Straight black hair, high forehead, firm, unsmiling lips—all gave the man the appearance of a gentlemanly scholar. But behind those austere features lurked a cunning, treacherous mind. That he should be seeking the secret of eternal life in so surreptitious a manner was proof that the gaining of it would be put to his own advantage, and not to the benefit of mankind.
Now the thin lips parted in a wry smile as his searching gaze focused on a group of watchful creatures gathered silently at the jungle's edge. Somber eyes stared unwinkingly back at him.
Harmless beings, these, the Mumums of Phoebe. They resembled Earthly pygmies in stature, but were wholly alien in anatomy. Hairless and ebon-skinned, they wore only a loincloth as protection against the elements. Depending from this brief garment by means of a length of chain swung a small silvery, tubelike affair. Some sort of tribal fetish, Farr thought, intended to ward off evil spirits. The tubes gave off a musical tinkling whenever the pygmies moved, and he almost had to laugh at their ignorance in believing such nonsense could avert sickness and injury.
They seemed to be attempting to bar his way. He drew his blaster and balanced it in his hand, smiling grimly. If nothing more ferocious than these miserable beings were to test his strength and cunning, securing the life secret was going to be an easy task.
He stepped forward. The Mumums did not move. His steps brought him closer, and still they remained in his way. Farr curled his lips and raised his blaster. If it was necessary to teach them a lesson, he would.
One more stride and he would be touching them. "You asked for it," he gritted and squeezed the release.
"You asked for it," he gritted and squeezed the release.