E. C. Tubb - Dumarest 21 - Iduna's Universe

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Iduna's Universe by E.C.

Tubb

Chapter One

It was late afternoon when Dumarest reached the crest and he

paused to look down the gentle slope of the valley and at the

village it contained. A small, neat, tidy place with snug houses

set in close proximity, the walls washed with a variety of pastel

shades. The thread of a narrow river wound between banks thick

with reeds and flowering shrubs, the stone bridge crossing it

mottled and stained with lichens, softened with time. The square

was clean, dotted with bright figures as women bustled about

their business and men stood talking in the shadows cast by

solidly built edifices. From somewhere a dog barked, the sound

traveling with remarkable clarity through the sultry air.

"Home," said Arthen. His young voice held the anticipation of

comfort. "Home."

For him and for the others who had been born in the valley

but not for Dumarest. Even so the place held an attraction which

he could appreciate; an atmosphere of gentleness and calm

which if nothing else served to provide a haven from the bustle of

cities, the empty coldness of space. A place in which to rest and

wait and to earn what he could. One in which to hide and,

perhaps, to learn.

"Earl?" Arthen was impatient to get moving. "We want to get

home before dark."

"We have plenty of time."

"But—"

"And Michelle will be waiting. An hour more after so many

days—what does it matter?"

Arthen blushed but made no comment, busying himself with

the horses, checking their loads. Both animals carried camping

gear and the fruits of the hunt; skins, teeth, the snarling mask of

a feral beast which even in death radiated a chilling ferocity.

Touching it he felt a warm glow. Dumarest had killed it but he

had helped and so would share in the achievement. Michelle

would be impressed and he had the gift of a soft pelt to further

win her regard. Tonight, with luck, he would make her his own.

And Dumarest?

Arthen looked at the man now standing tall and silent on the

summit of the crest. To have worked with him was an experience

he would never forget. Against him other hunters were clumsy

fools frightening away more game than they ever caught, lacking

the calm precision, the sure knowledge which Dumarest had

displayed. But he wasn't being fair and knew it. Killing was

against the tenets of those who lived in the valley and only

ruthless predators were hunted so as to save the domesticated

stock. He looked at them grazing in the valley, herds of kine now

safe against the beast which had harassed them as Dumarest

was the richer by the price set on its head.

Was he thinking of that money and what it could bring?

Together with the other skins and furs it would be enough for

him to leave the village and buy passage on a vessel bound for

another world. Mtombo, the itinerant Hausai, would buy them

from him and offer a fair price. Would he go? Or would he stay

until the end of the season? If so he might be pursuaded to stand

at his side when Michelle was led toward him bound with the

marriage ties. Arthen lost himself in speculation as he thought

about it; the fires, the music, the wine and conviviality, the feast

and the dancing, the good-natured horseplay attendant at every

wedding. It would be good to have Dumarest at his side at such a

time.

"Earl—" Impulsively he began to make the request, breaking

off as Dumarest lifted a hand. "Something? You see something?"

"There are no women in the western fields. Should there be?"

Arthen frowned, thinking, then shook his head. "Not

necessarily. Those fields are set with reeds, and harvesting won't

be for another month yet. Sometimes a few girls go out to gather

herbs but a birth could be due and they would be assembling to

greet the new life."

Dumarest nodded, he had met the custom before, one which

fell into neglect as the settlements grew. "And the river? No

boats?"

"The sun is lowering and the fish won't bite when the light is

too bright on the water." Arthen added. "You think there could

be something the matter, Earl?"

"No. I was just curious."

Curious and more than curious, checking the terrain before

moving from the shelter of the trees hugging the crest, an

automatic display of caution which the young man found

strange. What possible danger could lie in the village?

What enemies did Dumarest have to fear?

Questions which remained unasked as they moved down the

slope toward the cluster of houses. Questions which were

forgotten as, with a flurry of gaily colored skirts, Michelle came

running toward him.

"Arthen!"

"Michelle!"

He felt the soft, warm impact of her, the rounded mounds

beneath her blouse creating a sudden heat with their feminine

stimulus, one accentuated by the pressure of her thighs.

"Darling!" Her mouth was close to his, her lips moist, her

breath scented with mint and roses. "It's been so long! I've

missed you so much! Did you—"

"Later." He glanced to where Dumarest walked with the

beasts lower down the path. "Later, Michelle, now I've work to

do."

"Arthen!"

"Work," he said firmly. "The animals must be taken care of

and the loads seen to and other things settled. Earl can't do it

alone." A lie but one which enhanced his importance. "Is Tetray

in the Communal House?"

"Probably. Mtombo flew in yesterday."

"The Hausi? I didn't see his raft."

"It dropped and will return when he sends for it. A matter of

deliveries to other settlements, I think." She shrugged,

dismissing uninteresting details. "Did you get it?"

"The beast?" His smile was her answer.

