World of Promise dot-23 Read online

  World of Promise

  ( Dumarest of Terra - 23 )

  E.C Tubb

  E.C Tubb

  World of Promise

  Chapter One

  Against the tawdry velvet the dolls were things of enchantment: bright shapes of tinsel and glitter with hair of various hues formed into elaborate coiffures, eyes like gems, limbs and bodies traced with glowing colors, sparkling with sequins, stuffed with aromatic herbs.

  "Mummy!" The voice was thin, high, crackling with childish longing. "Look, Mummyl Please may I have one?"

  "No, child."

  "Please, Mummy! Please!"

  "No, Lavinia! Don't ask again!"

  Dumarest turned, seeing the small figure at his side, the mane of hair which formed an ebon waterfall over the narrow shoulders-a frame for the rounded, piquant face, the widely spaced eyes now filled with a hopeless yearning. One which matched that of the woman who blinked as she forced herself to be harsh.

  She said, as if conscious of his presence, "You know we can't afford to buy such things, child. Later, when we get back home, I'll make you one. I promise."

  A promise she would keep at the cost of lost sleep and small comforts, but it wouldn't be the same. She lacked the skill to produce such false beauty and nothing could ever replace the magic of this special moment. Behind her a man, thick-set, dressed in rough and patched clothing, coughed and fumbled in a pocket.

  "Maybe we could manage, Fiona, if-"

  "No, Roy!" The need to refuse accentuated her sharpness. "Bran needs all we can give him." She looked at the robed figure standing at the man's side. "He must be given his chance."

  Determination must have driven them for years and Dumarest could guess at the sacrifices they had made. The man, a farmer he guessed, was decades younger than he looked, the woman the same. The youth, shapeless in his dun-colored robe, stood with a listless detachment, the face masked by the raised cowl pale, the eyes bruised with chronic fatigue. A family cursed by endless study and endless economies so that one of them, at least, would gain the chance to better himself.

  But must the girl also pay?

  Dumarest stooped and closed his hands about the small waist and lifted the girl high to sit on his shoulder. As the man opened his mouth to protest, he said, quickly, "With your permission, sir. I have my reasons. Allow me to buy your daughter a doll."

  "But-"

  "Roy!" The woman closed her hand on his arm. "No, husband!"

  "He offers charity-"

  "No!" With a woman's quick intuition she sensed it was more than that. Sensed too that Dumarest would not be denied. Her voice fell, became a whisper as, ignoring her, he concentrated on the child.

  "Choose," he urged. "Take your time and pick which one you want."

  She needed no time-the decision had been made already. Her hand lifted, the finger steady as it aimed at the second largest.

  "That one." Her tone was wistful. "Please, may I have that one?"

  "A wise choice." The vendor had remained silent knowing that to press too soon was to risk losing the sale. Now she came forward, smiling, smoothing the scarlet hair of the doll as she lifted it from its place. "The finest materials and skills have gone into the fabrication of this product. Note the eyes and the way they seem to move as you turn them against the light. The hair can be washed and set in a variety of styles. The face is capable of slight alteration, see?" The cheeks developed hollows beneath the pressure of her fingers, smoothed as she manipulated the plastic. "And the stuffing will retain its potency for years, bringing comfort and tranquility and restful sleep."

  Valued comforts on any world and to be envied on Podesta.

  Dumarest nodded, swung the girl from his shoulder, straightened to face the vendor who still held the doll.

  "How much?"

  The price had been decided as the child had made her choice. The family were poor and Dumarest wore a student's robe to match that of the youth but their poverty need not be mutual. A man studying for a whim, a noble paying a forfeit, a rich man amusing himself-such were not uncommon at the fair. But the vendor had seen his face and had abandoned the hope of an inflated profit. Here was no gull to be cheated.

  "Fifteen corlms, my lord." As she picked up the coins she added, mechanically, "Good luck attend your studies."

