Prison of Night

"Yes," said Lavinia. "He has earned the right."

"Then let us vote on the matter. Those in favor?"

"A moment!" Alcorus lifted a hand. "I am not arguing as to his right to be put up and will abide by the vote no matter which way it falls, but is there any need of such a vote at all? We have discussed with him the desirability of Gydapen's son taking over the estate and he has agreed to sell. As he will not be with us long what purpose can be served by taking him among us?"

"The giving of honor and the recognition of his services." Taiyuah looked up from his box. "Are we so small-minded that we begrudge him that?"

"Thank you, Khatya." Lavinia looked at the circle of faces. "At least one among you has the courage to admit what we owe to Earl. And he has agreed to accommodate you in your plan so why the hostility? Incidentally, has the land yet been assessed as to value?"

Roland cleared his throat. "Not exactly," he admitted. "There are complications as I suspected there would be. How to gain a true figure? As yet the estimates vary between one sum and another eight times as much."

"Strike a medium," said Navalok. "Give him a quarter of the average. He agreed to a quarter."

"True, but-" Roland broke off, shaking his head.

"Even a quarter of the average would be more than we could easily find."

The reason for their hostility and Jait's stupid accosting of the raft. Men out of their depth and unsure of which way to turn. To them the world of finance was a mystery, business a closed book. Farmers, breeders, dealing in inter-family barter, buying what they needed with the profits of goods-money they never saw. And, if Gydapen's son was growing impatient?

Lavinia said, loudly, "If it comes down to a question of money then why can't the proposed new heir meet the bill? After all it is he who stands to gain the most.. Surely he doesn't expect us to buy his land for him?"

"We gave it away," snapped Alcorus. "It is up to us to regain it."

Or tell the heir to go to hell, but Lavinia didn't suggest that, remembering Dumarest's advice. If you can't make friends at least don't make enemies.

But, at times, it was hard.

There were no beggars on Zakym. The streets of the town were clean; the houses neat, the people dressed in decent clothing adorned with the symbols of their Families. Things Dumarest had noticed before and noted again as he stepped from the Council Building and across the open space which occupied the center of the town. He had seen similar conditions on other worlds but here were no armed and watchful guards to maintain the facade, no stinking mass of hovels into which the poor were confined, no Lowtown to hold the stranded and desperate.

A nice, clean, easy-going world in which a man could manage to survive if he was willing to fit in. One which resisted the exploiters and the things they would bring; the whores and touts and fighters and gamblers. The vice and degradation. The crime. The pain. The human parasites who would put the most blood-hungry of their natural counterparts to shame.

A good world, but the field was empty of ships and the trading post seemed deserted. Dumarest halted within the doorway, smelling the combined scents of spices and leather, of oil, perfumes, fabrics, dried herbs, pounded meats-a blend of odors which always clung to such places and gave each a haunting familiarity.

"Earl!" In the shadows something stirred, took the shape of a man, came forward with a flash of white teeth in the ebon of a caste-marked face. "I wondered how long it would be before you came in."

"Jmombota!" Dumarest lifted a hand in greeting. "Anything new?"

"On Zakym?" The agent shrugged. "During the last period of delusia I saw my grandmother who told me that I was wasting my time here. A waste, don't you think? I hardly needed a visit from the dead to tell me that. As I hardly need you to tell me this world has compensations."

"Was I going to tell you that?"

"People do. All the time. But never, when I offer to allow them to take my place, do they show the slightest eagerness to take advantage of my generosity." The agent glanced at an ornate clock. "A drink?"

Dumarest said, ironically, "Have we the time?"

"I was checking. The suns are well apart now and we have hours before they close. Before delusia I'm going to take something to put me well asleep and to keep me in that state. I was never fond of my grandmother even when she was alive and now that she's dead I can't stand the sight of her." He laughed and produced a bottle. "To your health!"

"To yours!"

They drank and stood for a while in companionable silence. They had little in common either in race or creed but both were men, both alien to the culture of this world, and both knew the meaning of loneliness.

As he poured fresh drinks the agent said, "The ships will arrive when they come, Earl."

"Can you read my mind?"