It was half again as tall as a man, twice as broad, the hands like spades, the fingers tipped with claws as were the toes of the splayed feet. The body was dark with thickly matted hair grown so close that it seemed the texture of horn. The face was a nightmare of jutting jaw, fangs, burning eyes and pointed ears. The plated skull bore two stubby horns, their tips glistening with metallic sharpness. The neck was as thick as the thighs, which were as thick as the waist of a woman.
"Look at it!" A man sucked in his breath as he spoke to the woman at his side. "How would you like to meet that in a dark alley?"
"I wouldn't." The sight which entranced him nauseated her. "Come away, Lou."
"You don't like it?"
"I think it's vile." She gave her reason. "It's too much like a man. An animal is one thing but this is disgusting." An association others had made and which added to its attraction. The head guard, sweating despite the cold, walked past, a padded cap held suggestively in his hand. In it rested the gleam of coins.
"What is it?" He shrugged at the question, pausing until a few coins had joined the others, smiling as he received his due. "Friends you are fortunate to have the privilege of seeing a product of the Chetame Laboratories. Note the coat, the eyes, the fangs. The body hair is as fine as fur, matted almost at the skin to form a natural armor. The hide itself is as tough as that of a bull. The fangs are copied from the stabbing teeth of a feline, while within the jaw lie the pointed molars of a carnivore."
He paused, waiting for the expected questions.
"The feet? They are modeled on those of a bird and can kick forward as well as back. The horns alone bear the touch of added artifice, as you can see by the gleam of metal tips. A worthy opponent for any hunter seeking a novel prey. A guardian of value for the protection of home and palace." He allowed himself to be humorous. "If any of you gentlemen wishes to safeguard the chastity of your woman then a beast such as this would be a good investment-but first make sure it has been gelded."
A titter followed the crude joke, one not appreciated by the woman who had spoken before.
"That's enough, Lou! If you want to stare at that thing then do it alone."
"Wait a few more minutes."
"No! I'm going! Come with me or don't bother to call again!"
The threat sent him to accompany her as she moved from the crowd. Others were not so squeamish. A guard yelled as a half-dozen young men, none robed, all a little intoxicated, thrust striped wands through the bars in an attempt to goad the beast.
"Are you mad? Back there! Back, damn you!"
"Fools!" The head guard glared his displeasure. "Have they nothing better to do?"
"Is it safe? Could it break loose?"
"No." The guard smiled as he reassured the man who'd asked. "But it's best not to torment the creature. Anger makes it hard to handle and we like to keep it quiet."
Nonetheless dilettantes laughed as they threw stones into the cage. Bored, jaded, the idle parasites of a strugglng culture, they considered themselves above the restrictions binding others. Dumarest heard the guard yell again as he moved away. Heard the mocking reply, the sudden snarl from the creature which filled the air with the raw taint of primeval fear, roar repeated as again the men goaded the beast.
The guards were fools. They bore clubs and should have used them. Instead they added to the din with futile shouting, a stupidity matched by the original error of displaying the creature in the first place.
The noise faded as he merged with the throng in the midway, listening to the siren call of a young girl offering a variety of exotic experiences: sensitapes which gave a full-sense illusion of reality; analogues which conveyed alternate pleasures; sexual coupling of beasts, killing, burning, dying, the terror of the chase, the thrill of the stalk; drugs to heighten perception, others to increase the sensitivity of nerves so that a touch became an ecstasy, a kiss unendurable pleasure; compounds to dull, to distort, to change; salves, pills, tablets, tonics-the girl offered them all.
"And you, my lord?" Her eyes met Dumarest's. "Is there nothing you desire?"
Nothing she could supply and she must have read the answer in his eyes. Oddly her own filled with tears.
"I am sorry, my lord," she whispered. "So very sorry."
A sensitive? It was possible, carnivals and fairs were natural resting places for such misfits. But what had she seen to make her cry? What had she guessed?
Perhaps nothing-the tears could have been a trick to attract others, a little showmanship to enhance her standing. A facile explanation, but Dumarest hesitated to accept it. A warning? It was possible and his back prickled to the familiar sense of danger. Podesta was the staging point for those heading for Ascelius. It was the cheap and easy way which was why it was popular with students and, at this time, it was simple to become lost in the crowd, which was why he had chosen to travel in the guise of a student. Had the girl seen through his pretense? Had she known that others had done so?
To pursue those questions would invite the very attention he needed to avoid. There was nothing he could do but to wait and remain inconspicuous.
