"We could execute her," said Sheyan. "At least that would be quick."

"No," said Dumarest.

"What else?" The captain's face was bunched, knotted with anger. "Do you want her to be burned? Or have you got some crazy idea of rescuing her? If you have forget it. We're three against an entire community and we wouldn't even get out of this hall. And we'd lose the oil," he added. "Unless we play this Herkam's way he won't release it."

"The oil," said Dumarest tightly. "Is that all you're think shy;ing about?"

"I'm thinking of the ship, the crew, your share and mine. Do you think I intend to throw away the best trade I've ever made for the sake of some stupid slut? Look at her!" Shey shy;an gestured to where Lallia stood, waiting. "A cheap harlot who got herself dumped. Well, to hell with her! I'm no wet nurse to aid the fallen. She's got herself into a mess and she can't expect us to lose our profit to get her out. I say we re shy;turn a verdict of guilty."

"No," said Dumarest again. "She's innocent and we all know it."

"What's that got to do with it?" Sheyan looked at his hands, they were trembling. "Don't push it, handler," he said harshly. "I don't like doing this but it has to be done. We won't get that oil unless we act smart-and I intend getting that oil. A majority vote will do it. Nimino?"

The navigator hesitated. "She is very beautiful. To destroy such beauty would be a crime."

"Are you turning soft on me?"

"No, captain, but there could be another way. Do you object to taking her with us?"

"As long as we get the oil-no."

"And you, Earl? Will you help?"

Dumarest was wary. "What have you got in mind?"

"A trick," said Nimino. "An appeal to their religious con shy;victions. It is the only chance the woman has."

The hall fell silent as Nimino rose to his feet, soft whispers dying to be replaced by a straining expectancy. In the gut shy;tering torchlight eyes gleamed savage, feral: the eyes of animals rather than those of men. From where he stood to one side, the chief elder stepped towards the tribunal.

"Have you reached your verdict?"

"We have." The navigator's voice rolled with the power of an incantation. "It is the verdict of us all."

"And that is?"

Deliberately Nimino took his time before answering, let shy;ting the silence lengthen to obtain dramatic effect. He was a good actor, thought Dumarest, and was putting to use the things he had learned from attending numerous religious ceremonies. Casually he glanced at the woman. Lallia stood, tense, white teeth gnawing at her lower lip. Her eyes, no longer bold, held a shadow of worry. The tribunal had taken too long, there had been too much discussion, and she was cynical in her knowledge of the ways of men. Dumarest caught the slight tension of muscles beneath the fabric of her dress, the tensing of thighs and stomach, the unconscious reaction of a person who readied herself for struggle or flight.

But there was nowhere to run and she would not have to fight.

"Your verdict?" Herkam's nerve had snapped and he spoke to break the tension. "What is your decision?"

"That the woman face trial by combat!"

It was totally unexpected. The chief elder's face went blank as he tried to grasp the implications and Nimino spoke again, quickly, before he could protest.

"We have traveled many worlds and have seen the manifestations of the All Powerful in many guises. And, too, we have seen the malicious designs of the Evil One. Who can gauge the extent of his cunning? Who can deny that they are proof against his insidious evil? This woman has been accused of witchcraft and it may well be that she is guilty. If so then she must be put to death for it is an abomina shy;tion that such as she be allowed to live. But if she has been wrongly accused, what then?"

"She is a witch!"

"Kill her!"

"Slay the thing of evil!"

The voices poured from where the double row of matrons sat at the rear of the hall. Others, less coherent, came from the assembled men. Several sprang to their feet, arms waving, feet stamping the dirt of the floor.

"Hold!" The chief elder signaled to the guards and heavy staves lifted and fell as they beat the young men back into their places. "There will be silence in this place. We deal with a human life and that is not a thing to be treated with shy;out due solemnity." He turned to where Nimino stood. "Ex shy;plain."

"The charge of witchcraft is one easy to make and hard to refute," continued the navigator. "It could be that the All Powerful has reached forth to place the truth on the lips of those who accuse-or it could be that the Evil One seeks to rend the hearts of those same accusers by causing them to bear false witness. If that should be the case, and if the accused should die because of it, then woe to the people of Candara." His voice deepened, echoed with rolling thunder. "They shall die and perish to be blown away by the wind. Their crops shall fail and their cattle abort and the beasts of the sea shall withhold their meat. Demons shall come to torment the night with ceaseless dreams and all shall perish to become as dust in the wind. For the All Powerful will not extend the wing of protection to those who are seduced by the Evil One. There will be no peace, no comfort, brother shall turn against brother and man shall turn against wife. All, all will be totally lost and pass as if they had never been. This I prophesy!"

Herkam frowned; he had no liking for anyone but himself making such prophecies, especially not visiting traders. And things were not going as he had planned. He had expected a quick verdict of guilty in which case the woman could have been disposed of and the incident forgotten.

He said sharply, "We know full well the might of the All Powerful. What does your verdict imply?"

Nimino smiled, white teeth flashing in the torchlight. "The woman denies being a witch," he said. "We have decided that the matter be judged by a Higher Power. If her cham shy;pion falls then she is proven guilty. If not, then she must be allowed to depart in peace."

The thing had its possibilities. The chief elder pondered them, conscious of the watchful eyes in the hall, the air of anticipation. A fight would provide the needed spectacle, the necessary blood and, in the remote event of the woman's champion winning, he would be able to castigate those who had made the accusations. In either case he would be rid of the troublemaker. But it would be best if the woman did not win.

He said, "Who is the woman's champion?"

Dumarest rose. "I am."

Herkam felt a glow of inner satisfaction. A trader. One who, by the nature of his employment, must of necessity lack the strength of a manual worker.

"I bow to your verdict," he said sonorously. And then, to the guards, said, "Find Gilliam and bring him here."

The man was an atavar, a monster, a mutated freak spawned from radiation-distorted genes. Seven feet tall, his shoulders and arms heavy with ridged and knotted muscle, his legs as thick and as strong as the boles of gnarled trees, he lumbered from the rear of the hall and stood blinking in the cleared space before the platform. Matted hair fell to just above his deep-set eyes. Bare feet, callused and scarred, toed the ground. His hands clenched as a voice rumbled from the depths of his chest.

"You want Gilliam, chief elder?"

"I want you to fight." Herkam pointed towards Dumarest. "This is the man."

"To kill?"

"To kill." Herkam gestured at the guards. "Take him and prepare him for battle."

"Earl, I'm sorry." Nimino sucked in his breath. "I didn't know. I thought they would use one of the guards. You're fast and could have taken any of them without trouble. Who would have guessed they had a monster like that?"