Planet of Adventure Omnibus (38 page)

The haggling
proceeded; Zarfo Detwiler eventually agreed to fifty sequins and a tenth share
of the assumptive spoils. Helsse signaled Reith, who produced the documents.

Zarfo
Detwiler took the papers, squinted, frowned, ran his fingers through his white
mane. He looked up and spoke somewhat ponderously: “I will instruct you in Wankh
communication at no charge. The Wankh are a peculiar folk, totally unique.
Their brain works in pulses. They see in pulses and think in pulses. Their
speech comes in a pulse, a chime of many vibrations which carries all the
meaning of a sentence. Each ideogram is equivalent to a chime, which is to say,
a whole unit of meaning. For this reason, to read Wankh is as much a matter of
divination as logic; one must enunciate an entire meaning with each ideogram.
Even the Wankhmen are not always accurate. Now this matter you have here-let me
see. This first chimehm. Notice this comb? It usually signifies an equivalence,
an identity. A square of this texture shading off to the right sometimes means ‘truth’
or ‘verified perception’ or ‘situation’ or perhaps ‘present condition of the
cosmos.’ These marks-I don’t know. This bit of shading-I think it’s a person
talking. Since it’s at the bottom, the base tone in the chord, it would seem
that-yes, this trifle here indicates positive volition. These marks--hm. Yes,
these are organizers, which specify the order and emphasis of the other
elements. I can’t understand them; I can only guess at the total sense.
Something like ‘I wish to report that conditions are identical or unchanged’ or
‘A person is anxious to specify that the cosmos is stable.’ Something of the
sort. Are you sure that this is information regarding treasure?”

“It was sold
to us on this basis.”

“Hm.” Zarfo
pulled at his long black nose. “Let me see. This second symbol: notice this
shading and this bit of an angle? One is ‘vision’; the other is ‘negation.’ I
can’t read the organizers, but it might mean ‘blindness’ or ‘invisibility...’ “

Zarfo
continued his lucubrations, poring over each ideogram, occasionally tracing out
a fragment of meaning, more often confessing failure, and becoming ever more
restive. “You have been gulled,” he said at last. “I’m certain there is no
mention of money or treasure. I believe this is no more than a commercial
report. It seems to say, as close as I can fathom: ‘I wish to state that
conditions are the same.’ Something about peculiar wishes, or hopes, or
volitions. ‘I will presently see the dominant man, the leader of our group.’
Something unknown. ‘The leader is not helpful,’ or perhaps ‘stays aloof.’ ‘The
leader slowly changes, or metamorphoses, to the enemy.’ Or perhaps, ‘The leader
slowly changes to become like the enemy.’ Change of some sort-I can’t
understand. ‘I request more money.’ Something about arrival of a newcomer or
stranger ‘of utmost importance.’ That’s about all.”

Reith thought
to sense an almost imperceptible relaxation in Helsse’s manner.

“No great
illumination,” said Helsse briskly. “Well, you have done your best. Here is
your twenty sequins.”

“‘Twenty
sequins’!” roared Zarfo Detwiler. “The price agreed was fifty! How can I buy my
bit of meadowland if I am constantly cheated?”

“Oh very
well, if you choose to be niggardly.”

“Niggardly,
indeed! Next time read the message yourself.”

“I could do
as well, for all the help you’ve given us.”

“You were
duped. That is no guide to treasure.”

“Apparently
not. Well then, good day to you.”

Reith
followed Zarfo from the carriage. He looked back in at Helsse. “I’ll remain
here, for a word or two with this gentleman.”

Helsse was
not pleased. “We must discuss another matter. It is necessary that the Blue
Jade Lord receives information.”

“This
afternoon I will have a definite answer for you.”

Helsse gave a
curt nod. “As you wish.”

The carriage
departed, leaving Reith and the Lokhar standing in the street. Reith said, “Is
there a tavern nearby? Perhaps we can chat over a bottle.”

