Woudiver blinked. "I am as interested as is possible in a factual vacuum."
"Very well, then. Our problem is this: we must procure a small spaceship."
Woudiver sat motionless, his eyes boring into Reith's face. He glanced swiftly at Traz and Anacho, then gave a short brisk laugh. "You credit me with remarkable powers! Not to say reckless audacity! How can I possibly provide a spaceship, large or small? Either you are madmen or you take me for one!"
Reith smiled at Woudiver's vehemence, which he diagnosed as a tactical device.
"We have considered the situation carefully," said Reith. "The project is not impossible with the help of a person such as yourself."
Woudiver gave his great lemon-colored head a peevish shake. "So I merely point my finger toward the Grand Spaceyards and produce a ship? Is this your belief?
You would have me bounding through the Glass Cage before the day was out."
"Remember," said Reith, "a large vessel is not necessary. Conceivably we could acquire an obsolete craft and put it into workable condition. Or we might obtain components from persons who could be induced to sell, and assemble them in a makeshift hull."
Woudiver sat pulling at his chin. "The Dirdir certainly would oppose such a project."
"I mentioned the need for discretion," said Reith.
Woudiver puffed out his cheeks. "How much wealth is involved? What is the nature of this wealth? Where is it located?"
"These are details which at the moment can have no real interest for you," said Reith.
Woudiver tapped his chin with a yellow forefinger. "Let us discuss the matter as an abstraction. First, the practicalities. A large sum of money would be required: for inducements, technical help, a suitable place of assembly, and of course for the components you mention. Where would this money come from?" His voice took on a sardonic resonance. "You did not expect financing from Aila Woudiver?"
"Financing is no problem," said Reith. "We have ample funds."
"Indeed!" Woudiver was impressed. "How much, may I ask, are you prepared to spend?"
"Oh, fifty to a hundred thousand sequins."
Woudiver gave his head a shake of indulgent amusement. "A hundred thousand would be barely adequate." He turned a glance toward Hei. "I could never concern myself in any illicit or forbidden enterprise."
"Naturally not."
"I might be able to advise you, on a friendly and informal basis, for say, a fixed fee, or perhaps a percentage of outlay, and a small share in any eventual rewards."
"Something of the sort might suit our needs," said Reith. "How long, at an estimate, would such a project require?"
"Who knows? Who can prophesy such things? A month? Two months? Information is essential, which we now lack. A knowledgeable person from the Grand Spaceyards must be consulted."
"Knowledgeable, competent, and trustworthy," amended Reith.
"That goes without saying. I know the very man, a person for whom I have done several favors. In the course of a day or two I will see him and bring up the matter."
"Why not now?" asked Reith. "The sooner the better."
Woudiver raised a hand. "Haste leads to miscalculation. Come back in two days; I may have news for you. But first the matter of finance. I cannot invest my time without a retainer. I will need a small sum-say five thousand sequins-as earnest money."
Reith shook his head. "I'll show you five thousand." He produced a card of purple sequins. "In fact here is twenty thousand. But we can't afford to spend a sequin except on actual costs."
Woudiver's face was one vast hurt. "What of my fee, then? Must I toil for joy alone?"
"Of course not. If all goes well, you will be rewarded to your satisfaction."
"This must serve for the moment," declared Woudiver in sudden heartiness. "In two days I will send Artilo for you. Discuss the matter with no one! Secrecy is absolutely essential!"
"This we well understand. In two days then."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SIVISHE WAS A dull city, gray and subdued, as if oppressed by the proximity of Hei. The great homes of Prospect Heights and Zamia Rise were pretentious enough, but lacked style and finesse. The folk of Sivishe were no less dulclass="underline" a somber, humorless race, grayskinned and tending toward overweight. At their meals they consumed great bowls of clabber, platters of boiled tuber, meat and fish seasoned with a rancid black sauce that numbed Reith's palate, though Anacho declared that the sauce occurred in numerous variants and was in fact a cultivated taste. For organized entertainment there were daily races, run not by animals but by men. On the day after the meeting with Woudiver, the three watched one of the races. Eight men participated, wearing garments of different colors and carrying a pole topped with a fragile glass globe. The runners not only sought to outrun their opponents but also to trip them by agile side-kicks, so that they fell and broke their glass globes, and were hence disqualified. The spectators numbered twenty thousand and maintained a low guttural howl during the duration of each race. Reith noticed a number of Dirdirmen among the spectators. They bet with as much verve as anyone, but kept themselves fastidiously apart. Reith wondered that Anacho would risk recognition by some previous acquaintance, to which Anacho gave a bitter laugh.
"Wearing these clothes I am safe. They will never see me. If I wore Dirdirmen clothes I would be recognized at once and reported to the Castigators. Already I have seen half a dozen former acquaintances. None have so much as glanced at me."
The three visited the Grand Sivishe Spaceyards, where they strolled around the periphery observing the activity within. The spaceships were long, spindle-shaped, with intricate fins and sponsons--totally different from the bulky Wankh vessels and the flamboyant craft of the Blue Chasch, just as these differed from the starships of Earth.
The yards appeared to operate at less than top efficiency and far below capacity; even so, a respectable volume of work was in progress. Two cargo vessels were in the process of overhaul; a passenger ship seemed to be under construction. Elsewhere they noted three smaller ships, apparently uncommissioned warcraft, five or six space-boats in various stages of repair, a clutter of hulks on a junk heap to the rear of the shops. At the opposite end of the spaceyard three ships in commission rested on large black circles.
"They fare occasionally to Sibol," said Anacho. "There is no great traffic. Long ago when the Expansionists held sway Dirdir ships went out to many worlds. No longer. The Dirdir are quiescent. They would like to force the Wankh off of Tschai and slaughter the Blue Chasch, but they do not marshal their energies. It is somehow frightening. They are a terrible and active race and cannot lie quiet too long. One of these days they must explode, and go forth again."
"What of the Pnume?" Reith asked.
"There is no established pattern.." Anacho pointed to the palisades behind Hei.
"Through your electric telescope you might see Pnume warehouses, where they store metals for trade with the Dirdir. Pnumekin occasionally come out into Sivishe for one purpose or another. There are tunnels through all the hills and out into the country beyond. The Pnume observe every move the Dirdir make. They never come forth, however, for fear of the Dirdir, who kill them for vermin. On the other hand a Dirdir who goes hunting alone may never return. The Pnume have taken him down into their tunnels, so it is believed."
"It could only happen on Tschai," said Reith. "The folk trade in mutual detestation and kill each other on sight."
Anacho gave a sour snort. "I see nothing remarkable in the fact. The trading conduces to mutual profit; the killing gratifies the mutual detestation. The institutions have no common ground."