concern.My
most practical answer to Ryzk was to apply a force lock on his cabin.
Hesobered up when we were back in hyper and his struggle with the door
lockled me to state through the intercom that we had taken over. More than
thatI did not explain, and I turned off the com thereafter, so his demands
wentunheard. E-rations and water went to him through the regular supply vent
andI left him to consider, soberly I hoped, the folly of the immediate past
inrelationship to the Wendwind and her owners.For the rest I tinkered in the
small repair shop. The crossbows Ryzk hadearlier produced I refined, making
more zoran heads for their bolts. I hadno mind to go exploring on an
unknown planet unarmed, as I had once done inthe past If by some miracle of
fortune we did reach the world indicated bythe zero stone, we would not
know what we might face there. It could be aplanet on which those of our kind
could not live without suits; it could beinhabited by beings infinitely
superior to us in every way, who would be ashostile to strangers as the Veeps
of Waystar. Though the civilization thebowl represented must have ended
eons past, others could have arisen fromthe degenerate dregs of that, and we
might face such challengers as we couldnot even imagine. When I got to that
point of my speculations, I handled mycrossbows with very bleak attention to
all their manifest defects.Our first test would come when we left hyper in
the dead system. As thatmoment approached I was tense and nervy. I saw
practically nothing of Eetand Zilwrich except when I supplied them with
food and drink. And I wasalmost tempted to let Ryzk out of his cabin in
order to have someone tomatch fears with. But when the alarm shattered the
too-great silence of theship, Eet was on hand in the control cabin. He
curled into my lap as Isettled in the pilot's seat--though he kept his mind
closed, as if it werefull of some precious knowledge and sharing that too
soon might spill whatcould not be regained. We came out of hyper and I punched
the proper buttonsfor a reading of our present site. At least fortune had
favored us to thepoint that we had emerged very close to that place where we
had entered onour first trip, at the outer edge of the dead system.But we
were given very little time to congratulate ourselves on besting whatwas
perhaps the smallest portion of the ordeal facing us. For there was analarm
ringing wildly through the cabin. We had been caught by a snooper andnow we
could expect a traction beam. My hands rested on the edge of thecontrol
board. I was ready to punch out the course Eet supplied. But wouldhe feed me
one, and could I set it quickly enough to avoid the linkage whichwould hold us
for taking by the enemy?Chapter SixteenEet was ready for me, though the
co-ordinates he flashed into my mind had nomeaning for me. I was merely the
means of putting finger tip to controls topunch them in. Only, it seemed
those fingers did not move fast enough. Icould feel the force of the locking
beam catch at our ship.We passed into hyper. But once the dizzy spin in my
head cleared and I knewwe had made the transition, I was aware that we had
brought our enemy withus. Instead of snapping the lock beam in our return
to hyper, we had,through some balance of force against force, dragged the
source of that beamwith us! We had danger locked to the ship, ready to
attack as soon as wemoved into normal space again.There is no maneuvering
in hyper. To do so would be to nullify theco-ordinates. And one would
emerge utterly lost in space, if one were lucky,or perhaps in the very heart
of a blazing sun. We were both prisoners hereuntil we finished the voyage the
Zacathan and Eet had set us. But there wasthis much: The enemy was as
helpless as we--until we went out. And not beingprepared for hyper transfer,
they might be badly shaken, though they wouldhave the length of our trip in
which to pull themselves together."Jern!" Ryzk bawled through the ship's
com. "Jern, what are you trying todo?"It sounded very much as if the
pilot not only had recovered from hisdrinking bout but was genuinely
alarmed. Alarmed enough, I speculated, to bewilling to work with us? Not that
I trusted him now.I picked up the mike. "We are in hyper--with a
companion.""We're linked!" he roared back."I said we had a companion. But he
cannot move any better than we. We areboth in hyper.""Going where?""You
name it!" Our momentary escape was acting on me like a shot of exult.Not that
I had ever tried the stuff, but I had heard enough to judge thatthis must
be akin to the heady feeling those addicts gained. When we snappedout of hyper
we might be in grave danger, but we had now a respite and timeto plan. But
his question echoed in my mind. Going where? To a planet whichmight or might
not still exist. And if it did--what would it be like?At that moment I felt as
if I would more than anything like to be a believerin the gods of the
planet-rooted. This was the time when one would prefer tokneel in some fane as
did, say, the Alfandi, thrusting a god-call deep intoground already pitted
with holes left by other's rods, pulling hard upon thecord which would set its
top quivering to give off the faint sound meant toreach the ear--if one
might grant a spiritual being an ear--of that HighOne, and thus alerting the
Over-Intelligence to listen to one's plea. I hadmet with the worshippers of
many gods and many demons on many worlds. Andcomplete belief gave a man
security which was denied to the onlooker. Thatthere was a purpose behind
the Galaxy I would be the first to agree. But Icould not bow my head to a
planet-based god.There was one belief I had read in the old tapes, that
brain and mind arenot the same. That the brain is allied to the body and
serves it, while themind is able to function in more than one
dimension--hence esper talents,born of the mind and not the brain.Now when
I came from the control cabin I found Zilwrich seated on hispallet, and
it seemed that he tried to prove the truth of this old theory,for he held
between his two hands the bowl. His eyes were closed and he wasbreathing in
small, shallow gasps. Eet, who had preceded me at his usualspeed, had
taken a position which mimicked that of the Zacathan, his smallhand-paws
resting on the rim of the bowl, his eyes also closed. And therewas an aura
of esper power which even I could feel.What they were trying to do I did not
know. But I felt that my presence wasan intrusion there. I backed away,
closing the door behind me. But at thesame time my triumph ebbed. And the
fact that we had a companion locked tous began to assume the shadow of
menace. If Ryzk could only be trusted!Perhaps he could as long as his
own skin was in danger. The coordinateswhich had brought us here--I
reclimbed the way to the control cabin. We hadused a return of Ryzk's
setting to take us back to the dead system. SupposeI now erased those
co-ordinates from the tape. Then no move of Ryzk's couldreturn us, only what
lay in Eet's and the Zacathan's memories. Loosed in theunknown, the pilot
would be no great danger, and we needed badly anyknowledge he might
have to help us to deal with the enemy once we returnedto normal space. I set
the erase on the tape before allowing myself to havesecond thoughts. Then I
went to unseal the pilot's cabin. He lay on his bunkbut turned his head to
stare at me as I stood in the doorway. I had notbrought one of the
crossbows. After all, I was trained in a variety ofweaponless fighting
methods, and I did not think we were less than evenlymatched, since he had
nothing save similar skills to use against me."What are we doing?" He had
lost the anger tinged with alarm which hadcolored his first demand through
the com."Heading for a point on a Forerunner chart.""Who's linked with
us?""Someone out of Waystar is our best guess.""They followed us!" He was
genuinely astonished. I shook my head. "We cameback to the Waystar system.
