"A quest." Sufan Noyoka refilled the empty glass. "My friend, we have much in common, but more of that later. Yet I think that each man must have a reason for living, for why else was he given imagination? To live to eat, to breed, and to die-that is for animals. But why Teralde? The names are not even similar."

"Earth has another name," said Dumarest. "Terra."

"Terra? I-" Sufan broke off, his eyes shifting, darting, little gleams of reflection turning them into liquid pools. "Teralde," he said musingly. "I see the association. But legend has it that the name originated with. Captain Lance Terraim, who was among the first to settle here."

"From where?"

"Who can tell?" Sufan shrugged. "It was long ago and time distorts meaning. Even his family no longer exists and there have been many changes. The land-war of two centuries ago broke the old pattern and the ancient records were lost. I am sorry, my friend, but it seems that you came on a hopeless errand. Teralde is not the world you seek."

As Dumarest had known from the first, yet Sufan's eyes had betrayed him. He knew of Terra, the name at least, and he could know more. But he gave Dumarest no chance to ask questions.

"Let me show you my house, Earl. Usan, my dear, will you arrange the setting of the table? Now come with me, my friend, and tell me what you think of my few treasures. I have an artifact found on Helgeit which holds a mystery and another discovered on a barren world which is equally as strange. You have seen such things in your travels? Have you been to Anilish? Vendhart?" And then, without change of tone, he said, "How often have you killed?"

"My lord?"

"Can you kill?"

"When I have to, yes."

"That is good. Perhaps later you will tell me of your adventures. Now look at this. And this. And what do you think of that?"

The place was partly a museum. Dumarest watched as the man took items from cabinets, his thin hands caressing shapes of stone and distorted metal, old books and moldering scrolls, a crystal which sang as he pressed it, a gem that blazed with a shifting rainbow to the heat of his cupped palm.

For a moment he stared at it then flung it without warning. Dumarest caught it inches from his face.

"Fast," said Sufan. "The reports did not lie. You have unusual reflexes, my friend. Can you handle weapons? A rifle? A laser?"

"Yes."

"And others? A spear? A bow? A sling?"

"Why do you ask, my lord?"

"Still the formality, Earl?" Sufan Noyoka tilted his head as if he were a bird examining a crumb. "A defense," he mused. "A traveler needs to ensure that he does not unwittingly offend local mores and what better way than being always courteous to those who could do him harm? Some would mistake it for servility, but I know better. You have questions you would like to ask?"

"Yes, and have answered."

"Such as?"

"Terra. You have heard the name."

Sufan blinked then said dryly, "An odd request. I would have thought you would be curious as to your own welfare. The reason you are here, for example, and what will happen to you. Yet you ask only after a name. Is your quest, then, so important?"

A gong echoed before Dumarest could answer and his host turned to relock the cabinets that held his treasures. Smiling, he said, "The meal is about to be served and good food should not wait on conversation. Shall we pay it our respects?"

* * *

The food was good but Dumarest ate little, choosing dishes high in protein content and barely touching the wine. Pacula Harada had joined then. She wore white, a shimmering gown which graced her figure and robbed her of accumulated years, an illusion accentuated by the soft lighting.

The talk was casual, yet contained undercurrents of which Dumarest was aware, seeming banalities shielding matters of high importance to those at the table. Again Usan Labria took one of her pills, shrugging as Pacula asked after her health.

"I live, girl, what more can I ask?" Then, to Sufan Noyoka, "Well?"

"You were right, my dear."

"You have found the man?" Pacula caught her breath. "I thought as much. Has he agreed?"

"As yet, no."

"Why not? Sufan, you must-"

"Convince him?" He was bland, his smile a mask. "Of course, but gently, my dear. Earl is not a man to be rushed. First he must recognize the situation. Have you further word from Avorot?"

"He is sending men to search the wilderness and others to comb the Warren. Tien demands new evidence and the Commissioner has promised to supply it. If he does not he will be replaced."

"As I expected." Sufan Noyoka toyed with his goblet. "And, if all else fails, he will resort to harsher measures: the use of drugs and electronic probes to wring the truth from a stubborn mind. The Owners will insist on it to avoid a war. Earl, my friend, your time is limited. I mention it only to make the situation clear. Some more wine?"

"No."

"As you wish." Sufan leaned back in his chair, his face bland. "The meat was dried," he mused, "which means a camp was set up in the wilderness. Traces could be found. Your associates will be discovered and will betray you for promise of immunity and reward. Tien will not believe them, but the probes will reveal the truth. Without a vessel, Earl, you are stranded and helpless. You agree?"

"Not helpless," said Usan Labria sharply. "I shall help him, for one."

"To do what, my dear? Hide in the mountains, living on what he can find? Earl could survive, I have no doubt, but only as a savage. And if you defy Tien, what then?"

The woman had already saved his life with her lies; to ask more was to ask too much. Dumarest said flatly, "I think it time we came to the point. Why was I invited here? What do you want from me?"

"Your help," said Pacula quickly. "We need you. I, that is we, can't-Sufan?"

"I will explain, my dear." The man helped himself to more wine, his manner casual, only the slight trembling of his hand betraying his inner tension. "Earl, have you ever heard of Balhadorha?"

"The Ghost World?"

"That is what some call it."

"A legend," said Dumarest. "A myth. A planet which orbits some unknown star in some unknown region of space. There is supposed to be a city or something filled with riches. A fabulous treasure."

"And more," said Pacula. "So much more."

Stuff compounded of dreams and wistful longings. Rumors augmented in taverns and on lonely worlds by men who built a structure of fantasy. The Ghost World, the planet no one could ever find or, having found it, would never leave. The answer to all privation and hurt, a never-never place in which pain had no part and the only tears were those of happiness. Balhadorha-another name for Heaven.

"You don't believe in it," said Usan Labria sharply. "Why not?"

"My lady, every tavern is filled with men who will talk of fabulous worlds. Some of them will even offer to sell you the coordinates. El Dorado, Jackpot, Bonanza, Celdoris-"

"Earth?"

"Earth is not a legend, madam."

"So you say, but who will agree? A name, a world, one in which you believe, but one not listed and totally unknown. Yet you insist that it is real. You even claim to have been born there."

"So?"

"Balhadorha is real. The Ghost World exists. I know it!"

Faith, not knowledge. The desperate need to believe despite all evidence to the contrary. Dumarest looked at the raddled features, the veined, quivering hands, the sick, hurt look in the eyes.

Gently he said, "You could be right, my lady. Space is huge and filled with a billion worlds. No man can know them all."

"Then you admit it could be there?"

"Perhaps. I have heard nothing but wild rumors from those who heard them from others. I have never found it myself."

"But you would be willing to look?" Pacula leaned forward across the table, careless of the glass she sent falling to spill a flood of ruby wine. "You would not object to that?"