"Because someone has got in first?"
"No. The craftsmen of the area have suffered this past season from an affliction of the eyes. Nothing serious, a form of ophthalmia, but it precluded fine and delicate work."
"Introduced by a previous visitor who will now return with the appropriate cure?"
"And so earn gratitude and a foothold in a lucrative market." Nubar Kusche beamed his appreciation of Dumarest's quick grasp of the situation. "You betray a shrewd knowledge of human nature, my friend. An asset on any world. But let me answer your unspoken query-it was not I who introduced the ophthalmia."
"But you know, who did?" Dumarest watched the bland, unchanging smile. "You have to know-or why be so certain those men are on a forlorn quest? Not that it matters. I'm not after miniatures."
"Single pieces, then? If so I could guide you to certain favorable locations. The Weldach Village, for example. A long journey but, armed with the right goods and information, you could make a handsome profit."
"And you a fat commission?"
Kusche shrugged. "Why not? Surely you would not begrudge it? What have you to lose?"
The expenses of the trip, the trade goods purchased, time, lost opportunities-Dumarest was no stranger to what Kusche proposed.
He said, bluntly, "You're wasting your time."
"Allow me to be the judge of that. You have great potential, my friend. I recognize it. What would you say if I offered to stake you? A partnership, Earl. You would be interested in that?"
"It depends on the terms," said Dumarest. "I'd be interested in nothing less than for you to meet all costs. You provide the finance, I'll provide the labor and we split any profit made." He added, "One more thing-you hand over the money and I'll do all the shopping."
Inflating the bills and retaining the discounts-a sure way to make a profit no matter what the outcome of the trip. Something Kusche recognized.
"You are a hard man, my friend. The wine?"
"A debt I shall remember."
"Very hard." Nubar Kusche sighed and dabbed at his face with a square of embroidered silk. "Something I sensed on our first meeting, but a man must try. And no harm has been done." He smiled as he replaced the silk in a pocket. "A matter of practice and it is early days as yet. There will be others more interested in what I have to offer. And you?"
Dumarest returned the smile, shaking his head.
"A pity. We would make a good team, I think. If anything should come up and I should bump into you again-well, time enough for that when it happens. In the meantime there is work to be done." Kusche rose from the table and stood for a moment looking down into the street at the gaudy booths of the fair. "To deal," he said. "To trade. To lie a little in anticipation of the truth. The oldest profession, some say, though others would have it otherwise." He looked at a pavilion garish with phallic symbols which left no doubt as to the entertainment to be obtained inside. "Good luck, Earl."
"And to you, Nubar."
A genuine wish; Dumarest had no reason not to like the man. He was honest in his fashion and could not be blamed for what he was. An entrepreneur who was not too successful at the moment. His clothing showed telltale traces of wear, the rings he wore carried imitation gems, and he displayed a lack of judgment when selecting Dumarest as a potential victim. A mistake he had quickly realized but he had played the game to the end. A man with a stubborn streak and a sense of humor.
As he left the table Carina Davaranch took his place.
"A new friend, Earl?"
She had left him the previous afternoon to go about her business and wore the same crimson dress she had then. He remembered it from Shard. Now, looking at her, he noted the lines of strain at the corners of her eyes, the tension of the muscles at lips and jaw. A tension which matched the tone of her voice.
"A chance acquaintance," he said. "Some wine?" Kusche had left the bottle and a clean glass stood on a nearby table. Dumarest filled it and handed it to the woman.
As she took it she said bitterly, "Why are men such bastards?"
"Trouble?"
"The usual. They will buy my work-if. If I am complaisant. If I agree to doubling their commission. If I'm willing to wait." She drank half the wine. "This place is a jungle."
As were all worlds. Dumarest leaned back in his chair as he looked at her. Against the windows facing the balcony her reflection shone brightly gold and scarlet, the subtle touch of masculinity in her face and figure giving her an added depth of enigmatic attraction. Such a woman would be a challenge to every dealer she met-should they treat her as a normal female or regard her with the wary suspicion of a male?
She said, "I've had enough of this place, Earl. When you ship out I want to come with you. I guess you'll be moving soon. Right?"
There was no point in staying. Nisbet had known nothing more about the box than what Dumarest had learned and he'd gained more than the man was willing to tell. The folder had yielded only specifications, the printed sheet listing dates and the name of the agency handling the transaction. The Huag-Chi-Tsacowa-they had an office in town. From it Dumarest had learned that all cost-data were held in the computer of the depot on Brundel. Only they would know the name and whereabouts of the owner of the casket.
Details he didn't mention. Instead, he said, "Why don't you stay here, Carina?"
"I told you. I've had enough of this place. And we've been through that before. I'm a free agent and when I want to move then I damned well move." She drank the rest of her wine. "I can book passage on any vessel I choose."
"If they're willing to take you."
"I've money enough to make sure of that." She smiled, confident, then lost the smile as she saw his expression. "Earl?"
"I've made my plans, Carina."
"And they don't include me, is that it?" She blinked and swallowed to master her hurt. "Am I asking so much? All I want is to ride with you. To have some decent company on the journey. I guess you could say I need a friend. Is that so hard to understand?"
One journey leading to another, to more, the friend becoming a responsibility, a burden that he had no intention of bearing.
He said, bluntly, "It ends here. Our association, I mean. I go my way and you go yours." He rose and stood looking down at her. "That's the way travelers are."
"Yes." She took a deep breath then, smiling, rose to stand at his side. Chairs hampered movement and she stepped from the table to the open space before the line of windows. "You're right, Earl. I'm sorry-it's just that I've had too many hassles these past few hours. Well, let's forget it. But there's one thing I'd like to do before we part."
"What?"
She smiled again in answer and took his hand and led him to a space before a window. People moved around, some men, a bunch of women, youngsters staring at the displayed goods with sparkling eyes. Staring too at the dim shapes moving behind the darkened pane which held mirror-like reflections.
Carina ignored them as she moved to stand between the window and Dumarest. In the pane he could see the sheen of her golden hair, the naked expanse of flesh between it and the top of her gown, the small bones of her spine, the hollow at the nape of her neck. Muscles shifted beneath her skin as she raised her hands to rest on his shoulders.
"Kiss me, Earl. Before we part-kiss me!"
For the first and last time. The golden helmet of her hair tilted as she turned her face upwards toward him. Her lips, pursed, were inches from his own.
In the window something moved.
The reflection of a man who stepped forward with sudden determination, his right hand lifted, metallic gleams coming from what he held.
Dumarest saw him, recognized the danger and acted with instinctive speed, his reaction free of the hampering need of thought. As the glittering object neared the back of his neck he spun, the woman in his arms, the charge of the hypogun driving through her skin and fat into her blood as the man pressed the trigger. A shield Dumarest threw to one side as she slumped in his arms.