Planet of Adventure

CHAPTER FOUR

THE GRAY DRASCHADE rolled below: the ocean which Reith-it seemed an eon ago-had crossed aboard the cog Vargaz. Anacho flew close above the surface, to minimize the risk of detection by Dirdir search-screens. "We have important decisions to make," he announced. "The Dirdir are hunters; we have become prey. In principle, a hunt once initiated must be consummated, but the Dirdir are not a cohesive folk like the Wankh; their programs result from individual initiatives, the so called zhna-dih. This means a great dashing leap, trailing lightning-like sparks. The zeal expended upon finding us depends upon whether the hunt-chief--he who performed the original zhna-dih-was aboard the skycar and is now dead. If so, there is a considerable diminution of risk, unless another Dirdir wishes to assert h'so-a word meaning 'marvelous dominance'-and organizes another tsau'gsh, whereupon conditions are as before. If the hunt-chief is alive, he becomes our mortal enemy."

Reith asked in wonder, "What was he before?"

Anacho ignored the remark. "The hunt-chief has the force of the community at his disposal, though he asserts his h'so more emphatically by zhna-dih. However, if he suspects that we fly the sky-car, he might well order up search-screens."

Anacho offhandedly indicated a disk of gray glass to the side of the instrument panel. "If we touch a search-screen you'll see a mesh of orange lines."

The hours went by. Anacho somewhat condescendingly explained the operation of the sky-car; both Traz and Reith familiarized themselves with the controls.

Carina 4269 swung across the sky, overtaking the skycar and dropping into the west. The Draschade rolled below, an enigmatic gray-brown waste, blurring and merging into the sky.

Anacho began to talk of the Carabas: "Most sequin-takers enter at Maust, fifty miles south of the First Sea. At Maust are the most complete outfitters' shops, the finest charts and handbooks, and other services. I consider it as good a destination as any."

"Where are the nodes usually found?"

"Anywhere within the Carabas. There is no rule, no system of discovery. Where many folk seek, nodes are naturally few."

"Then why not choose a less popular entry?"

"Maust is popular because it is most convenient."

Reith looked ahead toward the yet unseen coast of Kislovan and the unknown future. "What if we use none of these entries, but some point in between?"

"What is there to gain? The Zone is the same from any direction."

"There must be some way to minimize risks and maximize gains."

Anacho shook his head in disparagement. "You are a strange and obstinate man!

Isn't this attitude a form of arrogance?"

"No," said Reith. "I don't think so."

"How," argued Anacho, "should you succeed with such facility where others have failed?"

Reith grinned. "It's not arrogant to wonder why they failed."

"One of the Dirdir virtues is zs'hanh," said Anacho. "It means 'contemptuous indifference to the activity of others.' There are twenty-eight castes of Dirdir, which I will not enumerate, and four castes of Dirdirmen: the Immaculates, the Intensives, the Estranes, the Cluts. Zs'hanh is reckoned an attribute of the fourth through the thirteenth Dirdir grades. The Immaculates also practice zs'hanh. It is a noble doctrine."

Reith shook his head in wonder. "How have the Dirdir managed to create and coordinate a technical civilization? In such a welter of conflicting wills-"

"You misunderstand," said Anacho in his most nasal voice. "The situation is more complex. To rise in caste a Dirdir must be accepted into the next highest group.

He wins acceptance by his achievements, not by causing conflicts. Zs'hanh is not always appropriate to the lower castes, nor for the very highest, which use the doctrine of pn'hanh: 'corrosive or metal-bursting sagacity.' "

"I must belong in a high caste," said Reith. "I intend to use pn'hanh rather than zs'hanh. I want to exploit every possible advantage and avoid every risk."

Reith, looking sidewise at the long sour face, chuckled to himself. He wants to point out that my caste is too low for such affectations, thought Reith, but he knows that I'll laugh at him.

The sun sank with unnatural deliberation, its rate of decline slowed by the westward progress of the sky-car. Toward the end of the afternoon a gray-violet bulk rose above the horizon, to meet the disc of the pale brown sun. This was the island, Leume, close under the continent of Kislovan.

Anacho turned the sky-car somewhat to the north and landed at a dingy village on the sandy north cape. The three spent the night at the Glass Blower's Inn, a structure contrived of bottles and jugs discarded by the shops at the sand-pits behind the town. The inn was dank and permeated with a peculiar acrid odor; the evening meal of soup, served in heavy green glass tureens, evinced something of the same flavor. Reith remarked on the similarity to Anacho, who summoned the Gray* servant and put a haughty question. The servant indicated a large black insect darting across the floor. "The skarats do indeed be pungent creatures, and exhale a chife. Bevol made a plague on us, until we put them to use and found them nutritious. Now we hardly capture enough."

Reith long had been careful never to make inquiry regarding foods set before him, but now he looked askance into the tureen. "You mean ... the soup?"

"Indeed," declared the servant. "The soup, the bread, the pickles: all be skarat-flavored, and if we did not use them of purpose, they'd infest us to the same effect, so we make a virtue of convenience, and think to enjoy the taste."

Reith drew back from the soup. Traz ate stolidly. Anacho gave a petulant sniff and also ate. It occurred to Reith that never on Tschai had he noticed squeamishness. He heaved a deep sigh, and since no other food was forthcoming, swallowed the rancid soup.

In the dim brown morning breakfast was again soup, with a garnish of sea vegetables. The three departed immediately after, flying northwest across Leume Gulf and the stony wastes of Kislovan.

Anacho, usually nerveless, now became edgy, searching the sky, peering down at the ground, scrutinizing the knobs and bubbles, the patches of brown fur and vermilion velvet, the quivering mirrors which served as instruments. "We approach the Dirdir realm," he said. "We will veer north to the First Sea, then bear west to Khorai, where we must leave the sky-car and travel the Zoga'ar zum Fulkash am* to Maust. Then ... the Carabas."