Reith grinned. "No other names were mentioned?"
"Another source explained, in a carefully facetious manner, that any extraordinary activity must surely attract the attention of Woudiver. It would seem that he is the man with whom we must deal. In a certain sense, his reputation is reassuring; he is necessarily competent."
Traz entered the conversation. "What if this Woudiver refuses to help us? Are we not then at his mercy? Could he not extort our sequins from us?"
Anacho pursed his lips, shrugged: "No scheme of this sort is absolutely reliable. Aila Woudiver would seem to be a sound choice, from our point of view.
He has access to the sources of supply, he controls transport vehicles, and possibly he can provide a suitable building in which to assemble a space-boat."
Reith said reluctantly, "We want the most competent man, and if we get him I suppose we can't cavil at his personal attributes. Still, on the other hand ...
Oh, well. What pretext should we use?"
"The tale you gave the Lokhars-that we need a spaceship to take possession of a treasure-is as good as any. Woudiver will discredit all he is told; he will expect duplicity, so one tale is as good as another."
Traz muttered: "Attention! Dirdir are approaching."
There were three, striding with a portentous gait. Cages of silver mesh clung to the back of their bone-white heads; the effulgences splayed down to either side of their shoulders. Flaps of soft pale leather hung from their arms, almost to the ground.
Other strips hung down front and back, indited with vertical rows of red and black circular symbols.
"Inspectors," muttered Anacho through down-drooping lips. "Not once a year do they come to Sivishe-unless complaints are made."
"Will they know you for a Dirdirman?"
"Of course. I hope they do not know me for Ankhe at afram Anacho, the fugitive."
The Dirdir passed; Reith glanced at them indifferently, though his flesh crept at their proximity. They ignored the three and continued along the avenue, pale leather flaps swinging to their stride.
Anacho's face relaxed from its glare of tension. In a subdued voice, Reith said,
"The sooner we leave Sivishe the better."
Anacho drummed his fingers on the table and gave a final decisive rap. "Very well. I will telephone Aila Woudiver and arrange an exploratory meeting." He stepped into the inn and presently returned. "A car will arrive shortly to pick us up."
Reith had not been ready for so swift a response. "What did you tell him?" he asked uneasily.
"That we wanted to consult him in regard to a business matter."
"Hmf." Reith leaned back in his chair. "Too much haste is as bad as too little."
Anacho threw up his hands in vexation and defeat. "What reason to delay?"
"No real one. I feel strange to Sivishe and unsure of my responses, hence worried."
"No worry there. With familiarity Sivishe becomes even less reassuring."
Reith said no more. Fifteen minutes later an antique black vehicle, which at one time had been a grand saloon, halted in front of the hotel. A middle-aged man, harsh and grim, looked forth. He jerked his head toward Anacho. "You await a car?"
"To Woudiver?"
"Get in."
The three climbed into the vehicle, seated themselves on benches. The car rolled at no great speed down the avenue, then, turning off toward the south, entered a district of slatternly apartment houses: buildings erected with neither judgment nor precision. No two doorways were a like; windows of irregular shape and size opened at random in the thick walls. Wan-faced folk stood in alcoves or peered down into the streets; all turned to watch the passage of the car. "Laborers," said Anacho with a sniff of distaste. "Kherman, Thangs, Sad Islanders. They come from all Kislovan and lands beyond, as well."
The car continued across a littered plaza, into a street of small shops, all fitted with heavy metal shutters. Anacho asked the driver, "How far to Woudiver's?"
"Not far." The reply was uttered with hardly a motion of the lips.
"Where does he live? Out on the Heights?"
"On Zamia Rise."
Reith considered the hooked nose, the dour cords of muscle around the colorless mouth: the face of an executioner.
The way led up a low hill. The houses became abandoned gardens. The car halted at the end of a lane. The driver with a curt gesture signaled the three to alight, then silently led them along a shadowy passage smelling of dankness and mold, through an archway, across a courtyard, up a shallow flight of stairs into a room with walls of mustard-colored tile.
"Wait here." He passed through a door of black psilla bound with iron, and a moment later looked forth. He crooked his finger. "Come."
The three filed into a large white-walled chamber. A scarlet and maroon rug muffled the floor; for furniture there were settees padded with pink, red and yellow plush, a heavy table of carved wax-wood, a censer exuding wisps of heavy smoke. Behind the table stood an enormous yellow-skinned man in robes of red, black and ivory. His face was round as a melon; a few strands of sandy hair lay across his mottled pate. He was a man vast in every dimension and motivated, so it seemed to Reith, by a grandiose and cynical intelligence. He spoke: "I am Aila Woudiver." His voice was under exquisite control; now it was soft and fluting. "I see a Dirdirman of the First-"
"Superior!" Anacho corrected.
"-a youth of a rough unknown race, a man of even more doubtful extraction. Why does such an ill-matched trio seek me out?"
"To discuss a matter possibly of mutual interest," said Reith.
The lower third of Woudiver's face trembled in a grin. "Continue."
Reith looked around the room, then turned back to Woudiver. "I suggest that we move to another location, out of doors, by preference."
Woudiver's thin, almost-nonexistent eyebrows lofted high in surprise. "I fail to understand. Will you explain?"
"Certainly, if we can move to another area."
Woudiver frowned in sudden petulance, but marched forward. The three followed him through an archway, up a ramp and out on a deck which overlooked a vast hazy distance to the west. Woudiver spoke in a voice now carefully resonant: "Does this situation seem suitable?"
"Better," said Reith.
"You puzzle me," said Woudiver, settling into a massive chair. "What noxious influence do you so dread?"
Reith looked meaningfully across the panorama, toward the colored towers and cloud-gray Glass Box of far Hei. "You are an important man. Your activities conceivably interest certain folk to the extent that they monitor your conversations."
Woudiver made a jovial gesture. "Your business appears highly confidential, or even illicit."
"Does this alarm you?"
Woudiver pursed his lips into a fountain of gray-pink gristle. "Let us get down to affairs."
"Certainly. Are you interested in gaining wealth?"
"Poof," said Woudiver. "I have enough for all my small needs. But anyone can use more money."
"In essence, the situation is this: we know where and how to obtain a considerable treasure at no risk."
"You are the most fortunate of men!"
"Certain preparations are necessary. We believe that you, a man of known resource, will be able to provide assistance in return for a share of the gain.
I do not, of course, refer to financial assistance."
"I cannot say yes or no until I am apprised of all details," said Woudiver in the most suave of voices. "Naturally, you may speak without reserve; my reputation for discretion is a byword."
"First we need a clear indication of your interest. Why waste time for nothing?"