"I have been judged even more harshly," said Reith. "One of my friends declares that I seem like a man from another world."
"Odd that you should say that," remarked Cauch. "A strange rumor has recently reached Zsafathra, to the effect that all men originated on a far planet, much as the Redeemers of Yao aver, and not from a union of the sacred xyxyl bird and the sea-demon Rhadamth. Furthermore, it was told that certain folk from this far planet now wander Old Tschai, performing the most remarkable deeds: defying the Dirdir, defeating the Chasch, persuading the Wankh. A new feeling is abroad across Tschai: the sense that change is on its way. What do you think of all this?"
"I suppose the rumor is not inherently absurd," said Reith.
Zap 210 said in a subdued voice: "A planet of men: it would be more strange and wild than Tschai!"
"That of course is problematical," remarked Cauch in a voice of didactic analysis, "and no doubt irrelevant to our present case. The secrets of personality are mystifying. For instance, consider the three of us. One honest Zsafathran and two brooding vagabonds driven like leaves before the winds of fate. What prompts such desperate journeys? What is to be gained? I myself in all my lifetime have not gone so far as Cape Braise; yet I feel none the worse, a trifle dull perhaps. I look at you and ponder. The girl is frightened; the man is harsh; goals beyond her understanding propel him; he takes her where she fears to go. Still, would she go back if she could?" Cauch looked into Zap 210's face; she turned away.
Reith managed a painful grin. "Without money we won't go anywhere."
"Bah," said Cauch bluffly, "if money is all you lack, I have the remedy. Once a week, each Ivensday, combat trials are arranged. In point of fact, Otwile the champion sits yonder." He nodded toward a totally bald man almost seven feet tall, massive in the shoulders and thighs, narrow at the hips. He sat alone sipping wine, staring morosely out upon the quay. "Otwile is a great fighter," said Cauch. "He once grappled a Green Chasch buck and held his own; at least he escaped with his life."
"What are the prizes?" Reith inquired.
"The man who remains five minutes within the circle wins a hundred sequins; he is paid a further twenty sequins for each broken bone. Otwile sometimes provides a hundred-worth within the minute."
"And what if the challenger throws Otwile away?"
Cauch pursed his lips. "No prize is posted; the feat is considered impossible.
Why do you ask? Do you plan to make the trial?"
"Not I," said Reith. "I need three hundred sequins. Assume that I remained five minutes in the ring to gain a hundred sequins ... I would then need ten broken bones to earn a further two hundred."
Cauch seemed disappointed. "You have an alternative scheme?"
"My mind reverts to the eel-race. How can the operator control eleven eels from a distance of ten feet while they swim down a covered chute? It seems extraordinary."
"It does indeed," declared Cauch. "For years folk of Zsafathra have put down their sequins on the presumption that such control is impossible."
"Might the eels alter color to suit the circumstances? Impractical, unthinkable.
Does the operator stimulate the eels telepathically? I consider this unlikely."
"I have no better theories," said Cauch.
Reith reviewed the eel-master's procedure. "He raises the lid of the reservoir; the interior is open and visible; the water is no more than a foot deep. The eels are placed into the center well and the lid is closed down: this before betting is curtailed. Yet the eel-master appears to control the motion of the eels."
Cauch gave a sardonic chuckle. "Do you still think you can profit from the eel-races?"
"I would like to examine the premises a second time." Reith rose to his feet.
"Now? The races are over for the day."
"Still, let us examine the ground; it is only five minutes' walk."
"As you wish."
The area surrounding the eel-race layout was deserted and lit dimly by the glow of distant bazaar lamps. After the animation of the daytime hours, the table, reservoir and chute seemed peculiarly silent.
Reith indicated the wall which limited the compound. "What lies to the other side?"
"The Old Town and, beyond, the mausoleums, where the Thangs take their dead-not a place to visit by night."
Reith examined the chute and reservoir, the lid to which was locked down for the night. He turned to Cauch. "What time do the races begin?"
"At noon, precisely."
"Tomorrow morning I'd like to look around some more."
"Indeed," mused Cauch. He looked at Reith sidewise. "You have a theory?"
"A suspicion. If-" He looked around as Zap 210 grasped his arm. She pointed.
"Over there."
Across the compound walked two figures in black cloaks and wide black hats.
"Gzhindra," said Zap 210.
Cauch said nervously, "Let us return to the inn. It is not wise to walk the dark places of Urmank."
At the inn Cauch retired to his chamber. Reith took Zap 210 to her cubicle. She was reluctant to enter. "What's the matter?" asked Reith.
"I am afraid."
"Of what?"
"The Gzhindra are following us."
"That's not necessarily true. Those might have been any two Gzhindra."
"But perhaps they weren't."
"In any event they can't get at you in the room."
The girl was still dubious.
"I'm right next door," said Reith. "If anyone bothers you, scream."
"What if someone kills you first?"
"I can't think that far ahead," said Reith. "If I'm dead in the morning, don't pay the score."
She wanted further reassurance. Reith patted the soft black curls. "Good night."
He closed the door and waited until the bolt shot home. Then he went into his own cubicle and, despite Cauch's reassurances, made a careful examination of floor, walls and ceiling. At last, feeling secure, he turned the light down to a glimmer and lay himself upon the couch.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE NIGHT PASSED without alarm or disturbance. In the morning Reith and Zap 210 breakfasted alone at the cafe on the quay. The sky was cloudless; the smoky sunlight left crisp black shadows behind the tall houses and glinted on the water of the harbor. Zap 210 seemed less pessimistic than usual, and watched the porters, the hawkers, the seamen and outlanders with interest. "What do you think of the ghian now?" asked Reith.
Zap 210 at once became grave. "The folk act differently from what I expected.
They don't run back and forth; they don't seem maddened by the sun-glare. Of course"-she hesitated-"one sees a great deal of boisterous conduct, but no one seems to mind. I marvel at the garments of the girls; they are so bold, as if they want to provoke attention. And again, no one objects."
"Quite the reverse," said Reith.
"I could never act like that," Zap 210 said primly. "That girl coming toward us: see how she walks! Why does she act that way?"
"That's how she's put together. Also, she wants men to notice her. These are the instincts that the diko suppressed in you."
Zap 210 protested with unusual fervor: "I eat no diko now; I feel no such instincts!"
Reith looked smiling off across the quay. The girl to whom Zap 210 had drawn attention slowed her step, hitched at the orange sash around her waist, smiled at Reith, stared curiously at Zap 210, and sauntered on.
Zap 210 looked sidelong at Reith. She started to speak, then held her tongue. A