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  Always eating to ward off starvation, getting hurt and bruised, doing the labor of forty times their number.

  Dumarest blinked and drank a little more wine. Later he would sleep and restore the strength he had expended. Now he wanted to follow the progress of the trading.

  It was going well. Sheyan, recovered from his initial over-eagerness, confident that he now had what the chief elder wanted, was pressing a hard bargain.

  "The weed is bulky," he said. "My hold would barely take the worth of a dozen hooks. The skins are better and the crystals even more so, yet still they have bulk and my hold is small."

  "And the oil?" Herkam pushed forward a container. It was of baked clay sealed with wax. "This would take but little room."

  "True." Deliberately Sheyan broke the seal and poured some of the contents into the hollow of his palm. He rubbed his hands, smelled, frowned, smelled again. "An extract from a fish?"

  "From the giant clams which live deep in the water. They have a gland which can be milked. From the oil can be made a costly perfume."

  Nimino smiled and whispered, "Do you think Sheyan is overacting, Earl? Maybe you'd better end the bargain before he talks us all out of a profit."

  "He's doing well." Dumarest reached out and helped him shy;self to more wine. The container was a gourd bright with inset shells and had probably taken some woman a year to make. "This is no time to interfere."

  Sheyan slammed his hand hard on the table. "Done! The oil, the crystals, some amber and skins in the ratio agreed on. In return we give the hooks chains and gaffs. Can we load immediately?"

  "First we must drink to seal the bargain." The haggling done the chief elder could afford to relax a little. "You find our wine palatable?"

  "It is a rare vintage." Sheyan, too, had relaxed. He had driven a hard bargain and had cause to be satisfied. "A veritable gift of nature."

  "And, as such, not to be swilled as the food of swine," said the chief elder sternly. "Mother Nature has given us the grape to be used for the comfort of guests and the libation of sacrifice." He sipped at his glass. "And now, captain, there is a service I must ask you to perform."

  Sheyan narrowed his eyes. "And that is?"

  "A matter of dissension which needs to be settled."

  "A trial?"

  "That and perhaps more. I beg your indulgence for this imposition on a guest, but the matter must be settled im shy;mediately. You will form a tribunal?"

  "Of course." Sheyan gestured towards Dumarest and Nim shy;ino. "These two officers will accompany me. When will you need us?"

  "Two hours after sunset, captain. I shall send men to escort you to the meeting house."

  "So late?" The captain's voice echoed his displeasure. "I could be loaded and ready to leave in an hour. Time is money to a trader."

  "Two hours after sunset," repeated the chief elder firmly. "It will be dark and the workers will be in from the fields and the sea. You may load, captain, everything but the oil. That we shall deliver to you after the trial."

  V

  night came with a thin wind gusting from the sea, a mist of cloud hiding the stars and intensifying the darkness. Men with torches came to escort the tribunal, their faces hard and solemn in the guttering light. Nimino's voice was low as he walked beside Dumarest, both men three paces behind the captain.

  "We get this from time to time. As traders we're con shy;sidered to be impartial and when a hard decision has to be made we are asked to give it. That way no one has any reason to hold a grudge. A lot of these worlds have a tribal culture or large families locked in a struggle for power. A vendetta would ruin them and most are too proud or too wary to submit to the judgment of other residents." Nimino stumbled as his foot caught an obstruction and he grabbed at Dumarest's arm to save himself from falling. "I just hope that we don't have to execute anyone."

  The meeting house was a long, low-roofed structure built of logs caulked with clay, lit by flaring torches, and hung with a clutter of various trophies. Benches accommodated the audience, the sour reek of their bodies rising to blend with the resinous smell of the torches, the odor of damp soil.

  Dumarest studied them as he took his seat on the raised platform occupying one end of the hall. They wore either rough jerkins and trousers made of treated fish skins or som shy;ber garments of wool. The fishers and farmers, he decided; but aside from their clothes they seemed all cast from the same mold. Like the elderly guards, their faces were set in fanatical lines as if to laugh was to commit a sin. Hair was long and held back with fillets of skin or leather; those of hammered steel being obviously a badge of authority. There were no young women present but a double row of matrons, shapeless in voluminous dresses, sat at the extreme rear.

