Planet of Adventure Omnibus (83 page)

Zap 210 at
once became grave. “The folk act differently from what I expected. They don’t
run back and forth; they don’t seem maddened by the sun-glare. Of course”-she
hesitated-”one sees a great deal of boisterous conduct, but no one seems to
mind. I marvel at the garments of the girls; they are so bold, as if they want
to provoke attention. And again, no one objects.”

“Quite the
reverse,” said Reith.

“I could
never act like that,” Zap 210 said primly. “That girl coming toward us: see how
she walks! Why does she act that way?”

“That’s how
she’s put together. Also, she wants men to notice her. These are the instincts
that the
diko
suppressed in you.”

Zap 210
protested with unusual fervor: “I eat no
diko
now; I feel no such
instincts!”

Reith looked
smiling off across the quay. The girl to whom Zap 210 had drawn attention
slowed her step, hitched at the orange sash around her waist, smiled at Reith,
stared curiously at Zap 210, and sauntered on.

Zap 210
looked sidelong at Reith. She started to speak, then held her tongue. A moment
later she blurted: “I don’t understand anything of the
ghian
. I don’t
understand you. Just now you smiled at that odious girl. You never-” Here she
stopped short, then continued in a low voice: “I suppose you blame ‘instinct’
for your conduct.”

Reith became
impatient. “The time has come,” he said, “to explain the facts of life.
Instincts are part of our biological baggage and cannot be avoided. Men and
women are different.” He went on to explain the processes of reproduction. Zap
210 sat rigid, looking across the water. “So,” said Reith, “it’s not unnatural
that people indulge in this kind of conduct.”

Zap 210 said
nothing. Her hands, so Reith noticed, were clenched and her knuckles shone
white.

She said in a
low voice, “The Khors in the sacred grove-is that what they were doing?”

“So I
suppose.”

“And you took
me away so I wouldn’t see.”

“Well, yes. I
thought you might be confused.”

Zap 210 was
silent a moment. “We might have been killed.”

Reith
shrugged. “I suppose there was a chance.”

“And those
girls dancing without clothes--they wanted to do
that?”

“If someone
gave them money.”

“And everyone
on the surface feels this way?”

“Most of
them, I should say.”

“Do you?”

“Certainly.
Sometimes, anyway. Not all the time.”

“Then why-”
she stuttered. “Then why-” She could not finish. Reith reached out to pat her
hand; she snatched it away. “Don’t touch me!”

“Sorry ...
But don’t be angry.”

“You brought
me to this horrible place; you deprived me of life; you pretended to be kind
but all the time you’ve been planning-that!”

“No, no!”
cried Reith. “Nothing of the sort! You’re quite wrong!”

Zap 210
looked at him with eyebrows coolly raised. “You find me repulsive then?”

Reith threw
his hands up in the air. “Of course I don’t find you repulsive! In fact-”

“In fact,
what?”

Cauch,
arriving at the table, provided, for Reith, a welcome interruption. “You spent
a comfortable night?”

“Yes,” said
Reith.

Zap 210 rose
to her feet and walked away. Cauch drew a long face. “How have I offended her?”

“She’s angry
with me,” said Reith. “Why-I don’t know.”

“Isn’t this
always the case? But soon, for reasons equally unknown, she will again become
benign. Meanwhile, I am interested in hearing your ideas in regard to the
eel-races.”

Reith looked
dubiously after Zap 210, who had returned to the Inn of the Lucky Mariner. “Is
it safe to leave her alone?”

“Have no
fear,” said Cauch. “At the inn you and she are known to be under my
sponsorship.”

“Well, then,
to the eel-races.”

“You
understand that they are not yet in operation? The races do not start till
noon.”

“So much the
better.”

