The Jester at Scar

Chapter Ten

There were little noises, the clink and tap of metal on metal, a liquid rushing, the soft susurration of air. Erlan made a satisfied grunt and straightened, his head haloed by an overhead light.

"Good," he said. "Completely clear of any trace of infection and the tissue has healed perfectly."

Dumarest looked up at the physician from where he lay on the couch.

"The upper part of the left lung was badly affected," continued Erlan cheerfully. "A bulbous mass of vegetable growth which had to be completely eradicated by major excision. That was a vicious spore you managed to get inside you, a quick-grower, nasty."

He stepped back and did something to the couch. The head lifted raising Dumarest upright.

"I had to remove quite a large area but managed to do it by internal surgery. There may be a little scarring but the regrowth has fully restored the lung capacity so you will have no difficulty as regards oxygen conversion. I also repaired your left eardrum which had burst, probably due to high pressure."

Dumarest looked at his arm. There was no trace of where he had cut himself. "How long?"

"In slow-time therapy?" Erlan pursed his lips. "About forty days subjective, a day normal. Your tissues showed signs of dehydration and malnutrition so I gave you intensive intravenous feeding. You can rest assured, my friend, that you are now completely fit and free of any physical disability, both present and potential."

"Thank you," said Dumarest. "You've taken a lot of trouble."

Erlan shrugged. "Don't thank me, it was Jocelyn's order. He is waiting for you in the lower cabin. Your clothes are on that chair."

They had been refurbished and were as good as new, the soft gray of the plastic seeming to ripple as it caught the light. Once dressed, Dumarest left the medical chamber and descended a stair. Ilgash ushered him into a cabin. Inside Jocelyn sat listening to music.

It was a sweeping melody of strings and drums with a horn wailing like a lost soul in atonal accompaniment. There was a wildness about it and a hint of savagery, the taint of the primitive and barbaric splendor of ancient days.

Jocelyn sighed as it ended and switched off the player. "Unusual, is it not? The factor allowed me to take a copy of his recording. He has quite a wide selection of melodies and shows a particularly sensitive taste. This one, I believe, originated on Zeros. Do you know the planet?"

"No, my lord."

"And yet you have traveled widely, I understand." Jocelyn shrugged. "Well, no matter. A man's, path sometimes takes him in strange directions, to Scar, perhaps even to Jest."

Dumarest made no comment.

"You disagree?" Jocelyn smiled. "And yet, what choice have you? The price you paid me for saving your life was the total of your possessions. Your clothes and ring I do not claim; the rest I do. Sit and discuss the matter."

"There is nothing to discuss, my lord." Dumarest took the proffered chair. "I do not wish to accompany you to Jest."

"You intend to remain on Scar without money and with the winter almost due? How will you survive?"

Dumarest shrugged. "I can manage, my lord. It will not be the first time I have been stranded on a hostile world."

"You are stubborn," said the ruler of Jest. "It is a trait which I find admirable. Without it, you would now be surely dead."

He rose and paced the floor. At his rear the worn bindings of ancient books rested in their cases of wood and crystal. He paused, looking at them, then glanced at Dumarest.

"Are you willing to leave the matter to fate?"

"The spin of a coin, my lord? No."

"A pity," sighed Jocelyn. "How else can I persuade you?" He resumed his pacing, feet silent, head inclined a little as if about to spring. "Wait," he said. "There is something you seek, a world, Earth." His eyes were bright as he looked at Dumarest. "Terra."

Dumarest surged from his chair. "You know it?"

"The name is not strange to you?"

"No. I have heard it before, on Toy." Dumarest caught himself. "And again on Hope, my lord, in the archives of the Universal Brotherhood. Do you know where Terra lies?"

Jocelyn was honest. "No, but I have thought of your problem and perhaps I could be of help. My father was an unusual man. He loved the past; he squandered his wealth on ancient things. Traders came from all over with their wares. They even coined a name for him, the Jester, the Fool. Sometimes I think the name was apt."

Dumarest made no comment, recognizing the bitterness in the other's tone.

"He bought old books, charts, mathematical tables together with the works of those who probe into the meaning of things, philosophers. I think that they alone can teach you how to find what you seek."

