Clues from Angado, clues from the lady Govinda, all leading Dumarest on in his search for the lost Planet Earth. But first they lead him to a collector of ancient wisdom called Tama Chenault. But Chenault is not all that he seems, and Dumarest is forced to bargain for the information he seeks. In return he must pledge allegiance to Chenault's deadly plan . . . (First published 1984)
Release date:
September 29, 2011
Publisher:
Gateway
Print pages:
239
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The Cap Kennedy (F.A.T.E.) Series (E.C. Tubb writing as Gregory Kern)
1: Galaxy of the Lost (1973)
2: Slave Ship from Sergan (1973)
3: Monster of Metelaze (1973)
4: Enemy Within the Skull (1974)
5: Jewel of Jarhen (1974)
6: Seetee Alert! (1974)
7: The Gholan Gate (1974)
8: The Eater of Worlds (1974)
9: Earth Enslaved (1974)
10: Planet of Dread (1974)
11: Spawn of Laban (1974)
12: The Genetic Buccaneer (1974)
13: A World Aflame (1974)
14: The Ghosts of Epidoris (1975)
15: Mimics of Dephene (1975)
16: Beyond the Galactic Lens (1975)
17: The Galactiad (1983)
Alien Dust (1955)
Alien Impact (1952)
Journey Into Terror (originally published as Alien Life (1954, rev. 1998))
Atom War on Mars (1952)
Fear of Strangers (first published as C.O.D. – Mars (1968))
Century of the Manikin (1972)
City of No Return (1954)
Death God’s Doom (1999)
Death is a Dream (1967)
Dead Weight (first published as Death Wears a White Face (1979))
Escape into Space (1969)
Footsteps of Angels (2004) (previously unpublished work written c.1988)
Hell Planet (1954)
Journey to Mars (1954)
Moon Base (1964)
Pandora’s Box (1996) (previously unpublished work written 1954)
Pawn of the Omphalos (1980)
S.T.A.R. Flight (1969)
Stardeath (1983)
Starslave (2010) (previously unpublished work written 1984)
Stellar Assignment (1979)
Temple of Death (1996) (previously unpublished work written 1954)
Fifty Days to Doom (first published as The Extra Man (1954))
The Life-Buyer (1965, 2008)
The Luck Machine (1980)
World in Torment (originally published as The Mutants Rebel (1953))
The Primitive (1977)
The Resurrected Man (1954)
The Sleeping City (1999)
The Space-Born (1956)
The Stellar Legion (1954)
To Dream Again (2011)
Venusian Adventure (1953)
Tide of Death (first published as World at Bay (1954))
E. C. Tubb (writing as Arthur MacLean)
The Possessed (revised version of Touch of Evil (1957))
E. C. Tubb (writing as Brian Shaw)
Argentis (1952)
E. C. Tubb (writing as Carl Maddox)
Menace from the Past (1954)
The Living World (1954)
E. C. Tubb (writing as Charles Grey)
Dynasty of Doom (1953)
The Extra Man (first published as Enterprise 2115 (1954) & then as The Mechanical Monarch (1958))
I Fight for Mars (1953)
Space Hunger (1953)
The Hand of Havoc (1954)
Secret of the Towers (originally published as The Tormented City (1953))
The Wall (1953)
E. C. Tubb (writing as Gill Hunt)
Planetfall (1951)
E. C. Tubb (writing as King Lang)
Saturn Patrol (1951)
E. C. Tubb (writing as Roy Sheldon)
The Metal Eater (1954)
E. C. Tubb (writing as Volsted Gridban)
The Green Helix (originally published as Alien Universe (1952))
Reverse Universe (1952)
Planetoid Disposals Ltd. (1953)
The Freedom Army (originally published as De Bracy’s Drug (1953))
Fugitive of Time (1953)
Dumarest saw the movements as he made his way along the valley; small flickers of red which could have been the flirt of a
scarlet wing, the nodding of a bloom, the glow of reflected sunlight from a gleaming leaf. Facile explanations and none of
them true; a bird would have risen, there was no wind to stir a flower and the sunlight streamed high to leave the valley
in shadow.
Halting, he plucked a leaf and chewed it as he studied the terrain. Above and before him, monstrous against the sky, the bulk
of a mountain reared in rugged splendor its natural beauty now enhanced by the glowing colors of sunset. At its base time
and weather had conspired to form a deep, wedge-shaped declivity, flanked with steep inclines fringed with shrubs and stunted
trees; vegetation which swept down to soften the bleak outlines of dirt and stone and to cover the floor with flowered sward.
An artifice of man; the ground had been carefully leveled and graded, the plants set with calculated design to form a haven
of beauty in which birds could dwell and exotic flowers fill the air with their heavy perfume. Faint in the distance came
the tinkle of running water.
