Not her-it!

An enemy, robbing her of life, of hope, of love. Taking all she held of value. A thing of crystal, glowing, singing, singing-and if she could do nothing else she too could sing.

Sing as the jewel sang, her voice rising, keening, the tone modulated to near-perfection, stomach and lungs, throat and larynx, mouth and teeth and lips and tongue all amplifying and directing and harmonizing the throbbing of the column of air she had created.

The note.

The rising, singing, vibrating note which rose to shrill, to merge with the song of the jewel, to blend with it, to resonate with it, to find the key, the harmonic of the stone itself.

Unseen, unheard, glass shattered on the tables and a woman screamed as she clutched her ears. A scream repeated as another fell, followed by a youth, a man, another girl. Dumarest felt the pain stab his eardrums and lifted his hands, palms cupped to give protection. Muffled as it was, the sound still penetrated and he saw Malta's face, the blood seeping from her nostrils, the lobes of her ears.

And still Ellain, mouth wide, throat corded with effort, sent the magic of her voice to challenge that of the jewel.

She had broken glass as a girl, won bets on her ability to do so, even ruined a crystal chandelier in the auditorium on Weem-an accident and one never repeated but she still had the power. And now, more than ever before, she used it. Seeking, altering her tone a fraction at a time, the harmonics, building resonance until the blood thundered in her veins and she felt the capillaries begin to yield in throat and mouth, in lips and tongue. Singing, aping the jewel, mastering it.

Killing it.

And killing Marta Caine.

Dumarest saw her stagger as the jewel exploded in her hands. A puff of brilliance which accompanied a sudden, crystalline, shatter. A rain of fragments fell from the opening fingers, the falling hands. A glittering rain which sprayed to a widening shower as the thin body wafted the air in its fall.

"Marta!" Santis was at her side, cradling her sagging head as he expertly checked for signs of life. As Dumarest knelt at his side he said, "She's gone, Earl. Dead."

"Dead?" Kemmer looked stunned. "But how? Who did it? That woman?" He glared at Ellain where she stood, face buried in her arms. "That red-haired bitch? Was she responsible?"

"Steady!" Dumarest reached out and touched the thin face. Glitter stained his fingers as he lifted them from the flaccid skin. "Her heart went or her nerves gave out or something yielded in her brain. How did she get so thin? Wasn't she eating?"

"The jewel, Earl." Santis closed the staring eyes. "It sucked her life."

"Didn't she know? Didn't she care?" Dumarest remembered the casino. "The fool. I tried to help her. There was no need for this."

"Perhaps she'd given up." Gently the mercenary rested her head on the glittering floor. A rasp of his hand and shards of the broken jewel rested against her cheek. "I've been watching her. Half the time she only pretended to eat and when you're old you lose energy fast. She was older than we guessed. And, maybe, she was happy to go."

To die with her jewel: the toy which had graced her life. To end in song and a bright, wonderful, glittering rain. She could have done a lot worse.

Chapter Seven

"Earth?" Alejandro Jwani pursed his lips and frowned. "Was it mentioned?"

"We spoke of it," said Dumarest. "At the party."

"Tariq's affair? I heard about what happened. A damned shame. Tariq got more than he bargained for. I suppose it put an end to the festivities?" Jwani sighed as Dumarest nodded. "To be expected. A pity I missed it but, as you know, I had to leave early."

"You were ill."

"I was drunk." Jwani smiled. "You don't have to be polite with me, Earl. I'm not such a fool as not to know my own failings. Wine is one of them. I have others." He gestured at the room. "The evidence is all about you."

The chamber was long, wide, the roof a semi-circular vault The walls were hung with maps, diagrams, schematics. Models stood on low stands, some working with a silent efficiency, others immobile. Benches held a litter of tools and apparatus. The roof was studded with lights; some of changing hue and brilliance, others with a baleful glare. A study and workroom into which Dumarest had been shown by an attendant. Jwani had joined him from his own personal quarters beyond a narrow door.

Now, pausing by a table, he said, "I am forgetting to be hospitable. Something to drink? I've wine and spirits and coffee if you prefer something innocuous. Or would you care to join me in a rather excellent tisane?" He beamed as Dumarest nodded. "Good. It will only take a few moments."

It took three minutes during which time Dumarest examined some of the furnishings, turning to accept a steaming cup from his host. It was of delicate porcelain ornamented with sinuous shapes holding orbs in their gaping jaws. The vapor rising from it held the scent of pine. The tisane itself was refreshingly tart.

"That's better!" Jwani helped himself to more. "Drugs have their uses but nothing can beat a good cup of tisane to settle the stomach. Earth, eh? Did we really talk about it?"

"Briefly, yes. Then you went on to discuss semantics and philosophy." Dumarest added, "We also drank a toast."

"To my health." Jwani looked at his tisane. "It seems I needed it. But what about Earth?"

"I heard that you had been there."

"Ridiculous! Did Ellain give you that impression? She can sing like an angel but at times she doesn't seem to listen. I may have spoken about Earth but only as a world I've heard about. I certainly have never been there. Has anyone?"

"I should think so."

"Visit a place which doesn't exist?" Jwani shook his head. "I hardly think it possible. The world is a legend; one among many. I checked after I heard about it and couldn't find it listed in any almanac. That settles it, surely? If it existed it would be listed."

All known worlds were but that meant nothing and a man of Jwani's intelligence must know it. Dumarest said, quietly, "On Harge they claim that nothing can survive a storm. The sannak survive. Obviously they must be an illusion."

"Because, if real, they couldnt survive." Jwani clapped his hands in appreciation. "A syllogism! Earl, you are a man after my own heart. Have you heard the one about the woman?" Smiling he told it. "No woman has three heads. A woman has one head more than no woman. A woman, therefore, has four heads. Ridiculous, isn't it? Yet I won two thousand from Elmay Taiyah on that only a couple of weeks ago. He had to agree my logic was impeccable because he was unable to show me the flaw."

"Did you tell him?"

"Of course not. Could you?"

"The term 'no woman' is being used in a double-sense," said Dumarest. "So, while each of the two premises is correct when regarded apart they can only give a false conclusion when taken as equal." He added, wryly, "But your friend shouldn't feel too bad. While it is true that no woman has four heads many have two faces."

"Brilliant!" Jwani beamed his pleasure. "Earl, you deserve an apology. When Ellain mentioned you I'd expected to meet some traveler with a short temper and a way with women. I was too drunk last night to recognize your talents. Two faces!" The beam turned into a chuckle. "I must tell Elmay that. He will appreciate it and if you knew his wife you'd understand why. If ever a woman had two faces it is she-and both are sour." Sobering, he said, thoughtfully, "I get your point, Earl. The fact that Earth isn't listed is no real proof that it doesn't exist. But it poses a problem if ever you'd want to find it."

One which had come to dominate his life; to find Earth and return to the planet of his birth. He had gathered clues; an alternative name, Terra, the position of the planet in the galaxy; somewhere toward the rim where stars were few and journeys long. And it had a single, silver moon.