Books, printed in almost indecipherable words in a medley of languages no longer current, hardly seemed the answer. Dumarest felt a sudden anger. Was Jocelyn toying with him, enjoying his private jest? How did he expect a traveler to have the knowledge or time to read who could guess how many books?

"You would need specialists," said Jocelyn as if reading his thoughts. "You would need those who have devoted their lives to the study of what has gone before, men who dream of strange possibilities alien to accepted fact, not scientists, who are limited to what they can see and feel and measure, but philosophers, who recognize no mental boundaries. For example, I can give you a clue. Not the name Terra, which you already know, and which was a fragment of a forgotten poem, but the use of navigational coordinates. We use a common zero, correct?"

"The center," said Dumarest. "Where else?"

"Let us assume something ridiculous," said Jocelyn seriously. "Let us, for the purpose of argument, assume that all mankind originated on a single world. The ancient poem I spoke of mentioned such a possibility. In that case, where would the zero of their coordinates lie?"

"On their home world." said Dumarest slowly. "As they expanded they would use that as their point of reference."

"Exactly! Now do you see how it may be possible to solve your problem? If Earth, Terra, was the home world then, somewhere, there could be a set of navigational tables which would use that planet as their zero point. Find such a set, discover a common reference with those we use at present, and you will find the coordinates of the world you seek." Jocelyn smiled. "You see, my friend, how simple it really is."

It was simple if the suggestion that Earth, at any time, had really been the originating planet of mankind, if any navigational tables existed from that time, if he could find them and if there were any common reference points.

"Yes, my lord," said Dumarest dryly. "You make it sound very simple."

"Great problems usually are when looked at from the correct viewpoint," said Jocelyn. "On Jest we have many ancient books, perhaps one of them will contain the information you seek."

"Perhaps," Dumarest ignored the obvious bait. "One thing, my lord."

"Yes?"

"You knew where to find me. Will you please tell me how you knew where I would be?"

Jocelyn laughed. "Now that is simple. I asked. Why else should I keep a cyber?"

* * *

Zopolis spread his hands. "Earl, I didn't know, I swear it. Do you honestly think I would supply a raft to men like that?" The agent's face was sweating despite the coolness of the processing shed. "It was Wandara," he added, "that lousy overseer of mine. He took a bribe to hire a new scout. The louse must have picked up his friends and jumped you."

"They killed Clemdish," said Dumarest flatly. "They almost killed me."

"I know how you feel," said Zopolis quickly. "I felt the same. Do you think I want anyone coming after me with a knife? I tell you it was Wandara who supplied the raft. And I still haven't found it," he mourned. "It must be somewhere over the sea by now. More expense, more trouble."

"And Wandara?"

Zopolis shrugged. "Gone. I kicked him out when I discovered what had happened, not what happened to you," he explained. "If I had known that I'd have come after you, but when I found out about the new scout, I held back his pay and he had to travel low. Maybe he won't make it," he added. "A man like that doesn't deserve any luck at all."

"Wrong," said Dumarest. "He deserves plenty of it-all bad."

Outside the cloud had spread to cover half the sky and the lower edge of the sun rested on the horizon. In a few days it would be out of sight and cloud would cover the entire sky. Then would come winter and the rain. If he was going to remain on Scar he had better make some arrangements, but they could wait. Something else had higher priority.

* * *

Ewan pursed his lips as he manipulated his shells. "Nothing, Earl," he said. "Not a whisper. As far as I knew you had simply gone on a long trip." The shells made little rasping noises as he moved them over the table. "Clemdish?"

"Dead. Tortured."

"That's bad," Ewan lifted his head, his eyes direct. "I'm clean, Earl. I'm no paragon, hut I wouldn't set a gang of jumpers on anyone. I warned you about them, remember?"

Dumarest nodded. "And you said something else, about a ring."

"Gossip, a snatch of conversation." The shells paused in the pudgy hands. "Are you saying they were after your ring?"

"As well as other things, yes."

"And you don't know why?"

"Not yet," said Dumarest grimly. "But I intend to find out."

A ship left as he stepped through the vestibule into the open air. It lifted, then seemed to vanish with a crack of displaced air. A red flash glittered as sunlight reflected from the polished hull and then it was gone. On the landing field men slowly leveled the spot where it had stood.

"Dumarest!"

