"No."
"A well, then? An artesian boring?" He pursed his lips as she shook her head. Men training beneath hot suns needed plenty of water. If it had to be carried then the local air would be busy.
"Did you see the smoke of fires? No. A line of men waiting to be served?"
"How would I know, Earl?"
"If you saw them you would know." He studied the old map again. "This is all high ground, right?"
He frowned as she nodded, tracing the shading, spotting the general lay of the area. It had been chosen with care. From various points lookouts could spot any approach and fast movement towards the place on foot would be difficult.
"When you examined the area did you notice anything different about any of the huts? No? Then have you seen or heard of a stranger being maintained by Gydapen either in his castle or in town?"
"A stranger? No, Earl. How would he have arrived without us knowing?"
"How did I arrive?" Dumarest shrugged at her expression. "I may be wrong but I'd gamble there is someone. A man trained in the art of fighting. A mercenary perhaps-you said that your people had a reluctance to fight?"
"That is so."
"Then a teacher would have had to be found. Those who handled the shipping of the guns could have provided him and others might follow."
"An army?"
"Men trained and willing to kill. Men used to the art of war. On some worlds they come cheap. Well, perhaps we can delay them. Tomorrow I'll pick some men. A night attack and-"
"No. We can't attack at night. The Pact forbids it."
"The Pact?"
"The Sungari. Earl, why do you think we are so afraid of what Gydapen may do? If he breaks the Pact it will affect us all. At all costs he must be stopped from doing that. Our very lives depend on it!"
And his own too, presumably, a fallacy in her reasoning but Dumarest didn't mention it. Instead he said, "The Sungari? Just what and who are they?"
She told him over wine, filling goblets with her own hands, handing him one and sitting to crouch at his feet, lamplight streaming over her shoulders, reflected with a nacreous glow from the half-revealed mounds of her breasts, the curves of her thighs.
"When the first settlers came to Zakym they found the world already occupied by a different form of life. One which was not native to the place and which was willing to share. At first there was trouble but sense prevailed and the Pact was formed."
She paused to sip wine and Dumarest leaned back, filling in gaps, building a whole from the story which she told.
A time of attrition, of fear and battle, of terror even, from the things which happened at night. Then the agreement. Men were to have the surface of the world and the Sungari the depths. Men were to rule by day and the Sungari by night. Certain areas of surface and depths were given for the sole use of the other. Herds and crops were to be left untouched. Native game was common to both. The night mist which came to wreath the ground belonged to the Sungari.
Death came to any human foolish enough to be out at night.
Dumarest said, dryly, "How long has it been since such a thing happened?"
"A long time ago, Earl." She turned her head to look up at him, the long line of her throat framed by the mantle of her hair. "But it happened."
"And has anyone ever seen a Sungari?"
"They exist, Earl!"
"Has anyone ever seen them?"
"How could they when they only come out at night?"
"And everyone is snug indoors by then?" Dumarest nodded, wondering why the story had been started. An easy way to impose authority? The warped design of a twisted mind? All to be safe indoors at night with whispered horrors as a spur to obey. A deliberate conditioning engineered by someone with a terror of the dark?
It was possible. In the universe all things were possible.
Many strange cultures had risen from seeds planted by the founders of small colonies governed by freakish convictions. Holphera where men walked backwards for fear of meeting death. Andhara where no woman looked directly at the face of her child but always used a mirror. Inthelle where the old were given all they could desire for a month and then killed and ceremoniously eaten. Chage where each birth had to be accompanied by a death. Xanthis where women ruled and men groveled at their feet.
"Earl?" Lavinia looked up with luminous eyes. "You are so quiet. Don't you believe me?"
To argue with her was useless. She, all of Zakym, believed in the living presence of the dead-against such conviction what chance had logic?
"Earl?"
"I was thinking." His hand fell to touch the silken strands of her hair. "Unless you are willing to attack at night there is only one other thing to do. Gydapen cannot be a fool. He will have anticipated the possibility of the Council moving against him and will have taken elementary precautions. If we assemble a large force it will be spotted. Therefore we must go in with the minimum number."
"How many?"
"Two." He heard the sharp intake of her breath. "Just you and I in the largest raft you have. We'll pay a visit to the barren wastes."
"And?"
"That depends on what we find." Some wine remained in the goblet and Dumarest drank it before rising to his feet. "You had better get some rest now. Tomorrow you need to look your best."
They left at dawn, rising high and heading towards the west before swinging in a wide circle which would bring them back over Gydapen's land. The raft was a plain, commercial affair, devoid of any decoration aside from a blazon on the prow. The body was open, edged with a solid rail, the controls shielded by a curved, transparent canopy. The engine which fed power to the anti-grav units was too small for the bulk of the vehicle and progress was slow.
From where she sat at his side, Lavinia said, "Earl, you are a man of many surprises. Where did you learn to handle a raft?"
"I forget."
"And to fight? Where did you learn that?"
On Earth as a boy, a time he would never forget. Life had been hard and devoid of comfort. There had been no toys, no easy times, regular food or loving care. He had hunted vermin with a sling, gutting his prey with a jagged stone, eating the meat raw because a fire would have betrayed his position to those who would have stolen his kill.
"Earl?"
With the insistence of a child she wanted an answer or, bored, merely wanted to talk.
"It doesn't matter."
"It does to me." Her hand reached out to touch his arm and she wondered if he guessed how little she had slept. "I'd like to know all about you. You are so strong, so self-sufficient. Don't you ever get tired of traveling? Have you never been tempted to settle down?"
Too often, yet always something had happened to smash the dream and, always, the yearning was present to find his home.
"At times, yes."
"But you never did? Of course not, it was a stupid question. If you had then you wouldn't be here now."
Her hand closed on his arm, the fingers digging into his flesh, then was snatched away as, abruptly, the raft tilted and fell. An air pocket of lesser density, a momentary hazard quickly overcome and again the raft rose and leveled. Below the terrain became a blur, the ground blotched with hills, rolling scrub, grassy plateaus, the silver thread of a river.
"Taiyuah's boundary," she said. "And there is an emergency stop-over."
It was a low, black building fitted with a single door and holding, as Dumarest had learned, bottles of wine, food, some medical supplies. A haven for those who should be lost or crash nearby.
"You have many of them?"
"Of course. We set them up for common use. People use them if they are caught by night."
"As protection against the Sungari?"