Reith could not deny the logic of the presentation, nor did he try. He said, "I don't intend to pay more than five hundred sequins for a ramshackle old shed you'd be happy renting for two hundred."
Woudiver held up a yellow finger. "Consider the risk! We are about to suborn the thievery of valuable property! I am rewarded, please understand, partly for services rendered and partly to allay my fear of the Glass Box."
"This is a reasonable statement, from your point of view," said Reith. "As far as I am concerned, I want to complete the spaceship before the money runs out.
After the ship is complete, fueled and provisioned, you can take every sequin remaining, for all I care."
"Indeed!" Woudiver scratched his chin. "How many sequins do you have then, so that we can plan accordingly?"
"Something over a hundred thousand."
"Mmf. I wonder if the job can be done at all-let alone allow for surplus."
"My point exactly. I want to keep non-construction expenses to the minimum."
Woudiver turned his face toward Artilo. "See how I am reduced. All prosper but Woudiver. As usual, he suffers for his generosity."
Artilo gave a noncommittal grunt.
Reith counted out sequins. "Five hundred-exorbitant rent for this ramshackle shed. Drayage: three hundred. The hulclass="underline" eight hundred and ninety. I'll pay ten percent on the hull. Another eighty-nine. A total of seventeen hundred and seventy-nine."
Woudiver's broad yellow face mirrored a succession of emotions. At last he said,
"I must remind you that a policy of parsimony is often the most expensive in the end."
"If the work goes efficiently," said Reith, "you won't find me parsimonious.
You'll see more sequins than you ever dreamed existed. But I intend to pay only for results. It is to your interest to expedite the space-boat as best you can.
If the money runs out we're all the losers."
For once Woudiver had nothing to say. He stared dolefully at the glittering heap on the table, then, separating purples, scarlets, dark greens, he counted. "You drive a hard bargain."
"To our mutual benefit, ultimately."
Woudiver dropped the sequins into his pouch. "If I must I must." He drummed his fingers against his thigh. "Well, as to the components, what do you require first?"
"I know nothing about Dirdir machinery. We need the advice of an expert technician. Such a man should be here now."
Woudiver squinted sidelong. "Without knowledge, how do you expect to fly?"
"I am acquainted with Wankh space-boats."
"Hmmf. Artilo, go fetch Deine Zarre from the Technical Club."
Woudiver stalked off to his office, leaving Reith, Anacho and Traz alone in the shed.
Anacho surveyed the hull. "The old hulk has done well. This is the Ispra, a series now obsolete, in favor of the Concax Screamer. We must obtain Ispra components, to simplify the work."
"Are these available?"
"Undoubtedly. I believe you got the better of the yellow beast. His father an Immaculate-what a joke! His mother a marsh-woman-that I can believe! He's evidently gone to pains to learn our secrets."
"I hope he doesn't learn too much."
"As long as we can pay, we're safe. We have a sound hull at a fair price, and even the rental is not too exorbitant. But we must be carefuclass="underline" normal profits won't suit him."
"No doubt he'll swindle us," said Reith. "If we end up with a functioning space-boat, I don't really care." He walked around the hull, occasionally reaching out to touch it, in a kind of wonder. Here, solid and definite, the basis of a vessel to take him home! Reith felt a surge of affection for the cold metal, in spite of its alien Dirdir look.
Traz and Anacho went outside to sit in the wan afternoon sunlight, and Reith presently joined them. With images of Earth in his mind, the landscape became suddenly strange, as if he were viewing it for the first time. The crumbling gray city Sivishe, the spires of Hei, the Glass Box reflecting a dark bronze shine from Carina 4269, the loom of the palisades through the murk: this was Tschai. He looked at Traz and Anacho: these were men of Tschai.
Reith sat down on the bench. He asked, "What's inside the Glass Box?"
Anacho seemed surprised at his ignorance. "It is a park, a simulation of old Sibol. Young Dirdir learn to hunt; others take exercise and relaxation. There are galleries for onlookers. Criminals are the prey. There are rocks, Sibol vegetation, cliffs, caves; sometimes a man avoids the hunt for days."
Reith looked across to the Glass Box. "The Dirdir hunt in there now?"
"So I suppose."
"What of the Dirdirmen Immaculates?"
"They are sometimes allowed to hunt."
"They devour their prey?"
"Of course."
Along the rutted road came the black car. It splashed through a puddle of oily slime, halted before the office. Woudiver came to stand in the doorway, a grotesque lump in black and yellow finery. Artilo stepped down from the driver's bench; from the cab came an old man. His face was haggard and his body seemed distorted or twisted; he moved slowly, as if every effort cost him pain.
Woudiver strutted forward, spoke a word or two, then conducted the old man to the shed.
Woudiver spoke: "This is Deine Zarre, who will supervise our project. Deine Zarre, I introduce to you this man of no distinguishable race. He calls himself Adam Reith. Behind you see a defalcate Dirdirman: a certain Anacho; and a youth who appears to derive from the Kotan steppes. These are the folk with whom you must deal. I am no more than an adjunct; make all your arrangements with Adam Reith."
Deine Zarre gave his attention to Reith. His eyes were clear gray, and in contrast to the black of the pupils seemed almost luminous. "What is the project?"
Another man to know the secret, thought Reith. Already with Aila Woudiver and Artilo, the list was overlong. But no help for it. "In the shed is the hull of a space-boat. We want to put it into operative condition."
Deine Zarre's expression changed little. He searched Reith's face a moment, then turned and limped into the shed. Presently he reappeared. "The project is possible. Anything is possible. But feasible? I don't know." His gaze once more searched Reith's face. "There are risks."
"Woudiver shows no great alarm. Of all of us he is the most sensitive to danger."
Deine Zarre gave Woudiver a dispassionate glance. "He is also the most supple and resourceful. For myself, I fear nothing. If the Dirdir come to take me, I shall kill as many as possible."
"Come, come," chided Woudiver. "The Dirdir are as they are: folk of fantastic skills and courage. Are we not all Brothers of the Egg?„ Deine Zarre gave a dismal grunt. "Who is to supply machinery, tools, components?"
"The spaceyards," said Woudiver dryly. "Who else?"
"We will need technicians: at least six men, of absolute discretion."
"A chancy matter," Woudiver admitted. "But the chance can be minimized by inducements. If Reith pays them well, the inducement of money. If Artilo counsels them, the inducement of reason. If I indicate the consequences of a loose tongue, the inducement of fear. Never forget, Sivishe is a city of secrets! As witness we who stand here."
"True," said Deine Zarre. Again he searched Reith with his remarkable eyes.
"Where do you wish to go in your spaceship?"
Woudiver spoke with overtones either of mockery or malice: "He goes to claim a fabulous treasure, which we all will share."