  Nimino leaned towards Dumarest and said quietly, "Look at their eyes, Earl. Have you ever seen such an expression before?"

  It was the blood-lust glare inherent to mobs and to those anticipating blood and pain. He had seen it a hundred times in the eyes of watchers clustered around a ring where men fought with ten-inch blades. At his side Sheyan moved restlessly on the hard wooden chair.

  "Why the delay?" he said to the chief elder. "We are assembled, where is the prisoner?"

  There was a stir at the far end of the hall. A dozen men, guards, hard-faced and no longer young, marched forward with someone in their midst. They halted before the raised platform and stepped back, their staves swinging horizontal before them to form a barrier. Isolated in the clear space before the platform, a girl looked coolly at the tribunal.

  "By God," she said. "Men. Real men at last!"

  "Silence!" Herkam's voice was harsh with anger. "There will be no blasphemy. Guards! If the woman Lallia speaks so again you will strike her down!"

  Nimino drew in his breath with an audible hiss. "By the sacred mantras of the Dedla Vhal," he said. "That is a woman!"

  She was tall, with a mane of lustrous black hair which swept from a high forehead and rested on her left shoulder. Beneath a rough dress of undyed wool the curves of her body strained under the fabric. Her skin was white, arms and feet bare, the long column of her throat unadorned. The long-lashed eyes were bold, challenging, and the full lips held a wealth of sensuous passion.

  Herkam looked at Sheyan, at the others of the tribunal.

  "This is the one on whom you must pass judgment," he said. "She came to us several months ago from a ship which called here. We gave her the guest offering of food and wine and accepted the stranger within our gates. In return she has sowed dissension, turning brother against brother, mocking our sacred ways and filling the young men with thoughts of evil.

  We gave her work among the women and she dazzled their minds with tales of orgies, dancing, fine raiment, and decadent living.

  We put her to work alone and then had to set guards to keep the young men away from the enticement of her body."

  "A moment." Sheyan lifted his hand. "What is the charge against her?"

  "That of witchcraft! Of consorting with the Evil One!"

  "The evidence?"

  It was as Dumarest expected; a list of petty incidents inconsequential in themselves, but in this in-bred, neurotic community, swollen to grotesque proportions. A woman had pricked her thumb while cleaning fish skins, the resultant infection was wholly due to the accused's evil eye. A young man had died while fishing-a spell must have been laid on his spear so that it broke at a critical time. Crops had withered after she had walked among them. A baby had sickened after she had spoken to it.

  Dumarest looked at the chief elder during the interminable list of complaints and accusations. Herkam was no fool and must know the real value of what was being said. Lallia was guilty of arousing nothing more than jealously and re shy;sentment among the women, desire and frustration among the men. And yet, in such a community, such emotions were dangerous. He began to understand why the case had been given to outsiders to judge.

  "This is a bad one, Earl." Nimino's voice was barely a whisper. "We're dealing with fanaticism and
aberrated fears -an ugly combination."

  It was more than that. Dumarest leaned back, watching the faces of the girl, the men and women seated on the benches. Herkam was playing a shrewd game of politics and playing it well. There would be factions for and against the girl. Young men of high family would be enamored of her beauty, each snarling like a dog over a favored bone, each determined that if he could not win the prize then it should fall to no other. The women would be banded in a common determination to bring her down. Herkam would be trying to both maintain the peace and his own authority.

  And shortly would come the time of festival when the wine flowed and old scores were settled. A time of unleashed pas shy;sion and explosive violence. In such an atmosphere the girl would be a match to tinder and, no matter what happened, the chief elder would be held to blame.

  Dumarest leaned forward as the accusations ceased and said to Sheyan. "Let us hear from the girl herself."

  "There's no need," the captain was sharp. "She'd deny everything, what else would you expect?"

