That was what had left Chomir in a muddled and apprehensive frame of mind. The man had both been there, and somehow not been there. Chomir felt approximately as a human being might have felt after an encounter with a menacing phantom which faded into thin air almost as soon as it was noticed. Telzey then tried to bring the earlier meeting with the mysterious stranger into view; but here she ran into so much confusion and fury that she got no clear details. There were occasional impressions of white walls—perhaps a large, white-walled room—and of a narrow-faced man, who somehow managed to stay beyond the reach of Chomir’s teeth.
By that time, Telzey felt somewhat disturbed. Something out of the ordinary clearly had happened. And supposing the narrow-faced stranger did spell danger to Gonwil . . .
Gonwil had told her, laughing, not believing a word of it, a story she’d been hearing herself since she was a child; how on Tayun, the planet from which she had come to Orado to be a student at Pehanron, there were people who had been responsible for the death of her parents when she was less than a year old, and who intended eventually to kill Gonwil as the final act of revenge for some wrong her father supposedly had done.
Tayun appeared to have a well-established vendetta tradition, so the story might not be completely impossible. But as Gonwil told it, it did seem very unlikely.
On the other hand, who else could have any possible reason for wanting to harm Gonwil?
The instant she asked herself the question, Telzey felt a flick of alarmed shock. Because now that the possibility had occurred to her, she could answer the question immediately. She knew a group of people who might very well want to harm Gonwil, not as an act of vendetta but for the simple and logical reason that it would be very much to their material benefit if Gonwil died within the next few months.
She sat still a while, barely retaining her contacts with Chomir while she turned the thought around, considered it and let it develop. If she was right, this was an extremely ugly thing, and she could see nothing to indicate she was wrong.
Late last summer she had been invited to spend a few days with Gonwil as house guests of a lady who was Gonwil’s closest living relative and a very dear friend, and who would be on Orado with her family for a short stay before returning to Tayun. Socially speaking, the visit was not a complete success, though Gonwil remained unaware of it. Telzey and the Parlin family—father, mother, and son—formed strong feelings of mutual dislike almost at sight, but stayed polite about it. Malrue Parlin was a handsome, energetic woman, who completely overshadowed her husband and son. She’d been almost excessively affectionate towards Gonwil.
It was Malrue, from what Telzey had heard, who had always been deeply concerned that the hypothetical vendettists might catch up with Gonwil some day . . .
When his parents left, Parlin Junior remained on Orado with the avowed intention of winning Gonwil over to the idea of becoming his bride. Gonwil, though moderately fond of Junior, didn’t care for the idea. But, more from fear of hurting Malrue’s feelings than his, she’d been unable to bring herself to brush Junior off with sufficient firmness. At least, he’d kept returning.
And the thing, Telzey thought, it never had occurred to Gonwil, or to her, to speculate about was that Gonwil had inherited a huge financial fortune which Malrue Parlin was effectively controlling at present, and which she would go on controlling if Junior’s suit was successful . . . or again if Gonwil happened to die before she came of age, which she would in just three months time.
In spite of Gonwil’s diffidence in handling Junior, it must have become clear to both Junior and his mother some while ago that the marriage plan had fizzled.
One somehow didn’t consider that people one had met, even if one hadn’t liked them, might be planning murder. It seemed too unnatural. But murder was in fact the most common of major crimes anywhere in the Hub, and it was general knowledge that the more sophisticated murderers quite regularly escaped retribution. The Federation’s legal code made no more than a gesture of attempting to cope with them. It was a structure of compromises in everything but its essentials, with the primary purpose of keeping six hundred billion human beings living in more than a thousand semi-autonomous sun systems away from wholesale conflicts, while the area of generally accepted lawful procedure and precedent was slowly but steadily extended. In that, it was surprisingly effective. But meanwhile individual citizens could suddenly find themselves in situations where Federation Law told them in effect that it could do nothing and advised them to look out for themselves.
Murder, aside from its more primitive forms, frequently provided such a situation. There was a legal term for it, with a number of semilegal implications. It was “private war.”
Telzey’s impulse was to wake up Gonwil and tell her what had occurred to her. But she rejected the idea. She had only her report of Chomir’s experiences to add to things Gonwil already knew; and so far those experiences proved nothing even if Gonwil didn’t assume they existed in Telzey’s imagination rather than in Chomir’s memory. She would be incapable of accepting, even theoretically, that Malrue might want her dead; and in attempting to disprove it, she might very well do something that would precipitate the danger.
The thing to go for first was more convincing evidence of danger. Telzey returned her attention to Chomir.
* * *
Near morning, she acknowledged to herself she would get no further with the dog. He was responding more and more sluggishly and vaguely to her prods. She’d caught glimpses enough meanwhile to know his memory did hold evidence that wickedness of some kind was being brewed, but that was all. The animal mind couldn’t cooperate any longer.
She should let Chomir rest for some hours at least. After he was fresh again, she might get at what she wanted without much trouble.
She eased off her contacts with his mind, drew away from it, felt it fade from her awareness. She opened her eyes again, yawned, sighed, reached over to the end of the couch and poked at the window control shielding. The room’s windows appeared in the far wall, the shrubbery of the tiny bungalow garden swaying softly in the predawn quiet of the student court. Telzey turned bleary eyes towards the wall clock.
In an hour and a half, her father would be at his office in Orado City. The city was just under an hour away by aircar, and she’d have to get his advice and assistance in this matter at once. If Gonwil’s death was planned, the time set for it probably wasn’t many days away. Malrue and her husband were supposed to be on their way back to Orado for another of their annual visits, and Chomir’s hated acquaintance had turned up again yesterday. The danger period could be expected to begin with Malrue’s arrival.
By the time she’d showered, dressed and breakfasted, she found herself waking up again. Sunshine had begun to edge into the court. Telzey glanced at her watch, grabbed her personal communicator, clipped her scintillating Star Honor Student pass to her hat, and poked at the duplex’s interphone buzzer.
After some seconds, Gonwil’s voice came drowsily from the instrument. “Uh . . . who . . .”
“Me.”
“Oh . . . Whyya up so early?”
“It’s broad daylight,” Telzey said. “Listen, I’m flying in to Orado City to see my father. I’m starting right now. If anyone is interested, tell them I’ll be back for lunch, or I’ll call in.”
“Right.” Gonwil yawned audibly.
“I was wondering,” Telzey went on. “When did you say Mr. and Mrs. Parlin are due to land?”
“Day after tomorrow . . . last I heard from Junior. Why?”
“Got anything planned for the first part of the holidays?”
“Well, just to stay away from Sonny somehow. He heard about the holidays.”
“I’ve thought of something that will do it,” Telzey said.
“Fine!” Gonwil said heartily. “What?”
“Tell you when I get back. You’re free to leave after lunch, aren’t you?”
Gonwil clucked doubtfully. “There’s six more test chips I’ll have to clean up, and Finance Eleven is a living stinker! I think I can do it. I’ll get at it right away. . . . Hey, wait a minute! Did you find out anything about . . . uh, well, yesterday?”
“We’re started on it,” Telzey said. “But I didn’t really find out much.”
* * *
In the carport back of the duplex, she eased herself into the driver’s seat of a tiny Cloudsplitter and turned it into an enclosed ground traffic lane. The Star Honor Student pass got her through one of Pehanron’s guard-screen exits without question; and a minute later the little car was airborne, streaking off towards the east.