"Even though I appeared first on the scene?"
"Dordolio claims trickery, and is violently angry. But all this to the side, what might you demand of Lord Cizante, in light of the circumstances?"
Reith considered. Unfortunately, he could not afford the prideful luxury of refusal. "I'm not sure. I could use some unprejudiced advice, but I don't know where to find it."
"Try me," suggested Helsse.
"You are hardly unprejudiced."
"Much more than you might think."
Reith studied the pale handsome face, the still black eyes. A puzzling man was Helsse, the more so for his impersonality, neither cordial nor cold. He spoke with ostensible candor but permitted no inadvertent or unconscious signals to advertise the state of his inner self.
The orchestra had dispersed. To the platform came a somewhat obese man in a long maroon robe. Behind him sat a woman with long black hair plucking a lute. The man produced an ululating waiclass="underline" half-words which Reith was unable to comprehend.
"Another traditional melody?" he inquired.
Helsse shrugged. "A special mode of singing. It is not altogether without value.
If everyone belabored themselves thusly, there would be far less awaile.'
Reith listened. "Judge me harshly, all," moaned the singer. "I have performed a terrible crime; it is because of my despair."
"Offhand," said Reith, "it seems absurd to discuss my best advantage over Lord Cizante with Cizante's aide."
"Ah, but your best advantage is not necessarily Lord Cizante's disadvantage," said Helsse. "With Dordolio the case is different."
"Lord Cizante showed me no great courtesy," mused Reith. "I am not anxious to do him a favor. On the other hand, I do not care to assist Dordolio, who calls me a superstitious barbarian."
"Lord Cizante was perhaps shocked by your news," suggested Helsse. "As for Dordolio's charge, it is obviously inaccurate and need no longer be considered."
Reith grinned. "Dordolio has known me a month; can you dispute him on the basis of such short acquaintance?"
If he had hoped to discomfit Helsse, he was unsuccessful. Helsse's smile was bland. "I am usually correct in my appraisals."
"Suppose that I were to make a set of apparently wild assertions: that Tschai was flat, that the tenets of the 'cult' were correct, that men could live underwater-what would become of your opinion?"
Helsse considered soberly. "Each case is different. If you told me Tschai was flat, I would certainly revise my judgment. If you argued the creed of the
'cult,' I would suspend a decision and listen to your remarks, for here is a matter of opinion and no evidence exists, at least to my knowledge. If you insisted that men could live underwater I might be inclined to accept the statement as a working premise. After all, the Pnume submerge, as do the Wankh; why not men, perhaps with special equipment?"
"Tschai is not flat," said Reith. "Men are able to live underwater for short periods using artificial gills. I know nothing of the 'cult' or its doctrines."
Helsse sipped from his goblet of essence. The singer had departed; a dance troupe now came forth: men in black leggings and sleeves, nude from upper thigh to rib cage. Reith stared in fascination for a moment or two, then looked away.
"Traditional dances," explained Helsse, "relating to Pathetic Communion. This is
'Precursory Movement of the Ministrants toward the Expiator."'
"The 'ministrants' are torturers?"
"They are those who provide latitude for absolute expiation. Many become popular heroes because of their passionate techniques." Helsse rose to his feet. "Come.
You have implied at least a mild interest in the 'cult.' As it happens, I know the location of their meeting place, which is not far from here. If you are interested, I will take you there."
"If the visit is not contrary to the laws of Cath."
"No fear of that. Cath has no laws, only customs, which seems to suit the Yao well enough."
"Peculiar," said Reith. "Killing is not proscribed?"
"It offends custom, at least under certain circumstances. However, the professional assassins of the Guild and the Service Company work without public reproach. In general the folk of Cath do what they see fit and suffer more or less opprobrium. So you may visit the 'cult' and incur, at the worse, invective."
Reith rose to his feet. "Very well; lead the way."
They walked across the Oval, through a winding alley into a dim avenue. The eccentric silhouettes of the houses opposite leaned across the sky, where Az and Braz both ranged. Helsse rapped at a door displaying a pale blue phosphor. The two men waited in silence. The door opened a crack; a long-nosed face peered forth.
"Visitors," said Helsse. "May we come in?"
"You are associates? I must inform you that here is the district center for the Society of Yearning Refluxives."
"We are not associates. This gentleman is an outlander who wishes to learn something of the 'cult."'
"He is welcome and yourself as well, since you seem to have no concern for
'place.' "
"None whatever."
"Which marks you either the highest of the high or the lowest of the low. Enter then. We have little entertainment to offer-convictions, a few theories, fewer facts." The Refluxive swept aside a curtain. "Enter."
Helsse and Reith stepped into a large low room. To one side, forlorn in so much vacant space, two men and two women sat drinking tea from iron pots.
The Refluxive made a half-obsequious, half-sardonic gesture. "Here we are; stare yourself full at the dreadful 'cult.' Have you ever seen anything less obstreperous?"
"The 'cult,"' said Helsse, somewhat sententiously, "is despised not for the look of its meeting halls, but for its provocative assumptions."
"'Assumptions' bah!" declared the Refluxive in a voice of peevish complaint.
"The others persecute us but we are the chosen in knowledge."
Reith asked: "What, precisely, do you know?"
"We know that men are strangers to Tschai."
"How can you know this?" demanded Helsse. "Human history fades into murk."
"It is an intuitive Truth. We are equally certain that someday the Human Magi will call their seed back Home! And then what joy! Home is a world of bounty, with air that rejoices in the lungs, like the sweetest Iphthal wine! On Home are golden mountains crowned with opals and forests of dreams! Death is a strange accident, not a fate; all men wander with joy and peace for company, with delicious viands everywhere for the eating!"
"A delightful vision," said Helsse, "but do you not consider it somewhat conjectural? Or more properly, institutional dogma?"
"Possibly so," declared the stubborn Refluxive. "Still, dogma is not necessarily falsehood. These are revealed truths, and behold: the revealed image of Home!"
He pointed to a world globe three feet in diameter hanging at eye-level.
Reith went to inspect the globe, tilting his head this way and that, trying to identify outline of sea and shore, finding here a haunting familiarity, there utter disparity. Helsse came to stand beside him. "What does it look like to you?" His voice was light and careless.
"Nothing in particular."
Helsse gave a soft grunt of mingled relief and perhaps disappointment, or so it seemed to Reith.
One of the women lifted her obese body from the bench and came forward. "Why not join the Society?" she wheedled. "We need new faces, new blood, to augment the vast new tide. Won't you help us make contact with Home?"
Reith laughed. "Is there a practical method?"
"To be sure! Telepathy! Indeed, we have no other recourse."