It still held the color of blood and the acrid taste of defeat, but now a new dimension had been added, one of alien scope.
Dumarest sat, drinking, remembering how Shakira had looked when the last of the ruined mask had been discarded. The bald, rounded head, the protruding eyes, the noseless face, the mouth, the jaw-against him Elagonya was beautiful.
But there had been more than a distortion of the familiar, the visage had held inhuman facets as had the eyes as if an alien form of life had been so disfigured as to ape the human frame.
"Pour me wine, Earl." Shakira had returned, his face seemingly as it had been, but more stiff now as if the mask were an earlier model, made before he had recognized the necessity of falsifying a smile. "Thank you." He drank and set down his glass. "We each have secrets, Earl. Do we agree never to divulge them?"
"Of course." Dumarest looked at the dead cyber. "And him?"
"He will be disposed of."
"In the sump?" Dumarest guessed the answer. "He will be missed and others will come after him."
"When they do I shall tell them of the tragic accident which took so many lives. Valaban's, the cyber's, yours." Shakira picked up his glass and took a sip of wine. "A good story, my friend, and there will be those to swear to its truth. And they will not lie."
Primed and conditioned by the sensitives Shakira controlled. The powers he owned which could delude the test of machines. Dumarest relaxed even as he wondered why Shakira should go to so much trouble. He had been made a part of the circus and the circus took care of its own, but was that the real answer?
"More wine?" Shakira poured and sipped his own. "We have much in common, Earl, you and I. When I was very young I never guessed how different to others I was. My family was wealthy and kept me apart. I grew up attended by those I thought normal. It was only later, when I left home, I realized what a hell the universe could be."
He made the familiar gesture, hands lifting to hover as if in appeal or surrender, but now Dumarest knew it to be neither. The lifting of the hands and arms was to give clearance to the other hands hidden beneath the blouse. The armless appendages sprouting from the waist like vestigial limbs.
"But I found a solution."
"You bought the circus."
"More than that, Earl, I bought a home." Shakira sipped again at his wine, his voice softened with memories. "The circus of Chen Wei," he said. "Once the name meant Golden Joy, or so I was told but Chen Wei could have lied. He often did. But for me the name was no lie. I had found the one place where I could be accepted for what I was. A haven against all those who despise the unusual and who want to hunt down and destroy the different. And I could do more. I could provide a home for others like Elagonya and Melome and even you, Earl. But the circus is not for you."
"And yet you could find happiness here. Melome loves you."
"She is still young."
"And you love something more. Your hunt. Your search for home. And I think I can help you to find it. Here." Shakira reached for paper and wrote on it, folding it before handing it to Dumarest. "A name and a world, Earl. One not too distant. The man is unusual and if anyone can help you he can. Go to him. Tell him I sent you. Tell him what you know."
Dumarest said, "Why are you doing this for me?"
"You saved my circus for me from Zucco. My home, Earl, my world. Can I do less for you?" Shakira lifted his glass. "A toast, my friend. To your success!" Then, as the glasses were lowered, he said with a sudden, raw urgency, "Find your world, Earl. Find Earth. And find it soon-we freaks must have somewhere to call our own!"