  "He's right, Earl." Nimino joined the low conversation. "We're not dealing with justice here. The girl is innocent, of course, but we daren't say so. They wouldn't accept it. They want her to be found guilty and destroyed. Herkam wants that, too, but he doesn't want her blood on his hands." The navigator frowned, thinking. "We could take her with us but I doubt if they would let her go. They have to be proved right and they want to see her suffer."

  "We could execute her," said Sheyan. "At least that would be quick."

  "No," said Dumarest.

  "What else?" The captain's face was bunched, knotted with anger. "Do you want her to be burned? Or have you got some crazy idea of rescuing her? If you have forget it. We're three against an entire community and we wouldn't even get out of this hall. And we'd lose the oil," he added. "Unless we play this Herkam's way he won't release it."

  "The oil," said Dumarest tightly. "Is that all you're think shy;ing about?"

  "I'm thinking of the ship, the crew, your share and mine. Do you think I intend to throw away the best trade I've ever made for the sake of some stupid slut? Look at her!" Shey shy;an gestured to where Lallia stood, waiting. "A cheap harlot who got herself dumped. Well, to hell with her! I'm no wet nurse to aid the fallen. She's got herself into a mess and she can't expect us to lose our profit to get her out. I say we re shy;turn a verdict of guilty."

  "No," said Dumarest again. "She's innocent and we all know it."

  "What's that got to do with it?" Sheyan looked at his hands, they were trembling. "Don't push it, handler," he said harshly. "I don't like doing this but it has to be done. We won't get that oil unless we act smart-and I intend getting that oil. A majority vote will do it. Nimino?"

  The navigator hesitated. "She is very beautiful. To destroy such beauty would be a crime."

  "Are you turning soft on me?"

  "No, captain, but there could be another way. Do you object to taking her with us?"

  "As long as we get the oil-no."

  "And you, Earl? Will you help?"

  Dumarest was wary. "What have you got in mind?"

  "A trick," said Nimino. "An appeal to their religious con shy;victions. It is the only chance the woman has."

  The hall fell silent as Nimino rose to his feet, soft whispers dying to be replaced by a straining expectancy. In the gut shy;tering torchlight eyes gleamed savage, feral: the eyes of animals rather than those of men. From where he stood to one side, the chief elder stepped towards the tribunal.

  "Have you reached your verdict?"

  "We have." The navigator's voice rolled with the power of an incantation. "It is the verdict of us all."

  "And that is?"

  Deliberately Nimino took his time before answering, let shy;ting the silence lengthen to obtain dramatic effect. He was a good actor, thought Dumarest, and was putting to use the things he had learned from attending numerous religious ceremonies. Casually he glanced at the woman. Lallia stood, tense, white teeth gnawing at her lower lip. Her eyes, no longer bold, held a shadow of worry. The tribunal had taken too long, there had been too much discussion, and she was cynical in her knowledge of the ways of men. Dumarest caught the slight tension of muscles beneath the fabric of her dress, the tensing of thighs and stomach, the unconscious reaction of a person who readied herself for struggle or flight.

  But there was nowhere to run and she would not have to fight.

  "Your verdict?" Herkam's nerve had snapped and he spoke to break the tension. "What is your decision?"

  "That the woman face trial by combat!"

  It was totally unexpected. The chief elder's face went blank as he tried to grasp the implications and Nimino spoke again, quickly, before he could protest.

  "We have traveled many worlds and have seen the manifestations of the All Powerful in many guises. And, too, we have seen the malicious designs of the Evil One. Who can gauge the extent of his cunning? Who can deny that they are proof against his insidious evil? This woman has been accused of witchcraft and it may well be that she is guilty. If so then she must be put to death for it is an abomina shy;tion that such as she be allowed to live. But if she has been wrongly accused, what then?"

  "She is a witch!"

  "Kill her!"

  "Slay the thing of evil!"

  The voices poured from where the double row of matrons sat at the rear of the hall. Others, less coherent, came from the assembled men. Several sprang to their feet, arms waving, feet stamping the dirt of the floor.

  "Hold!" The chief elder signaled to the guards and heavy staves lifted and fell as they beat the young men back into their places. "There will be silence in this place. We deal with a human life and that is not a thing to be treated with shy;out due solemnity." He turned to where Nimino stood. "Ex shy;plain."