He bought a skewer of meat from a stall and moved on while he ate, pausing at the blaze of light thrown by lanterns over a gambling layout, watching as the dealer taught those placing bets how to manipulate the cards. A lesson they never even suspected-the man was good at his trade.
A crone offered vials of potion guaranteed to win adoration. A tall, gaunt man offered a drug which would increase the ability to memorize data. A woman with silver hair dotted with scarlet made crude jests as she persuaded a bunch of students to buy her system of mnemonics. A monk lifted a chipped bowl of worn plastic.
"Of your charity, brother."
Dumarest paused, tearing the last of the meat from the skewer and throwing aside the wood. The monk followed it with his eyes, saying nothing, but his meaning was plain. Dumarest had eaten-others would starve. If he could realize that, realize too that, but for the grace of God, he could be one of them, then the millennium would be that much closer. When all accepted the basic credo then it would have arrived.
Brother Lond would never see it. Mankind bred too fast, spread too quickly, but to cease from struggle because the aim was distant was alien to the Church of Universal Brotherhood of which he was a part.
Now he lifted his bowl, tall and gaunt in his robe of brown homespun, the bare feet in their sandals gnarled and stained with the dirt of the field, an old man who had dedicated his life to the easement of suffering. His head lowered as Dumarest dropped coins into the bowl.
"You are generous, brother."
Dumarest said dryly, "Aren't you going to wish me good fortune in my studies?"
"If it will please you." The sunken eyes of the monk were direct. "But do you go to study, brother? Or do you go to hide?"
A guess? Monks were far from being fools and the old man would have noticed his bearing, recognized the dun-colored robe for what it was, the charity as being alien to a student nursing his resources. A mistake, but not a serious one; Dumarest had no cause to fear the Church.
He moved on, halting to listen to a man selling electronic equipment.
"Small, neat and compact," he was saying. "Each unit is capable of multiple settings and can take a variety of programs. Use the earpiece while awake, the bone conductor when asleep-the actual emissions from the brain when the correct state is reached will trigger the instrument. Each cartridge holds an hour of continuous information, and a wide choice is available. Medicine, electronics, physics, astrogation-all in the form of lectures or assembled bits of essential data. Learn while you sleep. Gain the advantage of continuous study and ensure the gaining of your degree."
An honest man selling an honest product but a student wanted more than that. The vendor pursed his lips at the question.
"A crib? Something to take into the examination room and feed information as desired? My friend, if I had such an item I would be a criminal to sell it to you. The rooms are electronically guarded against such devices and, if you should be discovered owning one, you would be immediately expelled. I have no desire to contribute to another's ruin. I-" He broke off as a siren cut the air with its wail, a series of short and long blasts which ended in an echoing silence. "The Cossos." He looked at his audience. "That was her signal."
Dumarest's ship-it was time for him to board.
There was still a crowd clustered around the cage in its circle of brilliance, and as Dumarest passed he heard the raw, primitive snarl of the beast as it faced its tormentors. The guards, bribed, no longer made any effort to prevent the hail of missiles which the dilettantes threw at the cage, some hitting the bars, others the matted coat of the creature. They would tire of the sport or the beast would cease roaring its anger or its owner would come to complete the transshipment and the incident would be over and forgotten. But, perhaps, the taste would linger to remind humans that they were, at times, more viciously savage than any animal.
"Hurry!" A man called to his companion. "Let's get aboard before it's too late!"
There was no need to hurry; the warning signal had been a preliminary. It would be repeated later, again to warn of immediate departure. Even as Dumarest turned from the cage a siren blasted in the standard pattern and he halted, looking at the stubby shape which lifted from the dirt, the stained hull and patches vague beneath the blue shimmer of the Erhaft field which carried it up and out toward the stars.
The sight caught at the imagination, driving the beast insane.
Dumarest heard the sudden, maniacal scream of naked fury, the accompanying shrieks as the bars yielded and a guard died beneath the rake of sickle claws. Another joined him as the crowd raced from the spot, streaming like ants from the point of danger, jostling, thrusting, yammering their fear, their terror of the monster.
The beast stood roaring its hate and defiance, fists drumming on the barrel of its torso, saliva dripping from bared fangs, blood smeared on the claws, the matted hair.
"Lavinia! My God, Lavinia!"
The scream cut across the roaring, the drumming, the noise of the crowd. A sound torn from the throat of a woman in the extremity of anguish, shocking, desperate.