Peace and love and an end to the obsession which had dominated his life. The search which had cost him so much and had yielded so little.
Earth!
In the mirrored glass he saw it, distorted as he was distorted, twisted, ravaged, suddenly hateful. An image which shattered beneath the closing pressure of his hand to leave the ruby of wine and scratches which yielded the carmine of blood.
A sacrifice to seal a bargain. One conducted by himself for himself with himself as the victim. Blood and wine and shattered crystal to seal his new resolve.
Outside the air was warm, perfumed from small tufts of flowers growing thickly around the ship. In the distance the spires of Ryzam loomed with somber menace, a picture in sharp contrast to that at the other side of the ship where the ground sloped to a stretch of sward soft beneath the foot and gentle to the eye.
"Earl!" Baglioni came running from the ship, his short legs pumping. "I wanted to talk to you," he said as he halted before Dumarest. "I had no chance before. You were all beat up and-" His hand made a vague gesture.
"I wanted to thank you for saving my life."
Dumarest said, dryly, "It's the other way around. If you hadn't waited we'd never have made it."
"And if I'd gone with Tama I'd be dead by now. Like the rest. A pity about Pia, I liked her."
"I know."
"And Lopakhin. Tyner was a genius."
"And Vosper was a good engineer." Dumarest, impatient to find Govinda, sensed the man was keeping him for some reason of his own. "But they're all dead now. Memories. Like Chenault."
"He's still alive."
"Not the man you knew." Dumarest hesitated, the midget and Chenault had been close. "Did he give you anything before we left? A paper? An envelope?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"He didn't leave the coordinates with me, Earl, if that's what you're asking. Maybe Lauter?"
Dumarest shook his head. Nothing had been left by Chenault with the captain. Nor with Baglioni-a hope that died like the rest and he wondered why he had asked the question. The search was over. He had made up his mind. Now and for always his future lay with the woman he had lost and found again.
"Govinda!" He waved as he saw her coming over the sward, Chenault following her, the baby in his arms. "Here! Govinda! Over here!"
The sun was in his eyes and she looked blurred as she came toward him, the glow subduing her hair a little, making subtle alterations to her shape. She seemed less mature than he remembered.
"Govinda!" He held out his hands to grasp her own, his fingers remaining empty as she ignored the gesture. "You remember that question you asked me once? Back in the valley? The one about would I ever leave you? Now I know the answer. I'll never leave you. We'll be together for always. Govinda?"
She wasn't looking at him, turning to face Chenault and the baby, her face no longer resembling the woman he had loved.
"Be careful, Tama! Don't hurt her!"
"Please!" Dumarest reached out to catch her arm. "We must talk. About the future. Our future. We'll find a nice place on a good world and… and…"
She wasn't listening. She hadn't listened to a word. For her he had ceased to exist and now she had eyes only for Chenault and the baby in his arms. One she reached for to hold to her breast, crooning, her face radiant with an expression Dumarest had never seen her wear before.
"I'm sorry." Baglioni said softly at his side. "I wanted to tell you. It happened almost from the first-when you were being treated. She's found what she has always wanted."
A baby she could call her own. The oddity spawned by the power of Ryzam and which her mind could accept. The baby and the man who had shared its experience and so, to her, had become its father. The man who would now share her life.
Dumarest turned and walked back to the ship and the endless stars, the search which he would follow, for now there was nothing else.
Beyond the ship, traced against the sky, the spires of Ryzam signposted the graveyard of dreams.