The Chalice of Death Read Online Free PDF Page B

!”
    â€œHave another drink,” Navarre suggested. “It may make it easier for you to get the idea down your gullet.”
    â€œI doubt it,” the half-breed said, but he accepted the drink anyway. He drained it, then remarked, “A chalice is a drinking cup. Does this mean we seek a potion of immortality, or something of the like?”
    â€œYour guess weighs as much as mine. I’ve given you all I know on the subject.”
    â€œExcellent; now we both know nothing! Do you at least have some idea where this Chalice is supposedly located?”
    Navarre shrugged. “The legend’s incomplete. The thing might be anywhere. Our job is to find a particular drinking cup on a particular world in a pretty near infinite universe. Unfortunately, we have only a finite length of time in which to do the job.”
    â€œThe typical short-sightedness of kings,” Carso muttered. “A sensible monarch would have sent a couple of immortals out in search of the Chalice.”
    â€œA sensible monarch would know when he’s had enough, and not ask to rule his system forever. But Joroiran’s not sensible.”
    They were silent for a moment, while the candle between them flickered palely. Then Carso grinned.
    â€œWhat’s so funny?”
    â€œListen, Hallam. Why don’t we assume a location for the Chalice? At least it’ll give us a first goal to crack at. And it ought to be easier to find a planet than a drinking cup, shouldn’t it?”
    Navarre’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t follow you. Just where will we assume the Chalice is?”
    There was a mischievous twinkle in the half-breed’s dark eyes. He gulped another drink, grinned broadly, and belched.
    â€œWhere? Why, Earth, of course!”

Chapter Three
    On more-or-less sober reflection the next morning, it seemed to Navarre that Carso had the right idea: finding Earth promised to be easier than finding the Chalice, if it made any sense to talk about relative degrees of ease in locating myths.
    Earth .
    Navarre knew the stories that each Earthman told to his children, that few non-Earthmen knew. Even though he was a half-breed, Carso would be aware of them too.
    Years ago—a hundred thousand, the legend said—man had sprung from Earth, an inconsequential world revolving around a small sun in an obscure galaxy. He had leaped forward to the stars, and carved out a mighty empire for himself. The glory of Earth was carried to the far galaxies, to the wide-flung nebulae of deepest space.
    But no race, no matter how strong, could hold sway over an empire that spanned a billion parsecs. The centuries passed; Earth’s grasp grew weaker. And, finally, the stars rebelled.
    Navarre remembered his mother’s vivid description. Earthmen had been outnumbered a billion to one, yet they kept the defensive screens up, and kept the home world untouched, had beaten back the invaders. But still the persistent starmen came, sweeping down on the small planet like angry beetles.
    Earth drew back from the stars; its military forces came to the aid of the mother world, and the empire crumbled.
    The withdrawal was to no avail. The hordes from the stars won the war of attrition, sacrificing men ten thousand to one and still not showing signs of defeat. The mother world yielded; the proud name of Earth was humbled and stricken from the roll call of worlds.
    What became of the armies of Earth no one knew. Those who survived were scattered about the galaxies, seeded here and there, a world of one cluster, a planet of another.
    Fiercely the Earthmen clung to their name. They shaved their heads to distinguish themselves from humanoids of a million star-systems—and death it was to the alien who offered himself as counterfeit Earthman!
    The centuries rolled by in their never-ending sweep, and Earth herself was forgotten. Yet the Earthmen remained, a thin band scattered through the heavens, proud of their heritage,