“I am a
Lokhar,” snorted the black-skinned old man. “I do not addle my brains and drain
my pockets with drink; not before noon, at any rate. However you may buy me a
fine Zam sausage, or a clut of headcheese.”

“With
pleasure.”

Zarfo led the
way to a food shop; the two men took their purchases to a table on the street.

“I am amazed
by your ability to read the ideograms,” said Reith. “Where did you learn?”

“At Ao Hidis.
I worked as a die cutter beside an old Lokhar who was a true genius. He taught
me to recognize a few chimes, and showed me where the shadings matched
intensity vibrations, where sonority equated with shape, where the various
chord components matched texture and gradation. Both the chimes and the ideograms
are regular and rational, once the eye and the ear are tuned. But the tuning is
difficult.” Zarfo took a great bite of sausage. “Needless to say, the Wankhmen
discourage such learning; if they suspect a Lokhar of diligent study, he is
discharged. Oh, they are a crafty lot! They jealously guard their role as
intercessors between the Wankh and the world of men. A devious folk! The women
are strangely beautiful, like black pearls, but cruel and cold, and not prone
to dalliance.”

“The Wankh
pay well?”

“Like
everyone else, as little as possible. But we are forced to concede. If labor
costs rose, they would take slaves, or train Blacks and Purples, one or the
other. We would then lose employment and perhaps our freedom as well. So we
strive without too much complaint, and seek more profitable employment
elsewhere once we are skilled.”

“It is highly
likely,” said Reith, “that the Yao Helsse, in the gray and green suit, will ask
what we discussed. He may even offer you money.”

Zarfo bit off
a chunk of sausage. “I shall naturally tell all, if I am paid enough.”

“In that
case,” said Reith, “our conversation must deal in pleasantries, profitless to
both of us.”

Zarfo chewed
thoughtfully. “How much profit had you in mind?”

“I don’t care
to specify, since you would only ask Helsse for more, or try to extract the
same from both of us.”

Zarfo sighed
dismally. “You have a sorry opinion of the Lokhar. Our word is our bond; once
we strike a bargain we do not deviate.”

The haggling
continued on a more or less cordial level until for the sum of twenty sequins
Zarfo agreed to guard the privacy of the conversation as fiercely as he might
the hiding place of his money, and the sum was paid over.

“Back to the
Wankh message for a moment,” said Reith. “There were references to a ‘leader.’
Were there hints or clues by which to identify him?”

Zarfo pursed
his lips. “A wolf-tone indicating high-level gentry; another honorific brevet
which might signify something like ‘a person of the excellent sort’ or ‘in your
own image,’ ‘of your sort.’ It is very difficult. A Wankh reading the ideogram
would understand a chime, which then would stimulate a visual image complete in
essential details. The Wankh would be furnished a mental image of the person,
but for someone like myself there are only crude outlines. I can tell no more.”

“You work in
Settra?”

“Alas. A man
of my years and impoverished: isn’t it a pity?

But I near my
goal, and then back to Smargash, in Lokhara, for a bit of meadow, a young wife,
a comfortable chair by the hearth.”

“You worked
in the space shops at Ao Hidis?”

“Yes, indeed;
I transferred from the tool works to the space shops, where I repaired and
installed air purifiers.”

“Lokhar
mechanics must be very skillful, then.”

“Oh, indeed.”

“Certain
mechanics specialize upon the installation of, say, controls and instruments?”

“Naturally.
Complex trades, both.”

“Have such
mechanics immigrated to Settra?”

Zarfo gave
Reith a calculating glance. “How much is the information worth to you?”

“Control your
avarice,” said Reith. “No more money today. Another sausage, if you like.”

“Later,
perhaps. Now as to the mechanics: in Smargash are dozens, hundreds, retired
after lifetimes of toil.”

“Could they
be tempted to join in a dangerous venture?”

“No doubt, if
the danger were scant and the profit high. What do you propose?”

Reith threw
caution to the winds. “Assume that someone wished to confiscate a Wankh
spaceship and fly it to an unspecified destination: how many specialists would
be required, and how much would it cost to hire them?”

