Reith stepped aside, the hat went wheeling off into the Oval.
Dordolio shook his finger in Reith's face; Reith backed away a step. "Your death is assured," bellowed Dordolio. "But not by the honor of my sword! Low-caste assassins will drown you in cattle excrement! Twenty pariahs will drub your corpse! A cur will drag your head along the street by the tongue!"
Reith managed a painful grin. "Cizante will arrange the same for you, at my request. It's as good a boon as any."
"Cizante, bah! A wicked parvenu, a moping invert. Blue Jade shall be nothing; the fall of that palace will culminate the 'round'!"
Helsse came slightly forward. "Before you enlarge upon your remarkable assertions, be advised that I represent the House of Blue Jade, and that I will be impelled to report to his Excellency Lord Cizante the substance of your comments."
"Do not bore me with triviality!" stormed Dordolio. He furiously motioned to Reith. "Fetch my hat, or tomorrow expect the first of the Twelve Touches!"
"A small concession," said Reith, "if it ensures your departure." He picked up Dordolio's hat, shook it once or twice, handed it to him. "Your hat, which you threw across the square." He stepped around Dordolio, entered the foyer of the inn. Dordolio gave a somewhat subdued caw of laughter, slapped his hat against his thigh, and, signaling his comrades, walked away.
In the foyer of the inn Reith asked Helsse, "What are the 'Twelve Touches'?"
"At intervals-perhaps a day, perhaps two days-an assassin will tap the victim with a twig. The twelfth touch is fatal; the man dies. By accumulated poison, by a single final dose, or by morbid suggestion, only the Assassins' Guild knows.
And now I must return to Blue Jade. Lord Cizante will be interested in my report."
"What do you intend to tell him?"
Helsse only laughed. "You, the most secretive of men, asking me that! Still, Cizante will hear that you have agreed to accept a boon, that you probably will soon be departing Cath-"
"I said nothing of this!"
"It will still be an element of my report."
CHAPTER EIGHT
REITH AWOKE TO Wan sunlight shining through the heavy amber panes of the windows. He lay on the unfamiliar couch, collecting the threads of his existence. It was difficult not to feel a profound gloom. Cath, where he had hoped to find flexibility, enlightenment, and perhaps cooperation, was hardly less harsh an environment than the Aman Steppe. It was obvious folly to dream of building a spaceboat in Settra.
Reith sat up on the couch. He had known horror, grief, disillusionment, but there had been corresponding moments of triumph and hope, even a few spasmodic instants of joy. If he were to die tomorrow-or in twelve days after twelve
"touches"-he had already lived a miraculous life. Very well then, he would put his destiny to the test. Helsse had predicted his departure from Cath; Helsse had read the future, or Reith's own personality, more accurately than Reith himself.
Breakfasting with Traz and Anacho he described his adventures of the previous evening. Anacho found the circumstances perturbing. "This is an insane society, constrained by punctilio as a rotten egg is held by its shell. Whatever your aims-and sometimes I think that you are the most flamboyant lunatic of all--they will not be achieved here."
"I agree."
"Well then," said Traz, "what next?"
"What I plan is dangerous, perhaps rash folly. But I see no other alternative. I intend to ask Cizante for money; this we shall share. Then I think it best that we separate. You, Traz, might do worse than to return to Wyness, and there make a life for yourself. Perhaps Anacho will do the same. Neither of you can profit by coming with me; in fact, I guarantee the reverse."
Anacho looked off across the square. "Until now you have managed to survive, if precariously. I find myself curious as to what you hope to achieve. With your permission, I will join your expedition, which I suspect is by no means as desperate as you make it out to be."
"I intend to confiscate a Wankh spaceship from the Ao Hidis spaceport, or elsewhere, if it seems more convenient."
Anacho threw his hands in the air. "I feared no less." He proceeded to state a hundred objections which Reith did not trouble to contradict. "All very true; I will end my days in a Wankh dungeon or a nighthound's belly; still this is what I intend to attempt. I strongly urge that you and Traz make your way to the Isles of Cloud and live as best you may."
"Bah," snorted Anacho. "Why won't you attempt some reasonable exploit, like exterminating the Pnume, or teaching the Chasch to sing?"
"I have other ambitions."
"Yes, yes, your faraway planet, the home of man. I am tempted to help you, if only to demonstrate your lunacy."
"As for me," said Traz, "I would like to see this far world. I know it exists, because I saw the spaceboat in which Adam Reith arrived."
Anacho inspected the youth with eyebrows raised. "You have not mentioned this previously."
"You never asked."
"How might such an absurdity enter my mind?"
"A person who calls facts absurdities will often be surprised," said Traz.
"But at least he has organized the cosmic relationship into categories, which sets him apart from animals and sub-men."
Reith intervened. "Come now; let's put our energies to work, since you both seem bent on suicide. Today we seek information. And here is Helsse, bringing us important news, or so it appears from his aspect."
Helsse approached and gave a polite greeting. "Last night, as you may imagine, I had much to report to Lord Cizante. He urges that you make some reasonable request, which he will be glad to fulfill. He recommends that we destroy the papers taken from the spy and I am inclined to agree. If you acquiesce, Lord Cizante may grant further concessions."
"Of what nature?"
"He does not specify, but I suspect he has in mind a certain slackening of protocol in regard to your presence in Blue Jade Palace."
"I am more interested in the documents than in Lord Cizante. If he wants to see me he can come here to the inn."
Helsse gave a brittle chuckle. "Your response is no surprise. If you are ready I will conduct you to South Ebron where we will find a Lokhar."
"There are no Yao scholars who read the Wankh language?"
"Such facility would seem pointless expertise."
"Until someone wanted a document translated."
Helsse gave an indifferent twitch. "At this play of the 'round,' Utilitarianism is an alien philosophy. Lord Cizante, for instance, would find your arguments not only incomprehensible but disgusting."
"We shall never argue the matter," said Reith equably.
Helsse had come in an extremely elegant equipage: a blue carriage with six scarlet wheels and a profusion of golden festoons. The interior was like a luxurious drawing room, with gray-green wainscoting, a pale gray carpet, an arched ceiling covered with green silk. The chairs were deeply upholstered; to the side, under the windows of pale green glass, a buffet offered trays of sweetmeats. Helsse ushered his guests into the car with the utmost politeness; today he wore a suit of pale green and gray, as if to blend himself into the decor of the carriage.
When all were seated, he touched a button to close the door and retract the steps. Reith observed, "Lord Cizante, while deriding utilitarianism as a doctrine, apparently does not flout its applications."
"You refer to the door-closing mechanism? He is not aware that it exists.