It was the only recognizable point of referenceon the chart."He turned his
head away, now looking to the ceiling. "So--what happens whenwe come out of
hyper?""With luck we are in a system not on the charts. But --can we break
linkagewhen we come out of hyper?"He did not answer at once. There was a
sharp frown line between his brows.And then he replied to my question with
another."What are you after, Jern?""Perhaps a whole world of Forerunner
artifacts. What is that worth?""Why ask me? Anyone knows that is not to be
reckoned in credits. Is Zilwrichbehind this? Or is it your gamble?""Both.
Zilwrich and Eet together set up the co-ordinates."He grimaced. "So we sweat
out a landing, maybe to be sun-cooked or worsewhen we come out--""And if we
are not, but take the others with us?" I brought him back to thematter over
which we might have some control.He sat up. The sickly-sweet smell of the
drink was strong. But to my eyes heappeared sober. Now he put his elbows on
his knees and bent over to rest hishead on his hands. I could no longer see
his face. He sighed."All right. In hyper we can't switch course. So we can't
try to shake themloose. We can set the emerge on high velocity. It will mean
blacking out,maybe taking a bearing. But it is the only way I know of to
break the link.We will have to rig special webbing or we won't survive at
all.""And if we do break the link?""If we pulled them in with us, the course
is only set on our ship. The breakwill take us out, not them. They would have
to gamble on an emerge. It mightland them in the same system, or somewhere
else. How do I know? I say it isbarely possible. I am not planning on more
than one thin chance in tenthousand." And his voice said that was very
optimistic odds."You can do it?""It looks as if we have no choice. Yes, I
can rig it, given time enough.What are the odds if we come out still
linked?""We are unarmed, and they can take us over. They have no use for
us, onlywhat we carry."He sighed again. "About what I thought. You're all
fools and I have to goalong."But perhaps he was not wholly convinced until we
entered the control cabinand he pushed past me to read the dial above the
journey setting."Erased!" He whirled to face me, his lips twisted into a
snarl."No turning back." I braced myself, tensed against attack. Then I saw
hiseyes change and knew that if he meant me harm in the future, he was
willingto wait for such a reckoning. The main interest now must be the ship
and ourpossible manner of escape from our unseen companion.Just as Eet and
Zilwrich in their mysterious occupation with the bowl hadgiven me no
explanations, so did Ryzk keep his own counsel about thealterations he
made in some wiring. But he did keep me with him as a veryignorant
assistant, to hand tools, to hold this or that while he madedelicate
adjustments."This will have to be redone," he said, "before we make a return.
It is onlytemporary. I cannot even swear it will work. We'll need heavy
webs--"We set about providing those, too. The two shock-prepared seats in
thecontrol cabin were reinforced with what we could strip off the bunks in
ourtwo cub-bys. Then we descended to the section where Eet and the
Zacathanwere in session to provide Zilwrich with such safeguards as we
could rig.Eet, I supposed, would share my seat as usual.I tapped lightly on
the door behind which I had left the two enwrapt, withthe bowl between
them."Enter," called Zilwrich. He lay now, his whole body expressive of a
vastexhaustion. I could not see the bowl. Eet, too, lay there, but his head
cameup and he watched us almost warily. I explained what we would do."This
thing is possible?"Again Ryzk shrugged. "I cannot swear to it on my name, if
that is what youmean. It remains theoretical until we prove it one way or
another. But ifwhat you say is true, we have little choice.""Very well," the
Zacathan agreed. I waited for some comment, pro or con,from Eet. But such
did not come. And that made me uneasy. But I would notpress him, lest he
confirm my worst doubts. It is better not to be met bypessimism when the
situation already looks dark.But Zilwrich had suggestions as to the rigging we
must provide to counteractthe strain on his body. And we carried out his
instructions with all theskill we could summon. When we fastened the last of
the improvised webbingRyzk arose and stretched."I'll take cabin watch," he
said as if there was no disputing that. But Idid not miss the sudden flicker
of eye Zilwrich made in my direction, asthough he expected me to protest.