  "I'll echo that." Roy cleared his throat, aware of his previous antagonism and embarrassed by it. "I thought you were taking pity on us at first, but Fiona explained. A superstition, I understand. Well, I'm no man to deny another his search for luck. You're for Ascelius, I see. Just like Bran here." He nodded at his son. "I've got him passage on the Evidia-fifth class, hard but cheap." Then, as Dumarest made no comment, he coughed and ended, "Well, I just wanted to thank you. We all did."

  The woman, with her quick wit and the facile lie which had saved her husband's pride, now as Dumarest extended the doll to the child, said quickly, "Don't snatch it, Lavinia. Thank the gentleman properly."

  "How can I, Mummy?"

  "You'll have to kneel," she said to Dumarest. "Allow her to kiss you."

  For a moment he hesitated, looking at the woman, reading the understanding in her eyes. Then he knelt, the doll in one hand, arms extended as the child ran into their embrace.

  "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for the doll." Then she was warm and soft against him, the touch of her lips moist on his cheek, small hands at his shoulders. A timeless instant which shattered as he rose to stand above her, the silken smoothness of her hair a memory against his palm-a moment she had already forgotten, engrossed as she was with her new toy.

  The wind had turned fitful, gusting from the town and blowing over the field, the clustered booths of the fair, catching the rising columns of colored smoke and stinging his eyes with drifting acridity.

  Blinking, Dumarest took shelter in an open-fronted tent, buying a mug of spiced tisane, sipping it as he looked over the area. The crowds had thickened as had the noise, and both would increase as the night grew older, not easing until the dawn, not ending until the closing of the fair two days from now. A misnomer-the fair was only called that because of the entrepreneurs taking advantage of the occasion; the vendors and touts, the harlots and gamblers, clowns, tumblers, freaks, the sellers of dreams and builders of hope, the merchants and traders and caterers to vice and pleasure who moved from world to world adding color and gaiety to a host of gatherings, living like transient parasites on the events of time.

  "A word in your ear, sir." The man standing beside Dumarest looked cautiously from side to side. "But first your promise that our discourse will remain confidential. I have it?"

  Dumarest sipped at his tisane.

  "A man of discretion," applauded the stranger. "One who knows that silence is a message within itself. Now, sir, to be frank, I find myself in an invidious position. My client-I am an investigator-has died. The assignment he gave me was to obtain for him certain information regarding an examination held before the granting of a degree of special merit on a world which need not be named at this time. Passing the examination and gaining the degree offers great financial and academic advantages. The cost of obtaining the information-to be frank, the answers to the questions-was considerable and, as I mentioned, my client died before I could be recompensed. You understand the situation?"

  "I think so." Dumarest looked into his mug. "You want to sell me the answers to the examination questions?"

  "You put it bluntly, sir, but you have grasped the point. Such an intelligence does not shame the robe you wear. Now, as a student, you will appreciate the opportunity I offer. Copied, the information will make you financially independent, and a few sales will recoup the initial outlay."

  "I'm not interested."

  "You sho
uld be." The man had a thin, avian face, the eyes hooded, the mouth pursed. "Need I remind you that education does not come cheap? That to fail an examination could mean the loss of years of effort? Isn't it logical to take all precautions against that happening?"

  Dumarest said flatly, "I told you I'm not interested. You're wasting your time. Now just move on and stop bothering me."

  He finished the tisane as the stranger moved away in search of a more gullible victim. He could even find one; some scared and timid youth desperate at the thought of failure and willing to buy an imagined security. More likely the relative of a student would fall for his lies and hand the expensive rubbish over as a final gift. In either case both would have paid for their folly.

  Setting down the empty mug, Dumarest moved from the tent and paused on the wide path running between the facing booths. Between two of them he could see the area beyond; more open, thronged now with little groups, studded with stands selling drinks, comestibles, gaudy confections. A scene lit with the burning hues of torches set high on slender poles; chemical flares casting patches of somber browns, smoldering oranges, dusty blues, intense purples, vivid greens, burning yellows, savage reds. Circus colors augmented by the blaze of stars covering the sky in a myriad of glittering points, the sheets and curtains of luminescence, the silver glow of triple moons.

