Not easy but neither was it hard; Dumarest could walk off now, but what then? Weeks and perhaps months of waiting stuck on this barely colonized world, exposed to anyone who wanted to find him, vulnerable if they should. He shrugged, trying to throw off the feeling which had fol shy;lowed him from world to world and was with him still. The sense that someone was at his back, watching, waiting to pounce. And it was not wholly a thing of imagination.
The dead man Yalung had spoken about. He had been a thief and Dumarest had stunned and tied him fast. Later he had found him dead and had gone immediately to the field. Luck had seemed to favor him when the handler had been murdered in the tavern but now he wasn't so sure.
Luck-or design?
And, if the latter, why?
"You are thinking, Earl," said Nimino breaking the si shy;lence. "What about? The cargo?"
Dumarest was willing to change the subject. "It's heavy."
"And valuable, despite what you are probably thinking. We traded the machine patterns for it and the buyer must have been satisfied to have delivered the goods so promptly." The navigator stepped deeper into the hold and kicked one of the crates. "Iron," he said. "Many of the inner worlds lack heavy metals and some of them need the oxide in order to provide trace-elements in the soil. We shall turn this load with profit. They are poor worlds, Earl. Starvation planets for the most part, colonized by mischance rather than intent. Surely you have come across such worlds before?"
Backward planets at the end of the line. Dead worlds without industry or work for transients, making it impossible for them to gather the cost of a Low passage.
"I've seen a few," said Dumarest. "They are bad places for a traveler to find."
"No world is a good one on which to be stranded," agreed Nimino. "You must tell me about them some day. In return I will tell you of Clothon, of Landkis and Brame. Sacred places all. Planets which have known the tread of those closer to the Ultimate than we. Holy places."
"Each world is a holy place," said Dumarest quietly. To those who believe it so."
"And Earth? Is that mysterious world such a place?"
"Perhaps." Dumarest looked past the navigator to where two figures approached the ship from across the field. "The captain and our passenger. When do we leave?"
"Before sunset."
"To where?"
Nimino's laugh was mocking. "Does it matter, my friend? To us, all worlds are much the same: places to reach and leave with the minimum of delay. But, if you are interested, we head for Argonilla."
They were five hours on their way when the engineer sent for Dumarest. He looked up from where he sat at his console, the winking lights of monitoring instruments throw shy;ing patches of transient color across his mottled face. On one side of his jaw a purple bruise spread high up his cheek.
"I'm sorry, Earl," he said. "I was drunk and didn't know what I was doing. You've got to believe that."
"All right," said Dumarest. "You were drunk. I believe you. Is that what you want?"
"I want you to understand. I felt sick when Lin told me what I'd tried to do. I mean that, Earl."
"Sure you do-until the next time." Dumarest stared down at the engineer, remembering the shattered tumbler, the stabbing points. "But if it happens again I'll kill you."
"You mean it," said Claude. "And I don't blame you. But it was the drink, not me." He blinked at the winking lights, touches of gaudy brightness illuminating his eyes. "It gets into me sometimes. The drink, I mean. It turns sour and then it's a sort of devil that's got to break loose. Anything can do it. One minute I'll be laughing and then, just like that, I'll be in a killing rage. That's why I'm not on the big ships," he confessed. "I was drinking on duty, the chief bawled me out and I smashed him up with a wrench. I didn't kill him but he was pretty bad. They gave me fifty lashes and threw me out. They marked my papers, too, and you can't get a berth on a decent vessel without them. Not on any ship as an engineer. Sheyan didn't seem to mind-with the little I get from my share he had no choice." He stood up from the console and held out his hand. "Can we forget it, Earl?"
The Moray was too small a vessel to harbor bad feelings.
Slowly Dumarest took the proffered hand. "All right," he said. "But remember what I told you."
"I'll remember." Claude winced as he touched his cheek. "I've got reason not to forget. You damn near broke my jaw."
"It hurts?"
"Like hell. Can you give me anything for it?"
"Sure," said Dumarest. "Can you come to my cabin?"
Claude glanced at his instruments. "Not just yet. Give it to Lin to bring down. I want him to see the board when we reach supraspeed. The more experience he gets the bet shy;ter."
Dumarest found the steward in his cabin reading a worn copy of an engine manual and handed him the hypogun.
"This is for Claude," he said. "Take it down to him right away and give him one shot just over the bruise. Aim the nozzle within three inches and pull the trigger. Make certain you don't hit the eyes. Understand?"
Lin nodded, dropping the book as he rose. He stooped, picked it up, and carefully placed it on his bunk. "You and Claude all right now, Earl?"
"Yes."
"I'm glad. He's a good man, stupid when he hits the bottle but nice in a lot of other ways. Did I tell you he was teaching me how to be an engineer?"
"You did-and you'd better get that dope to him fast. We're close to supraspeed. Bring the hypogun back to me afterwards."
Dumarest was in his cabin when the steward returned. He sat on the edge of his bunk, a deck of cards in his hands, the cards intermeshing with a dry rustle as he manipulated the pack. Lin watched with interest; then, as he replaced the hypogun in its cabinet, said, "Why won't you let me join the game, Earl?"
"I told you: you'd lose."
The youngster was argumentative. "How can you be sure of that? Yalung said that the stakes needn't be high and he keeps asking me to join in. It wouldn't hurt to let me play, sometimes."
"You've got other things to do," said Dumarest. "Studying, for one. You won't become an officer if you waste your time and money."
"Please, Earl!"
Dumarest looked up and saw the young face, the eyes now drained of their superficial hardness and filled with the aching desire to know, to learn, to gain precious knowl shy;edge. To become adult in the shortest possible time. Once he had felt exactly the same: impatient with the slow pas shy;sage of the years and eager to gain experience so as to catch up. He had gained it, learning the hard way, surviving his mistakes and paying for his failures.
But how to pass on the accumulated knowledge of years?
Dumarest looked at the cards. It was a normal deck with ace, lord, lady, jester, and ten to the deuce four times re shy;peated in differentiating colors. Abruptly he riffled the deck and slammed the cards on the table supporting the player.
"You want to gamble," he said. "We'll do just that. Make a bet and cut-highest wins."
"That's a kid's game." Lin was disgusted. "A matter of luck."