However, we did not have Ryzk's experienceand training in the pilot's seat.
And with the erase on I did not see how hecould do any harm.He could have no
reason to wish to surrender to a Waystar force. And theywould give him, I
was certain, no time to parley if he tried it. He left andI said to Eet via
thought-send: "The tape is on erase. He cannot send usback.""An elementary
precaution," Eet returned crushingly. "If he does not kill usall at emerge,
and his theory works, we may have a small chance.""You do not sound too sure
of that." My inner uneasiness increased."Machines are machines and cannot be
made to function too far from theirnorm, or they will cease to function at
all. However, doubtless this is theonly answer. And we shall have other
matters to consider after the emerge.""Such as what?" I was not prepared to
accept vagueness now. Forewarned isalways forearmed."We have tried
psychometry," the Zacathan broke in. "I am not greatlytalented in that
direction, but the two of us working so--"The term he used meant nothing to me
and he must have read my ignorance, forhe explained, and I was glad that it
was he and not the mutant, for he didnot condescend."One concentrates upon
some object and he who has the talent can so gatherinformation concerning its
past owners. There is, of course, the belief thatany object connected with
high emotion in usage, say a sword used in battle,will carry the most vivid
impressions to be picked up by the sensitive."And the bowl?""Unfortunately it
has been a center point for the emotions of more than oneindividual, of more
than one species even. And some of those owners musthave been far removed
from the norm we accept today. Thus we received a massof emotional residue,
some violent. Many impressions are overlaid, one uponanother. It is as if
one took a tattered skin, put over it a second, alsorent but in other places,
and over that a third such, then tried to see whatlay beneath those unmatched
rents."Our supposition that the bowl might be much older than the tomb in
which itwas found, belonging to a people different from those with whom
it wasburied, is right. For we have deduced, though it is very hard to
define anyone well, at least four overlays left by former possessors.""And the
zero stone?""That perhaps is the source of some of the difficulty we
encountered. Theforce which animates it might well govern the
unfortunate mixture ofimpressions. But this we can tell you--the map was of
prime importance tothose who first wrought it, though the bowl itself
meant more to laterpossessors.""Suppose we do find the source of the stones,"
I said. "What then? We cannothope to control the traffic in them. Any man
who has a monopoly on atreasure sets himself up as a target for the
rest.""A logical deduction," Zilwrich agreed. "We are four. And a secret
such asthis cannot remain a secret long, because of the nature of what we
mustexploit. Like it or not, you--we--shall have to deal with the
authorities,or else live hunted men.""We can choose the authorities with
whom we deal," I replied, an ideaforming in my mind."Logical and perhaps
the best." Eet cut across my thought, picking it up inits half-formed state,
following it straight to a decisive conclusion."And if those authorities are
Zacathan--" I said it aloud. Zilwrich eyed me."You pay us much honor.""By
right." It gave me a small quirk of shame to have to answer so, to admitthat
it was the alien whom I might trust above those of my own species. Yetthat was
so. And I would hand to any one of their Council the secret of whatwe found
here (if we found anything worth the title of secret) morewillingly
than I would to any of my own leaders. The Zacathans have neverbeen empire
builders, never sought colonies among the stars. They areobservers,
historians, teachers at times. But they were never swayed by thepassions,
desires, fanaticism which has from the first made both greatheroes and
villains among my own kind."And if this secret might well be one not to be
shared?" Zilwrich asked."That, too, I could accept," I said promptly. But I
knew that I did notspeak for Eet, or for Ryzk, who must now be included as
one of our number."We shall see," Eet answered, his reservations plain. Not
for the first timeI wondered whether Eet's dogged insistence that the quest
of the stone'ssource be our main goal did not have some reason he had
never shared withme. And then, could I, myself, completely surrender the
stones, knowing whatI could do with them, knowing that perhaps there was
more, much more, wemight learn from them? Supposing the Zacath-ans advised us
to hide, destroy,blot out all we know of the gems. Could I agree to that with
no regret?Later I lay in my cabin thinking. Eet, lying beside me, did not
touch thosethoughts. But at last, to escape a dilemma I could not resolve
until we hadpassed many it's and buts in the future, I asked the mutant:"This
reading of the past of the bowl, what did you learn of its past?""As Zilwrich
said, there were several pasts and they were overlaid, mixedwith one another
until what we gained was so disjointed it was difficult toread any part of
it and be sure we were correct. It was not made by thosewho fashioned the
tomb. They came, I believe, long after, finding itthemselves as a
treasure-trove, leaving it with some ruler to whom theywished to pay
funeral honor."The source of the stone--" he hesitated and the thought I
picked up was oneof puzzlement--"was not clear. Save that we do go now, if we
have read theco-ordinates right, to that source. And the stone was set in the
chart as aguide to those to whom it was very important. But that its native
planet wastheir world of origin--that I do not think is the truth either.
