Think again! Give me my money and depart."
"You shall have your money," said Reith, "as soon as I see Ankhe at afram Anacho."
"You wish to see the blasphemer, the renegade?" roared Woudiver. "Go to the Glass Box, you will see him clearly enough."
"He is in the Glass Box?"
"Where else?"
"You are certain?"
Woudiver leaned back against the wall. "Why do you wish to know?"
"Because he is my friend. You betrayed him to the Dirdir; you must answer to me."
Woudiver began to swell, but Reith said in a weary voice, "No more drama, no more shouting. You gave Anacho to the Dirdir; now I want you to save him."
"Impossible," said Woudiver. "Even if I wished I could do nothing. He is in the Glass Box, do you hear?"
"How can you be sure?"
"Where else should he be sent? He was taken for his old crimes; the Dirdir will learn nothing of your project, if that is your worry." And Woudiver showed his mouth in a gigantic sneer. "Unless, of course, he himself reveals your secrets."
"In which case," said Reith, "you would likewise find yourself in difficulties."
Woudiver had no comment to make.
Reith asked in a gentle voice, "Can money buy Anacho's escape?"
"No," intoned Woudiver. "He is in the Glass Box."
"So you say. How can I be sure?"
"As I informed you-go look."
"Anyone who wishes can watch?"
"Certainly. The Box holds no secrets."
"What is the procedure?"
"You cross to Hei, you walk to the Box, you climb to the upper gallery which overlooks the fields."
"Could a person lower a rope, or a ladder?"
"Certainly, but he could not hope for long life; he would be thrust at once down upon the field ... If you plan anything of this nature I myself will come to watch."
"Suppose I were to offer you a million sequins," said Reith, "could you arrange that Anacho escape?"
Woudiver darted his great head forward. "A million sequins? And you have been crying poverty to me for three months? I have been deceived!"
"Could you arrange the escape for a million sequins?"
Woudiver showed a dainty pink tip of tongue. "No, I fear not ... a million sequins ... I fear not. There is nothing to be done. Nothing. So you have gained a million sequins?"
"No," said Reith. "I only wanted to learn if Anacho's escape was possible."
"It is not possible," said Woudiver crossly. "Where is my money?"
"In due course," said Reith. "You betrayed my friend; you can wait."
Again Woudiver seemed on the verge of swinging his great arm. But he said, "You misuse language. I did not 'betray': I exposed a criminal to his just deserts.
What loyalty do I owe you or yours? You have given none to me, and would do worse if opportunity offered. Bear in mind, Adam Reith, that friendship must work in two directions. Do not expect what you are unwilling to give. If you find my attributes distasteful, remember that I feel the same about yours. Which of us is correct? By the standards of this time and this place, it is certainly I. You are the interloper; your protests are ludicrous and unrealistic. You blame me for inordinacy. Do not forget, Adam Reith, that you chose me as a man who would perform illegal acts for pay. This is your expectation of me; you care nothing for my security or prospects. You came here to exploit me, to urge me to dangerous acts for trifling sums; you must not complain if my conduct seems merely a mirror of your own."
Reith could find no answer. He turned and left the office.
In the shed, work was proceeding at its usual pace: a haven of normalcy after the Carabas and the mind-twisting colloquy with Woudiver. Traz waited just inside the portal. "What did he say?"
"He said Anacho was a criminal, that I came here to exploit him. How can I argue?"
Traz curled his lip. "And Anacho?"
"In the Glass Box. Woudiver says it's easy to get in but impossible to get out."
Reith walked back and forth across the shed. Halting in the doorway, he looked across the water toward the great gray shape. He spoke to Traz: "Will you ask Deine Zarre to step out here?"
Deine Zarre appeared. Reith asked, "Have you ever visited the Glass Box?"
"Long ago."
"Woudiver tells me that a man might lower a rope from the upper gallery."
"Should he care so little for his life."
"I want two quantities of high-potency battarache-enough, say, to destroy this shed ten times over. Where can I get it in a hurry?"
Deine Zarre reflected a moment, then gave a slow fateful nod. "Wait here."
He returned in something over an hour with two clay pots. "Here is battarache; here are fuses. It is contraband material; please do not reveal where you obtained it."
"The subject will never arise," said Reith. "Or so I hope."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SHROUDED IN GRAY cloaks Reith and Traz crossed the causeway to the mainland. By a fine wide avenue, surfaced with a rough white substance that rasped underfoot, they entered the Dirdir city Hei. To either hand rose spires, purple and scarlet; those of gray metal and silver stood far to the north behind the Glass Box. The avenue led close beside a hundred-foot shaft of scarlet. Surrounding this was an expanse of clean white sand upon which rested a dozen peculiar objects of polished stone. Art-things? Fetishes? Trophies? There was no way of knowing. In front of the spire, on a circular plat of white marble, stood three Dirdir. For the first time Reith saw a Dirdir female. The creature was shorter and seemed less resilient, less flexible, than the male; her head was wider at the scalp and pointed at the area corresponding to a chin; she was somewhat darker in color: a pallid gray subtly shaded with mauve. The two stood contemplating the third, a male Dirdir whelp, half the size of the adult. From time to time the effulgences of the three twitched to point to one or another of the polished rock-pieces, an activity which Reith made no effort to understand.
Reith watched them in a mingling of revulsion and reluctant admiration, and he could not avoid thinking of the "mysteries."
Some time previously Anacho had explained the Dirdir sexual processes.
"Essentially, the facts are these: there are twelve styles of male sexual organs, fourteen of the female. Only certain pairings are possible. For instance, the Type One Male is compatible only with Types Five and Nine Female.
Type Five Female adjusts only to Type One Male, but Type Nine Female has a more general organ and is compatible with Types One, Eleven and Twelve Male.
"The matter becomes fantastically complex. Each male and female style has its specific and theoretical attributes, which are very seldom realized-as long as an individual's type is secret! These are the Dirdir 'mysteries'! Should an individual's type become known, he is expected to conform to the theoretical attributes of the type, regardless of inclination; he rarely does so, and is constantly embarrassed on this account.
"As you can imagine, a matter so complicated absorbs a great deal of attention and energy and, perhaps, by keeping the Dirdir fragmented, obsessed and secretive, has prevented them from overrunning the world of space."
"Amazing," said Reith. "But if the types are secret and generally incompatible, how do they mate? How do they reproduce?"
"There are several systems: trial marriage, the so-called 'dark gatherings,'
anonymous notices. The difficulties are transcended." Anacho paused a moment, then proceeded delicately. "I need hardly point out that low-caste Dirdirmen and Dirdirwomen, lacking the 'noble divinity' and without 'secrets,' are thus held to be deficient and somewhat clownish."