Power-a bribe no old man would refuse, no old woman could resist. He had it-if Usan Labria knew, would she hesitate to betray him for such a reward?

"Earl?" She frowned as she watched his face. "Your eyes-have I offended you?"

"No. I was thinking of something else."

"A woman?" Her smile was grotesque. "If I were younger I could be jealous. Many women must have envied the one close to your side. Perhaps one day-" She broke off, then ended, "It was good of you to visit me, but I must not take all of your time. Pacula could need attention. You know why she is with us?"

"No. Why?"

"That she will tell you if she wants. Ask her, Earl. Talk to her. She needs someone she can trust."

* * *

Sufan Noyoka had done well. Dumarest had expected the ship to be old, scarred, the hull patched, the decks scuffed and the bulkheads grimed, a hulk little better than scrap. Instead, while small, the Mayna was clean and in good condition. A vessel a Mangate could have owned or one used by a wealthy family for private transportation. Its cost must have been high-proof of Noyoka's dedication to his ideal as the crew was visible evidence of his power of persuasion.

A small crew, a captain, a navigator and an engineer. They together with the two women and Noyoka himself formed the complement together with Dumarest and a man who liked to play with cards.

Marek Cognez was a slender man with a spurious appearance of youth, his features finely pointed, the lips full and sensuous. A man almost womanish in the soft richness of his clothing, the delicate bone structure of his face and hands. His fingers were long, tapered, the nails trimmed and polished. A heavy ring glowed on the index finger of each hand, the stones elaborately carved, the bands wide.

He sat at the table in the salon, Pacula at his side, the cards in his hands making a soft rustling noise as he shuffled.

"Come and join us, Earl. A diversion to pass the time."

Pacula said, "How is Usan?"

"Awake. With food and rest she will be on her feet soon."

"Another female to grace the company. Well, any amusement would be welcome. Our captain is engrossed with his instruments and Noyoka keeps our navigator busy with plans and suggestions. A union I find suspicious. If two heads are better than one then should not three be better than two?"

"Your time will come later, Marek," said Pacula. "It doesn't take your genius to cross empty space."

"But to find the answer to a puzzle?" Marek smiled as she made no answer. It held a little genuine amusement. "Well, each to his own. Some to provide money in order to obtain the ship, others to run it, one to discover how time and opportunity can be merged to achieve the desired result. And you, Earl? What is your purpose?"

"Does he need one?" Pacula was sharp and Dumarest sensed she had no liking for the man. "You ask too many questions, Marek."

"How else to gain answers? For all things there is a reason and, knowing them, a pattern can be formed. You, for example, my dear. Why should your brother have thought you bound for Heidah? A lie compounded by Noyoka's hints and agreement. And why should a vessel have landed just before we left carrying a cyber?"

Dumarest said, "Are you sure of that?"

"Can anyone mistake the scarlet robe?" Marek was bland. "A routine visit perhaps, who can tell? The pieces of a puzzle or elements unessential to the pattern? Perhaps the cards will tell."

They made a sharp rapping as he tapped them on the table, shuffled, cut and slowly dealt. Pursing his lips he looked at the exposed card.

"The Lord of Fools. Symbolic, don't you think? On this ship all are fools. But who is the Lord, Earl? Who is the biggest? Can you tell me that?"

His voice was soft yet holding a note of irony as if he expected to be challenged. As if he hoped to be challenged.

Dumarest said, "If you think we are fools then why join us?"

"Because life itself is a game for fools. You doubt it? Consider, my friend, what is the essence of being? We are born, we live for a while, and then, inevitably, we die. Which means, surely, that the object of existence is to reach an end. Does it matter how soon that end is reached? If the object of a journey is to arrive at a destination then why linger on the way?"

Philosophical musings with which Dumarest had little patience. As he made no answer Pacula said, "Tell us."

"Students kneeling at the feet of a master-my friends, you surprise me. Is it so hard to venture an answer? For the fun of it, try."

"To enjoy the scenery," said Dumarest shortly. "To ease the path for those who follow."

"Which assumes that those who went before cared about us who come after. The facts are against you, my friend." Marek turned another card. "The Queen of Desire. A fit mate for the Lord of Fools. But to which of the women we carry does the card apply? You, Pacula? Or to the one who lies in her cabin engrossed in erotic dreams?"

"How can you say that!" Pacula radiated her anger. "Usan is old and-"

"Have the old no desires?" Marek, unruffled, fired the question. "Why else is she with us? But it seems I tread on delicate ground. Even so, let us ponder the matter. Usan Labria is, as you say, old, but I have seen older toss away their pride and dignity when the demands of the flesh grow too strong. Is she such a one? What do you say, Earl?"

"You had better change the subject."

"And if I do not?" For a moment their eyes met and Pacula felt a sudden tension, broken when, smiling, Marek shrugged and said, "Well, no matter. Earl, shall we play?"

"Later, perhaps."

"A diplomatic reply. Not a refusal, not a promise, simply meaningless words. Do I offend you?"

"No."

"And if I did, would you fight?"

Dumarest said coldly, "Such talk is stupid and you are not a stupid man. Why did you join us?"

"Because life is a game and it is my pleasure to win at games. Balhadorha is a puzzle, a challenge to be solved, and I mean to solve it. Are you answered?"

"For now, yes."

"And our captain. You have met Rae Acilus, what do you think about him? Is he the Lord of Fools?"

The captain, like his ship, was small, compact, neatly clean. A man with hooded eyes and thin lips, his hands alone instruments of emotion; the fingers twitching sometimes at rest, more often curled as if to make a fist. A taciturn man who had said little, accepting Dumarest after a searching glance of the eyes, having him fill the vacant place of steward.

"A case could be made for it," continued Marek, touching the card with a slender finger, light glowing from his ring. "Greed makes fools of us all and Acilus is no exception. He was ambitious and hoped for rapid gain. He took command of a ship carrying contract workers to a mining world. A slave ship in all but name and he saved on essential supplies. There was an accident, the hull was torn and-can you guess the rest?"

"Tell me."

Marek shrugged. "Not all could hope to survive. Our captain, faced with a decision, evicted seventy-three men and women. Naturally they had no suits. Sometimes, when asleep, he cries out about their eyes."

Truth or a facile lie? Dumarest remembered the man, his masked face, the way he had held himself, the hands. The story could be true, such things happened, but true or not it made little difference. The journey had started, they were on their way.

He said, "So he hopes to get rich and regain his self-respect. Is that what you are telling me?"

"You are not concerned? Our ship captained by a killer?"

"Is he a good captain?"

"One of the best, but is that your only interest?" Marek looked thoughtful. "It seems that you have something in common. Let us see what it could be." He touched the cards and held one poised in his fingers. "Your card, my friend. Which will it be?"