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Symbol of Terra by E. C. Tubb



Chapter One



Dumarest saw the movements as he made his way along the valley; small flickers
of red which could have been the flirt of a scarlet wing, the nodding of a
bloom, the glow of reflected sunlight from a gleaming leaf. Facile explanations
and none of them true; a bird would have risen, there was no wind to stir a
flower and the sunlight streamed high to leave the valley in shadow.
Halting, he plucked a leaf and chewed it as he studied the terrain. Above and
before him, monstrous against the sky, the bulk of a mountain reared in rugged
splendor its natural beauty now enhanced by the glowing colors of sunset. At its
base time and weather had conspired to form a deep, wedge-shaped declivity,
flanked with steep inclines fringed with shrubs and stunted trees; vegetation
which swept down to soften the bleak outlines of dirt and stone and to cover the
floor with flowered sward.
An artifice of man; the ground had been carefully leveled and graded, the plants
set with calculated design to form a haven of beauty in which birds could dwell
and exotic flowers fill the air with their heavy perfume. Faint in the distance
came the tinkle of running water.
Dumarest threw down the pulped leaf, catching another glimpse of red as he
resumed his progress. Higher this time, but on the same side of the valley. An
enemy or a watchful guardian but one lacking experience in remaining hidden. Or
one who wanted to be seen so another could remain invisible.
A possibility but he doubted it. The vegetation was too still and his sharpened
senses would have warned him of lurking danger. Steadily he moved on down the
valley to where the sides closed in to meet the rock of the mountain. A great
door pierced it, made of massive timbers now closed and firm. Windows flanked
it, rising high like a multitude of dark and wary eyes. Above them the sunlight
painted swaths of ruby and gold, orange and amber, pink and vibrant chrome.
"Hi there!" Dumarest lifted his voice in a shout. "Is anyone at home?"
His words flattened against the rock to fade and become lost in the tinkle of
water coming from a stream rilling to one side. A chain hung beside the portal
and he pulled it, hearing the faint tone of a bell. Repeated as again he hauled
on the links. Turning he saw again the flash of red, closer now, lower on the
slope.
"Chenault?" Again he shouted. "I've come to see Tama Chenault!"
A clearing stood before the door, set with a bench, and he moved toward it after
plucking a fruit from a bush. Steel glimmered as he lifted the knife from his
boot, using the edge to remove the rind, laying the blade beside him on the
bench.
Eating, apparently relaxed, he listened to the tinkle of water, the soft rustle
of leaves, the faint murmur of insects. A bird rose with a whirr of wings behind