Navigational tables, ancient and with coordinates based on a different system to that now used; the center of the galaxy could not always have been the determining point. Tables carried, if legend held truth, long ago when men had first reached for the stars: such tables would show him exactly where Earth was to be found.

  It was a gamble but one he had to take. Like Veruchia he had nothing to lose.

  Chapter Five

  Against the sky the raft was a black mote topped with a glistening bubble, the rays of the setting sun turning the transparency into a glowing ruby. Dumarest watched it as it almost vanished from sight, seeing it turn, realign and grow as it came towards him. Three times he watched as it traversed the area and then, cold beginning to penetrate his clothing, he turned and entered the hut.

  Inside it was warm and bright with glowing tubes. Veruchia looked up from where she sat at a table poring over her maps and associated data.

  "Has it landed yet, Earl?"

  "Not yet."

  "Why do they take so long?" She was, he noticed, beginning to show the strain. Weeks of intense effort had edged her temper and thinned her face. "If they increased the speed they could cover the area that much faster. We haven't time to take things easy."

  "Izane knows what he's doing." Dumarest looked over her shoulder at the sheets on the table. A contour map of the region was covered with a mass of tiny marks, some in clusters, most widely scattered, "Is this the preliminary scan?"

  "Yes." She watched his face. "All right, you don't have to say it. I'm wasting my time."

  "I didn't say that."

  "But you thought it. You all think it. Earl, am I being a fool?"

  "No, just impatient."

  "For success, yes." Her hand slapped at the papers. "I was so sure the ship would be found in this region. I would have gambled on it. Centuries ago this was a warm area and a logical place to have founded an early settlement. The weather changed. The cold would have driven them further south towards where the city is now. The ship, left behind, would have become buried with snow. The snow would have turned to ice. Logical, isn't it?"

  It was more logical that those who had arrived in the ship would have torn it apart for needed materials, but he didn't say that Legend claimed that the vessel had become a shrine, an object of veneration, but who could trust legend? Facts became distorted over the passage of years.

  "You're tired," he said. "You should sleep."

  "Later. Hasn't Izane landed yet?"

  "He will report when he does." Dumarest studied the map again. The raft held an electronic device which sent pulses into the ground. Reflected they revealed any distortion in the material below. With careful calculation both the nature and size of any buried object could be determined. "Did they check on that object found at Wend?"

  A second raft had reported a find.

  "It was a subterranean storage compartment. Empty, waterlogged and about three hundred years old. It was the only possibility we found. I've sent the raft over to the Elgish Sea."

  "The site you decided was the lowest in order of probability?"

  "Yes." She looked at him curiously. "That's an odd way to put it. If I didn't know better I'd think you were a cyber. That's the way they talk, always so carefully precise. You've met cybers?"

  "Yes," he said bitterly. "Too often."

  "And you don't like them?"

  "I've no reason to love them. Is there one on Dradea?"

  "Surat. He lives in the palace and used to advise Chorzel. I suppose he advises Montarg now. I saw him a couple of times when I was working on my maps. I asked him to help me determine where the First Ship could be lying and he picked Wend and the Elgish Sea. I remember that he said the sea was lowest in order of probability—" She shivered. "An odd person. He gave me the creeps. He looked at me exactly as if I were an interesting specimen."

  Which, to him, was exactly what she was. No cyber could ever feel emotion; an operation on the thalamus performed at puberty had made that impossible. They moved through life as living, thinking machines, utterly incapable of experiencing love and hate, hope and fear, their only pleasure the mental gratification of making successful predictions.

  "Is something wrong, Earl?"

  "Nothing." He had been lost in thought. A cyber on Dradea: it was to be expected and it was certain that the man knew of his presence on this world. He should have left after the fight in the arena. Now it was too late.

  "There is something wrong." She rose, immediately concerned. "You're worried, Earl. Is it about the cyber? Does the Cyclan threaten you in any way?"