He turned and saw Adrienne. She was coming from Lowtown, her maid a step behind and a monk bringing up the rear.

"My lady?"

"You have been avoiding us," she said with mock severity as she came to where he stood. "How are you now? Do you continue to be well, no bad effects from Brian's administrations?" She checked herself, conscious of her betrayal. No one of her rank and station should reveal such concern. "I have been working with Brother Jeffrey," she explained. "He is coming with us to Jest. I've been talking to the children and others who will be accompanying us." Her eyes searched his face. "And you, will you not come also?"

"No, my lady." Dumarest softened his refusal. "I have other plans and Jest does not lie in the direction I wish to go."

"But I thought-"

"That I have no money?" He smiled. "That is true. I was not talking about leaving immediately."

"Then yon could come with us for a while at least," she insisted. "What have you to lose?"

Nothing but his life. Dumarest had met such interest before, and was wary of it. To her he was novel, someone to break the monotony, a stimulating personality. She showed interest, later that interest could turn into something stronger. If he yielded and took the opportunity he would invite an assassin. If he rejected it he would earn her hatred.

Keelah sensed his embarrassment and smiled. Brother Jeffrey came smoothly to the rescue.

"Could I help you, brother. Were you looking for someone?"

"The factor," said Dumarest. "Is he in Lowtown?"

The monk shook his head. "I believe he is dining on one of the ships." he volunteered. "A farewell party thrown by a group of tourists. I am not certain, but I will inquire if you wish."

"Thank you. Brother, but there is no urgency," said Dumarest. "I will see him later."

"And us?" Adrienne rested her hand on his arm. The touch was gentle, intimate. "Will we see you again, Earl?"

His eyes were direct. "Quite possibly, my lady."

"Why the doubt?" Her hand closed on his arm, the fingers digging into his flesh. "You will eat with us," she decided. "You cannot refuse."

He glimpsed a flash of scarlet and followed it with his eyes. The color of the cyber's robe was accentuated by the crimson of the sun so that he seemed blood upon blood, a mobile shadow as he walked from the landing field to the station.

"Earl?"

Dumarest remembered the woman. "I beg your pardon, my lady, but I must beg your indulgence. If you will be so kind as to do me a service?"

Adrienne smiled. "Of course, Earl."

"Please ask your husband to meet me in the factor's office at once, my lady. It is very important."

* * *

Del Meoud wasn't at a party. Dumarest could hear the murmur of voices as he approached the door of the office, the talk abruptly ending as he opened the door.

The factor looked at him from where he sat at his desk.

"What the-? Earl! Do you mind? I'm busy!"

"So am I." Dumarest closed the door and leaned back against the panel. Yeon stood against the window with his hands tucked in the wide sleeves of his robe.

"If this is business, I will leave," he said in his even monotone. "Our discussion, factor, can wait until later."

"Stay where you are, cyber." Dumarest remained leaning against the door. "My business concerns you." He heard the sound of footsteps from the passage outside and stepped from the door as it opened. Jocelyn entered.

"Dumarest." His eyes moved from the factor to the cyber. "I understood you wanted to see me on a matter of urgent importance."

"That is correct, my lord." Dumarest shut the door. He took a chair from where it stood against the wall and rested his right boot on the seat, his right hand inches from his knee. "I intend to punish the man who tried to take my life."

He head Meoud's sharp inhalation and saw the widening of Jocelyn's eyes. Only the cyber remained unmoved.

"This is ridiculous!" Del Meoud took a handkerchief from a drawer and dabbed at his bearded lips. "Surely you don't suspect either of us for what those jumpers did, Earl?"

"I don't suspect, I know," said Dumarest grimly. "Those men didn't come after us by accident. The man who allowed them to use a raft has left Scar-fortunately for him. But those men weren't ordinary jumpers; they were primed; they knew too much." His eyes moved from face to face. "Someone told them," he said deliberately. "Someone in this room."

Jocelyn cleared his throat, conscious of the tension and of Dumarest's resolve. "You haven't any proof," he said. "I sympathize with you, Earl, but how can you be sure?"

