A call relayed to Dumarest as he traversed the hills with Zehava and the native driver. They had reached the cabin within minutes. Barely time for Tighe to have shifted the body of the girl. They had seen no raft and Dumarest had seen no sign of movement. The cabin had been empty when Tighe had found the bodies and Nigel's flesh was still warm. If Tighe was innocent how had the couple died?
"Let's finish this." Zehava was impatient. "Wrap up the body and take it back with us. Nigel can be evicted in space – he deserves better than this lousy world. Tighe, give me a hand."
The cover rustled as they moved it to cover the body. A rustle echoed by another as Dumarest propped open the door. It slammed as he ducked, throwing himself forward, steel flashing as he jerked the knife from his boot. Something hit the panel, scrabbled, rose with a flash of scarlet wings to fall, spraying blood, the head severed from the body. A pylas which had lurked unseen beneath the bed.
One with mandibles strong enough and jagged enough to have slashed a throat and ripped open a stomach.
"Filth!" Zehava pulped it beneath her foot. "It must have sneaked in when you went for your walk, Tighe. You were lucky. Nigel wasn't. Let's get back to town."
There had been music, dancers, acrobats who defied gravity. A woman who sang with the trilling cadences of birds. A juggler, a contortionist, a girl who ate fire. There had been meats served in a dozen ways, vegetables graced with a variety of sauces, cakes, pastries, nuts, confections in stunning profusion. Wine had been served from crystal flagons accompanied by a choice of spirits and liqueurs with surprising flavors.
The ingredients of a feast provided by Cazele as a gesture of hospitality and farewell.
Now, the meal and entertainment over, most of the company helped from their places to the privacy of rooms, talk hung like drifting smoke over the table.
"We shall be sorry to see you leave," said Cazele from his place at the head of the board. "I regret that you could not all respond to my invitation."
"A matter of necessity," said Dumarest.
"One I understand. But I would have liked to thank them all for having enlivened the town."
"Good profit for the taverns." Lebor Aethy smiled at remembered gain.
"There will be broken hearts when you go." A woman, old beneath her paint, reached for a comfit. "Your men have an enviable virility." She chewed, swallowed, added, "If you wish to sell your seed before you depart -"
"Enough, Indira!" Cazele was sharp. To Dumarest he said, "I must apologize. She has imbibed too deeply."
"No." She refuted the suggestion. "I'm no drunker than you, Aslam. There's nothing objectionable in offering to buy viable sperm. If Earl agrees -"
"He doesn't," snapped Zehava.
"You speak for him?" The woman's voice held acid. "Give the orders? But I forget – you have the gun."
"Is that what you think?" Cazele laughed with genuine amusement. "You really must be drunk, my dear, to be so blind. A gun doesn't give authority, it only provides a threat. Those who rely on such a weapon are helpless should it be lost or cease to function. A wise man knows that. Knows too the mental attitude of those accustomed to rely on guns. They tend to underestimate those who do not. They forget there are other weapons."
He paused and picked a knife from the table. Light shone from its polished blade and turned it into a thing of functional beauty.
"A knife can be more than it seems," he mused. "Correctly designed it can cut and stab and slice with equal efficiency. It can be thrown. It can be used as a hammer, a lever, a probe, a surgical instrument. It can kill a beast, skin it, scrape the hide, butcher the carcass. With a flint it can make fire. It can be sharpened on a stone. Polished it acts as a mirror. It needs no charges, no cartridges. It is silent in operation. It is cheap. It will last for years. It will provide the means to survive." Metal clashed as the knife fell from his hand to hit another. "All a gun can do is wound and kill."
Zehava said, "You are wrong. A gun gives power. It makes you equal."
"Why this talk of killing?" Indira rose from her seat. "I'm interested only in life. It is late, Aslam. You will excuse me? Lebor. Peoro. Be so kind as to escort me home."
They rose, Peoro staggering a little as he climbed to his feet. A dour man who had nodded a greeting but said nothing. Cazele sighed as he departed.
"When a boy he tried to kill himself by swallowing acid. He was saved but for a long time it was agony for him to speak. The habit of silence remains. An asset at times and he controls the processing plants so he could not be ignored. More wine?" He froze the motion of his hands as Dumarest shook his head.
Zehava said, "I'd like some more wine. I've a toast to make. One to the dead."
"Your companion. A tragic loss." Cazele filled her glass. "You have my sympathy. A pylas, I understand. They can be vicious."
Dumarest said, "Why do you tolerate them?"
"We have little choice. They breed deep in the hills. Finding their nests is not easy. Destroying them is almost impossible."
"Use radioactive dusts." Zehava swallowed the remainder of her wine. "They wouldn't stand a chance."
"Perhaps not, but we lack the skills and experience. If you were to consider accepting the commission?" Cazele paused, waiting for an answer. When none came he added, "A fee could be arranged. Some of your party could remain to be picked up later. An ideal arrangement."
Dumarest said, "First we'd have to know more about the pylas. No one seems to want to talk about them. Do they often kill without reason?"
"No."
"Swarm?"
"No." Cazele reached for the flagon. "More wine? Some tisane, then. I have a special compound. But not here. Let us go into my private room."
He led the way, ignoring those left at the board. Zehava trailed after him, Nadine moving quickly to Dumarest's side. The fingers she rested on his arm, tightened, eased, closed again.
"What is it?"
She returned his whisper. "He's lying. There's something on his mind. I've read it for days. There could be danger."
The tisane fumed in an ornamented pot; a sweetish concoction which held a tart freshness and an enticing aroma. They sat in soft chairs, Dumarest between the two women, Cazele facing all three.
Without preamble he said, "I've heard talk as to your destination. Is it true that you are heading for Earth?"
"If we are?"
"Earth! "Cazele shook his head. "That vile place. I beg you to reconsider. You are welcome to stay here. We need you. Our gene pool is too small. After we settled this world too many left and only the weak remained. Our numbers have grown but we need new blood. Provide it and I'll double our previous offer as to land and position."
Nadine said, "You could buy sperm. Traders -"
"Are rare. There is little to attract them. Fionnula is not what it was.Thelooshis not in high demand and we have little else to offer. I am being honest with you." Pausing he added, "I offer a bargain. Remain here another week. Permit Indira to collect what she is willing to buy – sperm can be frozen against future need. In return load your vessel with all the loosh you can carry."
"I'll think about it," said Dumarest. "I guess Earth can wait."
"It should be destroyed!" Cazele leaned back in his chair, calmer now, confident he had made a deal. "Earth! The vilest world in the galaxy!"
"You know it?"
"I know of it," corrected Cazele. He poured himself more tisane and sat, cup in hand, vapour rising to veil his face. "A world from which men ran to find other places on which to expiate their sins. A world proscribed. Has none ever warned you not to find it?"