Dumarest threw down the pulped leaf, catching another glimpse of red as he resumed his progress. Higher this time, but on
the same side of the valley. An enemy or a watchful guardian but one lacking experience in remaining hidden. Or one who wanted
to be seen so another could remain invisible.
A possibility but he doubted it. The vegetation was too still and his sharpened senses would have warned him of lurking danger.
Steadily he moved on down the valley to where the sides closed in to meet the rock of the mountain. A great door pierced it,
made of massive timbers now closed and firm. Windows flanked it, rising high like a multitude of dark and wary eyes. Above
them the sunlight painted swaths of ruby and gold, orange and amber, pink and vibrant chrome.
“Hi there!” Dumarest lifted his voice in a shout. “Is anyone at home?”
His words flattened against the rock to fade and become lost in the tinkle of water coming from a stream rilling to one side.
A chain hung beside the portal and he pulled it, hearing the faint tone of a bell. Repeated as again he hauled on the links. Turning he saw again the flash of red, closer now, lower on the slope.
“Chenault?” Again he shouted. “I’ve come to see Tama Chenault!”
A clearing stood before the door, set with a bench, and he moved toward it after plucking a fruit from a bush. Steel glimmered
as he lifted the knife from his boot, using the edge to remove the rind, laying the blade beside him on the bench.
Eating, apparently relaxed, he listened to the tinkle of water, the soft rustle of leaves, the faint murmur of insects. A
bird rose with a whirr of wings behind and to his left. There was a soft, squashy sound as if a boot had trodden a fallen
fruit. Silence and then, with sudden abruptness, the unmistakable sound of clicking metal.
Dumarest threw himself to one side, snatching at the knife, hitting the ground as a dull report filled the air. Rising, he
turned, blade lifted, leaving his hand in a blur of shimmering light as he spotted his target. As it hit, the woman screamed.
She was tall, slim, her skin the color of sun-kissed grain. The green of her dress hugged a symphony of curves lushed with
mature perfection. Her eyes matched the hue of her gown. The color of her hair was one he would never forget.
“Easy.” Dumarest was on her before she could move, one hand closing on her wrist. “You aren’t hurt.”
“I thought …” She swallowed. “I felt …”
Nothing but the shock of impact as the thrown knife had knocked the weapon she’d used from her hands. That and the fear born of the ruthless savagery of his face. It lingered
as he sheathed the knife and picked up the gun. It was crude, a simple affair of twin-barrels with a large bore, the hammer
needing to be cocked before it could be fired. An antique, but one as deadly as a laser in the right hands with the right
ammunition.
“Yours?”
“No. That is—”
“Chenault’s?”
“He—” She broke off. “You’re hurting my arm.”
Dumarest released her, hefting the gun. “Try to run and I’ll use this. Why did you want to kill me?”
“I didn’t. The gun fires a harmless dart. It would just have made you sleep for a while.” She frowned at his expression. “You
don’t believe me. Look for yourself.” She pointed to where a gaudy tuft of feathers stood in the grass beyond the bench. “That’s
what I shot at you. You can check it.”
“There’s an easier way.” Dumarest lifted the gun and aimed it at her body. Deliberately he thumbed back the hammer. “Two barrels,”
he said. “Two charges. Let’s see if they’re both the same.”
She watched, wide-eyed as he moved to place her between himself and the bench. A hand lifted to her mouth as he began to close
his finger on the trigger but she made no other sign of fear. Not even when he fired.
“Well?”
Dumarest looked at the dart standing from the wood of the bench. Perhaps it was as harmless as she’d claimed or perhaps she’d
only thought it to be harmless. The latter, he guessed, she hadn’t flinched from the decisive test.
He said, “Did Chenault give you the gun?”
“Yes.”
“Why? What were you supposed to do with it?”
“Sometimes there are predators. They come into the valley and hunt the creatures here. When they do I take care of them.”
“And visitors?” Dumarest shrugged as she made no answer. It was prudent to be cautious on even the most civilized of worlds
and, in the Burdinnion, few were that. “Were you born here on Lychen?”
“No.”
“Where then? Solis?” A guess and a wrong one as the shake of her head signified. “It’s just that you remind me of someone
I knew once. She had the same color hair as your own.”
A red which burned in his heart like a flame. One which would never die as the memory of Kalin would never die. Kalin whom
he had loved. Long gone now, the spirit which had won him dissipated, dead, leaving only the memory of a shape. Of eyes and
hair and skin and mouth and … and …
And, suddenly, she was before him.