Zarfo, to
Reith’s relief, did not stare in bewilderment or shock. He gnawed for a moment
at the last of the sausage. Then, after a belch, he said, “I believe that you
are asking if I consider the exploit feasible. It has often been discussed in a
jocular manner, and for a fact the ships are not stringently guarded. The
project is feasible. But why should you want a spaceship? ,I do not care to
visit the Dirdir on Sibol or test the infinity of the universe.”

“I can’t
discuss the destination.”

“Well then,
how much money do you offer?”

“My plans
have not progressed to that stage. What do you consider a suitable fee?”

“To risk life
and freedom? I would not stir for less than fifty thousand sequins.”

Reith rose to
his feet. “You have your fifty sequins; I have my information. I trust you to
keep my secret.”

Zarfo sat
sprawled back in his chair. “Now then, not so fast. After all I am old and my
life is not worth so much after all. Thirty thousand? Twenty? Ten?”

“The figure
starts to become practical. How much of a crew will we need?”

“Four or five
more, possibly six. You envision a long voyage?”

“As soon as
we are in space, I will reveal our destination. Ten thousand sequins is only a
preliminary payment. Those who go with me will return with wealth beyond their
dreams.”

Zarfo rose to
his feet. “When do you propose to leave?”

“As soon as
possible. Another matter: Settra is overrun with spies; it’s important that we
attract no attention.”

Zarfo gave a
hoarse laugh. “So this morning you approach me in a vast carriage, worth
thousands of sequins. A man watches us even now.”

“I’ve been
noticing him. But he seems too obvious to be a spy. Well, then, where shall we
meet, and when?”

“Upon the
stroke of midmorning tomorrow, at the stall of Upas the spice merchant in the
Cercade. Be certain you are not followed ... That fellow yonder I believe to be
an assassin, from the style of his garments.”

The man at
this moment approached their table. “You are Adam Reith?”

“Yes.”

“I regret to
say that the Security Assassination Company has accepted a contract made out in
your name: the Death of the Twelve Touches. I will now administer the first
inoculation. Will you be so good as to bare your arm? I will merely prick you
with this splint.”

Reith backed
away. “I’ll do nothing of the sort.”

“Depart!”
Zarfo Detwiler told the assassin. “This man is worth ten thousand sequins to me
alive; dead, nothing.”

The assassin
ignored Zarfo. To Reith he said, “Please do not make an undignified display.
The process then becomes protracted and painful for us all. So then-”

Zarfo roared:
“Stand away; have I not warned you?” He snatched up a chair and struck the
assassin to the ground. Zarfo was not yet satisfied. He picked up the splint,
jabbed it into the back of the man’s thigh, through the rust-ocher corduroy of
his trousers. “Halt!” wailed the assassin. “That is Inoculation Number One!”

Zarfo seized
a handful of splints from the splayed-open wallet. “And here,” he roared, “are
numbers Two to Twelve!” And with a foot on the man’s neck he thrust the handful
into the twitching buttocks. “There you are, you knave! Do you want the next
episode, Numbers Thirteen to Twenty-four?”

“No, no, let
me be; I am a dead man now!”

“If not, you’re
a cheat as well as an assassin!”

Passersby had
halted to watch. A portly woman in pink silk rushed forward. “You hairy black
villain, what are you doing to that poor assassin? He is only a workman at his
trade!”

Zarfo picked
up the assassin’s work sheet, looked down the list. “Hm. It appears that your
husband is next on his list.”

The woman
looked with startled eyes after the assassin now tottering off down the street.

“Time we were
leaving,” said Reith.

They walked
through back alleys to a small shed, screened from the street by a lattice of
woven withe. “It is the neighborhood corpsehouse,” said Zarfo. “No one will
bother us here.”

Reith
entered, looked gingerly around the black benches on one of which lay the hulk
of a small animal.

“Now then,”
said Zarfo, “who is your enemy?”

“I suspect a
certain Dordolio,” said Reith. “I can’t be sure.”