"Arthen!" Again he felt the warm, exciting impact of her body

added to, this time, the pressure of her lips. "You're wonderful! I

told them you'd do it! I told them!"

"I had help." He glanced after Dumarest and forced himself to

push her away. "Later, Michelle, after things have been settled.

There's something I want to ask you."

"What?" But it would be no surprise, he could tell from the

expression in her eyes. "And when?"

"After we've seen Mtombo."

The agent was tall, strongly built, his face livid with caste

scars which shone like beacons against the ebon skin. A trader,

go-between, agent for a dozen enterprises, a man of reputation

who never lied but did not always tell all of the truth. Now, his

eyes enigmatic, he accepted the glass of wine handed to him by

the Elder.

"Your health, Tetray!" The lift of his glass was a toast and

acknowledgment of the status of his host. "And yours, Earl. A

fine selection of skins and furs. We can do business, I hope?"

"We can talk, certainly."

"A cautious man." The Hausi smiled. "One who is reluctant to

commit himself. Do you intend a further hunt?"

"Killing for the sake of it?" Tetray frowned and set down his

glass. "I think not. To encourage the young to regard living forms

as a source of revenue is against our beliefs. It is obscene to slay

for the sake of skins and bone and fur."

A statement, not an opinion, and Dumarest knew better than

to argue against a point of view which he shared. The Hausi, for

reasons of his own, pressed the matter.

"You put it badly I think, my friend. Herds are bred and

maintained for later harvesting on any of countless worlds. Kine

raised for beef and leather as well as for milk. Sheep for wool and

also for meat. A crop the same as wheat or corn."

"No!" Tetray shook his head. "Not the same. A beast is a life

form basically similar to ourselves. It has feelings, the need to

survive, the desire to breed. It suffers and can know

contentment. To hunt it down, to kill it for the fur it bears—

horrible!"

"Yet you engaged Earl to rid you of a pest."

"Because it was that—a pest. We lost a score of kine to it and

double that number of sheep were killed and savaged. Even

human life was at risk and the welfare of a child must outweigh

all other considerations. There can be no expediency when

dealing with the problems confronting the young." Tetray sipped

at his wine and added, "We were fortunate in having an

experienced man staying as a guest in our village who was

willing to help us."

"But you have your own hunters," said Mtombo softly. "What

of them?"

"I deplore them." Tetray looked at his wine then lifted his

head to stare at the agent. "But we cannot rely on having an

experienced hunter visit us when we need such an expert. We

must have men trained and ready against predators from the

hills."

"And those from the cities? From other worlds?"

"Men?" Tetray looked baffled. "What have we to fear from

them?"

A question the Hausi didn't answer, looking instead at

Dumarest who sat with his untouched wine, his eyes holding a

cynical gleam.

Dumarest said, "I've mentioned it before, Tetray. You lack any

protection."

"Against what?"

"Those who could do you harm. The most savage predators

you could ever know come in the form of men."

"Slavers?" The Elder shrugged. "Oh, I've heard of such, but

how are they to be taken seriously? And what would they want

here? Onorldi is a peaceful world with no mines or installations

needing a continual influx of cheap labor."

"There are ships," said Mtombo bluntly. "And it could pay to

transport victims if they are easy to obtain. I mention this, my

friend, because I wish you well. But as a guest I will not intrude

on the subject again. But you, Earl, about your catch. Two

hundred either in cash or to your credit. A deal?"

"If you include transportation to the city, yes."

"A deal." The Hausi smiled his pleasure at a successful trade.

"And if you want me to arrange a passage for you I will be

honored." He added dryly, "And naturally you can rely on my

discretion."

A hint? A Hausi knew more than he divulged and he could

have been curious as to why a man should choose to isolate

himself in a secluded village. A curiosity stimulated, perhaps, by

questions as to his knowledge of such a man.

Dumarest said, "I'll arrange my own passage. When do we

leave?"

"My raft will return tomorrow evening. Once loaded there will

be no reason for delay." Mtombo lifted his glass, a toast to seal

the agreement. "We shall be in the city the following night."

And after that into space again, to travel the void to another

world, to ask more questions and to continue the search. To take

the clues he had and to turn them into definite answers. To find

the exact location of Earth.

Outside Dumarest halted to tilt his head and stare up at the

sky. It was brilliant with stars, swaths of shimmering

luminescence, curtains of jewel-crusted splendor, even the dust

clouds mottling the firmament edged with a sheen of scintillant

glory. Too much brightness and too many stars; the view he

longed to see would be relatively dark with minute dots gleaming

in isolated splendor, stars set in patterns which would be

signposts in the sky, the visible symbols of reassurance that he

was, finally, home.

Home!

He felt the old, familiar ache, the emptiness and drag of hope

too often frustrated, too often betrayed. A man alone with his

heart and mind and body set on a single determination: to find

the world of his birth and return to it. But Onorldi was not near

to Earth. No star in this sector could be the one which warmed

the planet he sought. To find it he had to move on and, already,

he could have left it too late.

