The majordomo signaled, a trifle less obsequiously than before. "Be good enough to come this way."
Reith was taken into a small court murmuring to a waterfall of luminous green liquid.
Two minutes passed. A young man in green knickers and an elegant waistcoat appeared. His face was wax pale, as if he never saw sunlight; his eyes were somber and brooding; under a loose four-corner cap of soft green velvet his hair was jet black: a man richly handsome, by some extraordinary means contriving to seem both effete and competent. He examined Reith with critical interest, and spoke in a dry voice. "Sir, you claim to have information for the Blue Jade Lord?"
"Yes. Are you he?"
"I am his aide. You may impart your information to me with assurance."
"I have news relating to the fate of his daughter," said Reith. "I prefer to speak to the Blue Jade Lord directly."
The aide made a curious mincing motion and disappeared. Presently he returned.
"Your name, sir?"
"Adam Reith."
"Follow me, if you will."
He took Reith into a wainscoted room enameled a brownish ivory, lit by a dozen luminous prisms. At the far end stood a frail frowning man in an extravagant eight-piece suit of black and purple silk. His face was round, dark hair grew down his forehead in an elflock; his eyes were dark, far apart, and his tendency was to glance sidelong. The face, thought Reith, of a secretive suspicious man.
He examined Reith with a compression of the lips.
"Lord Cizante," said the aide, "I bring you the gentleman Adam Reith, heretofore unknown, who, chancing past, was pleased to learn that you were in the vicinity."
There was an expectant silence. Reith understood that the circumstances demanded a ritual response. He said, "I am pleased, naturally, to find Lord Cizante in residence. I have only this hour arrived from Kotan."
Cizante's mouth tightened, and Reith knew that once again he had made a graceless remark.
Cizante spoke in a crisp voice. "Indeed. You have news regarding the Lady Shar Zarin?"
This was the Flower's court name. Reith responded in a voice as cool as Cizante's own. "Yes. I can give you a detailed account of her experiences, and her unfortunate death."
The Blue Jade Lord looked toward the ceiling and spoke without lowering his eyes. "You evidently claim the boon?"
The majordomo entered the room, whispered to the aide, who discreetly murmured to Lord Cizante.
"Curious!" declared Cizante. "One of the Gold and Carnelian scions, a certain Dordolio, likewise comes to claim the boon."
"Send him away," said Reith. "His knowledge of the matter is superficial, as you will learn."
"My daughter is dead?"
"I am sorry to say that she drowned herself, after an attack of psychic malaise."
The Lord's eyebrows rose more sharply than before. "She gave way to awaile?"
"I would suppose so."
"When and where did this take place?"
"Three weeks ago, aboard the cog Vargaz, halfway across the Draschade."
Lord Cizante dropped into a chair. Reith waited for an invitation to do likewise, but thought better of seating himself. Lord Cizante spoke in a dry voice: "Evidently she had suffered deep humiliation."
"I couldn't say. I helped her escape from the Priestesses of the Female Mystery; thereafter she was secure and under my protection. She was anxious to return to Cath and urged me to accompany her, assuring me of your friendship and gratitude. But as soon as we started eastward she became gloomy, and, as I say, halfway across the Draschade she threw herself overboard."
While Reith spoke Cizante's face had shifted through phases and degrees of various emotions. "So now," he said in a clipped voice, "with my daughter dead, after circumstances I do not care to imagine, you come hurrying here to claim the boon."
Reith said coldly, "I knew then and know nothing now of this 'boon.' I came to Cath for several reasons, the least important of which was to make myself known to you. I find you indisposed to what I consider civilized standards of courtesy and I will now leave." Reith gave a curt nod and started for the door. He turned back. "If you wish to learn further details regarding your daughter, consult Dordolio, whom we found stranded at Coad."
Reith left the room. The Lord's sibilant murmur reached his ears: "You are an uncouth fellow."
In the hall waited the majordomo, who greeted Reith with the faintest of smiles.
He indicated a rather dim passageway painted red and blue. "This way, sir."
Reith paid him no heed. Crossing into the grand foyer, he left the way he had come.
CHAPTER SEVEN
REITH WALKED BACK toward the Oval, pondering the city Settra and the curious temperament of its people. He was forced to admit that the scheme to build a small spaceboat, which in far-off Pera had appeared at least feasible, now seemed impractical. He had expected gratitude and friendship from the Blue Jade Lord; he had encountered hostility. As to the technical abilities of the Yao, he was inclined to pessimism, and he fell to appraising the vehicles which passed along the street. They appeared to function satisfactorily, though giving the impression that flair and elegance, rather than efficiency, had been first in the minds of the designers. Energy derived from the ubiquitious power cells produced by the Dirdir; the coupling was not altogether quiet: an indication, so Reith considered, of careless or incompetent engineering. No two were alike; each seemed an individual construction.
Almost certainly, reflected Reith, the Yao technology was inadequate to his purposes. Without access to standard components, maxima-minima sets, integrated circuit blocks, structural forms, computers, Fourier analyzers, macro-gauss generators, a thousand other instruments, tools, gauges, standards, not to mention clever and dedicated technical personnel, the construction of even the crudest spaceboat became a stupendous task, impossible in a single lifetime ...
He came to a small circular park, shadowed under tall psillas with shaggy black bark and leaves of russet paper. At the center rose a massive monument. A dozen male figures, each carrying an instrument or tool, danced in a dreadful ritual grace around a female form, who stood with arms raised high, upturned face twisted in some overpowering emotion. Reith could not identify her expression.
Exultation? Agony? Grief? Beatification? Whatever the case, the monument was disturbing, and rasped at a dark corner of his mind like a mouse in the woodwork. The monument seemed very old, thousands of years? Reith could not be sure. A small girl and a somewhat younger boy came past. They paused first to study Reith; then gave fascinated attention to the gliding figures and their macabre instruments. Reith, in a somber mood, continued on his way and presently came to the Travelers' Inn. Neither Traz nor the Dirdirman were on the premises.
They had, however, hired accommodations: a suite of four rooms overlooking the Oval.
Reith bathed, changed his linen. When he went down to the foyer, twilight had come to the Oval, which was now lit by a ring of great luminous globes in a variety of pastel colors. Traz and Anacho appeared on the other side of the Oval. Reith watched them with a wry grin. They were basically alien, like cat and dog; yet, when circumstances threw them together, they conducted themselves with cautious good-fellowship.
Anacho and Traz, so it developed, had chanced upon an area known as "the Mall," where cavaliers settled affairs of honor. In the course of the afternoon the two had watched three bouts: near-bloodless affairs, Traz reported with a sniff of scorn. "The ceremonies exhaust their energy," said Anacho. "After the addresses and the punctilio there is little time for fighting."