"What's your nature? Are you fjord men? Or Rab?"
"Neither."
"Travelers often be folk who do evil in their own lands and are sent away."
"This is often the case, I agree."
"Mmf. What will you eat?"
"What is to be had?"
"Bread and steamed eel with hilks."
"This then must be our fare."
The woman grunted once more and turned away, but served additionally a salad of sweet lichen and a tray of condiments. The inn, so she informed them, had originally been the residence of the Foglar pirate kings. Treasure was reputedly buried below the dungeons. "But digging only uncovers bones and more bones, some broken, some scorched. Stern men, the Foglars. Well, then, do you wish tea?"
The three went to sit by the fire. Outside the wind roared past the eaves. The landlady came to stoke the blaze. "The chambers are down the hall. If you need women, I must send out; I myself can't serve owing to my sore back, and there will be additional charge."
"Don't trouble in this regard," Reith told her. "So long as the couches are clean we will be content."
"Strange travelers that come in so grand a sky-car. You"-she pointed a finger toward Anacho-- "might well be a Dirdirman. Is that a Dirdir sky-car?"
"I might be a Dirdirman and it might be a Dirdir sky-car. And we might be engaged upon important work where absolute discretion is necessary."
"Aha, indeed!" The woman's jaw slacked. "Something to do with the Wankh, no doubt! Do you know, there's been great changes to the south? The Wankhmen and the Wankh are all at odds!"
"We are so informed."
The woman leaned forward. "What of the Wankh? Are they in withdrawal? So it is rumored."
"I think not," said Anacho. "While the Dirdir inhabit Haulk, so long will the Wankh hold their Kislovan forts, and the Blue Chasch keep their torpedo pits ready."
The woman cried, "And we, poor miserable humans: pawns of the great folk, never knowing which way to jump! I say Bevol take 'em all, and welcome!"
She shook her fist to south, to southwest and northwest, the directions in which she located her principal antagonists; then she departed the chamber.
Anacho, Traz and Reith sat in the ancient stone hall, watching the fire flicker.
"Well, then," asked Anacho. "What of tomorrow?"
"My plans remain the same," said Reith. "I intend to return to Earth. Somewhere, somehow, I must gain possession of a spaceship. This program is meaningless for you two; you should go where you feel secure: the Isles of Cloud, or perhaps back to Smargash. Wherever you decide, we will go; then perhaps you will allow me to continue in the sky-car."
Anacho's long harlequin face assumed an expression almost prim. "And where will you take yourself?"
"You mentioned the spaceyards at Sivishe; this will be my destination."
"What of money? You will need a great deal, as well as subtlety and, most of all, luck."
"For money there is always the Carabas."
Anacho nodded. "Every desperado of Tschai will tell you the same. But wealth does not come without extreme risk. The Carabas lies within the Dirdir Hunting Preserve; trespassers are fair game. If you evade the Dirdir, there is Buszli the Bandit, the Blue Band, the vampire women, the gamblers, the hook-men. For every man who gains a handful of sequins, another three leave their bones, or fill Dirdir guts."
Reith gave an uneasy grimace. "I'll have to take my chances."
The three sat looking into the fire. Traz stirred. "Once long ago I wore Onmale and never am I entirely free of the weight. Sometimes I feel it calling from under the soil. In the beginning it ordained life for Adam Reith; now, even if I wished, I would not desert Adam Reith for fear of Onmale."
"I am a fugitive," said Anacho. "I have no life of my own. We have destroyed the first Initiative,* but sooner or later there will be a second Initiative. The Dirdir are pertinacious. Do you know where we might find the most security? At Sivishe, close under the Dirdir city Hei. As for the Carabas ..." Anacho gave a doleful sigh. "Adam Reith seems to have a knack for survival. I have nothing better to do. I will take my chances."
"I'll say no more," said Reith. "I'm grateful for your company."
For a space the three looked into the flames. Outside the wind whistled and blustered. "Our destination, then, is the Carabas," said Reith. "Why should not the sky-car give us an advantage?"
Anacho fluttered his fingers. "Not in the Black Zone. The Dirdir would take note and instantly be upon us."
"There must be tactics of some sort to lessen the danger," said Reith.
Anacho gave a grim chuckle. "Everyone who visits the Zone has his private theories. Some enter by night; others wear camouflage and puff boots to muffle their tracks. Some organize brigades and march as a unit; others feel more secure alone. Some enter from Zimle; others come down from Maust. The eventualities are usually the same."
Reith rubbed his chin reflectively. "Do Dirdirmen join the hunt?"
Anacho smiled into the flames. "The Immaculates have been known to hunt. But your concept has no value. Neither you nor Traz nor I could successfully impersonate an Immaculate."
The fire became coals; the three went to their tall dim chambers and slept on hard couches under linens smelling of the sea. In the morning they ate a breakfast of salt biscuit and tea, then settled their tariff and departed the inn.
The day was dreary. Cold tendrils of fog sifted through the chymax trees. The three boarded the sky-car. Up they rose through the overcast, and finally broke out into the wan amber sunlight. Westward they flew, over the Draschade Ocean.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE GRAY DRASCHADE rolled below: the ocean which Reith-it seemed an eon ago-had crossed aboard the cog Vargaz. Anacho flew close above the surface, to minimize the risk of detection by Dirdir search-screens. "We have important decisions to make," he announced. "The Dirdir are hunters; we have become prey. In principle, a hunt once initiated must be consummated, but the Dirdir are not a cohesive folk like the Wankh; their programs result from individual initiatives, the so called zhna-dih. This means a great dashing leap, trailing lightning-like sparks. The zeal expended upon finding us depends upon whether the hunt-chief--he who performed the original zhna-dih-was aboard the skycar and is now dead. If so, there is a considerable diminution of risk, unless another Dirdir wishes to assert h'so-a word meaning 'marvelous dominance'-and organizes another tsau'gsh, whereupon conditions are as before. If the hunt-chief is alive, he becomes our mortal enemy."
Reith asked in wonder, "What was he before?"
Anacho ignored the remark. "The hunt-chief has the force of the community at his disposal, though he asserts his h'so more emphatically by zhna-dih. However, if he suspects that we fly the sky-car, he might well order up search-screens."
Anacho offhandedly indicated a disk of gray glass to the side of the instrument panel. "If we touch a search-screen you'll see a mesh of orange lines."
The hours went by. Anacho somewhat condescendingly explained the operation of the sky-car; both Traz and Reith familiarized themselves with the controls.
Carina 4269 swung across the sky, overtaking the skycar and dropping into the west. The Draschade rolled below, an enigmatic gray-brown waste, blurring and merging into the sky.
Anacho began to talk of the Carabas: "Most sequin-takers enter at Maust, fifty miles south of the First Sea. At Maust are the most complete outfitters' shops, the finest charts and handbooks, and other services. I consider it as good a destination as any."