However, thereading was enough to set one's mind upside down, and the less I
rethink onit the better!" With that he snapped mind-touch and curled into a
ball tosleep. A state I followed.The warning that we were at the end to our
journey in hyper came some timelater. As the Zacathan had assured us when we
rigged his protection that hecould manage it by himself, I made speed to the
control cabin, Eet with me.Soon I was well wrapped in my webbing, watching
Ryzk in a like cocoon at thecontrols, trying to relax when the final test of
our drastic emerge came.It was bad, as bad or perhaps a fraction worse than
that which had hit whenwe had joined the ship in the LB before the other
jump-- Only this time wehad all the protection Ryzk's experience had been
able to devise, and wecame out in better shape.As soon as I was fully
conscious I looked to the radar. There were pointsregistering on it, but
they marked planets, not the ship locked to usthrough hyper."We did it!"
Ryzk almost shouted. At the same time Eet scrambled along mystill nearly
immobilized body. I saw then what he held in a forepaw againsthis upper
belly--the zero stone.It was blazing with a brilliance I had not seen before
except when we hadput it to action. Yet now it was not adding to any power
of ours. The glaregrew, hurting the eyes. Eet gave an exclamation of pain and
dropped it. Hetried to pick it up again, but it was clear he could not use
his paw-handnear that spot of fire. Now I could not even look directly at it.I
wondered if it was about to eat its way through the deck by the heat itwas
engendering."Blanket it!" Eet's cry was a warning. "Think dark-black!"The
power of his own thought swept mine along with it. I bent what mentalenergy
I could summon to thinking dark. That we were able to control thesurge of
energy in the stone by such means astounded me. That awfulbrilliance
faded. However, the stone did not return to its original dulllifelessness;
it continued to contain a core of light which set it above anygem I had ever
known and it lay in a small hollow which its power had meltedout of the
substance of the deck."Pliers--" I did not know whether they would help, for
the heat of the stonemight melt any metal touching it. But we could not
pick it up in barefingers and we dared not leave it lie, maybe to eat
straight through thefabric of the ship level by level.Ryzk stared at it,
unable to understand just what had happened. But I hadpulled out of the
cocoon of webbing and managed to reach the box of tools hehad used earlier.
With pliers in hand I knelt to pick up the gem, fearing Imight find it welded
to the floor.But it came away, though I could still feel heat and see that a
hole in thedeck beneath it was nearly melted through. Once on land, once in
space, onceon the edge of the wreckage we had used the zero stone as a
guide. Couldthis small gem now bring us to the final goal of its home
world?We did not need it, since the bowl chart had already located the planet
forus, fourth out from the sun. And oddly enough, once placed within the
bowl,the furious blaze of the loose stone subsided into a fraction of its
glow,as if the bowl governed the energy.Though we kept a watch on the radar,
there was no sign that the enemy hadfollowed us into this system. And Ryzk set
course for the fourth planet.I half expected that time would have wrought a
change in the sun, that itmight have gone nova, imploded into a red dwarf,
even burned out. But thiswas not so. It tested in the same class as was
indicated on the ancientchart. We went into scan orbit, our testers
questing to inform us it wastruly Arth type, though we were suspicious enough
to keep all indicators onalert. What we picked up on our viewers was amazing.
I knew that Terra, fromwhich my species had come into an immeasurably
ancient galaxy, had beenmonstrously overcrowded in the last days before
general emigration to thestars began--that cities had soared skyward,
tunneled into depths, eatentheir way across most of the continental land
masses, even swung out intothe seas. I knew that, but I had never seen it.
Terran by descent I am, butTerra is across the galaxy now and more than half
legend. Oh, we see the oldtri-dees and listen to archaic tapes which are
copied over and over again.But much of what we see is meaningless and there
are long arguments as towhat really did or did not exist in the days before
Terrans roamed the starlanes. Now I looked upon something like the jostling,
crowded--terriblycrowded--erections those tri-dees had shown. This was a
planet where noempty earth, no sign of vegetation showed. It was covered,
on the landmasses by buildings, and even across the seas by strings of large
platformswhich were too regular in outline to be islands. The whole gave
one aterrible sensation of claustrophobia, of choking pressure, of
erectionagainst erection, or against the earth of its foundations.We passed
from day to night in our orbit. But on the dark side no lightshowed. If
there was life below--But how could there be? They would be smothered, pushed,
wedged out ofexistence! I could not conceive of life here."There is a landing
port," Ryzk said suddenly, but he had a keener eye thanI, or else we had swung
over and past what he had seen. To me there was nobreak in that infernal
mass of structures."Can you land?" I asked, knowing that treasure or no
treasure, stone or nostone, I must force myself to set foot down there."On
deters," Ryzk said. "Orbit twice for a bearing. There are no guidebeams.
