She said, "You'd better get to the ship, Renzi."
"You, too?"
"Just do as Tuvey orders. If you want to quarrel with him do it at the ship not here in my house." Her tone hardened. "I mean it. If you hope to be guested here again then do as I say."
Her hand fell on Dumarest's arm as the navigator, scowling, obeyed. After he had gone she stared at him, her eyes unabashed in their appraisal.
"So you're Ursula's guest. Does she please you?"
"She is an excellent hostess."
"And?" She smiled as he remained silent. "You don't have to tell me-she eats men alive. But in you, I think, she has found something novel. I've a mind to bid for you once she gets bored. A couple of days should do it. I'll throw in the navigator as a bonus."
Dumarest said dryly, "I'm sure he'd appreciate that."
"Oh, she wouldn't keep him, but there must be someone he could entertain." Her voice lowered a little, gained an added meaning, "And he was right about one thing. It would be no hardship for a man like you to be stranded on this world. I would support you for one."
Sardia called to him as Dumarest skirted the lake on his way back to the field. She came running to join him and fell into step at his side.
"How bad is the damage?"
"Bad. The engineer claims we need a replacement."
"Good." She smiled as he stared at her. "It gives us longer to do what we came for," she explained. "I'm going to meet Cornelius soon and I want him to finish some of the paintings he has. To me they are perfect as they are but you know artists, never satisfied."
"So I noticed."
"You're thinking of the dance?" She shook her head with brusque impatience. "Why bother about it? I won and that's all there is to it. Or do you think Ursula will want her revenge?"
"And if she does?"
"I can take care of myself."
"That makes two of you," said Dumarest. "Both superhuman. Renzi thinks he is indispensable and you think you're invulnerable. I'm hoping that neither of you learns how wrong you are."
"Renzi?"
"Is convinced the captain can't do without him. Tuvey may show him just how wrong he is. I'm hoping Ursula doesn't decide to teach you a similar lesson. It would help if you were to apologize. Tell her that you were drunk at the time."
"Me? Apologize to that spoiled bitch? Earl!"
"You want to make money, don't you?" He was harsh. "If you want that enough then you'll be willing to crawl if necessary. Ursula and Cornelius are close and she could have influence. She must certainly have friends. Think about it. Have you never seen how vicious a woman can be?"
Too often during the long climb up. Girls who had been too brazen, too confident at the wrong time, too spiteful too soon. Little things had happened to them and some not so minor. An accident which had crushed a foot, another which had sent acid from a bursting container into a face and eyes, stomach convulsions at a critical time which had resulted in chances lost. And there had been fires, missed cues, broken promises.
There was no mercy in the jungle of the arts.
"I'm sorry, Earl. I just didn't think. Do you really want me to apologize?"
"Just be discreet. I've told her you weren't sober and more than a little jealous."
"You told her? When?" Her tone held anger. When you were making love to the bitch after you'd left me?"
"You think that?"
"Does it matter to you what I think?" She halted to drag at his arm, to turn him to face her. "Does it?"
"No," he said flatly. "Not when other things are more important."
"Like the feelings of that blue strumpet?" Rage accentuated her beauty with a simmering fire. "Well, to hell with you, you bastard!"
She ran from him down the path, past the misted fountains, the early swimmers who sported in the water. One, a lithe young girl, stared after her and laughed. Another, a man, shrugged and dived as if he had been born into the medium. Dumarest made no effort to follow. Given time she would get over her anger but it would take much longer for the trouble to vanish from the field. Unless the Sivas could be repaired he would be an easy target for those who would come in search.
He passed the vessel on his way across the field. The ramp was still down with men working on it under the navigator's direction, the sound of hammers loud on the air, fading as he reached the blank edifice of the cold-store. The sound died altogether as he passed inside.
The place was bleakly functional, a chilled enclosure in which perishables could be kept, a part of it now converted to a morgue. Dumarest walked toward it, little echoes murmuring from beneath his boots, a faint crunching of broken ice which ceased as he halted at a roped enclosure. Beyond the barrier rested three trestle tables loaded with covered bundles.
Stepping over the rope Dumarest went to the one on his left, jerked back the cover and looked down at a ruined face.
Once it had been young and sleekly handsome but now it was a torn and ravaged travesty of a human visage. One eye was gone, the cheekbone smashed, a mess of pulp where an ear should have been. Dried blood matted the hair and the mouth had been ripped by splintered teeth. The body, carrying fragments of burned and torn clothing, followed the same pattern. The hands had vanished, the forearms, the elbows converted into ugly stumps. The intestines hung like a tangle of soiled rope. Dumarest touched the head before turning to the next.
It was a young woman and a freak of the explosion had left her almost unmarked. Only an edging of blood at the lips, the scarlet suffusion of the eyes and the telltale signs in the ears told of the forces which had taken her life. Her hair was of a reddish gold sheen he had seen before.
As Dumarest went to touch it a voice said, "It's soft, isn't it? And she was beautiful, wasn't she? Too beautiful to be left alone?"
"Too beautiful to be dead." Dumarest gently ran his fingers over the hair and moved a tress from where it hung over the staring eyes. He tried to close them but rigor had set in. Replacing the cover he looked at the woman standing against the wall masked by the shadows. One he had seen before on a path dappled with starlight. It was obvious why she had been standing a lonely vigil. "Your sister?"
"Yes," Pellia stepped forward, small crunching sounds rising from beneath her sandals, ceasing as she halted at Dumarest's side. "I was watching in case-" Breaking off she said bleakly, "A beautiful girl. She was to have been married next month. To Heyne." Her hand made a gesture toward the remaining bundle. "At least they died together."
The boy, also, was relatively unmarked about the face but the lower portion of his body had been wrenched and broken by the impact of the blast and a scrap of metal had almost buried itself in the chest Dumarest jerked it free, looked at it, threw it back as he drew the cover over the body.
"Why?"
"Why was I standing here? Alline is still beautiful even though dead and the Choud are bored. Some of them might want to-"
"Not that. Why did they do it?"
"Do what?" Pellia looked blank. "I don't understand what you mean."
"Don't give me that, girl! She was your sister and you had to be close. Why did she want to rob the ship?"
"She didn't."
"She was there with the others. Why?"
"An accident." Pellia looked from side to side, her eyes those of a trapped animal. "It must have been an accident. She and Heyne had gone out to look at the ship and became involved in what happened."
"And the other one?" Dumarest jerked his head at the first corpse he'd examined. "What about him? Did he accompany them? A spare lover, perhaps? Was your sister hard to satisfy?"