  "I have something they want, that's all." He forced himself to smile. "Forget it. They can't hurt me here and, once you find the ship, I'll have your full protection." He cocked his head at the soft crunch of feet. "Here's Izane."

  He was a short man of middle age, his hair gray and his face impassive. A lifetime spent with electronic devices had taught him the value of patience and determination. He set a sheaf of papers on the table.

  "Anything?" Veruchia couldn't wait. "Did you find the ship?"

  "We found two possibilities." He selected a sheet and rested his finger on the mass of flecks. "Here and here. The first is buried about two hundred feet below the surface, the second about half that. You realize, of course, that this is just a secondary survey and the objects could be anything. My guess is that they are accumulations of rock compressed beneath the ice."

  "But you can't be sure?"

  "As yet, no," he admitted. "Tomorrow I will make a more precise scan of both areas using equipment more finely calibrated for the discovery of metal."

  "Tomorrow?"

  "It is getting late and the temperature is falling. By the time we leave it would be dark."

  "That doesn't matter," said Dumarest. "We have lights and the cold won't bother us in the raft. Well leave as soon as you have adjusted your equipment." His tone sharpened as Izane hesitated. "Get on with it, man. If we find anything we can have a crew out there by dawn ready to start excavations. Veruchia, you had better put on some warmer clothing."

  The technician frowned. "You are coming with us? The raft will not hold both you and the regular crew."

  "I can handle a raft," said Dumarest. Anything was better than more of the empty waiting. "Leave a couple of men behind. You can check the apparatus and Veruchia will be able to decide what has to be done. Hurry now."

  It was dark when they left. Dumarest sent the raft lifting high and fast towards the position Izane had marked. Beyond the canopy the stars glittered with an icy brightness, the blobs of nebulae showing like patches of glimmering mist. Below the ice caught the starlight and reflected it in a milky sheen. As he neared the selected point he switched on the searchlights and illuminated the area. The light was strong, penetrating; in its beam he could see vague shapes buried deep in the ice. The ship could be one of them.

  "Rubbish," said Izane as he stood beside his machine. "Masses of accumulated detritus, trees, rocks, natural objects caught and buried over the course of years. The deeper they are the older they will be. Slow down now, please. Jarg, I think you had better take over." He looked at Dumarest as his assistant sat at the controls. "No disrespect, but he is far more experienced in this work. It is important that we maintain a constant elevation. If you will stand by the feedout you can stack the record sheets as they emerge." He pressed buttons and the screen of his apparatus flared to life. "In position, Jarg? Good. Now let us see what lies below."

  Veruchia looked at the dancing motes on the screen. "Is this the preliminary scan?"

  "Yes. Before trying to get greater definition I must determine that we are at the correct point. Minimum velocity, Jarg. A little to the right. Hold!" He made a series of adjustments. "There, you can see it quite clearly now."

  It was an irregular mass about three times as long as it was wide, a crumpled shape which defied recognition. A ship? Dumarest doubted it though it was barely possible. The pressure of ice could have distorted the proportions and damage have occurred long ago.

  He was not surprised when Izane said, "The mass is homogeneous and the metallic content is far too low for it to be a mechanical fabrication. There are traces of iron, but that is to be expected in this region. The mountains to the north are heavy with mineral deposits."

  Veruchia was disappointed. "It couldn't be the ship?"

  "I would stake my reputation that it is not. The material has all the attributes of solid rock." Izane made another adjustment. "Lower, Jarg. Lower. Right!" He gestured at the screen. "This is the highest definition possible with this apparatus. You can see the surface structure and the sonic probe reveals that the consistency is exactly the same as other rocks found in this area. I'm sorry, but this cannot possibly be anything else than a large deposit of natural stone."

  Another failure. How many would there have to be before she gave up the search? She wouldn't give up; watching her face Dumarest knew that. She would go on looking until there was no time left. He smiled as Jarg sent the raft gliding towards the other selected point.

