“I have nothing to conceal,” said the Administrator stiffly. “They can listen night and day. They probably do.” He rose to his feet. “When does your ship leave?”
“In two or three days, depending on cargo.”
“My advice is to tolerate the surveillance, make the best of it.”
Farr extended perfunctory thanks and departed. The Szecr were waiting. They bowed politely as Farr stepped out into the street. Farr drew a deep breath of resignation. Since there would evidently be no amelioration to the situation, he might as well make the best of it.
He returned to the hotel and showered in the translucent nodule attached to his pod. The liquid was a cool fresh-scented sap, issuing from a nozzle disturbingly like a cow’s udder. After dressing in fresh garments provided by the hotel, Farr descended to the terrace. Bored with his own company he looked around the tables. He had formed some slight acquaintance with the other guests: Mr. and Mrs. Anderview, a pair of peripatetic missionaries; Jonas Ralf, and Wilfred Willeran, engineers returning to Earth from Capella XII’s great Equatorial Highway and now sitting with a group of touring school teachers only just arrived on Iszm; three round Monagi commercial travelers, Earth stock, but after a hundred and fifty years, already modified by the environment of Monago, or Taurus 61 III, to a characteristic somatic type. To their right were three Nenes, tall slender near-men, agile, voluble and clairvoyant, then a pair of young Earthers Farr understood to be students, then a group of Great Arcturians, the stock from which after a million years on a different planet the Thord had evolved. To the other side of the Monagis sat four Iszic in red and purple stripes, the significance of which Farr was ignorant, and not far distant, drinking a goblet of narciz with an air of intense preoccupation, another Iszic in blue, black and white. Farr stared. He could not be sure—all Iszic seemed much alike—but this individual almost certainly was Omon Bozhd.
Seeming to sense Farr’s attention the man turned his head, nodded politely to Farr, then rose to his feet and came across the terrace. “May I join you?”
Farr indicated a chair. “I had not expected the pleasure of renewing our acquaintance so soon,” he said dryly.
Omon Bozhd performed one of the bland Iszic gestures the significance of which was beyond Farr’s understanding. “You did not know of my plans to visit Earth?”
“No, certainly not.”
“Curious.”
Farr said nothing.
“Our friend Zhde Patasz Sainh has asked me to convey to you a message,” said Omon Bozhd. “First he transmits through me a correct Type 8 salute and the sense of his shame that disturbance marred your last day at Tjiere. That the Thord had psychic force sufficient for such an act is still almost incredible to us. Secondly, he counsels you to choose your associates with great caution during the next few months, and thirdly, he commends me to your care and hospitality on Earth, where I will be a stranger.”
Farr mused. “How could Zhde Patasz Sainh know that I planned to return to Earth? When I left Tjiere this was not my intent.”
“I spoke with him only last night by telecom.”
“I see,” said Farr grudgingly. “Well, naturally I’ll do what I can to help you. Which part of Earth will you visit?”
“My plans are not yet complete. I go to inspect Zhde Patasz’s houses at their various plantings, and no doubt will travel considerably.”
“What do you mean ‘choose my associates with caution’?”
“Just that. It seems that rumors of the Thord raid have reached Jhespiano, and have been enlarged in the process. Certain criminal elements might on this account be interested in your activities—but then, I speak too freely.” Omon Bozhd rose to his feet, bowed, and departed. Farr stared after him in utter perplexity.
On the next evening the hotel management, taking cognizance of the large number of Earther guests, arranged a musical soiree, with Earth-style music and Earth-style refreshments. Almost all the guests, Earthers and otherwise, attended.
Farr became mildly intoxicated on Scotch-and-soda, to the extent that he found himself behaving with great gallantry toward the youngest and prettiest of the touring teachers. She seemed to return his interest and they strolled arm in arm along the promenade overlooking the beach. There was small talk, then suddenly she turned him an arch look. “If I may say so, you certainly don’t seem the type.”
“ Type? What type?”
“Oh—you know. A man capable of fooling the Iszics and stealing trees right from under their very noses.”
Farr laughed. “Your instincts are correct. I’m not.”
Again she turned him a quick sidewise look. “I’ve heard differently on ever so reliable authority.”
Farr tried to keep his voice light and casual. “So? What did you hear?”
“Well—naturally it’s supposed to be secret, because if the Iszics knew, you’d be sent to the Mad House, so obviously you wouldn’t be particularly keen to talk about it. But the person who told me is quite reliable, and of course I’d never say a word to anyone. In fact, my reaction is, cheers!”
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” said Farr in an edgy voice.
“No, I suppose you’d never really dare admit it,” said the young woman regretfully. “After all, I might be an Iszic agent—they do have them, you know.”
“Once and for all,” said Farr, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The raid on Tjiere,” said the young woman. “It’s going around that you’re the brains behind the raid. That you’re smuggling trees out of Iszm for delivery on Earth. Everybody is talking about it.”
Farr laughed sadly. “What utter nonsense. If this were true, do you imagine I’d be at large? Of course not. The Iszics are considerably more clever than you give them credit for… How did this ridiculous idea get started?”
The young woman was disappointed. She would have preferred a daring tree-thief to plain ordinary innocent Aile Farr. “I’m sure I don’t know.”
“Where did you hear it?”
“At the hotel. Some of the people were talking about it.”
“Anything for a sensation,” said Farr.
The young woman sniffed and her demeanor was notably cooler as they returned to the terrace.
No sooner had they seated themselves than four Szecr with headdresses betokening high rank, marched across the room. They stopped at Farr’s table, and bowed curtly. “If Farr Sainh pleases, his presence is requested elsewhere.”
Farr sat back, half of a notion to defy the group. He looked around the terrace, but saw only averted faces. The teacher was in a transport of excitement.
“Where is my presence desired?” demanded Farr in a voice stiff with fury. “And why?”
“There are a few routine inquiries to be made, in connection with your professed business on Iszm.”
“Can’t it wait till tomorrow?”
“No, Farr Sainh. Please come at once.”
Seething with indignation Farr rose to his feet, and surrounded by the Szecr, walked from the terrace.
He was taken a quarter-mile to a small three-pod tree near the beach. Within an old Iszic sat on a divan. He motioned Farr to sit opposite, and introduced himself as Usimr Adislj, of the caste comprising savants, theoreticians, philosophers and other formulators of abstract principles. “Learning of your presence in Jhespiano, and your almost immediate departure, I felt it my duty to make your acquaintance as expeditiously as possible. I understand that on Earth you are professionally connected with the field of knowledge that is one of our major preoccupations?”