Zap 210 had
never been so angry. She half-walked half-ran to the inn, through the dim
common room to the cubicle where she had spent the night. She entered,
furiously shot the bolt and went to sit on the couch. For ten minutes she let
her thoughts rage without control. Then she began to cry, silently, tears of
frustration and disillusionment welling down her cheeks. She thought of the
Shelters: the quiet corridors with the black-robed figures drifting past. In
the Shelters no one would provoke her to anger or excitement or any of the
other strange emotions which from time to time colored her brain. They would
give her
diko
once more ... She frowned, trying to recall the flavor of
the crisp little wafers. On sudden impulse she rose to her feet, examined
herself in the mirror which hung on the side wall. The previous evening she had
looked at herself with no great interest; the face which looked back seemed
just a face: eyes, nose, mouth, chin. Now she studied herself earnestly. She
touched the black hair curling down her forehead, combed it with her fingers,
studied the effect. The face which looked back was that of a stranger. She
thought of the lithe girl who had regarded Reith with such insolence. She had
worn a garment of blue cloth which clung to the figure, different from the
shapeless gray smock which Zap 210 now wore. She pulled it off, stood in her
white undergown. She turned, studied herself from all angles. A stranger now
for certain. What if Reith could see her now: what would he think? ... The idea
of Reith made her furiously angry. He considered her a child, or something even
more ignoble: she had no word for the concept. She felt herself with her hands
and, staring in the mirror, marveled at the changes which had come over her ...
Her original scheme of returning to the Shelters dwindled. The
zuzhma
kastchai
would give her to the darkness. If by chance she were allowed to
keep her life, they would feed her
diko
again. Her lips twitched. No
more
diko
.

Well, then,
what of Adam Reith, who considered her so repulsive that-her mind refused to
complete the train of thought. What was to become of her? She studied herself
in the mirror and felt very sorry for the dark-haired girl with thin cheeks and
sad eyes who looked back at her. If she ran away from Adam Reith how could she
survive? ... She slipped into her gray smock, but decided against tying the
orange cloth around her head. Instead she tied it around her waist as a sash,
as she had noticed other girls of Urmank doing. She examined herself in the
mirror again and rather liked the effect. What would Adam Reith think?

She opened the
door, looked up and down the corridor and ventured forth. The common-room was
empty but for a squat old woman who scrubbed the stone floor with a brush and
looked up with a sneer. Zap 210 hastened her pace and went out into the street.
Here she hesitated. She had never been alone before, and the sensation was
frightening, if thrilling. Crossing to the quay, she watched porters unloading
a cog. Neither her vocabulary nor her stock of ideas contained the equivalent
of “quaint” or “picturesque”; nevertheless, she was charmed by the bluff-brown
craft moving gently to the heave of the water. She drew a deep breath. Freak or
not, repulsive or not, she had never felt so alive before. The
ghaun
was
a wild cruel place-here the
zuzhma kastchai
had not dissembled-but after
living in the golden-brown sunlight, how could anyone choose to return to the
Shelters?

She walked
along the quay to the cafe, where somewhat diffidently she looked for Reith.
What she would say to him she had not yet formulated; perhaps she would sweep
to her seat with only a haughty glance to let him know what she thought of his
opinions ... Reith was nowhere to be seen. A sudden terrible fear came over
her. Had he taken the opportunity to escape, to be rid of her? Impulses urged
upon her; she wanted to cry out: “Adam Reith! Adam Reith!” She could not
believe that the reassuring form, so taut and economical of motion, was nowhere
to be seen ... She turned to leave and stepped full into the advancing body of
a tall massive man, wearing pantaloons of dove brown leather, a loose white
shirt and a vest of maroon brocade. A small brimless cap clung to the side of
his bald head; he gave a soft grunt as she walked into him and held her away
with two hands on her shoulders. “Where do you go in such haste?”

“Nowhere,”
stammered Zap 210. “I was looking for someone.”

“You have
found me, which is not the worst of luck. Come along; I have not yet had my
morning wine. Then we will discuss our affairs.”

Zap 210 stood
paralyzed by indecision. She tentatively tried to shrink away from the man’s
grasp, which only tightened. Zap 210 winced. “Come,” said the man. She stumbled
with him to a nearby booth.