  "Never mind. You didn't expect it to be easy."

  "I was wrong," she said. "This area is not where the ship is to be found. We'll check the other point to make sure, but I expect nothing." She frowned, thoughtful. "Earl, does a cyber lie?"

  "They don't always tell the entire truth."

  "Could they ever be wrong?"

  "They could be. The accuracy of their predictions depends on the availability of data. Even a cyber needs facts to work on. You're thinking of what he told you about the Elgish Sea?"

  "Yes, the area with the lowest order of probability. Earl, I wonder if he said that just to make me look elsewhere?"

  "How long ago was it you asked?"

  "A couple of years. No," she decided. "He couldn't have lied. There would have been no point in it. He couldn't possibly have known that I would ever seriously need to find the First Ship."

  "You're wrong," said Dumarest. "Never underrate the Cyclan, and always remember that a cyber doesn't think like a normal person. To them everything is a matter of varying probability. Everything. He would have assessed your value and extrapolated a series of sequences of probable events stemming from a range of varying circumstances. It was inevitable that Chorzel would die. The only random factor was the time of his death, and even that could have been determined by appropriate action. At his death you stood in line to inherit. That was of such a low order of probability that it could almost have been ignored. If it had been higher you would be dead now."

  "Assassinated?" Her face tensed. "Earl, are you serious? The cyber wouldn't do that."

  "He wouldn't have to. A hint in the right ear and the thing would have been done. Montarg is ambitious and would do anything to gain the Ownership. Of course Surat considered the possibility that you might press your claim. Naturally he took into account the chance that you might need to search for the proof which could lie in the First Ship. The probability would be so low as to be negligible but still it would be there. And if the Cyclan wanted Montarg to rule then he would have misguided you."

  "He lied to me?"

  "He didn't have to lie. He merely took two regions and told you that it was less likely the ship would be found in one than the other. Wend is a barren desert. Isn't it more probable that a thing could be found on land rather than in sea?"

  The raft came to a halt. Izane worked his apparatus but Dumarest was sure what he would find. Another mass of rock or a compressed mound of frozen trees. Yet it was wise to be sure.

  He moved away as Veruchia talked with the technician, standing close to the canopy as he looked at the stars. So many stars, lying in a thick band across the sky, some forming vague patterns; countless numbers of them, most with habitable worlds. For him some held memories; Derai with the hair like silver, Kalin with the hair like flame, Lallia and the strange woman he had met on Technos—steps on a journey it seemed would never end.

  "Which of those blazing suns shone on Earth?"

  * * *

  Montarg said, "Now!" and watched avidly as boys ran at each other with swords and shields. The swords were of wood, the shields of wicker; no great damage could be done, but they would learn. They would learn.

  "A noble spectacle." Selkas was ironic. "Is that why you asked me here. Montarg? To watch youths revert to the beast?"

  "They are in training." Montarg kept his eyes on the struggling boys. "And they are learning to shed an imposed artificiality. It is in the nature of man to fight. For too long we have denied that. What you see, Selkas, is the birth of a new culture."

  "The resurrection of one long buried, Montarg. Teach violence to the subtenants and landless ones and where will it end? Dradea is a civilized world and I, for one, would like to see it remain so."

  "Civilization is a relative term, Selkas. I choose to call it decadence. Those boys will grow into men who do not shudder at the thought of violence. They will be accustomed to it, the better for having experienced the mystique of combat."

  "Thugs, bravos, swaggerers who will regard all that is gentle as weakness. I have seen it on many worlds, Montarg. There are places where a person dare not walk undefended at night. You should visit them."

  "I've no need to travel. Dradea is good enough for me."

  "For you, perhaps." Selkas looked at the struggling boys. Several had fallen, some nursed bruises, many were crying with pain. "But what of those lads? What of the ones who desire to learn? We have only one biological laboratory on this planet, only one physics institute, only one small department of pure science. Compared to other worlds we are a village locked in ignorance. And you are encouraging that ignorance. Already ships are few and commerce low. Another generation and we shall be a forgotten world ignored by the rest of the galaxy."

