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For the first time Usan spoke. She said slowly, "What do you want me to say, Commissioner?"

"The truth. You were with me when I questioned the man. Tell Owner Harada what he said."

"He mumbled. He said something about killing a beast."

"And?"

"That's all I heard, Commissioner."

"What?" He stared at her, incredulous. "You were there, standing at my side, listening. You must have heard what was said."

"I heard only a mumble," she insisted. "I cannot lie when a man's life is at stake."

A lie in itself, and Avorot knew it, knew also that Harada would never accept his unsupported word. The man suspected that he was shielding others and only irrefutable proof would convince him otherwise. What game was the woman playing? What was Dumarest to her?

He said tightly, "My lady, I will ask you again. When I questioned the dying man what did he say?"

"I've told you."

"He mentioned a name. He spoke of how the beast was killed. You know it. You were there."

"I heard him mention no name," she said. "And I am not accustomed to having my word doubted, Commissioner. I have no doubt the beast was killed for food, as you say, but there is no evidence against this man."

A wall he couldn't break and a failure he was forced to accept-the taste of it was sour in his mouth. He had been made to look inefficient and a fool and Harada would be slow to forgive if he forgave at all. Avorot looked at the man standing beyond his desk.

Dumarest said, "Am I free to leave?"

"No." The case had taken on an added dimension and who could tell what deeper probing might reveal? "You will be held for further investigation."

"But not in jail." Usan Labria rose, her tone commanding.

"Play the inquisitor if you must, Commissioner, but spare the innocent. I will take charge of this man. Release him in my custody."

"Owner Harada, do you object?"

"Why should I? If he is innocent what does it matter? If he is guilty I know where to find him." Tien's voice deepened. "Make sure that I do, Owner Labria."

"You threaten me, Tien?"

"Take it as you will. Pacula, let us go. We have already wasted too much time on this farce."

Dumarest watched them leave, Avorot in attendance, then looked at the painted face of the old woman. Gently she touched a square of fabric to her lips.

"Let us understand each other," she said. "If you want to run there is little I can do to stop you, but you will never leave this world if you do. Any attempt you make to escape will be held as admission of your guilt. If caught you will be flayed and staked out in the sun."

"Do you think I am guilty, my lady?"

"I know you are."

"Then-"

"Why did I lie?" Her shrug was expressive. "What is Harada's bull to me? And I can use you. There is someone I want you to meet. His name is Sufan Noyoka and we dine with him tonight."

Chapter Four

He was a small man with a large, round head and eyes which gleamed beneath arched and bushy brows. His skin was a dull olive, pouched beneath the chin, sagging beneath the eyes. Like the woman he was old, but unlike her, had none of the stolidity of age. His eyes were like those of a bird, forever darting from place to place, he tripped rather than walked, and his words flowed like the dancing droplets of a fountain.

"Earl I am delighted you could accept my humble invitation. Usan, my dear, you look as radiant as ever. An amusing episode?" He grinned as the woman told what had happened. "Tien will not be pleased and, to be honest, I cannot blame him. That bull was dear to his heart. You should have been more selective, Earl. I may call you that?"

"If it pleases you, my lord."

"Such formality! Here we are all friends. Some wine? An aperitif before the meal? You wish to bathe? My house is yours to command."

Ancient hospitality, which Dumarest knew better than to accept at face value as he knew better than to accept the man for what he seemed.

Sufan Noyoka was, in many ways, an actor. A man who scattered conversational gambits as a farmer would scatter seed, watching always for an interesting reaction, ready to dart on it, to elaborate and expound, to probe and question. A man who used words as a mask for his thoughts, his apparent foolishness a defense cultivated over the years. To such a man much would be forgiven and his physical frailty would protect him from a challenge. A dangerous man, decided Dumarest, the more so because of his seeming innocence.

"When strangers meet who should be friends, a toast is appropriate," said Sufan. "Usan, my dear, perform the honors. Earl, when you killed that bull did you rely on luck or base your plan on judgment?"

"My lord?"

"You are cautious-that is wise, and the question was stupid. Luck had nothing to do with it. You have hunted in your time?"

"Yes."

"For food, of course, and for profit also, I imagine." Sufan accepted the glass the woman offered to him. It was small, elaborately engraved, filled with a pungent purple fluid. "A liqueur of my own devising, the recipe of which I found in an old book and adapted to local conditions. I had hoped to create a demand, but the essential herbs are scarce and I am too self-indulgent to sell that which I find so appealing. Usan, your health! Earl, to a long and pleasant association!"

The purple liquid held a smoldering fire, which stung the back of the throat and sent warmth from the stomach. Dumarest sipped, watching as the others drank, emptying his glass only when they had finished. An act of caution which Sufan Noyoka noted and admired.

"Earl," he said, "tell me a little about yourself. What brought you to Teralde?"

"The name."

"Of this world?" Sufan frowned. "It is a name, a label as are all names, but what of that? Were you looking for something? A friend? An opportunity to gain wealth? If so, you chose badly, as by now you are aware. There is little wealth on Teralde."

And what there was remained fast in the grip of jealous Owners. Dumarest looked at his empty glass, then at his host. A shrewd man who could have traveled and who must have known others who had. A chance, small but it had to be taken. Who could tell where the answer was to be found?

"I was looking for a place," said Dumarest. "A planet. My home world."

"Earth?" Usan Labria frowned. "Is there such a place? Sufan?"

"If there is I have never heard of it." The man crossed to a cabinet and took a thick almanac from a shelf, Dumarest waited as he studied it, knowing what he would find. "No such world is listed."

"Which means that it doesn't exist." Usan Labria helped herself to more of the pungent liqueur and took a pill from a small box she produced from a pocket. Swallowing it, she sipped and stood for a moment tense with strain. Then, relaxing, she added, "Earth? Why not call it dirt or sand? How can any world have such a name?"

"My world has it, my lady. And it exists, that I can swear. I was born on it." Dumarest looked at his hand. It was tight around the glass, the knuckles white, tendons prominent with strain. Deliberately he relaxed his grip, accepting the disappointment as he had been forced to accept it so often in the past. "It exists," he said again. "And one day I will find it."

"A quest." Sufan Noyoka refilled the empty glass. "My friend, we have much in common, but more of that later. Yet I think that each man must have a reason for living, for why else was he given imagination? To live to eat, to breed, and to die-that is for animals. But why Teralde? The names are not even similar."

"Earth has another name," said Dumarest. "Terra."

"Terra? I-" Sufan broke off, his eyes shifting, darting, little gleams of reflection turning them into liquid pools. "Teralde," he said musingly. "I see the association. But legend has it that the name originated with. Captain Lance Terraim, who was among the first to settle here."