Anacho said, "Behold the sacred grove of the Khors, in which, so it is said, souls are exchanged. Yonder you see the caravan terminus and the road to Maust.
I dare not take the sky-car further; hence we must land and make our way to Maust as ordinary sequin-takers, which is not necessarily a disadvantage."
"And when we return will the sky-car still be here?"
Anacho pointed down to the harbor. "Notice the boats at anchor."
Looking through his scanscope Reith observed three or four dozen boats of every description.
"Those boats," said Anacho, "brought sequin-takers to Khorai--from Coad, Hedaijha, the Low Isles, from the Second Sea and the Third Sea. If the owners return within a year, they sail from Khorai and to their homes. If within the year they do not return, the boat becomes the property of the harbor-master. No doubt we can arrange the same contract."
Reith made no arguments against the scheme, and Anacho dropped the sky-car toward the beach.
"Remember," Anacho warned, "the Khors are a sensitive people. Do not speak to them; pay them no heed except from necessity, in which case you must use the fewest possible words. They consider garrulity a crime against nature. Do not stand upwind of a Khor, nor if possible downwind; such acts are symbolic of antagonism. Never acknowledge the presence of a woman; do not look toward their children-they will suspect you of laying a curse; and above all ignore the sacred grove. Their weapon is the iron dart which they throw with astonishing accuracy; they are a dangerous people."
"I hope I remember everything," said Reith.
The sky-car landed upon the dry shingle; seconds later a great gaunt brown-skinned man, with deep-sunk eyes, concave cheeks, a crag of a nose, came running forward, his coarse brown smock flapping. "Are you for the Carabas, the dreadful Carabas?"
Reith gave a cautious assent: "This is our design."
"Sell me your sky-car! Four times I have entered the Zone, creeping from rock to rock; now I have my sequins. Sell me your sky-car, so that I may return to Holangar."
"Unfortunately we will need the sky-car upon our return," said Reith.
"I offer you sequins, purple sequins!"
"They mean nothing to us; we go to find sequins of our own."
The gaunt man gave a gesture of emotion too wild to be expressed in words and lunged off down the beach. A pair of Khors now approached: men somewhat slender and delicate of physique, wearing black gowns and cylindrical black hats which gave the illusion of height. The mustard-yellow faces were grave and still, the noses thin and small, the ears fragile shells. Fine black hair grew up rather than down, to be contained within the tall hat. They seemed to Reith a stream of humanity as divergent as the Chaschmen-perhaps a distinct species.
The older of the two spoke in a thin soft voice: "Why are you here?"
"We go to take sequins," said Anacho. "We hope to leave the sky-car in your care."
"You must pay. The sky-car is a valuable device."
"So much the better for you should we fail to return. We can pay nothing."
"If you return, you must pay."
"No, no payment. Do not insist or we will fly directly to Maust."
The mustard-yellow faces showed no quiver of emotion. "Very well, but we allow you only to the month Temas."
"Only three months? Too short a period! Give us until the end of Meumas, or better Azaimas."
"Until Meumas. Your sky-car will be secure against all but those from whom you stole it."
"It will be totally secure; we are not thieves."
"So be it. Until the first day of Meumas, on the precise instant."
The three took their possessions and walked through Khorai, to the caravan terminus. Under an open shed a motor-wagon was being prepared for a journey, with a dozen men of as many races standing by. The three made arrangements for passage, and an hour later departed Khorai, along the road south to Maust.
Over barren hills and dry swales rolled the motor-wagon, halting for the night at a hostel operated by an order of white-faced women. They were either members of an orgiastic religious sect or simple prostitutes; long after Reith, Anacho and Traz had stretched out upon the benches which served as beds, drunken shouts and wild laughter came from the smoky common room.
In the morning the common room was dim and quiet, reeking with spilled wine and the smoke of dead lamps. Men huddled face-down over tables, or sprawled along benches, their faces the color of ash. The women of the place entered, now harsh-voiced and peremptory, with cauldrons of thin yellow goulash. The men stirred and groaned, somberly ate from earthenware bowls and staggered out to the motorwagon, which presently set forth to the south.
By noon Maust appeared in the distance: a jumble of tall narrow buildings with high gables and crooked roof-lines, built of dark timber and age-blackened tile.
Beyond, a barren plain extended to the dim Hills of Recall. Running boys came out to meet the motor-wagon. They shouted slogans and held up signs and banners:
"Sequin-takers attention! Kobo Hux will sell one of his excellent sequin-detectors." "Formulate your plans at the Inn of Purple Lights." "Weapons, puffpads, maps, digging implements from Sag the Mercantilist are eminently useful." "Do not grope at random; the Seer Garzu divines the location of large purple nodes." "Flee the Dirdir with all possible agility; use supple boots provided by Awalko." "Your last thoughts will be pleasant if, before death, you first consume the euphoric tablets formulated by Laus the Thaumaturge." "Enjoy a jolly respite, before entering the Zone, at the Platform of Merriment."
The motor-wagon halted in a compound at the edge of Maust. The passengers alighted into a crowd of bawling men, urgent boys, grimacing girls, each with a new proffer. Reith, Traz and Anacho pushed through the throng, avoiding as best they could the hands which reached to grasp them and their possessions.
They entered a narrow street running between tall, age darkened structures, the beer-colored sunlight barely penetrating to the street. Certain of the houses sold gear and implements conceivably useful to the sequin-taker: grading kits, camouflage, spoor eliminators, tongs, forks, bars, monoculars, maps, guides, talismans and prayer powders. From other houses came the clash of cymbals, a raucous honking of oboes, accompanied by calls of drunken exaltation. Certain of the buildings catered to gamblers; others functioned as inns, with restaurants occupying the ground floor. Everywhere lay the weight of antiquity, even to the dry aromatic odor of the air. Stones had been polished by the casual touch of hands; interior timbers were dark and waxy; the old brown tiles showed a subtle luster to glancing light.
At the back of the central plaza stood a spacious hostelry, which appeared to offer comfortable accommodation and which Anacho favored, though Traz grumbled at what he considered excessive and unnecessary luxury. "Must we pay the price of a leap-horse merely to sleep the night?" he complained. "We have passed a dozen inns more to my taste."
"In due course you will learn to appreciate the civilized niceties," said Anacho indulgently. "Come, let us see what is offered within."
Through a portal of carved wood they entered the foyer. Chandeliers fashioned to represent sequin-clusters hung from the ceiling; a magnificent rug, black of field with a taupe border and five starbursts of scarlet and ocher, cushioned the tile floor.
A majordomo approached to inquire their needs. Anacho spoke for three chambers, clean linen, baths and unguents. "And what do you demand in the way of tariff?"
"For such accommodation each must pay a hundred sequins* per day," replied the majordomo.
Traz gave an exclamation of shock; even Anacho was moved to protest. "What?" he exclaimed. "For three modest chambers, you demand three hundred sequins? Have you no sense of proportion? The charges are outrageous."