The bad side which enhanced the good-had Urich fed a weak brain with such terrors?

"She had a nurse," said Urich abruptly. "An old woman who spun fanciful tales. Stories in which witches cast spells and took on other shapes. And there were other things; creatures trapped that promised endless obedience if released, entities capable of performing miracles. Stories to amuse a child and-" His shrug expressed it all. "She stayed a child too long."

"Was the nurse of the Ypsheim?"

Again the hesitation then, "Yes. I think so."

"Would you have heard such tales yourself?"

Urich said, deliberately, "How could I have done? The Ypsheim are of Krantz. I was born on Kamaswam."

"The Ypsheim aren't the only ones who talk of Earth," said Dumarest, smiling. "But you must forgive me. It is a special interest of mine. Unlike others I believe the world is far from being a legend and so, naturally, I am eager to gain all the information I can. That's why Eunice interested me when she knew what Erce meant. And why I thought you might be able to help when she told me you had given her the information. Some more wine?" He poured without waiting for an answer. "Try another of the cakes."

He was striving hard to please and Urich felt himself relax. But what if it had been Vruya who had put the questions? Urich could imagine him, the seamed, crafty face, the hard, watchful eyes. A man close to insanity in his pride. One accustomed to violence, who would send to the Wheel any who crossed him. Any who was not of the Quelen-only they could be safe.

"What?" He jerked aware, realizing that Dumarest had been speaking. "What did you say?"

"I was asking about your work. You are in charge of the field?"

"Yes."

"And the installation guarding it?"

"That is so."

"Total command?" Dumarest spoke without waiting for an answer. "Not that it matters. Your word is law and that is enough. Another cake? No? Then let us finish this wine." He drained the bottle into the glasses and lifted his own. "A toast. To your future happiness with Eunice!"

To the point, thought Urich. An example for him to follow.

He said, "I love her. We are to be married. Plans have been made and I will allow nothing to stand in their way. You understand? Nothing. Not her whims, her sickness, her romantic notion that she is in love with you. That madness will pass once you have gone." He delved into a pocket and placed a wad of notes on the table. "This will help you on your way."

A thousand engels-more than enough to buy Talion.

Dumarest looked at the money, recognizing the bribe, the threat behind it. "You are more than generous, my lord. I take it there will be no difficulty as to clearance?"

"None." Urich visibly relaxed.

"And loading?" Their eyes met, held for a long moment of silence, broken when Dumarest added. "No trader can afford to leave with empty holds."

"No, of course not. There will be no trouble. You will be gone by dark?"

"By dawn," said Dumarest. He added, "The engineer will need time to check the generator."

Lyle Talion pursed his lips and made an adjustment to the console. A needle kicked on a dial, steadied as he compensated, kicked again as he activated a new circuit.

"Not too bad," he commented. "The unit needs to be calibrated and cleared of accumulated garbage. Loss of similarity," he explained. "Some of the relays have had a hard time. The Chandorah?" He grunted at Dumarest's nod. "I thought so. You can take chances in most of space but not in areas like that. Errors mount, calibration suffers and, when you need power the most, you find you haven't got it. Well, it won't take me long to put things right."

"How long?"

"By dark." Talion added, "I guess you want to leave this madhouse, right? Me too. That jail was no picnic."

He bustled at his task, a lean man with a wry expression and a face seamed beyond his years. His hair was dark, streaked with grey, his eyes a startling blue edged with a mesh of lines. His smile was easy, the mark of tolerance humor, and he had proved his skill to Batrun's satisfaction.

"A good man," said the captain when Dumarest joined him in the hold. "We were lucky to get him."

Dumarest said, "Don't you think it odd how he became available? A fight he denies, accusations he claims are false, witnesses he swears were coerced or bribed. And a captain willing to abandon him and who just happened to have an officer capable enough to take his place."

"Chimney explained that. He didn't have the money and refused to sell cargo to get it. And I'm not sure but I think there was an element of jealousy. His handler was a woman."

And the man could have lied as to the facts of his arrest. Dumarest stepped back as men came up the ramp carrying long, oblong boxes. Fiber cartons marked and sealed with Krantz clearance containing, so the labels claimed, treated fish skins, bulk protein and bulky artifacts. Cheap products but, to a trader, any cargo was better than none.

"Watch that!" He snapped at a man who had been careless, his end of a box falling to jar heavily on the deck. "If you can't handle the job then beat it-I'm not paying for damaged cargo."

The man was sullen, "What the hell's to hurt?"

A laborer-or something else? Krantz was used to captains willing to smuggle and the man could be an agent of the Quelen. Dumarest glanced at the markings and stormed forward.

"I'll show you what's to hurt! Open it! Come on, move!" The lid rose to reveal wrapped carvings made of local woods. "Now get out of here!" He followed the man to the ramp and called down to a lounging guard. "This man's fired! I don't want to see him again!"

Harsh punishment if the man was genuine but the example spurred the others to greater care. Dumarest began to sweat as he stacked the boxes and fastened restraints. The hold became cramped, men edging past each other; a tide of drably dressed figures milling in baffling confusion.

As the day moved toward dusk Batrun began to get worried.

"Earl, what about Ysanne? She should be here by now."

"She'll be here. We don't leave without her."

"She shouldn't have been held," said Batrun. "We shouldn't have allowed it."

A matter over which there had been no choice. As security for the money paid for the repairs Belkner had insisted on a safeguard. Ysanne had provided it. She would join the ship when everything was ready to leave.

"Captain?" An officer, a stranger, stood at the foot of the ramp. "Are you ready for clearance inspection?"

Batrun looked at Dumarest, who shook his head.

"Not yet."

"What's the delay? Surely you are loaded by now?"

"The restraints have slipped," said Dumarest. He thrust his way forward to face the man. "I'll have to change the stacking."

The officer made no comment but his face showed what he thought of a handler who couldn't stack a cargo.

"I'll have to clear a part of the hold," added Dumarest. "Shift some of the cargo outside so as to get room to repair the linkages. It'll take time."

"How long?"

"Does it matter?" Dumarest let irritation edge his voice. "We're not on piece work. Anyway, we aren't scheduled to leave until dawn."

"You don't leave at all until you've been checked," snapped the officer. "Remember that."

The threat hung in the air as he moved away and Dumarest watched him go with thoughtful eyes. The man was nothing, a junior officer, who would take Urich's orders without question unless, like the laborer, he was more than he seemed. A risk to add to the rest but one which tipped the scale an uncomfortable degree into the region of danger.

He remembered Urich, the way the man had sat, his eyes, the tension revealed in the movement of his fingers on the glass. A clever and ruthless man who worked in devious ways-one who had too much at stake to make a willing pawn.