  "Perhaps," Montarg shrugged. "But better to own a viable world than one which has lost its pride. I would rather rule a dozen men than a million sheep."

  "A laudable ambition—if true."

  "You think I lie?"

  "I think that you are a man obsessed," said Selkas deliberately. "A fanatic blinded by a misguided dream. This nonsense of the mystique of combat is not new. I have heard it before on other worlds and I have seen the inevitable result of those who have followed it. Men strutting like cockerels, armed, ready to kill at a word. Rigid formality and a stultyfing of the intellect. Such cultures cannot breed scientists and have no resources to spare for education. When every rich man needs to surround himself with retainers what chance is there for his money to build schools?"

  "We could have both."

  "Not with the state of our economy. Progress depends on a constantly expanding availability of funds which can be used for the development of art and science. Unless we have that surplus of wealth we can only regress. If you really want to help this world, close the arena and use the money to import teachers. A child can be taught at the cost of breeding a crell. A crell can only die—a child can grow to add to the wealth of this planet. Logic, Montarg. At times it is inescapable."

  "Your logic, Selkas, not mine. But I did not invite you to join me to talk about that. I learn that Veruchia is now busy exploring the Elgish Sea."

  "That is correct."

  "Three hundred miles north at the village of Zem."

  "Yes."

  "Her and that scum from the arena." Montarg sneered. "Odd what steps some women will take to gratify their lust. It refutes your argument, Selkas. Veruchia, surely, is a cultured woman. She hates the games and all forms of violence and yet, despite that, she threw herself into the arms of a fighter, a transient who is snatching what he can get. When her money goes then so will he."

  On the field, attendants moved among the injured, while others picked up the discarded swords and shields. One boy with a broken arm waited as they carried him away. Another had lost an eye, his face a mask of blood as he stumbled over the ground.

  "They will know better the next time," said Montarg casually. He returned to the attack. "But don't worry, Selkas. Dumarest will not be able to gloat at having duped a foolish woman. I shall take care of that. You will be indebted to me for having saved your honor."

  "Mine?"

  "You threw them together. You provided the fire at which my cousin was burned."

  "A fire need not burn," said Selkas quietly. "It can warm. For a lonely person it can be a great comfort."

  "You care for her. Now I am sure of it and I wonder why. You defend her and support her in her stupidity. Two rafts, trained personnel, supplies and equipment without regard as to cost. Why, Selkas? Never before have you shown concern about any living thing. I am curious as to the reason."

  "It's your money, Montarg."

  He saw the scowl, the sudden blaze of fury, and tensed as Montarg lifted his hand, the fingers reaching for his sleeve. Then he shrugged, a man content to bide his time.

  "The money you helped her to win. Yes, I know that, Selkas, you advised her to make the wager. She would never have done it alone. But you betrayed yourself then as you have betrayed yourself since. What is Veruchia to you? How could a man of your attainments be attached to a sullen, mutated freak?"

  "Montarg! You go too far!"

  "Do I, Selkas?" He gave his dog-laugh, soundless, horrible. "The truth is plain for all to see. But, I wonder, what caused the mutation? Both Lisa and Oued were of clear strain and neither had traveled off Dradea to where radiating suns could have disturbed their chromosomes. But you, Selkas, you traveled much and far. And, if old gossip is true, you and Lisa were very close at one time. Perhaps more than close."

  "You're vile, Montarg. Despicable. It requires no courage to slander the dead."

  "No greater courage than it takes to seduce the wife of a friend." He stepped back as Selkas moved forward, his fingers jerking at his sleeve, rising to show the metallic gleam of a laser. "Come closer and there will be a most regrettable accident. I was showing you this little toy when, somehow, it discharged itself into your face. I shall be most sorry—but you will be dead." His voice rose a little. "I warn you, Selkas!"