Wayness moved onward at a trot toward the hotel, slowing to a fast walk the last thirty yards.
In the entrance Wayness paused to look back along the Way and to catch her breath. The full impact of the episode began to work on her. She realized that she had never been so frightened before, though at the time she had felt no particular emotion, save a furious exaltation when she had felt the glass bottle strike home. She shuddered to a complex mix of emotions. Wayness shivered again, this time from the chill. She went into the hotel, and approached the desk. The clerk smiled at her. “You are back in good time." She glanced curiously at Wayness. 'Have you been running?”
“Yes, just a bit,” said Wayness, trying to bring her breathing under control. She looked over her shoulder. “Actually, I became frightened.”
“That is nonsense,” said the clerk. “There is nothing out there to be frightened about, especially when you are wearing the scarf properly.”
The scarf had slipped back from Wayness' head so that she was wearing it as a neckerchief. “Next time I'll be more careful,” said Wayness. She untied the scarf and returned it to the clerk. “Thank you very much.”
“It was nothing in particular. I was glad to help."
Wayness went up to her room. She bolted the door and pulled the curtains across the windows. She settled into the armchair, and sat thinking about the episode in the alley. Had the attack been a random sexual assault, or had it been intended upon the life and limb of Wayness Tamm? There was no definite evidence in either direction, but her intuition seemed content to operate without the benefit of evidence. Or perhaps there had been evidence, at the subliminal level. The timbre of his voice had seemed familiar. And, unless she had imagined this, his person had extruded an almost imperceptible scent, mixed of fern, violet and perhaps a few off-world essences. He had felt young and strong.
Wayness did not care to think any more definitely, not at this time.
Five minutes passed. Wayness rose to her feet and started to undress for bed. The telephone tinkled. Wayness stared. Who could be calling her at this hour. Slowly she went to the telephone, and without activating the screen asked: “Who is it?”
“Alcide Xantief."
Wayness sat down and turned on the screen. Xantief said: “I hope I am not disturbing you?”
"Of course not.”
“I spoke to Alvina. You made a good impression on her. I explained that any help she could give you would be work in a good cause, if for no other reason than the happiness of a rather nice person known as Wayness Tamm. She agreed to do what she could for you, if you arrived tomorrow about noon at her shop."
“That is good news, Mr. Xantief!”
"Before you get your hopes up, she mentioned that she did not know Moncurio’s present whereabouts, but only the address he had supplied to her some years ago."
"Anything is better than nothing."
"Exactly. I will bid you goodnight once again. These are my working hours, as you know; in fact, I hear a customer waiting for me now."
In the morning Wayness awoke to find the sun shining brightly down upon the Adriatic. She was served breakfast in her room by one of the blue unformed call-boys: an undersized youth named Felix. After a covert appraisal, Wayness decided that Felix might suit her purposes very well. He was deft and agile, with lank black hat and sharp black eyes in a thin knowledgeable face. He readily agreed to perform whatever services Wayness might require, and she gave him a sol to cement the arrangement.
"First and foremost,” she told him, “all our dealings must be kept confidential. No one must know. This is very important!”
“Have no fear!" declared Felix. “This is the way I normally do business! I am known to be discretion personified"
“Good! This is what I want you to do first.” She sent Felix out to the shops along the wharf. He returned presently with an old pea jacket, a gray work shirt, dungarees, rubber-soled sandals and a fisherman's cap. Wayness donned her new garments and surveyed herself in the mirror. She made a not-too-convincing old salt, but at least she was unrecognizable, especially after she darkened her face with skin tone.
Felix echoed her opinions. “I don’t know exactly what I’d make of you, but for sure you don’t look like what you were before.”
At half an hour before noon, Felix led her down the service stairs into the basement of the hotel, then along a dank passage to a flight of stone steps closed off by a heavy timber door. Felix opened the door and they descended still further, finally to jump down upon the shingle of the beach at the far side of the sea wall, under the wharf, with the waters of the Adriatic only fifteen feet to the side.
The two proceeded a hundred yards along the shingle at the base of the sea wall and at last came to a ladder by which they climbed to the face of the wharf. Felix was now ready to turn back, but Wayness protested. “Not yet! I feel safer with you beside me."
“That is an illusion,” said Felix. He looked over his shoulder. "No one has followed; if someone did so, and started a row I should probably run away, for I am a coward."
"Come along anyway," said Wayness. “I do not expect you to lay down your life for what I intend to pay you. My thinking is this: if we are attacked, and if we both run, my chances for survival are doubled over what they would be if I were alone.”
“Hmf!” said Felix. "You are even more cold-blooded than I. If I come, I will expect an extra sol, for the danger involved."
"Very well."
Where Via Malthus opened upon the wharf, a small restaurant served dock workers, fishermen, and whoever else felt the need for fish stew or mussels, or fried fish. Again Felix was ready to turn back but again Wayness would not hear of it. She gave him careful instructions. "You must go up Via Malthus to a shop with some green buckles in the window."
“I know the shop. It is run by a crazy woman named Alvina."
“Go into the shop and tell Alvina that Wayness Tamm is waiting here, at this restaurant. Make sure no one overhears. If she cannot leave her shop, bring a message."
“First, my pay."
Wayness shook her head. “I was not born yesterday. You will be paid when you return with Alvina."
Felix set off. Ten minutes passed. Alvina entered the restaurant, followed by Felix. Wayness had seated herself in a corner, and Alvina looked here and there in puzzlement. Felix led her to the corner table. Wayness now paid Felix three sols. “Do not mention this excursion to anyone," she told him. “Also, leave the door open at the bottom of the steps, so that I can return the way we came.”
Felix departed, not displeased with himself. Alvina gave Wayness a cool inspection. “You are taking careful precautions, although you neglected a black beard.”
"I never thought of that.”
"No matter. I would never have recognized you as you are now."
"I hope not last night, I was attacked on my way home from Xantief’s shop. I barely escaped.”
Alvina raised her eyebrows. “That is disturbing!"
Wayness wondered if Alvina were taking her seriously. Perhaps she thought the disguise over-dramatic. A waiter in a stained white apron appeared. Alvina ordered a bowl of red fish soup and Wayness did the same. Alvina asked: “I wonder if you would tell me the background of your search?”
“Certainly. A thousand years ago the Naturalist Society discovered the world Cadwal, and considered it so beautiful, with so many entrancing aspects that they decided to make it into a perpetual Conservancy, safe from human exploitation. At the moment the Conservancy is in serious danger: all because a former Secretary sold off Society documents to antique dealers, including the Grant-in-Perpetuity to Cadwal and the original Cadwal Charter. These documents disappeared — where, no one knows. But if they are not found, the Society may lose title to Cadwal.”