"I thank you for your sympathy, my lord," said Dumarest tightly. "But this isn't a court of law. There is no law on Scar. I don't need proof. I would prefer not to harm the innocent but I am going to do as I say." His lips thinned as he looked from one to the other. "I was there," he added harshly. "I saw what those men did to my partner. I know what they intended doing to me. Do any of you really think that I'm going to let the man responsible get away with it? If I have to kill you all he is going to pay!"

"Earl! You can't-"

"Be quiet!" Dumarest turned from the factor and looked at Jocelyn. "I recently asked you a question, my lord. I asked how you knew where to find me. You said that you asked your cyber." He looked at the calm figure in scarlet. "How did you know?"

"My lord?"

"Answer him."

Yeon inclined his head a fraction, the ruby light from the window gleaming on his shaven skull. "It is my purpose to advise," he said evenly. "In order to do this I take what facts are available and from them, extrapolate a logical sequence. I learned that your partner had ordered rope. This obviously meant that you intended reaching the hills. When you were late in returning where else should I have suggested you were?"

"The hills are not a small range," said Dumarest. "How did you know exactly where to look?"

"Extrapolation again," said Yeon. It seemed he spoke with amused condescension. "I plotted the routes you would most probably have taken. There were three; one had a higher degree of probability than the others. As a task it was elementary."

"There, Earl, you see?" Del Meoud released his breath in a gust of relief. "No one here is to blame. In fact, you should thank the cyber for guiding the rescue. If it hadn't been for him, you would be dead by now." He found his handkerchief and dabbed again at his lips. Tossing the square of fabric back into the drawer he made as if to rise.

"Sit down!" Dumarest's voice cracked like a whip. "The cyber knew where to find me. He could not pick one spot in an entire range of hills simply because my partner ordered a rope. If you believe that, you would believe anything. He could say how to find me because he knew where I was."

"Now, wait a minute, Earl! Are you accusing the cyber?"

"No, Meoud. I'm accusing you!"

The factor lifted a hand and touched his lips. "Me? Earl, have you gone crazy? Why the hell should I send men out after you?"

"Because you're greedy; because you're fed up with this planet and you want something better. Listen," said Dumarest. "At the end of winter two men tried to kill me. They wanted something I own. This." He held up his left hand, catching the light on his ring so that it shone like freshly spilt blood. "The cyber wasn't here then, neither was the Lord of Jest. Only one man could have told them where I was; only one man could have primed those jumpers so they knew where to look. You, Meoud!"

"No, Earl, you're wrong! I swear it!"

"You can't," said Dumarest softly. "Because there's something I haven't told you. Those three men didn't all die at the same time. One lived for a while and he talked. He was glad to talk. He told me that you had given them their orders, that you were going to handle the selling of the loot."

"Wrong," said the factor. He was sweating, his beard dripping with perspiration. He reached for the drawer, his hand scrabbling, metal shining as he lifted it from beneath the handkerchief.

Dumarest threw his knife.

It was a blur.

The factor made a strained coughing sound as he bent forward, one hand reaching for his throat and the hilt of the blade, the other releasing the laser which fell with a thud to the floor,

Jocelyn looked at the pistol, then at the factor doubled over on his desk, a red stain widening from the knife buried in his neck.

"You killed him," he said blankly. "I didn't even see you move."

"He betrayed himself," said Dumarest. "He reached for a gun in order to kill me. I didn't feel like letting him do it."

Thoughtfully Jocelyn looked at Dumarest. The man was cold, ruthless and fast. He could have thrown the knife at any one of them with equal skill. He thought of Ilgash and wondered what protection the man would be if present. None, he decided.

He watched as Dumarest tugged out the knife and wiped it on the handkerchief he took from the drawer. "So it's over then? You've killed the man you were after."

Dumarest met his eyes. "No, my lord, it isn't yet over."

Jocelyn frowned. "I do not understand."

"I want to know why the two men who tried to kill me wanted my ring, why Meoud wanted it. I want to know more of the three men who jumped me and the person who sent you to rescue me when they didn't return."

"Adrienne? But what part could my wife have in this?"

"Not your wife, my lord." said Dumarest patiently. "But the one who set the idea in her mind, the one who told you exactly where I was to be found." He looked directly at Yeon. "Well, cyber? Are you going to tell me the answer?"

Yeon remained impassive. "I cannot."

"A pity."

