"As you did. You were fast," she admitted. "We could see it all on the scanners. But if you find no pleasure in battle, why seek it? What was Heldar to you?"
"He had murdered a friend," said Dumarest tightly. "He killed for money; but, with respect, my lady, he was not wholly to blame."
She looked at him, waiting.
"He was dying," explained Dumarest. "He knew it. A dying man has nothing to lose. Had he not lost the spin of a coin he would be alive, the woman would be alive and we should not be sitting here drinking to a thing called justice."
"You do not like the word?"
"My lady, I do not. I would prefer to drink to a thing called mercy."
He had gone too far. He could tell it from the tension which had closed around the table, the way Haig refused to meet his eyes, the way the factor fumbled at his beard. A guest should never insult his host. The more so when that host is the ruler of a world. But they were not on Jest. They were sitting in Jocelyn's ship on a free planet and Dumarest had too recent memories: a cropped head turning to hide a scar, staring eyes which could not see, the pressure of a hand, a man made desperate because of a ruler's whim.
There had been blood on the dust and a body lying sprawled in the sun.
Meoud coughed and glanced at his timepiece. "My lord, I crave your indulgence and permission to depart; there are matters to which I should attend without delay."
"You may leave," said Jocelyn. "You also, Baron. We shall talk again later."
"My lord." Jellag Haig rose. "My lady." He bowed to them both. "My thanks for a wonderful meal." He bowed again and followed the factor from the cabin. The sound or their footsteps died as the door closed behind them.
"Wine," ordered Jocelyn. The gush of liquid from the bottle sounded unnaturally loud. He waited until all three glasses had been refilled, then picked up his own. He said, "A toast, to justice!"
Dumarest set down his empty glass.
"Tell me about yourself," said Jocelyn abruptly. "The factor tells me that you search for a dream, a legendary planet. Is that true?"
"Earth is no legend, my lord. I was born there, I know."
Adrienne frowned. "But in that case, surely you would know where it is. Could you not find it by merely retracing your journey?"
"No, my lady. I left when I was very young," he explained. "Ten years of age. I stowed away on a ship. The captain was kinder than I deserved; he should have evicted me but he was old and had no son. Instead, he kept me with him. From then on, it was a matter of traveling from world to world."
"Always deeper into the heart of the galaxy," mused Jocelyn, "where the worlds are close and journeys short. Until perhaps, you probed into the far side from the center. He nodded. I can appreciate the problem. Can you, my dear?"
Adrienne sipped her wine, her eyes on Dumarest as she tasted the blue stimulant. He was tall and hard with a face of planes and hollows, a firm mouth and strong jaw. His was the face of a man who had learned to live without the protection of house or guild, a man who had learned to rely on none but himself.
She looked at her husband. He was not as tall, not as broad; he had russet hair, a sensitive face, delicate hands and an old-young look around the eyes. But he too, she realized with sudden insight, had learned to rely on none but himself. But, where Dumarest had an impassive strength, Jocelyn used the mask of ironic humor.
"Adrienne?"
She started, aware that Tocelyn waited for an answer. "I can appreciate many things," she said ambiguously. "But does not each man have his own problem?"
"Philosophy?" Jocelyn looked at his wife with wondering eyes. "You betray hidden depths, my dear."
"Only to those with the wit to plumb them, my lord." The wine, she realized, was affecting her senses. The recent fight too had stimulated her, so that she was uneasily conscious of the proximity of men. Firmly she set down her glass. "Shall we move into the lounge, my husband? The remains of a meal is not the most attractive of sights."
* * *
Yeon rose as they entered the lounge, a flash of scarlet against the lined walls and worn furnishings. He looked at Dumarest as if sensing his dislike, then looked at Jocelyn. "Do you wish me to depart, my lord?"
"Stay," said Jocelyn carelessly. "You may be able to help us with a problem."
The cyber bowed and resumed his chair. A viewer stood on a small table before him, a rack of tapes to one side. While the others had eaten, he had studied. Food, to Yeon, was a matter of fuel for his body. He could neither taste nor enjoy the varied flavors savored by normal men.
"You spoke of a problem, my lord?"
"A matter of extrapolation," said Jocelyn. He smiled as Adrienne passed a tray loaded with delicacies. Deliberately, he chose and ate a compote of crushed nuts blended with wild honey. "How long would it take a man to visit each world?"
"Each habitable world, my lord?"
"Yes."
"It would depend on the route," said Yeon carefully. "If the journey was that of a spiral starting from the outer edge of the galaxy and winding in towards the center it would take many lifetimes. If the journey was done in reverse it would take almost as long, but not exactly because of the galactic drift which could be turned to some slight advantage. It-"
"Would take longer than a man has reason to think he will live," interrupted Jocelyn. He helped himself to another sweetmeat. "That does not aid us, cyber. If you were to seek a planet, the coordinates of which you neither knew nor could discover, how would you go about it?"
"I would accumulate all available information and from that extrapolate a probable locality." The cyber maintained his even modulation despite the apparent pointlessness of the question. "The mathematics of random selection could, perhaps, be used to advantage; but I must inform you, my lord, the problem verges on the paradoxical. To find a place the location of which is unknown is surely an impossibility."
"Improbability," corrected Jocelyn. "In this universe nothing is impossible."
"As you say, my lord." Yeon looked sharply at Dumarest. "May I ask if the problem has some personal significance?"
"Yes," said Jocelyn. "Earl," he looked at his guest. "I may call you that? Thank you. Earl is looking for his home world, a planet called Earth. Of your skill and knowledge, cyber, can you aid us in the matter?"
"The name means nothing to me, my lord. Would there be a description?"
Dumarest said, "A scarred place, a large, single moon in the sky. The terrain is torn as if by ancient wars. Life is scarce, but still ships call and leave again. They serve those who reside deep in caverns. The sun is yellow. In winter there is cold and snow."
Yeon shook his head. "It means nothing."
Adrienne carried the tray to Dumarest and offered it for his selection. "Try one of the fruits," she suggested, "The texture is of meat laced with wine, blue wine. I think you will appreciate the combination."
"Thank you, my lady." His insult, apparently, had been wholly forgiven, but still he did not completely relax. There were undercurrents of which he was uneasily aware. But the sweets seemed harmless enough. He chose and ate. As she had promised, the combination was pleasing.
"Take another," she urged. "Several. I weary of acting the servant." Putting down the tray she sat down, her long legs somehow ungraceful, her hair an ashen cascade. "Tell me," she demanded. "What do you think of our vessel?"
Dumarest leaned back, glad of the opportunity to be openly curious. To one side, Jocelyn and the cyber conversed in low tones. Beyond them, lining the walls, ancient books rested in sealed frames. The carpet and chairs were old and the small tables scattered about bore an elaborate inlay which could only have been done by hand.