Probably deserted." But he looked far from happy, and I thoughtperhaps
he might share some of my feeling about what lay below.He began to set a
course. Then we lay back in our seats, our eyes on thevisa-screen, watching
the dead city-world reach up--for that was what itseemed to be doing--as if
its towers were ready to drag us down to the worldthey had completely
devoured.Chapter SeventeenIt was a tribute to Ryzk's skill that our landing
was three-point, exactlyon fins. He rode the ship down her tail rockets as
only a master pilot coulddo. Ad not for the first time I was led to wonder
what had exiled him fromhis kind--drink alone? Then we lay in our webbing
watching the visa-screenas our snooper made a complete circuit of what lay
about us, reporting itwithin. With that report I came to respect Ryzk's skill
even more. It was asif we had been threaded into a slit between walls of
towers whose assaultagainst the sky was such that one could not
immediately adjust one'sthoughts to what one's eyes reported. Only now
that we were in that forestof man-made giants could we see the hurts time had
dealt them.For the most part they were either gray-brown or a blue-green in
color, andthere was no sign of seam or join as one might sight with stone
blocks orthe like. But there were cracks in their once smooth sides, rents
in theirfabric, which were not windows or doors. We could see no
indication ofthose. Ryzk turned to check the atmosphere dials. "Arth type,
livable," hesaid. But he made no move to leave his webbing, nor did I.There
was something about those crowding lines of buildings which dwarfed,threatened
us, not actively, but by their being. We were as insects, unableto raise
ourselves from the dust in which we crawled, confronted by men whowere giants
with clouds gathering about their barely seen heads. And aboutit all there
hung a feeling that this was a place of old death. Not a decenttomb in which
honor had been paid to the one who slept there through thecenturies, but
rather a place in which decay had reduced to a commonanonymity all that
had meant aught--men, learning, belief-Nothing moved outthere. No flying
thing flitted among the towers. There was no sign ofvegetation. It was
truly a forest of bones long removed from life. We couldsee nothing to fear,
save that feeling which grew in us, or in me (thoughRyzk's actions led me to
believe he must share my uneasiness), that life hadno place here now."Let us
move!" That was Eet. There was a tenseness in his small body, aferal
eagerness in the way his head darted from side to side, as if he triedto focus
more intently on the visa-screen--though as that continued its slowsweep I saw
no change in the monotony of the towered vista.I left the webbing, Ryzk also.
The bowl with the zero stone was on the deck,with Eet crouched over it as if
he were on guard above its contents. And thestone blazed, though perhaps with
not the same intensity as earlier.We climbed down to join Zilwrich. The
Zacathan was on his feet, leaningagainst the wall. He looked to Eet and I
guessed some message passed betweenthem. I lent my shoulders to the Zacathan's
support and, together with Ryzk,aided him out of the hatch, down the ramp, to
the apron of the space port.There arose a hollow moaning and the pilot slewed
around in a half crouch,looking down one of the narrow passages between the
towers. Save for theopen pocket of the port, there was gloom unbroken in
those ways, such duskas I had seen in forests of other worlds. The moaning
shrilled and then ourstartlement vanished as we realized it was caused by the
wind. Perhaps thatacted upon the rents in the building to produce such
sounds.But outside the Wendwind the vast desolation was worse even than
it hadseemed on the screen. And I had not the slightest desire to go
exploring. Infact, I was gripped by the feeling that to venture away from the
port was toenter such a maze as one could never issue from again. As to
where tosearch-- Seen from the air, this planet-wide city covered all the
ground,part of the sea. We might be half, three quarters, or the world away
fromwhat we sought, and it would take days, months of searching--"I think
not!" Eet had brought the bowl with him. Now he held it out and wesaw the
double blaze of the point on its surface and of the jewel within. Heturned his
head sharply to the right. "That way!"But whatever lay "that way" might
still be leagues from the port. AndZilwrich could certainly not tramp any
distance on his unsteady feet, norwould I leave any of our party with
the ship this time. We had theflitter--if we could crowd two of us into
its cargo space, then we couldquest some distance above the surface.We
settled Zilwrich with Eet at the end of the ramp and returned to theship.
What supplies we had room for and the crossbows went into the flitter.Three
of us, plus Eet, would make such a heavy load we could not gain muchaltitude,
but it was the best we could do.The LB had been so modified it might take days
to alter it again, and we hadno time to waste.Judging by the sun, it was late
afternoon when we were ready. I suggestedwaiting until the morning, but to my
surprise the Zacathan and Eet overruledme. They had been in a huddle over
the bowl and seemed very sure of whatmust be done.As a matter of course
Eet took command after we packed ourselves into thesmall craft, using my
hands to his service. We hovered perhaps twice myheight from the ground,
then headed off sharply to the right, crossing theedge of the port, turning
down a dusky channel between the towers.The dark closed about us more and
more as the buildings cut out the sun.Again I wondered how men could have
lived here. Away from the port thereappeared aerial runways connecting the
buildings at different levels,crisscrossing into a net which finally grew
so thick as to shut off most ofthe light from the level at which we traveled.
