The Jester at Scar dot-5 Page 8

  He felt the shock and jar of a parrying blade, the rasp of steel racing towards his hand and swung his own blade in a swinging counter-parry. Heldar grinned as he forced continuance of the motion, throwing Dumarest's machete to one side and opening his defense. Sunlight sparkled in rainbow shimmers as his blade hissed through the air, cutting through the spot where Dumarest had stood, snarling at the lack of impact.

  Again he rushed to the attack, and again Dumarest saved himself by a quick retreat. Heldar was good, fast and clever with the blade, moving with the unthinking speed of automatic reflex, using the sun itself to disguise the movements of his machete as he caught and lost the blinding reflection. Steel rasped, scraped with a nerve-grating sound and hummed with diminishing vibrations. Dumarest felt something touch his upper arm. He spun, stroked with the blade and saw a gush of red appear at Heldar's side.

  The man turned, ran to the far side of the circle and turned with his free hand dabbing at the wound. He advanced again and as he came within range, threw a handful of blood at Dumarest's eyes. At the same moment he dropped and brought the machete around in a whining blur at his ankles.

  Dumarest sprang to one side and upwards. The blade passed beneath his feet. Before Heldar could recover, he swept down with his blade. There was a sound as of an ax hitting wood. From the assembled crowd came the hissing intake of breath.

  "He's done it!" Wandara yelled as he jumped into the circle. "Cut his head damn near right off! Dumarest wins!"

  Dumarest thrust his machete into the ground and stooped over the dead body. From a pocket he took a scrap of rag. Opening it, he stared at five rings, each with a red stone.

  "Is that what he killed her for?" Wandara shook his head. "For a handful of lousy rings?"

  Dumarest said bleakly, "No, for his life."

  He walked to where Brother Glee stood at the edge of the crowd. "Here," he said, and gave him the rings. "Take them, for charity."

  Chapter Six

  Jocelyn lifted his glass. He said, "A toast, to all who love justice!"

  Dumarest touched his lips to the blue wine. Across the table Del Meoud suddenly spluttered, dabbing hastily at his beard. Dumarest caught Adrienne's look of displeasure and her husband's wry grimace. Jellag Haig laughed with amused condescension.

  "The factor finds such a toast hard to swallow," he said. "There is little justice on Scar."

  "And less mercy!" The factor was sharp. "And who makes it so? There are traders who care nothing how they make their profit, nor how men are turned into beasts in the scrabble for wealth."

  Jocelyn waited as a servant refilled the glasses. "You are too hard on Baron Haig," he said quietly. "Is a man to blame for the system? If he is wise, he uses it. If he is foolish, he allows it to use him." He looked at Dumarest. "You fought well," he said. "Would I be wrong if I said that you are no stranger to the arena?"

  "I have fought before," said Dumarest.

  "Often?" Adrienne leaned forward across the table; her eyes were bright with anticipation. "Tell us about it."

  "I fight only when necessary, my lady, when there is food to be earned, my life to protect or a friend to avenge. There is no pleasure in blood for those who fight."

  She frowned, disappointed. On Eldfane man fought as a profession, and most of them seemed to enjoy the activity and the rewards. She said so. Dumarest met her eyes.

  "You are speaking of entertainment, my lady. Some men may enjoy killing and may even wish to die, but I am not one of them. A fight, to me, is something to be ended quickly. You cannot afford to play with a man who seeks your life."

  "But Heldar-"

  "Was a fool," he said brusquely. "He depended on tricks to win. When a trick fails there is no defense. He should have relied on skill and speed."

  "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 Joce
lyn 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.

  He looked up at the ceiling. It was vaulted and groined in an archaic style which belonged more to a edifice of stone than to a vessel designed to traverse space. It was a clue which had eluded him and made everything fall into place.

  "Well?" Adrienne was watching him with her bright eyes, her cheeks flushed a little as if from inner excitement.

  "It is strange, my lady," said Dumarest slowly. "I have never seen such decoration before in a space ship. It is as if someone had recreated the interior of a study belonging, perhaps, to some old stronghold."

  "A museum," she said, suddenly bitter. "A collection of worthless rubbish."

  "Far from worthless, my lady," corrected Dumarest. "There are those who would pay highly for such items."

  "Lovers of the past," she said. "But what is the use of that? The past is dead, only the future remains of importance."

  My future, she thought. With my son heir to both worlds, myself as his regent. Jocelyn's child. Or was that so essential?

  She looked at Dumarest, conscious of his strength and determination. He had courage, and that was a quality admired on Eldfane. Her father would have lifted him high-or broken him on the wheel for having dared to say what he had. Jocelyn? Only he knew what thoughts coiled in his brain. Did he consider it a jest? Would his peculiarities descend to his child?

