Transcriber's note:
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the copyrighton this publication was renewed.
STAR HUNTER
ANDRE NORTON
ACE BOOKS, INC.
1120 Avenue of the Americas
New York, N.Y. 10036
Copyright, 1961, by Ace Books, Inc.
STAR HUNTER
I
Nahuatl's larger moon pursued the smaller, greenish globe of itscompanion across a cloudless sky in which the stars made a speckledpattern like the scales of a huge serpent coiled around a black bowl.Ras Hume paused at the border of scented spike-flowers on the topterrace of the Pleasure House to wonder why he thought of serpents. Heunderstood. Mankind's age-old hatred, brought from his native planetto the distant stars, was evil symbolized by a coil in a twisted,belly-path across the ground. And on Nahuatl, as well as a dozen otherworlds, Wass was the serpent.
A night wind was rising, stirring the exotic, half-dozen other worlds'foliage planted cunningly on the terrace to simulate the mystery of anoff-world jungle.
"Hume?" The inquiry seemed to come out of thin air over his head.
"Hume," he repeated his own name calmly.
A shaft of light brilliant enough to dazzle the eyes struck throughthe massed vegetation, revealing a path. Hume lingered for a moment,offering a counterstroke of indifference in what he had always knownwould be a test of wits.[6] Wass was Veep of a shadowy empire, but thatwas apart from the world in which Ras Hume moved.
He strode deliberately down the corridor illuminated between leaf andblossom walls. A grotesque lump of crystal leered at him from theheart of a tharsala lilly bed. The intricate carving of a devilishnonhuman set of features was a work of alien art. Tendrils of smokecurled from the thing's flat nostrils, and Hume sniffed the scent of anarcotic he recognized. He smiled. Such measures might soften up theusual civ Wass interviewed here. But a star pilot turned out-hunterwas immunized against such mind clouding.
There was a door, the lintel and posts of which had more carving, butthis time Terran, Hume thought—old, very old. Perhaps rumor wasright, Milfors Wass might be truly native Terran and not second,third, nor fourth generation star stock as most of those who reachedNahuatl were.
The room beyond that elaborately carved entrance was, in contrast,severe. Rust walls were bare of any pattern save an oval disk ofcloudy golden shimmer behind the chair at the long table of solid rubyrock from Nahuatl's poisonous sister planet of Xipe. Without a pausehe walked to the chair and seated himself without invitation to waitin the empty room.
That clouded oval might be a com device. Hume refused to look at itafter his first glance. This interview was to be person to person. IfWass did not appear within a reasonable length of time he would leave.
And Hume hoped to any unseen watcher he presented the appearance of aman not impressed by stage settings. After all he was now in theseller's space boots, and it was a seller's market.
Ras Hume rested his right hand on the table. Against the polished glowof the stone, the substance of it was flesh-tanned brown—a perfectmatch for his left. And the subtle difference between true flesh andfalse was no hindrance in the use of those fingers or their strength.Save that it had pushed him out of command of a cargo-cum-liner