  From somewhere down the midway came the thud of drums and a sudden burst of laughter; strained amusement too raucous to be genuine, sounds made to cover an aching grief, a fear, an anxiety grown too great. Those gathered had not come for the fun available but to make their farewells- all wearing the dun-colored robe would be taking ships for Ascelius, the vessels themselves now ranked on the field or heading into orbit.

  "Mister!" A woman called to him, her body moving with sinuous grace. "A lecture hall can be a dull place-why not take a little pleasure while you can? Come with me and taste the realities of life. For ten corlms I will teach you a new art. For twenty I will stun your senses. For fifty I will give you paradise."

  She shrugged as he moved on, knowing better than to scream insults, knowing such actions could bring an ugly return. And why waste time on one when others were available?

  Dumarest heard her make a fresh offer as he slipped between two booths and into the open area. His ship was on the field, his passage booked, but for reasons of his own he delayed boarding. Instead he walked to where a throng had gathered around an area bright with unexpected light. The crowd had formed a circle, faces turned like sun-loving flowers toward the illumination, eyes intent on what they saw.

  A cage stood beneath suspended lights, a thing of stout bars and braces, wheeled for ease of transport, ringed with a handful of guards. In it paced a beast.

  It was half again as tall as a man, twice as broad, the hands like spades, the fingers tipped with claws as were the toes of the splayed feet. The body was dark with thickly matted hair grown so close that it seemed the texture of horn. The face was a nightmare of jutting jaw, fangs, burning eyes and pointed ears. The plated skull bore two stubby horns, their tips glistening with metallic sharpness. The neck was as thick as the thighs, which were as thick as the waist of a woman.

  "Look at it!" A man sucked in his breath as he spoke to the woman at his side. "How would you like to meet that in a dark alley?"

  "I wouldn't." The sight which entranced him nauseated her. "Come away, Lou."

  "You don't like it?"

  "I think it's vile." She gave her reason. "It's too much like a man. An animal is one thing but this is disgusting." An association others had made and which added to its attraction. The head guard, sweating despite the cold, walked past, a padded cap held suggestively in his hand. In it rested the gleam of coins.

  "What is it?" He shrugged at the question, pausing until a few coins had joined the others, smiling as he received his due. "Friends you are fortunate to have the privilege of seeing a product of the Chetame Laboratories. Note the coat, the eyes, the fangs. The body hair is as fine as fur, matted almost at the skin to form a natural armor. The hide itself is as tough as that of a bull. The fangs are copied from the stabbing teeth of a feline, while within the jaw lie the pointed molars of a carnivore."

  He paused, waiting for the expected questions.

  "The feet? They are modeled on those of a bird and can kick forward as well as back. The horns alone bear the touch of added artifice, as you can see by the gleam of metal tips. A worthy opponent for any hunter seeking a novel prey. A guardian of value for the protection of home and palace." He allowed himself to be humorous. "If any of you gentlemen wishes to safeguard the chastity of your woman then a beast such as this would be a good investment-but first make sure it has been gelded."

  A titter followed the crude joke, one not appreciated by the woman who had spoken before.

  "That's enough, Lou! If you want to stare at that thing then do it alone."

  "Wait a few more minutes."

  "No! I'm going! Come with me or don't bother to call again!"

  The threat sent him to accompany her as she moved from the crowd. Others were not so squeamish. A guard yelled as a half-dozen young men, none robed, all a little intoxicated, thrust striped wands through the bars in an attempt to goad the beast.

  "Are you mad? Back there! Back, damn you!"

  "Fools!" The head guard glared his displeasure. "Have they nothing better to do?"

  "Is it safe? Could it break loose?"

  "No." The guard smiled as he reassured the man who'd asked. "But it's best not to torment the creature. Anger makes it hard to handle and we like to keep it quiet."

  Nonetheless dilettantes laughed as they threw stones into the cage. Bored, jaded, the idle parasites of a strugglng culture, they considered themselves above the restrictions binding others. Dumarest heard the guard yell again as he moved away. Heard the mocking reply, the sudden snarl from the creature which filled the air with the raw taint of primeval fear, roar repeated as again the men goaded the beast.

