E. Tubb - Child of Earth

“You are dwelling on the past,” said Shandaha. “I am not entertained.”

“Join me.”

“I think not.”

“Then I’ll leave.” Dumarest rose, ignoring his wine, remembering the lesson Hsi Wei had beaten into him; never to offer unnecessary offence. “With your permission, naturally.” He added, “I’d appreciate guidance to find the doctor.”

Chagal was in a room fashioned like a conservatory with sheets of crystal curved to form a gleaming structure of light and brightness containing delicately scented air. One furnished with the luxury that seemed normal to Shandaha’s domain. A low table before the doctor held warmed pots of tisane, an assortment of viands wrapped in delicate pastry, wine, goblets, bowls of fruits and trays of succulent dainties. Among them a chessboard seemed an incongruity.

Dumarest looked at the feast, the board with its scattered pieces. “Was this here when you came?” Then, as the doctor nodded, “You’ve had company. Delise?”

“Yes.” Chagal rubbed his cheeks. His face seemed smoother, younger than when Dumarest had seen him last. “She joined me in a game. I beat her but only just. The next time it could be the other way around.” He gestured at the table. “If you’re hungry help yourself.”

“I’m not hungry and I’ve had enough wine. Let’s talk about you. How are you keeping?”

“Fine.” Chagal was curt. He added, “How did you think I’d been keeping? You didn’t bother to find out.”

“I’ve been busy. You?”

“No. Shandaha seems to have lost interest in me. I’ve eaten, drunk, slept and did a few things and-”

“Played chess,” interrupted Dumarest. “I know. You told me. With Delise. How are you getting on?”

“Fine.”

“Let’s start again, doctor. If you think I’ve been avoiding you I’m sorry. I haven’t. I’ve been busy-our host has been having his fun. How long did it take for him to finish with you?” He waited then said, “Not long, I guess. You’ve been too close to suffering and pain. Shandaha doesn’t like such things when they come too close. Among other things I’m wondering what else he doesn’t like. Delise, perhaps?”

“They seem to get on together.”

“And you? With her? Has she come visiting when you’ve been taking your rest?” Then, as Chagal again made no answer, Dumarest snarled in impatient fury, “Snap out of it, man! I’m talking about our survival. Are you just going to roll over because you’ve found a charming companion to share your bed?”

“Are you?”

“With Nada? No. I figure that both she and Delise are bribes. Comforts to keep our minds off the real question. And I’m not too sure about you. You’re looking younger, fitter, like a pampered pet. You could be grateful to Shandaha for that. Willing to tell him everything we talk about. Has Delise persuaded you to do that?”

“Damn you, Earl! I-” He broke off as Dumarest closed his hand around his throat.

“Listen,” he said quietly. “I’m growing tired of playing this game. I don’t like the rules and I don’t like the mystery. All the illusion and deception, the smoke and mirrors. If I can’t persuade you to help me then I don’t want you to get in my way. If I can’t trust you then-” His hand tightened. “Which way is it going to be?”

“You’re crazy!” Chagal rubbed his throat as Dumarest loosened his grip and removed his hand. “Insane. Why the hell do you think I’d betray you?”

“If the price was right why wouldn’t you?”

“I can’t answer that. Could you?”

Dumarest could but made no attempt to elaborate. Instead he looked at the table, the wine and cakes, the fruit and meats, the pots of tisane, the chess board with its pieces. They were of jet and silver, oddly shaped yet the rank of each was clear.

“Which color did she choose?”

“Delise? Black. Why?”

“So you started the game.” Dumarest moved a piece at random. Followed it with another. “And, while playing, you talked. About what?”

“Things. Love, life, the universe. You, me, Nada. She is in love with you, Earl.”

“As Delise is with you?”

“No. Nada is genuine. To Delise I am just a temporary distraction.” The doctor was pragmatic. “Age, Earl, what do you expect. Any harlot can wear a smile and make pleasing compliments as can any woman bored and, maybe, instructed to do just that. But Nada is genuine.”

“As Delisa told you.” Dumarest moved another piece. “As she could have been instructed to do. Why should we believe her?”

“Why would she lie?”

“Why would anyone?” Dumarest answered his own question. “To obey orders. To get their own way. To amuse themselves. To hide something. To gain something. To avoid trouble. A better question would be why should they tell the truth? Why should anyone in this madhouse?”

Chagal said, slowly, “You’re getting at something, Earl. What?”

“Look at the board,” Dumarest gestured. “The pieces. Give them identities, names. Nada does this and Delise does that and you and I dance to the dictates of an unknown and unseen player. Or, perhaps, not unseen.”

“Shandaha?”

“Our host. Yes. Unless he too is a piece moved by an invisible player. A gamer who doesn’t realize he is a part of the game.”

“You think that possible?”

“In this place anything is possible. Time, for us, hasn’t passed at the same rate. For you days, perhaps, for me hours. One second facing Shandaha, the next in another place, alone, surrounded by illusion. Or, without warning, thrown back to relive my early life. And now this.” Dumarest rapped a piece hard against the surface of the board. “A clue as to what is going on.”

“A game of chess?”

“Which you opened. I knew a master once who claimed to know, within three moves, the character of his opponent. The opening told him all he needed to know. A calm, recognized, safe move meant one thing. A bold, unusual, adventurous one, another. He played on the knowledge, used it, manipulated his opponent-and always won.”

“Delise didn’t.”

“She wasn’t meant to. She just wanted you to start the play. To provide more information.” Dumarest saw the doctor’s blank expression and felt a sudden rush of irritation. “Damn it, man, haven’t you got it yet. The board wasn’t placed here to allow us to play-it was placed to give us a clue as to our real situation. We’re not in a snug refuge. A luxury hotel. An oasis of comfort in a hostile world. We’re in a prison. A trap-and we’ve got to find a way out before it snaps shut!”

The curved sheets of crystal were translucent, the view reduced to that of a nacreous blur which hid what lay outside.

If anything lay outside other than the hint of lush vegetation and warmth. Resting his palm against the crystal Dumarest felt no change of temperature. He searched for a door and found only a single panel leading to unfamiliar regions.

Watching him Chagal said, “If you are hoping to find another way out there isn’t one. Only that door. Delise came through it.”

“Did you?”

“I guess I must have done but I can’t remember. Can you?”

“I followed instructions,” said Dumarest. “Turned left when leaving Shandaha, turned right at a column tinted in the hues of the spectrum, turned-” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. “The route has probably changed by now. Perhaps it was never there.”

“Hypnotism,” said Chagal. “Is that what you think? That we were both hypnotized, conditioned to believe what we’ve been told. That, on a cue, you regress to relive your early life? As I did?”

“Yes.”

“It’s possible,” the doctor admitted. “But why do you think it happened? And why do you think we are in a prison?”