  "The charge of witchcraft is one easy to make and hard to refute," continued the navigator. "It could be that the All Powerful has reached forth to place the truth on the lips of those who accuse-or it could be that the Evil One seeks to rend the hearts of those same accusers by causing them to bear false witness. If that should be the case, and if the accused should die because of it, then woe to the people of Candara." His voice deepened, echoed with rolling thunder. "They shall die and perish to be blown away by the wind. Their crops shall fail and their cattle abort and the beasts of the sea shall withhold their meat. Demons shall come to torment the night with ceaseless dreams and all shall perish to become as dust in the wind. For the All Powerful will not extend the wing of protection to those who are seduced by the Evil One. There will be no peace, no comfort, brother shall turn against brother and man shall turn against wife. All, all will be totally lost and pass as if they had never been. This I prophesy!"

  Herkam frowned; he had no liking for anyone but himself making such prophecies, especially not visiting traders. And things were not going as he had planned. He had expected a quick verdict of guilty in which case the woman could have been disposed of and the incident forgotten.

  He said sharply, "We know full well the might of the All Powerful. What does your verdict imply?"

  Nimino smiled, white teeth flashing in the torchlight. "The woman denies being a witch," he said. "We have decided that the matter be judged by a Higher Power. If her cham shy;pion falls then she is proven guilty. If not, then she must be allowed to depart in peace."

  The thing had its possibilities. The chief elder pondered them, conscious of the watchful eyes in the hall, the air of anticipation. A fight would provide the needed spectacle, the necessary blood and, in the remote event of the woman's champion winning, he would be able to castigate those who had made the accusations. In either case he would be rid of the troublemaker. But it would be best if the woman did not win.

  He said, "Who is the woman's champion?"

  Dumarest rose. "I am."

  Herkam felt a glow of inner satisfaction. A trader. One who, by the nature of his employment, must of necessity lack the strength of a manual worker.


  "I bow to your verdict," he said sonorously. And then, to the guards, said, "Find Gilliam and bring him here."

  The man was an atavar, a monster, a mutated freak spawned from radiation-distorted genes. Seven feet tall, his shoulders and arms heavy with ridged and knotted muscle, his legs as thick and as strong as the boles of gnarled trees, he lumbered from the rear of the hall and stood blinking in the cleared space before the platform. Matted hair fell to just above his deep-set eyes. Bare feet, callused and scarred, toed the ground. His hands clenched as a voice rumbled from the depths of his chest.

  "You want Gilliam, chief elder?"

  "I want you to fight." Herkam pointed towards Dumarest. "This is the man."

  "To kill?"

  "To kill." Herkam gestured at the guards. "Take him and prepare him for battle."

  "Earl, I'm sorry." Nimino sucked in his breath. "I didn't know. I thought they would use one of the guards. You're fast and could have taken any of them without trouble. Who would have guessed they had a monster like that?"

  "Win or lose I want that oil." Sheyan's face was furrowed with worry. "If you fall, Dumarest, I'm sorry; but it will be just too bad. There's nothing we can do to help you. You go and the girl goes with you."

  Dumarest looked to where she stood, the full lips blood shy;less now, her eyes like those of a trapped beast. The hands at her sides were clenched, the knuckles showing white be shy;neath the skin. She turned and caught his eyes, her own following him as he stepped from the platform and moved towards her.

  "Mister," she said flatly, "I thank you for what you're try shy;ing to do, but you haven't got a chance. That freak can't be stopped."

  "You want me to pull out?"

  "No." Her voice was resonant, musical beneath the harsh shy;ness of strain. "This way I've got a slim chance," she ad shy;mitted. "The other way I've got none at all. These crazy people want my blood and if you quit they'll get it." She shivered a little. "Look at them! Animals! And Gilliam's the worst. He's an idiot, solid bone and muscle with the intel shy;ligence of a five-year-old. They use him to haul up the boats and do all the heavy stuff. Sometimes he goes insane and then they have to catch him in nets and tie him down. As a reward they let him slaughter the cattle. He thinks it's fun."