  The guards were fools. They bore clubs and should have used them. Instead they added to the din with futile shouting, a stupidity matched by the original error of displaying the creature in the first place.

  The noise faded as he merged with the throng in the midway, listening to the siren call of a young girl offering a variety of exotic experiences: sensitapes which gave a full-sense illusion of reality; analogues which conveyed alternate pleasures; sexual coupling of beasts, killing, burning, dying, the terror of the chase, the thrill of the stalk; drugs to heighten perception, others to increase the sensitivity of nerves so that a touch became an ecstasy, a kiss unendurable pleasure; compounds to dull, to distort, to change; salves, pills, tablets, tonics-the girl offered them all.

  "And you, my lord?" Her eyes met Dumarest's. "Is there nothing you desire?"

  Nothing she could supply and she must have read the answer in his eyes. Oddly her own filled with tears.

  "I am sorry, my lord," she whispered. "So very sorry."

  A sensitive? It was possible, carnivals and fairs were natural resting places for such misfits. But what had she seen to make her cry? What had she guessed?

  Perhaps nothing-the tears could have been a trick to attract others, a little showmanship to enhance her standing. A facile explanation, but Dumarest hesitated to accept it. A warning? It was possible and his back prickled to the familiar sense of danger. Podesta was the staging point for those heading for Ascelius. It was the cheap and easy way which was why it was popular with students and, at this time, it was simple to become lost in the crowd, which was why he had chosen to travel in the guise of a student. Had the girl seen through his pretense? Had she known that others had done so?

  To pursue those questions would invite the very attention he needed to avoid. There was nothing he could do but to wait and remain inconspicuous.

  He bought a skewer of meat from a stall and moved on while he ate, pausing at the blaze of light thrown by lanterns over a gambling layout, watching as the dealer taught those
placing bets how to manipulate the cards. A lesson they never even suspected-the man was good at his trade.

  A crone offered vials of potion guaranteed to win adoration. A tall, gaunt man offered a drug which would increase the ability to memorize data. A woman with silver hair dotted with scarlet made crude jests as she persuaded a bunch of students to buy her system of mnemonics. A monk lifted a chipped bowl of worn plastic.

  "Of your charity, brother."

  Dumarest paused, tearing the last of the meat from the skewer and throwing aside the wood. The monk followed it with his eyes, saying nothing, but his meaning was plain. Dumarest had eaten-others would starve. If he could realize that, realize too that, but for the grace of God, he could be one of them, then the millennium would be that much closer. When all accepted the basic credo then it would have arrived.

  Brother Lond would never see it. Mankind bred too fast, spread too quickly, but to cease from struggle because the aim was distant was alien to the Church of Universal Brotherhood of which he was a part.

  Now he lifted his bowl, tall and gaunt in his robe of brown homespun, the bare feet in their sandals gnarled and stained with the dirt of the field, an old man who had dedicated his life to the easement of suffering. His head lowered as Dumarest dropped coins into the bowl.

  "You are generous, brother."

  Dumarest said dryly, "Aren't you going to wish me good fortune in my studies?"

  "If it will please you." The sunken eyes of the monk were direct. "But do you go to study, brother? Or do you go to hide?"

  A guess? Monks were far from being fools and the old man would have noticed his bearing, recognized the dun-colored robe for what it was, the charity as being alien to a student nursing his resources. A mistake, but not a serious one; Dumarest had no cause to fear the Church.

  He moved on, halting to listen to a man selling electronic equipment.

  "Small, neat and compact," he was saying. "Each unit is capable of multiple settings and can take a variety of programs. Use the earpiece while awake, the bone conductor when asleep-the actual emissions from the brain when the correct state is reached will trigger the instrument. Each cartridge holds an hour of continuous information, and a wide choice is available. Medicine, electronics, physics, astrogation-all in the form of lectures or assembled bits of essential data. Learn while you sleep. Gain the advantage of continuous study and ensure the gaining of your degree."