Some of the ways were broken,and the debris of their disintegration weighted
those below, or had landedin a heap of remains on the surface of the break
below.We had the beamer on, and I cut the speed to hardly more than a hover
lestwe crash into one of those piles. Yet Eet seemed entirely sure of
ourdirection, sending me out of one half-filled lower way into another.Dusk
became full night. I had a growing fear we would be utterly lost,forever
unable to find our way back to the comparative open of the port.There was a
sameness to this level, just here and there the remains of abridge fallen
from the heights, the smooth bases of the buildings totallyunbroken by any
sign of an entrance.Then the beamer picked up a flash of movement. It had been
so quick that Ithought my imagination had betrayed me into thinking I had
seen it--untilour beam trapped the thing against one of the walls. So
cornered, it turnedto face us, slavering defiance, or perhaps fear.I have seen
many strange beings on many worlds, so that weird defectionsfrom what is
the norm to my species were not unknown to me. Yet there wassomething about
this thing in the dark and forgotten ruins which brought aninstant reaction
of loathing in me. Had I been in the open, a laser in myhand, I think I
would have slain it without thought or compassion.Only for a moment did we see
it so, backed against the unyielding buttress,pinned by the light. Then it was
gone, with such speed as left me astounded.It had gone on two legs, then
dropped to four. And the worst thing was thatit looked like a man. Or what
might have been a man eons ago, before timehad burned out all which makes
my kind more than an unthinking creature setupon survival alone."So it would
seem that the city still has its inhabitants," Zilwrichcommented."That
thing--what was it?" The disgust in Ryzk's voice matched my
ownemotion."Where did it go?""Turn to the left." Eet appeared unaffected
by what we had seen. "Inthere--""There" was the first opening I had
seen on the ground level of anybuilding. It was too regular to be another
rent. The gap was large enough toaccommodate the flitter. But I had a very
unpleasant suspicion that it wasalso where the scuttling creature had
disappeared. To search further wouldmean leaving the craft, and to be
trapped by that "thing" or others of itskind--Yet I obeyed Eet's direction,
bringing the flitter to a standing hoverwithin the shell of chamber beyond
that doorway. We were in a circularspace. If there had been any
furnishings, those were long since gone. Butthe floor was heaped with
gritty, flaky stuff which perhaps had once beenfittings. This was pathed,
beaten solid in some places. And the paths--therewere two of them--led
directly to another dark opening in the floor, a well.I moved the flitter
cautiously until we nosed the lip of that descent. Wecould indeed lower into
it in the machine. But to do this, unaware of whatmight lie below, was a
peril I was not ready to face. If I had such fears,Eet was not concerned
with them. He hung over the bowl in which the gemblazed."Down!" he urged.
"Now down!"I would have refused, but the Zacathan spoke."It is true. There
is a very strong force below us. And if we go withcaution--"I certainly
would not descend outside the flitter, but to go in it wouldgive us a
small measure of protection. Yet I thought it foolhardy to try atall. I fully
expected a protest from Ryzk. Only when I glanced to him I sawhe was as
bemused by the gem in the bowl as Eet.Moving out over the well I eased the
flitter onto settle-hover, thankfulthat we were using a craft meant for
exploration. And I kept a wary eye onthe walls as we began the descent at as
slow a speed as I could hold us to.What had been the original use of this
opening we could not know. But thatit was also a passage for later users was
apparent. Into the once smoothwalls had been pounded or wedged a series of
projections meant to serve ashand- and foot-holds, a very crude ladder. And
the bits and pieces so usedwere rough, some of them surely ripped from more
complex fittings. The workwas very bad, its quality far beneath that of the
city constructions, as ifit had been done by a race who was at a primitive
level.We were descending by floors, passing dark openings in the walls of
theshaft, as if that were a hub of a series of wheels whose spokes were
evenlyspaced passages. I counted six such levels, yet the circumference of
thewell did not dwindle in size as I feared it might. And though the
crudeladder led to several of the cross-corridor openings, it also continued
ondown and down, as if it served a vast warren of burrows.I watched the mouths
of any opening the ladder served, but there was no signof life, and our
beamer could not penetrate them very far. Down and down,six levels, ten, a
dozen, twenty--the wall grew no smaller. But it was agrowing strain to
hold the flitter on settle-hover at this slow speed. Andalways that ladder
kept pace with us. Fifty--"Soon, very soon now!" Eet's thought was excited,
more filled with emotionthan any I had ever received before. I looked to
the dials. We were somemiles below the surface. I cut our speed to the lowest
and waited. There wasa bump, and we had landed. Only a single tunnel mouth
faced us now, a littleto the right. And it was too small for the flitter. Any
further explorationmust be on foot, and I had no desire to leave the
confines of the smallsafety offered by that craft My prudence was justified.
There was movementat the mouth of that tunnel, though I remembered that crude
ladder had endedfour levels above our present position. Only what came into
our beam was amachine, unlike any I had seen before. But there was enough
resemblance tothings I knew to suggest that the tube rising to aim at us
was about todischarge something meaning no good to invaders.When I put a
finger to the rise button, both Eet and the Zacathan spoke, Eetby thought, the
alien in Basic."Do not!"Do not? They were crazed. We had to get out of the
range of that thing, ifwe could, before it fired!"Look--" That was Zilwrich.
Eet was still staring at the stone in the bowl.Look I did, expecting death
to come at me from that sinister tube. What Idid see was--nothing at
all!"Esper impressions," Zilwrich answered. "It is known that certain
things,trees, water, stones--and perhaps other objects--can hold visual
impressionsfor many years, release them to one in the proper frame of
mind forreception. The builders here may have known and used that principle.
Or whatwe have seen may be only a report of its use at some time in the
past,action which impelled such heightened emotions in those viewing it that
theimpression remained to be activated by us.""We go--there--" Eet brushed
aside the need for any explanation. Instead hewas pushing the bowl ahead,
using it as an indicator that our way led downthat dark passage.In the end he
had his way. Otherwise he and the Zacathan would have set offalone. And my
pride, such as it was, would not let me hold back. Because wewere now a
party united against the unseen perils of the unknown, I gaveRyzk once of
the crossbows. So armed, we started out, Eet riding on myshoulder, where
his weight was something of a problem, Zilwrich and Ryzk onmy heels. I had
taken a smaller beamer from our supplies, but we did notneed its ray
long. Soon the gem in the bowl gave us light. And what itshowed ahead for
a goodly space was smooth, unbroken walling, as if we wereadvancing along a
great tube.Distance in the dark underground was relative. I thought we might
find lackof air a danger. But apparently whatever system supplied this depths
with abreathable atmosphere was still operative.At last we came to the end
of the passage and out. Not into a mineburrowing, as I had come more
and more to expect, but into a room crammedwith apparatus, equipment, some
firmly based on the floor, the rest ontables or long counters. In the
middle of this expanse was a blaze of lighttoward which Eet wanted to go.A
cone-shaped object perhaps as tall as I sat on a table by itself. And init
a transparent porthole allowed one to view an inner rack on which resteda
dozen of the zero stones, vibrant with glowing life as we brought the twowe
carried closer to their container.Resting beside the cone, on the table,
was a second rack to which wereclamped a further dozen rough, uncut stones.
