The Eater of Worlds by E. C. Tubb

Author:E. C. Tubb [Tubb, E. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science fiction
ISBN: 9780575107809
Publisher: DAW Books
Published: 2011-09-29T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter EIGHT

Chemile froze. He pressed himself back hard against the wall as Cleet and the attendant returned from the front door. The man almost touched him, but he passed oblivious of the shape he could not see.

“Will you require my services again, my lord?”

“No. Get to bed and stay there.”

Chemile relaxed as the man vanished through the side door and Cleet returned to the large room where he had entertained his visitors. The passage was deserted and escape easily possible. All he had to do was to unbar the door, help himself to some of the furs hanging on a row of pegs, and head back to the Mordain. But if he did that he would leave a sign of his presence. Moreover, as yet he had learned nothing of value.

Softly he stepped toward the door and looked inside. Cleet had his back turned toward him as he poured himself some wine. Quickly Chemile slipped into the room and blended with the wall. He was only just in time. As he settled, the slab of stone supporting the dead beast swung open to reveal the figure of a man.

“Ocran,” he said harshly, “you are a fool.”

“Priam!”

“A bigger fool than I took you for.” Farrel was armed. He abruptly thrust the Dione which filled his hand into its holster. “Why did you invite them to the house and let them question you?”

“I had no choice.” Cleet made an attempt to be dignified. “We made a bargain and it had to be kept.” His hand shook a little as he poured wine into a goblet and handed it to the other man. “Why didn’t you stay hidden?”

“I grew tired of the stink of those spices you import.” Farrel took the wine. “That man, Kennedy, comes from Earth. Do you realize what that means?”

“He’s looking for you, but that’s natural. After all, you did escape.”

“Looking for me—and what else?” Farrel scowled as he lifted the wine. “Damn that assassin! Elan must have talked. Enough at least for them to come here and question you. If they hadn’t left when they had I would have—” He broke off, shrugging. “Well, no matter, we leave at dawn.”

“So soon?”

“Dakin brought word while you were busy with your stupid games. Another proof of your idiocy. You could have been killed.”

“A chance we must take on the run.”

“But not when I need you!” Farrel’s face contorted with a spasm of rage, the eyes slitting, the mouth down-curved, the corners traced with foam. “And to be questioned!”

“He learned nothing,” Cleet said hastily. “You heard, you know. And what can he do on Ylor? Here, in this house, this town, I am master. There are a hundred men who will obey my command.” Emptying his goblet, he continued: “You worry too much, Priam. As yet all has gone well. And I have been trustworthy, you must admit that. I could have ignored your message.”

“As Elan did,” snarled Farrel. “Well, another assassin can do what the first failed to accomplish.”

“I provided money and men,” said Cleet.

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