Dumarest thought about the passenger as he made his way along the passage towards the control room. The yellow-faced man remained an enigma; the secret parts of his mind were bounded with layers of protection. Of only one thing was Dumarest certain: the man was addicted to gambling; he would play long past the time when other men would have become satiated. And he played shrewdly and well.

The door to the control room was unlocked. Dumarest pressed it open and stepped into a cool dimness where ma shy;chines held a life of their own and instruments shone in soft reflections. To one side Nimino straightened from where he had stooped over a panel and raised a hand in warning.

"No noise," he said. "No sudden movement, Earl. It would be most unwise."

Dumarest followed the direction of his eyes. Slumped in the shielding confines of the big control chair, Sheyan's head was invisible beneath a mass of pulsing gray. It fitted like a cap, leaving only the mouth and nostrils clear.

"A symbiote from Elgart," explained the navigator quietly. "In return for a little blood it provides tranquilizing dreams. I remove it long before we are due to land."

"How long?"

"An hour. Sometimes more. What does it matter?"

A captain who was blind and deaf to any impending danger. It mattered!

"He cannot stand the sight of the stars," said Nimino, guessing Dumarest's thoughts. "And he cannot leave the ship. He travels with fear as his constant companion. Call him a coward if you wish, but the fact remains."

"There are cures," said Dumarest. "Psychological manip shy;ulations."

"Perhaps, but not for Sheyan. His trouble cannot be cured, only accepted. For he is terrified of death and extinction. He will not accept the truths men have discovered: that one does not lead to the other. And without that convic shy;tion he is lost. The symbiote enables him to forget what he dare not face."

"He is mad," said Dumarest. "Insane."

"Can we really blame him? His life has been spent in the Web. How long can any man tread the edge of danger and remain wholly sane?" Nimino lifted his arm and pointed to shy;wards the screens. "Look at it, Earl. Try to imagine what you cannot see. The forces which are in continual imbalance as the stars fight for supremacy. That is why it is called the Web. Channels of relative safety run between the gravi shy;tational wells of stars and planets, slender lines like the filaments of a mass of gossamer. We have to follow them, threading our way with the aid of electronic sensors, balanc shy;ing our speed and energy against external forces. And al shy;ways, at any time, that delicate balance can be upset. Con shy;traterrene matter exploding in a sun, a meshing of electro shy;magnetic fields, solar flares and even the juxtaposition of worlds. And also there is the dust. Earl, no man who has not traversed the Web can appreciate its dangers."

IV

argonilla was a cold, bleak, inhospitable world with snow thick on the landing field and sleet carried on the wind. Yalung took one look outside and retired to his cabin.

"There will be no stones of value here," he said positive shy;ly. "And little of anything else."

Claude verified his prophecy. He came into the hold, blowing, his big frame muffled in shapeless garments. "They had a ship three days ago," he said disgustedly. "A trader bound for Thermyle. It took every decent pelt in the place."

Dumarest turned from where he tested the cargo restraints. "Do many ships call here bound for the terminal?"

"Hell, no. It was a wanderer dropping in on speculation to pick up anything that was going. The first ship to call in months and they beat us by three days. We would have done well."

"Trading iron for furs?"

"You're learning, Earl. This planet is short of heavy metal and we could have done a nice trade. Not now, though; there's no point in giving the stuff away. Sheyan's trying to get us something worth carrying." Claude shrugged. "I doubt if he'll find it."

The captain contracted for a load of hides to be brought to the ship and paid for when stowed. He left before half had arrived in order to avoid a coming storm. From Argonilla they went to Feen where they sold the hides and sonic recordings for cash, bought a quantity of crystallized ex shy;tract of glandular secretions culled from a local life form, and gained a passenger.

Brother Angus of the Church of Universal Brotherhood was a small, elderly man with a wizened face and balding skull. He stood blinking in the bright light of the salon, diminutive in his robe of homespun, sandals on his bare feet, and the traditional begging bowl of chipped plastic in his hand.

Yalung, from where he sat at the table, said, "Greetings, brother. You seek charity?"

"To give is to acquire virtue," said the monk in a musical voice. He looked at the captain. "I understand that you are bound for Phane, brother. Is this so?"

"And if it is?"

"I beg your charity, brother, to give me a passage. I am willing to travel Low."

Sheyan frowned. In normal space monks were many, but hardly seen in the Web. The power of the Church in the small conglomeration of stars was negligible and it was safe to refuse. He tried to soften the blow.

"Phane is a hard world, brother, with little charity. I do not think you would be welcome."

"I do not ask for welcome, brother. Merely a place on which to set a church and to ease the hearts of men. The church," the monk added quickly, "is very small. A benedic shy;tion light, some plastic sheeting and collapsible supports. I can carry the whole thing on my back."

Sheyan's frown deepened. "I would not care to take the risk, brother. You talk of going to an inhospitable world."

Quietly the monk said, "Are there poor on Phane, brother?"

"There are poor everywhere," snapped the captain. "I am poor. Too poor to waste energy carrying unprofitable mass. I am sorry but I must refuse. The handler will guide you from the ship."

"Take him," said Dumarest.

"Will you pay his cost of a High passage?" Sheyan glared his anger. "From your share, perhaps? The profits we're making wouldn't even pay for his food."

"You're being foolish," insisted Dumarest. "The good will of the monks is worth having. It would be a wise investment to carry him to Phane. And we could use the luck he might bring us," he added. "The Moray can use all the luck it can get. Am I right, Nimino?"

"A holy man is worth more than a cargo of rotting hides," said the navigator. "Hides on which we would have made a profit had they been left behind. Earl is right, captain. It would be wisdom for you to gain virtue at this time."

Sheyan brooded then accepted defeat. "All right, have it your way. But I warn you, the cost of his passage will be deducted from our profits before I make the share."

Dumarest settled the monk in a cabin, carrying the col shy;lapsed bulk of the portable church from outside. Setting it down he looked at Brother Angus, who had sat on the bunk.

"You have been long in the Web, brother?"

"Many years. It is a hard place with hard men but I hope to have brought a little comfort into their bleak lives." The monk stretched, enjoying the warmth and relative com shy;fort of the cabin. "You were kind to persuade your captain to give me passage. He seems to be an aggressive man."

"He is old and worried and afraid," said Dumarest, and added, casually, "In your travels, Brother, have you seen many cybers?"

Imperceptibly the monk stiffened. Between the Church and the Cyclan no love was lost, each regarding the other as would cat and dog. In the wizened face his eyes were shrewd as he answered the question.

"An odd thing to ask, brother, but the answer is no. There is little in the Web to attract those who wear the scarlet robe. No great houses or industrial combines. No ruling lords, managers, dictators, and chairmen. Most worlds have only one settlement and to sway their destiny would not be easy. And few could afford to purchase the service of the Cyclan. The advice of a cyber does not come cheap. You are new to the Web, brother?"