They were as black as lumps ofcarbon, yet they did not have the burned-out
look of the exhausted zerostones we had found in the derelict space ship on
our first trial of thepower of the gems. Eet sprang from my shoulder to the
top of the table, putdown the bowl, and set about prying at the porthole in
the cone, trying toget at the jewels within. But something about that whole
array triggered mymemory. There are many ways of cheating known to the
experienced gem buyer.Stones may be so treated as to change their color,
even hide flaws. Heatwill transform amethyst to golden topaz. A combination of
heat and chemicalskillfully used can make a near undetectable royal rovan of
the best crimsonhue from a pale-pink one. Heat can do--I loosened one of the
black lumps from the rack and brought out my jeweler'slens. I had no way of
testing the thing I held, yet there grew in me thebelief that this was
the matrix, the true zero stone. They might not benatural gems at all, but
manufactured--which could logically give them thepower to step up energy.The
thing I held was certainly odd. Its surface was velvety to the eye, butnot the
touch. If it had been shaped like a seed pod--I drew a deep breath.Memory was
playing a strange trick on me. Surely it had to be a trick.Once before I had
found stones, or what appeared to be stones, tumbled in astream. To the eye,
though not to the touch, they had had a velvety, almostfurred surface. One of
those stones had been appropriated by the ship's cat,who had licked it,
swallowed it, to give birth to--Eet! These were hunks ofmineral, not rounded,
podlike. But their surfaces--I looked to Eet as I weighed that lump in my
hand. He had discovered thesecret of the latch on the porthole, jerked it
open, and was taking out therack with the finished gems. Then, to my
amazement, as the weight of thetray was lifted from the latches which held
it, I saw the cone come to life,a light flash on in its interior. Without
thinking (further than wanting)past my desire to prove the truth of my
suspicion, I inserted the secondrack, saving out only the lump I had taken
from it. My fingers were almosttrapped as the porthole snapped shut of its
own accord. And blazing light,blinding to any direct gaze, gathered behind
the view-plate.I had my answer. "Made stones."Zilwrich picked up one from the
other rack, took from me the black lump tocompare."Yes, I believe you are
correct. And I do not think that this"--he indicatedthe black lump--"is true
ore or matrix either." He turned his bandaged headfrom right to left to view
the room. The light was breaking in fierce wavesfrom the cone, giving us a
far radiance. "This was, I am certain, alaboratory.""Which means," Ryzk
commented, "that these are the last stones we may eversee. Unless they left
records of how--"There was sudden horrible shrilling, hurting one's ears,
reaching into thebrain. I gave one glance at the cone and grabbed for
Eet, shoulderedZilwrich back, and cried out a warning. Then fire broke
through the top ofthe oven, fountained up. Somehow I hit the floor, Eet
fighting in my hold,the Zacathan's body half under mine.Then--the light went
out!The following dark was so thick it smothered one. I groped for the beamer
atmy belt, for the second time unable to be sure whether my eyes or the
lightitself had failed. But a ray answered my press of button.I aimed at the
table, or where the table had stood. Now there was nothing atall! Nothing but
a fan of clear space, as if the power had eaten a path foritself--but away,
not toward us. Only one thing still lay there, seeminglyunharmed, as if it
was armored for all time against destruction--the mapbowl. Eet uttered a
sound, one of the few he had ever made. He broke from myhold and ran for it.
But before he reached it he stopped short and I criedout even louder, moved
by emotion in which fear and awe were mingled.For in the beam of the torch
Eet's furred body shimmered. He reared on hishind legs as might an animal
caught by a throat collar and tight leash as itreached the end of the slack
allowed it.His hand-paws flailed at the air, and from his jaws came a wail
of agony.But no mind-touch. It was as if then he was only animal.With his
back stiff, high-reared on his hind legs, he began to move jerkily,in a kind
of weird, manifestly painful dance, round in a circle, the centerof which was
the bowl. Froth gathered on his muzzle, his eyes rolled wildly,and his body
continued to shimmer until he was only a misty column.That column grew taller,
larger. It might be that the atoms which had formedthe sustance of Eet's
half-feline body were being dispersed, that he wasliterally being shaken
into nothingness. Yet, instead of spreading out theninto wisps, the mist
began to coalesce again. Still the solidifying columnwas not as small as Eet,
nor was it gathering into the same shape.I could not move, nor did Zilwrich,
nor Ryzk. The beamer had fallen from myhand, but lay so that its ray, if only
by chance, held full on Eet, or whathad been Eet, and the bowl.Darker,
thicker, and more solid grew the column of that shuddering thing.Eet had
been as large as his foster mother, the ship's cat. This was almostas tall
as I. At last it stopped growing, and its frenzied circling aboutthe bowl
became slower and slower, then finally halted.I was still held in frozen
astonishment.I had seen Eet take three shapes by hallucinatory disguise: the
pookha, thereptilian thing at Lylestane, and the hairy subhuman who had
entered Waystarwith me. But that he had willed this last change I was certain
was not true.He was humanoid and--A slender body, yet curved, with long
shapely legs, a small waist, and abovethat--He--no--SHE--stood very still,
staring at her outstretched hands, their skinsoft, with a pearly sheen to
their golden hue. She bent her head as if toview that body, ran her hands up
and down it, perhaps to reassure herselfthat this was what she now saw.While
from Zilwrich broke a single word: "Luar!"Eet's head turned, she looked at
us with large eyes, a deeper and richergolden than her skin, drew her long
dark-red hair about her as a cloak. Thenshe stooped and picked up the bowl.