"Earl?" The voice whispered from the shadows. "Is that you,

Earl?"

"Who is it?" He relaxed as a figure stepped into view, starlight

silvering the hair, deepening the lines graven on sunken cheeks.

"Hainan, what can I do for you?"

"For me nothing, Earl, but Lenz is opening a new vat to

celebrate young Arthen getting up the courage to ask for

Michelle's hand in marriage and, naturally, you have to join us."

He stepped a little closer and Dumarest could tell from his

breath the man hadn't waited for company to begin his

celebrations. "It's good wine, Earl."

Thick and rich and served in goblets carved from a finely

grained wood the natural scent of the timber adding an extra

dimension to the pungency of the wine. Dumarest sipped and

nodded his appreciation.

"You like it, Earl?" Lenz beamed as he lifted a jug and refilled

drained goblets. "Three years in the making and I'm not going to

tell you what went into it. Something special I've saved to

celebrate my daughter's betrothal." He added, grinning, "And

I've something even better put by for the first birthing."

"The first and many to follow," said Hainan holding out his

empty container. "Your health, Lenz."

"Your health!"

The toast roared to shake the air of the cellar in which they

were gathered. A blast which shook the flames riding on the

squat bodies of candles, causing them to dance and, in the

guttering light, the faces of those invited seemed to shift and

move and to adopt strange and eerie configurations. A moment

only and then the illusion was past and they seemed what they

were; a group of friends gathered to drink and share the

happiness of their host.

"Arthen's a good lad," said Lenz. "And I know Michelle's been

waiting for him to speak for a long time now. In fact I was just

getting ready to have a quiet word with the boy myself." He

smiled at his clenched hand—he would never have used it and

they all knew it. "But thanks to Earl that wasn't necessary."

"Why?" said a man. "What did he do?"

"Took him out, kept him away, made him hungry for a little

comfort. There's nothing like a good, long hunt to get the juice

rising in a man. Right, lad?"

Arthen grunted. He sat in the rear with his back against a

wall one shoulder leaning against a barrel and had remained

invisible until now. From his expression Dumarest guessed that

he would have preferred to remain that way.

He said, "Arthen didn't need encouraging. In fact he damned

near ran my legs off. Now I know why he was in such a hurry to

get back."

The man who had spoken before said dryly, "Maybe he was

afraid of getting hurt."

"No."

"No?" The man reached out and rested his fingers on

Dumarest's tunic. The plastic was scarred, glints of metal

showing from the buried mesh. "A close thing, eh?"

"Shut up, Marl," said Lenz sharply.

"I was only asking. Those rips look to me as if caused by claws.

Maybe someone wasn't doing his job?"

Someone too tense who had acted too slowly. The beast had

been killed but there had been a mate and Arthen who should

have maintained watch had been taken by surprise.

Things Dumarest didn't mention and the boy was glad of it

but he was too honest to remain silent.

"I slipped," he admitted. "There was a mate and I fired too

late and missed. The second shot only wounded it and it took

three days to track it down."

Lenz said sharply, "But it's dead?"

"Yes. A gravid female. Earl got it with a long shot and knocked

it from a ridge. It fell into a crevasse and it would have been too

difficult to have recovered the body."

"But it's dead?"

"It's dead. Earl made sure of that."

Lenz sighed his relief. "Thank God for that. A gravid female—a

few months and we'd have been overrun with the things."

"And would have been if it had been left to Arthen." Marl tore

at the incident like a dog worrying a bone. A man betraying his

jealousy and frustration and doing his best to rob his successful

rival of his moment of triumph. "It was a mistake to have sent

him out. No boy can hope to do a man's job."

"But a boy can learn," said Dumarest. "And when he does he

stops being a boy." More loudly he said, "Arthen, tomorrow you

pick up a half of the bounty due on the beast. I've arranged it

with Tetray."

"A half?"

"Your share. You earned it."

And would enjoy what the money could bring. A good

wedding with gifts for all and a reputation which would last until

he grew old. The simple way of villages locked as they were in

their own small enclaves. Standing in the cellar, sipping his wine,

watching the undisguised merriment of those assembled,

Dumarest could envy their uncomplicated existence. To grow, to

marry, to breed, to age and finally to die. Life matched in

harmony with the seasons with always the comfort of friends at

hand and even the small differences and bickerings lost in the

general sweep of the years. There would be pain, true, for no life

could be free of that as no life could, be free of anguish and grief

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ScannedbyHighroller.Proofedbyanunsunghero.MadeprettierbyuseofEBookDesignGroupStylesheet.Iduna'sUniversebyE.C.TubbChapterOneItwaslateafternoonwhenDumarestreachedthecrestandhepausedtolookdownthegentleslopeofthevalleyandatthevillageitcontained.Asmall,neat,tidyplacewithsnughousessetincloseproximity,thew...

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E. C. Tubb - Dumarest 21 - Iduna's Universe

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