"A statement of fact. I do not know why anyone should want your ring."

"But you want it." Dumarest stepped a little closer to the scarlet figure. "You gave orders it was to be taken, but you don't know why, is that it? You are merely obeying instructions?"

"That is so." Yeon abruptly took his hands from within his sleeves. One of them held a fragile ball of glass. Within it trapped yellow caught the light. "Put aside the knife," he ordered. "Quickly. Obey or I will destroy you both."

It fell with a ringing sound on the desk.

Jocelyn stepped forward and halted as Dumarest caught his arm.

"Be careful, my lord. He holds a container of parasitic spores, probably mutated, a vicious weapon."

It was a safe one. Who would query such a death on a world like Scar?

Yeon stepped to the door and opened it. The panel swung inwards and he stood in the gap, the door half open, his free hand gripping the edge.

"Wait!" Dumarest extended his left hand. "My ring. Do you want it?"

"No." Yeon hesitated, then yielded to temptation, eager to enjoy the only pleasure he could experience, to tell these emotional animals how he and what he represented would achieve their aim. "Keep it," he said. "It will be a simple matter to obtain it from your body." His brooding eyes fell on Jocelyn. "And you have served your purpose. The marriage is a fact. Even if your wife is not yet pregnant, such a simple matter can be arranged. Selected sperm taken from our biological laboratories to match your physical characteristics and accelerated gestation to adjust the time element will make her the proud mother of an heir to both Jest and Eldfane."

She would be hopelessly dependent on the Cyclan to keep the secret, to maintain her in power, and to safeguard the precious child. She could wear the baubles of rule, the Cyclan would have the real power. Another firm step would have been taken towards the final domination of the habitable worlds. His reward could surely be nothing less than an early incorporation into the central intelligence.

Yeon threw down the container of spores.

Dumarest moved. He flung himself forward, warned by the subtle movement of a sleeve, a tensing of the hand resting on the edge of the panel. His hand shot out, caught the glass ball, lifted it and threw it directly into the cyber's face.

It broke with a crystalline tinkle, a cloud of yellow rising about the shaven skull. Yeon staggered back as Dumarest thrust at his chest and slammed the door.

Sweating, he listened to the noises from outside, the bumping and threshing, muffled cries and incoherent moaning.

"Gods of space!" Jocelyn stood by the window. He pointed with a trembling hand. "Look at that!"

A scarlet figure stood outside. A growing ball of yellow frothed from the open robe, two smaller ones hung at the end of each sleeve. Yeon had staggered outside unaware of direction. He could feel no pain but the multiplying fungus clogged his mouth and his nostrils, grew on the surface of his eyes, sprouted from his ears and filled his lungs. It dug into his flesh, thrusting through the pores of his skin, growing until even the scarlet of the robe was hidden.

After a while the threshing stopped and a swollen ball of yellow fungus lay quivering on the ground.

* * *

Dumarest dug his spoon into a mound of emerald jelly, tasted it and found it both astringent and smooth to the tongue. "The cyber had an accident," he said. "That is all you need to say. The Cyclan are not eager for their intrigues to come to light."

Adrienne frowned. "But what of their aid? How can we manage without their guidance?"

"As we did before, my dear." Jocelyn was sharp. "You did not hear the man. He regarded you as a beast to be put to breeding for the Cyclan's purpose. Perhaps that would not have bothered you, but once the child had been accepted, how long do you think you would have been permitted to stay alive?"

"Surely you exaggerate."

Dumarest put down his spoon. The cabin was snug and intimate with its ancient furnishings. It only needed an open fire to complete the illusion that it was part of a stronghold rather than a space vessel.

"Never underestimate the Cyclan, my lady," he said. "Their plans are subtle and rarely as innocent as they seem. They are like spiders twitching the strands of a web so as to ensnare those over whom they seek power." Casually he added. "Tell me, do you have many cybers on your home world?"

"None now," she said. "Yeon was the only one and he came with us."

"And how long had he been there, a few months, perhaps, a short while before the negotiations began for your marriage?" Dumarest smiled at Jocelyn's expression. "Yes, my lord. Even that was a plan of the Cyclan's. You see how far ahead they look?"

"But the malfunction of the vessel? How could he have known that we would go to Scar?"