Balancing it on the palm of one hand,she walked to us along the beam of the
torch, as if to impress upon us heraltered appearance."Luar?" Her lips shaped
the word. "No--Thalan!"She hesitated, her eyes not on us for a moment but
looking beyond us, as ifthey saw what we never could. "Luar we knew, yes,
and dwelt there for aspace, Honorable One, so that we left traces of our
passage there. But itwas not our home. We are the Searchers, the Born-again
ones. Thalan, yes.And before that, others, many others."She held out the
bowl, reversed it so we could see the map. But the wink ofthe zero stone on
it was dead, and that other stone it had held hadvanished. "The
treasure we sought here--it is now gone. Unless your wiseones, Honorable
Elder, can read very forgotten riddles.""Thanks to you, Jern!"I staggered as a
sudden blow against my arm threw me hard against one of thepieces of equipment
based on the floor. I clung to it so as not to go down.Eet, in one of those
lightning movements which had been his--hers--as afeline mutant, snatched
up the beamer from the floor. She swung the fulllight on Ryzk as the pilot
was setting another bolt to his crossbow. Andfrom her lips came a clear
whistle.Ryzk twisted as if his body had been caught in the shriveling
discharge of alaser. His mouth opened on a scream which remained soundless.
And from hisnow powerless hands dropped his weapon."Enough!" Zilwrich, moving
with the dignity of his race, picked up the bow.The whistle stopped in
mid-note and Ryzk stood, turning his head from sideto side, as if he fought
against some mind daze and tried thus to shake itaway. Gingerly I
investigated my hurt by touch, since what light there wasEet had focused on
Ryzk, now weaving back and forth as if his will alonekept him on his feet.
I could find no cut, but the flesh was very tender,and I guessed it had been
so close a miss that the shaft of the bolt hadbruised me sorely."Enough!"
the Zacathan repeated. He dropped his hand on the pilot'sshoulder,
steadied him as if      they had been comrades-in-arms. "Thetreasure--the
best treasure --still lies about us. Or"--he looked to Eetmeasuringly-- "is
now a part of us. You have what you have long wished, OneOut of Time. Do not
begrudge lesser prizes to others."She spun the bowl on her hand and her lips
curved in a smile. "Of a surety,Honorable Elder, at this hour I wish no
hurt to any, having, as you havepointed out, achieved a certain purpose
of my own. And knowledge istreasure--""No more stones," I said aloud, not
really knowing why. "No more trouble. Weare luckier without them--"Ryzk raised
his head, blinking in the light. He looked to where I leanedagainst my
support but I think he did not really see me."Well enough!" Eet said almost
briskly then. "The Honorable Elder is right.We have found a treasure world,
which he and his kind are best fitted toexploit. Is this not so?""Yes." I
had no doubts of that. Ryzk shook his head once more, but not indenial. It
was rather to try and clear his mind."The stones--" he said hoarsely."Were
bait for too many traps," I answered. "Do you want the Guild, those ofWaystar,
the Patrol, always at your heels?"He raised his hand, wiped it back and forth
across his face. Then he lookedto Zilwrich, keeping his eyes carefully from
Eet, as if from the Zacathanalone he might expect an answer he could accept
as the truth."Still treasure?" There was something curiously childlike in that
question,as if Eet's strange attack had wiped from the pilot years of
suspicion andwariness."More than can be reckoned." Zilwrich spoke
soothingly. But treasure nolonger interested me. I watched rather Eet. As
mutant and trader we had beencompanions.   But what would follow now?
Mind-touch instead of words,amusement in part but delicately so, came
swiftly in answer to my chaoticthoughts. "I told you once, Murdoc Jern, we
each have in us that which mustdepend upon the other. I needed your body
in the beginning, you neededcertain attributes which I possessed in the
woefully limited one I acquired.We are not now independent of each other--
unless you wish it, just becauseI have found a body better for my
purposes. In fact, one which, as Iremember, served my race very well
thousands of years ago. But I do notdeclare our partnership at an end
because of that. Do you?"She came forward then, tossing from her the bowl, the
torch, as if both wereno longer of service to her. Then her touch was on my
body, light, soothingabove my bruised hurt.I had chaffed against Eet's
superiority many times, sought to break his--her(I still could not quite
accept the change) hold on me, that tie which fate,or Eet, had somehow spun
between us since he--she--had been born on my bunkin the Free Trader.It seemed
that her touch now drew away the pain in my arm and side. And Iknew that
for better or worse, for ill times and good, there was no castingaway of what
that fate had given me. When I accepted that, all else fellinto place."Do
you--?" Her mind-touch was the faintest of whispers."No!" My reply was strong,
clear, and I meant it with all of
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