* * *
A bird broke the spell, rising with a thrum of pinions, leaves falling with a rustle—sounds of potential danger which jerked
him from a dream. An illusion in which time had encapsulated and a person long gone was again at his side. Standing as she
had so often stood before, looking up at his superior height, the long, clean line of her throat before his eyes, the magnet
of her body, her chin, her lips, the flaming cascade of her hair. The emerald pools of her laughing eyes.
The hair, of course, it had to be the hair. The red which had betrayed her when she had watched him. That and her shape and
her lips and her eyes. The eyes which held more than laughter.
She said, “Are you well?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“You seem disturbed. Would you like to sit?” She gestured toward the bench. “Would you like some fruit? Water? I could fetch
it from the stream.”
And vanish while getting it but Dumarest felt certain she wouldn’t. He watched as she crossed the clearing, noting the movement
of her legs, the sway of her hips. A woman, but not the one he had known. Not the one he had imagined standing before him
so short a while ago. Yet the impression had been so sharp. An illusion? The effect of the fruit he had eaten? Had the juice
held a subtle hallucinogen which distorted reality?
He narrowed his eyes as she returned bearing water in some folded leaves. Against the vegetation she seemed neutral, a figure
wearing green, one who could have been anyone—a female, well-made, but without character. An impression heightened by her face as she concentrated on her burden. It was smooth, somehow unformed,
a collection of contours and planes. Then, as she noticed his interest, it firmed into what he had seen at first.
“Here.” She handed him the folded leaf. “Drink and rest for a while.”
Thirst and weariness made it easy to obey. The water was cool, refreshing, and Dumarest swallowed it all. Relaxing he smelt
the perfume of the valley, listened to its quiet humming. The susurration of insects and growing things, the rustle of an
upper breeze which stirred the vegetation as if to a giant’s breath. Peace enfolded him and a calm tranquility.
To the woman he said, “What are you?”
“Who am I? My name is Govinda.”
A question he hadn’t asked and he wondered at the poetry which had made him liken her to some elemental spirit. One who lived
in a tree or a stream, a thing of legend come real, belonging to this place like the stream and the plants, the enigmatic
face of the house which was barred like a castle.
“Govinda.” The name held music to match her tone. “Just that?”
“Isn’t it enough?”
“Of course, but others I’ve known here on Lychen have several names.”
“Nobles. Those aspiring to rank and position. They add names to each other like pearls.” Her shrug dismissed the importance
of labels. “And you?” She smiled as he told her. “Earl Dumarest. I shall call you Earl. Were you born here on Lychen?”
“No more than you.” He reached out and rested his fingers on her hand. The skin was soft and warm. “Which is your home world,
Govinda?”
“I don’t know.” She met his eyes and answered the question she read there. “I had no real family and must have been passed
around. I remember Yakimov. I did most of my growing there. After a while I moved to Kremer, then to Habralova then to other
worlds. Finally I came here.”
“To stay with Chenault?”
“He looks after me, yes.” She withdrew her hand from beneath his fingers. “What do you want with him?”
“To talk.”
“Just that?”
“Are you worried I’ll hurt him? Is that why you tracked me and tried to knock me out?” Dumarest shook his head and smiled.
“You said he looked after you. I think it’s the other way around. But why should he need looking after at all?”
She said, “You want to talk. What about?”
“I’ll tell him that.”
“You can tell me and I’ll tell him. Then, if he wants to see you, he will.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Dumarest let the question hang. “Surely he doesn’t live here alone aside from you. There must be others.”
“There are.”
“In the house?”
“You talk too much, Earl, and say too little. Just what do you want with Chenault? To talk, you say, but how can I believe
that?” She met his eyes, her own direct. “Why didn’t you call ahead to arrange an interview? Why steal into the valley like
a thief? How did you get here, anyway? I saw no raft.”
“I walked,”
“From where?”
Dumarest said, “That I’ll tell Chenault when I meet him. And I’m going to stay here until I do. Tell him that and tell him
we have mutual friends. Edelman Pryor for one. Tayu Shakira for another.” He saw her face alter. “You know Shakira?”
“I—I’m not sure.”
“Shakira of the circus of Chen Wei? You know him. Tell Chenault he sent me to him. Tell him now.”
“I can’t.” She looked at the sunlight painting the mountain, the level of mounting darkness beneath it. The warning of approaching
night which already filled the valley with dusty shadows. “Not yet but soon. I promise. You’ll have to wait.” Rising, she
added. “If you want to leave do it now. If you see Tama and upset him you’ll never leave this valley alive.”
He came when the sun gilded the topmost peak of the mountain, turning the ice and snow which crusted it into an effulgent
flame. Deceptive warmth. It would soon yield to the star-shot indifference of night. Dumarest heard the sigh as the great
door. . .
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