"God!" Zehava clutched at Dumarest's arm. "What's the matter with them? Some noise. A few bangs in the sky and they go crazy."

"Let's get back to the ship."

"Why? I want to see what happens. How long is everyone going to stay locked away?"

Long enough for the day to die and the stars to appear. Nadine was waiting when they returned to the ship. She had a message from Cazele.

"You are not to fire missiles again. If you do all cooperation will cease."

Dumarest looked at Mauger. "Do we need it?"

"Technical help, no, but we could still use some parts and facilities. Nadine was going to arrange it."

"I have. Cazele gave me his promise of assistance in return for my assurance that there will not be another accident. That's what I told him," she explained. "The missiles were fired in error. He didn't believe me."

"He wasn't supposed to," said Dumarest. "Just as long as he gives us what we need. That isn't a complete overhaul," he said to the engineer. "I want the ship ready to leave. Don't rip apart things for the sake of it."

"I want us to be safe."

"Just make sure we can leave." To Nadine he said, "What else did you pick up?"

"At the time of the blast? Cazele was terrified. So were the others with him."

"Terrified," mused Zehava. "Like the people in town, Earl. I wonder why?"

Chapter Eleven

From the body of the raft the hills were a series of irregular peaks scored with shallow ravines and dotted with level patches bearing stunted trees and bushes. Rough ground providing thick cover for predators and other creatures. But Dumarest had seen no sign of life.

"There!" Zehava pointed to where a regular shape stood to one side. "See it?" To the driver she snapped, "Turn left and down. Between those mounds. Land close to the cabin."

It was small, a mere box with sealed windows, a roof, a door. Ventilation was provided by spinning fans set in meshed tubes. Like the building in town it had been constructed of worn and fretted stone.

Inside rested a wide bed, a table and chairs, a compact cooking unit, some odd items of clothing and sporting gear, a dead man.

Nigel Myer who had chased adventure and had found something which had killed him.

He lay on the bed, legs sprawled, hands empty, the slash across his throat the grisly parody of a smile. He was naked, scratches on arms and torso, more on one cheek. Blood had dried to provide a brownish smear on flesh and the cover on which he lay. More smears made a patch from the bed to the door. Others spattered the walls.

Dumarest touched his arm, moved his fingers to the region of the heart as he felt the temperature of the flesh.

"His companion?"

"Ulman Tighe. He's outside."

He sat on the ground, well away from the cabin, the radio with which he had summoned help hanging from a strap around his neck. A man of Nigel's age, dressed in rough clothing, a holstered weapon at his belt.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. That is I'm not sure. It -" He broke off, swallowing rising vomit. More lay to one side where he had vented the contents of his stomach. "We came out here to hunt. Nigel, me and Wanda. She was our guide. More than that, really, she seemed to like us and we all got along. Nigel wanted to be alone with her so I took a walk. When I returned I found them lying together in a puddle of blood. God – what a mess!"

Dumarest said, sharply, "What about the girl?"

"I dragged her from him. She didn't belong. He was of the Kaldari and -"

"Where is she now?"

Lying in a shallow gully to one side of the cabin. A small, forlorn, naked creature who had once been beautiful but now was a thing of horror. Something had ripped open her stomach from crotch to navel, leaving her intestines to hang like tangled ribbons.

Zehava said, "Nigel couldn't have done this. Tighe must be responsible. He killed them both then realized he was stranded unless he sent for help."

"Why did he kill them?'

"Jealously, perhaps? She must have played one against the other and he lost his temper."

Slashing a throat and ripping open a stomach in a frenzy of rage. A possibility but Dumarest doubted if it was the answer. Tighe had been armed, his gun to hand, an easy method of dealing death. Back in the cabin he studied the man, his clothing, the smears it bore, the smudges. Some were on his face, more on his hands. But the thick spatters which marred the walls were absent. How could he have stood in the sudden spraying of blood and avoided the betraying shower?

How had he caused the wounds?

The dead man moved beneath his hands as Dumarest examined the slashed throat. A knife would have left a clean gash. A claw a rip as neat if not as deep. The wound on Nigel's throat had been made with something jagged like a saw.

Thoughtfully he examined the interior of the cabin. A sealed box once the door was closed and it was so arranged that it could not be left open by accident. It had been closed when Tighe had returned from his walk. If he wasn't the murderer, then someone else had to be.

"No." Tighe was positive. "I saw no one leave. I wasn't gone all that long," he explained. "Just wandered in a circle. Wanda warned us about straying too far from the cabin. She thought of it as protection."

"From what?"

"I don't know. She didn't say. When I questioned her she changed the subject. They all do that."

Becoming vague if asked to give specific information. Switching to something else when asked to talk about their personal lives. Reluctant to go into detail and pretending ignorance when asked about facts they had to know but didn't want to admit.

"Did you really come out here to hunt or were you interested in something else? Cazele's offer," Dumarest suggested. "The land he promised if you would stay."

Zehava slapped her hand against the gun she carried as the young man nodded.

"There's your motive, Earl! He wanted to stay but Nigel wasn't interested so he killed him to shut his mouth."

"The girl, too? Why would he do that?"

"To stop her talking. He wouldn't want it to get around. Chapman would call it mutiny."

Dumarest said, dryly, "Aren't the Kaldari supposed to be independent? Why should Tighe care what the captain thought? If he wants to stay he will. I can't see him committing a double murder to keep a secret which doesn't need keeping."

"If he didn't kill them who did?"

Dumarest said to the young man, "You took a short walk and they were alive and well when you left. How long were they alone? Ten minutes? Thirty?"

"About that. Yes."

"Thirty minutes. You returned, saw them and then what did you do? Use the radio to summon help?"

"Yes."

"Right away?"

"I was sick first," admitted Tighe. "All that blood. I staggered outside and threw up. Then I called for help."

A call relayed to Dumarest as he traversed the hills with Zehava and the native driver. They had reached the cabin within minutes. Barely time for Tighe to have shifted the body of the girl. They had seen no raft and Dumarest had seen no sign of movement. The cabin had been empty when Tighe had found the bodies and Nigel's flesh was still warm. If Tighe was innocent how had the couple died?

"Let's finish this." Zehava was impatient. "Wrap up the body and take it back with us. Nigel can be evicted in space – he deserves better than this lousy world. Tighe, give me a hand."

The cover rustled as they moved it to cover the body. A rustle echoed by another as Dumarest propped open the door. It slammed as he ducked, throwing himself forward, steel flashing as he jerked the knife from his boot. Something hit the panel, scrabbled, rose with a flash of scarlet wings to fall, spraying blood, the head severed from the body. A pylas which had lurked unseen beneath the bed.