The man
signaled; a jug of white wine and a platter of fried fishcakes was set before
them. “Eat,” the man told her. “Drink. I stint no one, either in bounty or hard
knocks.” He poured her a liberal goblet of wine. “Now, before we proceed, what
are your fees? Certain of your number, knowing me for Otwile, have attempted
nothing less than larceny-to their dissatisfaction, I may say. So then: your
price?”

“Price for
what?” whispered Zap 210.

Otwile’s blue
eyes widened in surprise. “You are an odd one. What is your race? You are too
pale for a Thang, too slender for a Gray.”

Zap 210
lowered her eyes. She tasted the wine, then searched desperately over her
shoulder for Reith.

“Ah, but you
are shy!” declared Otwile. “And delicate of manner as well!”

He began to
eat. Zap 210 tried to slip away. “Sit!” snapped Otwile. She hastily returned to
her seat. “Drink!” She sipped at the wine, which was stronger than any she had
yet tasted.

“That is
better,” said Otwile. “Now we understand each other.”

“No,” said
Zap 210 in her soft voice. “We don’t! I don’t want to be here! What do you want
of me?”

Otwile again
stared at her in disbelief. “You don’t know?”

“Of course
not. Unless--you don’t mean
that?”

Otwile
grinned, “I mean precisely that, and more.”

“But-I don’t
know anything about such things! I don’t want to learn.”

Otwile put
down his fishcakes. He said incredulously, “A virgin, wearing a sash. Is that
how you represent yourself?”

“I don’t know
what such a thing is ... I must go, to find Adam Reith.”

“You have
found me, which is somewhat better. Drink wine, to relax yourself. Today is to
be that particular day you will remember to the end of your time.” Otwile
poured full the goblets. “Indeed, I will join you, to relax myself. Truth to
tell, I myself have become somewhat excited!”

Reith and
Cauch walked through the bazaar, where the fish and produce vendors called
attention to their merchandise by means of peculiar ululations.

“Are they
singing?” asked Reith.

“No,” said
Cauch, the cries were no more than devices to attract attention. “The Thang
have no great feeling for music. The selling-screams of the fish-wives are
inventive and emotional, true; listen and you will hear how they try to outdo
each other!”

Reith
conceded that certain of the advertisements were remarkably intricate. “In due
course the social anthropologists will record and codify these calls. But for
the moment I am more interested in the eel-races.”

“To be sure,”
said Cauch. ‘Though, as you will notice, they are not yet in operation.”

They crossed
the compound and stood appraising the vacant tables, the reservoir and the
chute. Looking across the wall, Reith noticed the fronds of a gnarled old
psilla. “I want to look on the other side of the wall,” he said.

“Just so,”
said Cauch, “and I have the fullest sympathy with your curiosity. But are we
not at the moment directing our energies to the eel-races?”

“We are,”
said Reith. “I see a portal through the wall, opposite that vendor of amulets.
Do you care to accompany me?”

“Certainly,”
said Cauch. “I am always alert to learn.”

They walked
along beside the old wall, which in the remote past had been faced with brown
and white tiles, most of which had fallen away, revealing patches of dark brown
brick. Passing through the portal, they entered Urmank Old Town: a district of
huts built of broken tile, brick, fragments of stone, and odd lengths of
timber. Some were abandoned ruins, others were in the process of construction:
a continuing cycle of decay and regeneration, in which every shard, every
stick, every fragment of stone had been used a hundred times over twice as many
generations. Low-caste Thangs and a squat, big-headed variety of Gray peered
forth from the doorways as Reith and Cauch went past; stench thickened the air.

Beyond the
huts lay an area of rubble, puddles of slime, a few clumps of angry red
bristle-bush. Reith located the psilla of which he had taken note: it stood close
beside the wall, overhanging a shed built of well-laid bricks. The door was
solid timber bound with iron, secured with a heavy iron lock. The shed backed
firmly up against the wall.