"Because he wanted to go there," said Dumarest flatly. "Where the Cyclan are concerned, there is no such thing as chance. On your own admission you rule a poor world. Men are human, the Cyclan is powerful and a poor man would think twice at defying them. And so a small malfunction of the ship, a captain who mentions a peculiar circumstance. Given your preoccupation with destiny, the rest was inevitable."

Jocelyn nodded thoughtfully as he sat in his chair. "Destiny," he said. "Could not the Cyclan themselves be instruments of fate?"

"They could," admitted Dumarest. "Brother Jeffrey could answer you better than I."

He caught Adrienne's start and inwardly smiled. Give it time and the gentle power of the Universal Brotherhood would dull her ambition. Once beneath the benediction light, she would discover an unexpected happiness in being gentle, kind, considerate and thoughtful of others-and she would be conditioned against seeking the death of another.

"The ring," said Jocelyn abruptly. "I understand that you trapped the factor, that the man hadn't spoken at all, but why should he want it?"

"He didn't," said Dumarest. "The Cyclan did-does," he corrected, looking at the ruby fire on his left hand. "But he tried to collect it for them. I thought at first it might be the gambler who was responsible for sending those men after me, but Ewan was innocent. He even tried to warn me and went so far as to speak of a ring. He wouldn't have done that if he had been involved."

Adrienne was curious. "I still can't understand why they want it, Earl. Do you know why?"

"No, my lady."

But he could guess how they had conducted their search: an extrapolation of his probable journeys and a supra-radio call to certain factors in the area where they predicted he would be. Del Meoud would have been eager to please so powerful an organization and others would be also.

Jocelyn cleared his throat. "One more thing," he said. "Why did you send for me?"

"As a witness, my lord."

"A witness? On Scar where there is no law." The ruler of Jest shook his head. "You are discreet, Earl, but I can guess the reason. You suspected that I might be involved, working with the cyber in order to steal your treasure. If I had you would have killed me."

"Yes, my lord."

"At least you are honest and do not lie," said Jocelyn. "Not when it is unnecessary, and I cannot blame you. Your sojourn in the water could not have been pleasant."

Dumarest smiled at the understatement. "What have you done with the golden spore, my lord?"

"Baron Haig has taken it in his charge. He is sure that it will be possible to breed it under controlled environments on Jest. Always before expense has limited the quantity available, but with the large amount you obtained he has enough and to spare for errors." Jocelyn sighed with pleasant anticipation. "It will make us wealthy, Earl. Independent of external aid. We might even be able to end the struggles of those who seek it on Scar."

"They wouldn't thank you for it, my lord," said Dumarest.

"I suppose not," admitted Jocelyn. He looked at his guest. "We owe you much, Earl. Come with us to Jest. Agree and I will return a quarter of the value of the spore, and I will make you an earl. You will be the richest noble on the planet."

Dumarest felt the impact of Adrienne's eyes. "I am sorry, my lord. You know why I must refuse."

"To continue your quest, to hunt the bones of a legend?" Jocelyn leaned forward, his face intent. "Why not leave the decision to fate?" he suggested quietly. "You could have an earldom and a quarter of the value of the spore, a residence and a large estate, a wife, even children to bear your name. Is this not a fair exchange for a dream?"

"And you will be safe on Jest," said Adrienne. "The Cyclan will be unable to find you."

Light glittered from the metal as Jocelyn produced a coin. "Let fate decide. If the arms of Jest show uppermost you will accept all I have named and come with us."

"And if you lose, my lord?"

"The cost of ten high passages," said Jocelyn quickly, "yours before you leave this vessel. You agree?"

"Spin, my lord."

Together they watched the coin rise glittering into the air, followed it with their eyes as it fell and looked at the scarred representation of a man's head.

Adrienne caught her breath. "Earl!"

"I am sorry, my lady," said Dumarest. "It seems that fate has decided we must part."

"To wander, to drift from world to world, perhaps even to die. And you could be so comfortable and happy on Jest. Jocelyn, tell him he must not go!"

"No, I cannot do that," said Jocelyn. "The decision is made, but always he will be welcome on Jest." He looked at Dumarest. "Remember that."

He would remember; perhaps he would have reason to regret the lost chance. But he didn't think so. A man has to follow his destiny.