Reith dubiously searched the yard. As Anacho had stated there seemed no untoward activity.
The sky-car landed. The three alighted. Anacho stood austerely aside while Reith and Traz removed the packs.
A power-wagon approached and fixed clamps to the sky-car. The operator, a hybrid of Dirdirman and another race unknown, inspected Anacho with impersonal curiosity, ignoring Reith and Traz. "What is to be the disposition?"
"Temporary deposit, on call," said Anacho.
"To what charge?"
"Special. I'll take the token."
"Number sixty-four." The clerk gave Anacho a brass disc. "I require twenty sequins."
"Twenty, and five for yourself."
The lift-wagon conveyed the sky-car to a numbered slot. Anacho led the way to a slide-way, with Reith and Traz trudging behind with the packs. They stepped aboard and were conveyed out to a wide avenue, along which ran a considerable traffic of power-wagons, passenger cars, drays.
Here Anacho paused to reflect. "I have been gone so long, I have traveled so far, that Sivishe is somewhat strange. First, of course, we need lodgings.
Across the avenue, as I recall, is a suitable inn."
At the Ancient Realm Inn the three were led down a white and black-tiled corridor to a suite overlooking the central court, where a dozen women sat on benches watching the windows for a signal.
Two seemed to be Dirdirwomen: thin sharp-faced creatures, pallid as snow, with a sparse fuzz of gray hair at the back of their scalps. Anacho surveyed them thoughtfully for a moment or so, then turned away. "We are fugitives, of course," he said, "and we must be wary. Nevertheless, here in Sivishe where many people come and go, we are as safe as we might be anywhere. The Dirdir do not concern themselves with Sivishe unless circumstances fail to suit them, in which case the Administrator goes to the Glass Box. Otherwise, the Administrator has a free hand; he taxes, polices, judges, punishes, appropriates as he sees fit and is therefore the least corruptible man in Sivishe. For influential assistance we must seek elsewhere; tomorrow I will make an inquiry. Next we will need a structure of suitable dimensions, close by the spaceyards, yet inconspicuous.
Again, a matter requiring discreet inquiry. Then-most sensitive of all-we must hire technical personnel to assemble the components and perform the necessary tuning and phasing. If we pay high wages we can no doubt secure the right men. I will represent myself as a Dirdirman Superior-in fact, my former status-and hint of Dirdir reprisals against loose-mouthed men. There is no reason why the project should not go easily and smoothly, except for the innate perversity of circumstances."
"In other words," said Reith, "the chances are against us."
Anacho ignored the remark. "A warning: the city seethes with intrigue. Folk come to Sivishe for a single purpose: to win advantage. The city is a turmoil of illicit activity, robbery, extortion, vice, gambling, gluttony, extravagant display, swindling. These are endemic, and the victim has small hope of recourse. The Dirdir are unconcerned; the antics and maneuvers of the submen are nothing to them. The Administrator is interested only in maintaining order. So: caution! Trust no one; answer no questions! Identify yourselves as steppe-men seeking employment; profess stupidity. By such means we minimize risk."
CHAPTER TEN
IN THE MORNING Anacho went forth to make his inquiries. Reith and Traz descended to the street cafe and sat watching the passersby. Traz was displeased with everything he saw. "All cities are vile," he grumbled. "This is the worst: a detestable place. Do you notice the stink? Chemicals, smoke, disease, rotting stone. The smell has infected the folk; observe their faces."
Reith could not deny that the inhabitants of Sivishe were an unprepossessing lot. Their complexions ranged from muddy brown to Dirdirman white; their physiognomies reflected thousands of years of half-purposeful mutation. Never had Reith seen so wary and self-contained a people. Living in contiguity with an alien race had fostered no fellowship: in Sivishe each man was a stranger. As a positive consequence, Reith and Traz were inconspicuous: no one looked twice in their direction.
Reith sat musing over his bowl of pale wine, relaxed and almost at peace. As he pondered old Tschai, it occurred to him the single homogenizing force was the language, the same across the entire planet. Perhaps because communication often represented the difference between life and death, because those who failed to communicate died, the language had retained its universality. Presumably the language had its roots on ancient Earth. It resembled no language with which he was familiar. He considered key words. Vam was "mother"; tatap was "father"; issir was "sword." The cardinal numbers were aine, sei, dros, enser, nif, hisz, yaga, managa, nuwai, tix. No significant parallels, but somehow, a hunting echo of Earth sounds ...
In general, reflected Reith, life on Tschai ranged a wider gamut than did life on Earth. Passions were more intense: grief more poignant, joy more exalted.
Personalities were more decisive. By contrast the folk of Earth seemed pensive, conditional, sedate. Laughter on Earth was less boisterous; still, there were fewer gasps of horror.
As he often did, Reith wondered: Suppose I return to Earth, what then? Can I adjust to an existence so placid and staid? Or all my life will I long for the steppes and seas of Tschai? Reith gave a sad chuckle. A problem he would be glad to confront.
Anacho returned. After a quick glance to left and right he settled himself at the table. His manner was subdued. "I've been optimistic," he muttered. "I've trusted too much to my memories."
"How so?" Reith demanded.
"Nothing immediate. It seems, merely, that I have underestimated our impact on the times. Twice this morning I heard talk of the madmen who invaded the Carabas and slaughtered Dirdir as if they were lippets. Hei throbs with agitation and anger, or so it is said. Various tsaugsh are in progress; all would regret to be the madmen once they are captured."
Traz was outraged. "The Dirdir go to the Carabas to kill men," he stormed. "Why should they resent the case when they themselves are killed?"
"Hist!" exclaimed Anacho. "Not so loud! Do you wish to attract attention? In Sivishe no one blurts forth his thoughts; it is unwholesome!"
"Another black mark against this squalid city!" declared Traz, but in a more restrained voice.
"Come now," said Anacho nervously. "It is not so disheartening after all. Think of it! While Dirdir range the continents, we three rest in Sivishe, at the Ancient Realm Inn."
"A precarious satisfaction," said Reith. "What else did you learn?"
"The Administrator is Clodo Erlius. He has just assumed office-not necessarily advantageous from our point of view since a new official is apt to stringency. I have made guarded inquiries, and since I am a Dirdirman Superior, I did not encounter total frankness. However a certain name has been mentioned twice. That name is Aila Woudiver. His ostensible occupation is the supply and transport of structural materials. He is a notable gourmand and voluptuary, with tastes at once so refined, so gross and so inordinate as to cost him vast sums. This information was given freely, in a tone of envious admiration. Woudiver's illicit capabilities were merely implied."
"Woudiver would appear to be an unsavory colleague," said Reith.
Anacho snorted in derision. "You demand that I find someone proficient at conniving, chicanery, theft; when I produce this man, you look down your nose at him."