"About what?"
"You. Marek. That card."
"It meant nothing."
"So you say, but how can I be sure? And to whom else can I turn? Sufan is busy and Usan asleep. I feel alone on this ship and vulnerable. I thought I could trust you, now I'm not so sure. Marek-"
"Can you trust him?"
"I don't know. He is brilliantly clever and, I think; a little insane. Perhaps we are all insane. My brother would have no hesitation in saying so. He thinks I am mad. That's why he gave me money to go to Heidah and have my mind treated to remove painful memories. He meant to be kind, but how can he understand? How can anyone?"
"Pacula, be calm."
"I can't. I've been sitting, alone in the dark, thinking, remembering. Culpea, my child! Culpea!"
He caught her as she collapsed in a storm of weeping, guiding her to the cot, forcing her to sit on the edge, dropping beside her with his arm around her shoulders, holding her tight until the emotion climax had passed.
Then, as she dabbed at her eyes, he said quietly, "Culpea?"
"My child. My daughter."
"And?" He gripped her shoulders as she remained silent and turned her to look at him. "Tell me," he demanded. "Tell me."
For her good, not his, a catharsis to ease her inner torment. Hurtful memories, nursed, could fester and gain a false eminence. It was better she should speak and, until she did, he was powerless to say or do anything which could help.
"It was eight years ago," she said dully. "Culpea was four. Tien had brought us both to Teralde after Elim had died. He had never really forgiven my having married a stranger and was glad to get us back where he said we belonged. Perhaps he was right, on Lemach there was little to hold us, just the house, some memories, a grave. Oh, Elim, why did you die?"
A question asked by women since the dawn of time and for which there was no answer. Dumarest waited, patient, silent, his strength not his words giving her the courage to continue.
"Tien was ambitious," she continued, her voice calm now, as dull as before. "He wanted to extend his holdings and we went with him to examine some land to the east. He wanted my opinion and we flew on to the foot of the mountains. We left the others in a second raft, Culpea, her nurse, some guards. It seemed safe enough, the air was still, and who would want to injure a child?"
"And?"
"Our examination took longer than expected. The others must have tried to follow us. We-" She broke off, swallowing. "We found their raft. The nurse was dead, the guards also, but there was no sign of the child. I searched-God, how I searched-but found nothing. Eight years," she ended. "An eternity."
And one on which it would be unwise to brood, the long, empty years, the hope which never died, the forlorn conviction that, somewhere, somehow, the girl continued to exist. Dumarest sensed her pain.
He said, "What happened? Did the raft crash?"
"Who knows? We found it broken and wrecked. The nurse was in a crevass, the guards scattered. None were missing but all were dead. Tien went to summon help and he and others combed the area. Nothing was found, but he insisted that Culpea must have fallen into a crevass. Some of them are very deep and impossible to investigate."
"But you didn't believe that?"
"No." She straightened, turned, defiant as she met his eyes. "I think that she still lives. Someone must have taken her. Sufan-"
"He was there?"
"It was his land we were examining. Later he sold it to Tien. His raft landed as we searched and he joined us. It was he who found the nurse."
"And nothing else?" Dumarest explained as she stared blankly. "Did he spot another raft? Men on foot who could have had the child with them? No? Was a demand ever made for ransom?"
A stupid question-if it had, it would have been proof the girl lived-but he asked it with deliberate intent.
"No," she said reluctantly. "None. Not then or since."
"Which eliminates kidnappers. Did your husband have enemies?"
"No. He was a quiet man. I met him when he came to Teralde and we left together. Tien was surprised, he had thought me too old to attract a man, but he made no objection."
"What was his name? What did he do?"
"Elim? He was of the Shalada and worked in the biological institute on Lemach. He came to Teralde with a cargo of genetically mutated chelach. We met at a reception and later in the dark." Her laughter was strained. "It was odd, I couldn't see a thing, but to him the night was as clear as day. He teased me a little, describing how I looked and the movements I made. He was gentle and I was flattered and I loved him. Five years," she said bleakly. "Such a short time for happiness."
"Many have less," said Dumarest. "How did he die?"
"A rumor. He woke crying from the pains in his head and was dead before morning. The doctors said it was a virulent growth of exceptional malignancy. For a while I worried about Culpea, but there was no need. The condition was not hereditary." She inhaled, her chest swelling, her breasts rising beneath her gown. "An old story and one which must bore you. What interest can you have in a lost child?"
He dodged the question. "Is that why you are with us?"
"If Sufan is right Balhadorha will provide all the money I need to continue the search. And I must continue it, Earl. I must know what happened to my child. If she is dead I must find what remains of her body. If alive I must discover where she is. I must!"
"And you will."
"Do you humor me?" She looked at him, face hard, eyes reflecting her anger. "Many have done that. Some men wonder why I did not marry again and have another child. The answer is simple-I cannot. It happens to some women. Earl. One child is all they can bear. That is why Culpea is so important to me-she is the only child I will ever have."
And then, suddenly, her anger broke to leave nothing but a distraught woman blindly reaching for the comfort he could give.
"Earl, help me! For the love of God, help me!"
Chapter Seven
Timus Omilcar bent over the exposed interior of the generator and made a minor adjustment. Without looking up he said, "Earl?"
Dumarest called out the readings on the dials set in the console, adding, "That's optimum, Timus."
"And as good as we can get." The engineer straightened, satisfied. Closing and sealing the dust cover of the unit he wiped his hands on a cloth and reached for a bottle. "Join me?"
"Just a little."
"Why be so cautious?" Wine gurgled as the man poured a generous measure into each of two glasses. "On the Mayna each man is as good as the next. We're all partners. To success, Earl-by God, it's time some came my way."
He was a big man, thick-set, hair growing in thick profusion on his body and arms, more resting in a tangled mat on his head. Red hair, curled, reflecting the light in russet shimmers. His face was a combination of disaster, the nose squashed, eyebrows scarred, the lobe of one ear missing. An ugly man with the appearance of a brutal clown but whose hands held magic when it came to dealing with machines.
"A half percent added efficiency," he said, lowering his half-empty glass. "So much for those who swore the generator couldn't be improved."
"Who?"
"The engineers on Perilan." He squinted at Dumarest. "You don't know the history of this ship, eh? Interested?"
"No." Dumarest touched the wine to his lips, only pretending to swallow. "Just as long as it gets us to where we want to go."
"And back again," added the engineer. He finished the rest of his wine and poured more. "Don't worry," he said, catching Dumarest's eyes. "This stuff can't hurt me."
"I wasn't thinking about you."
"The ship?" Timus shrugged. "I've never lost one yet despite what they claimed. The generator didn't fail, it was the fool in command, but what is the word of an engineer against that of a master? Well, to hell with it-soon I'll have money to burn."