  Dumarest met her eyes. "The future, my lady, is the result of the past. As the child is the fruit of the father, so today is the child of yesterday. Actions done today have their effect tomorrow. That is why there are many who respect what has gone before."

  "Pour me wine," she demanded. Had he been able to read her thoughts? "The green wine, not the blue. Join me if you will."

  He leaned across the small table and lifted the decanter. Red fire shone from his ring as he passed her a glass. "That ring," she said abruptly. "A gift?"

  Dumarest nodded.

  "From someone special? A woman?"

  He looked down at it, rubbing his thumb over the stone. "Yes, my lady," he said quietly, "from someone very special."

  A mane of lustrous red hair, eyes like sparkling emeralds, skin as soft and white as translucent snow.

  Kalin!

  "Rings?" Jocelyn turned from the cyber. "Is there a mystery about them? The man you killed, Heldar, had rings also. Where did he get them?"

  "From the woman he killed, my lord." Dumarest was curt.

  "And she?"

  Dumarest shook his head. "I do not know. Gifts, perhaps; who can tell?"

  "They had red stones," said Jocelyn thoughtfully. "I saw them after you had given them to the monk. Is there something special about such rings? If so, then be wary, my friend." He rose from where he sat. "You are excused, cyber. Adrienne, I think it time you retired."

  Dumarest rose together with the scarlet figure.

  "Not you, Earl," said Jocelyn. "We yet have unfinished business."

  * * *

  It was going to happen now, thought Dumarest. The talk and preliminaries were over. Soon the guards would come, the crewmen and Ilgash, the bodyguard who had brought him the invitation to the meal. It had been out of curiosity, Dumarest suspected. It seemed to be something new to relieve the monotony of bored and jaded aristocrats, condescending to eat with a traveler, but not an ordinary man, someone who had recently killed and who might be expected to talk about what he had done. But who had, instead, insulted his host.

  Dumarest tensed in his chair. Anger warmed his blood, already tender with memory. If they thought he would be easy to take, they were due for a surprise. This was Scar, not Jest. Once out of the ship, he could laugh at them all and kill them if they came for him. He could kill those who might be eager for a possible bribe. Kill all the smug, gloating, self-satisfied fools who regarded those less fortunate than themselves as animals, beasts without feeling or emotion. Kill!

  He caught himself, trembling, wondering at his rage. The wine? Has something been slipped into the wine? The sweetmeats? He thought of the woman, of the thing he had seen in her eyes, the interplay he had sensed. Had she primed him with some drug to explode into a mindless fury, to kill her husband?

  "Drink this," said Jocelyn. He stood beside Dumarest, a glass of foaming effervescence in his hand. "Drink," he said sharply. "You ate and drank an unusual combination; the effects can sometimes be peculiar." Dumarest gulped the foaming liquid. "Adrienne has a peculiar sense of the ridiculous," said Jocelyn conversationally. "I think she must have acquired it on her home world; Eldfane is a barbarous place. Have you been there?"

  "No, my lord." Dumar
est rose. "With your permission, I think I should go now."

  "And, if I refuse?" Jocelyn smiled. "But why should I refuse? If you wish to leave, none will prevent you. But I should regard it as a favor if you stay." He poured two glasses full of sparkling red wine. Here." He held them both at arms length. "Take your choice." Their eyes met. "You are well to be cautious," said Jocelyn. "But I give you my word as the ruler of a planet that you have nothing to fear, from me, at least." I cannot speak for others."

  Dumarest took one of the glasses. "From the Lady Adrienne, my lord?"

  "I was thinking of the cyber," said Jocelyn. "You don't like him, do you?"

  "I have reason to detest his breed."

  "So we have at least one thing in common." Jocelyn sipped, his wine. "Yeon is a gift, a part of Adrienne's dowry. Often I wonder as to the generosity of my father-in-law. The services of the Cyclan do not come cheap."

  "There is a saying, Beware of those bearing gifts!"

  "A wise adage." Jocelyn put down his empty glass. "Tell me, Earl, do you believe in destiny?"

  "Fate? The belief that a thing must happen, no matter what a man does to prevent it? No."

  "Luck then, surely you must believe in that."

  "Yes, my lord."

  "Forget titles. If you believe in luck, then why not in fate?"

  "Are they the same?" Dumarest paused, looking at his host. The man was serious. "Luck is the fortuitous combination of favorable circumstances," said Dumarest slowly. "Some men have it more than others. From what I know of fate, it is evenly spread. A man has his destiny; all men have theirs. What will be will be. But if that is so, why should anyone strive? Where is the point of a man trying to better himself, to gain more comfort for his family, perhaps, or build a fortune to safeguard against bad times?"

  "Let us talk of Heldar," said Jocelyn. "You blame me for what happened, but be just. It was his fate to die as he did."

  "And the woman he killed?"

  "That also."