Through the scanscope, Reith studied the landscape and the mountainside sloping down to the spacefield from the east. Interesting, mused Reith, interesting indeed.

The captain, coming past, identified the port as Ao Hidis, one of the important Wankh centers. "I had no intent of faring south so far, but since we're here, I'll try to sell my leathers and the Grenie woods; then I'll take on Wankh chemicals for Cath. A word of warning for those of you who intend to roister ashore. There are two towns here: Ao Hidis proper, which is Man-town, and an unpronounceable sound which is Wankh-town. In Man-town are several kinds of people, including Lokhars, but mainly Blacks and Purples. They do not mingle; they recognize their own kind only. In the streets you may walk without fear, you may buy at any shop or booth with an open front. Do not enter any closed shop or tavern, either Black or Purple; you'll likely not come out.

There are no public brothels. If you buy from a Black booth, do not stop at a Purple booth with your goods; you will be resented and perhaps insulted, or, in certain cases, attacked. The opposite holds true. As for Wankh-town, there is nothing to do except stare at the Wankh, to which you are welcome, for they do not seem to object. All considered, a dull port, with little amusement ashore."

The Vargaz eased alongside a wharf flying a small purple pennon. "I patronized Purple on my last visit," the captain told Reith who had come up to the quarterdeck. "They gave good service at a fair price; I see no reason to change."

The Vargaz was moored by Purple longshoremen: roundfaced, roundheaded men with a plum-colored cast to their complexion. From the neighboring Black dock Blacks looked on with aloof hostility. These were physiognomically similar to the Purples, but with gray skins oddly mottled with black.

"No one knows the cause," the Captain said, in regard to the color disparity.

"The same mother may produce one Purple child and one Black. Some blame diet; others drugs; others hold that disease attacks a color-gland in the mother's egg. But Black and Purple they are born; and each calls the other pariah. When Black and Purple breed, the union is sterile, or so it is said. The notion horrifies each race; they would as soon couple with nighthounds."

"What of the Dirdirman?" asked Reith. "Is he likely to be molested?"

"Bah. The Wankh take no notice of such trivia. The Blue Chasch are known for sadistic malice. Dirdir stringencies are unpredictable. But in my experience the Wankh are the most indifferent and remote people of Tschai, and seldom trouble with men. Perhaps they do their evil in secret like Pnume; no one knows. The Wankhmen are a different sort, cold as ghouls, and it is not wise to cross them.

Well then, we are docked. Are you going ashore? Remember my warnings; Ao Hidis is a harsh city. Ignore both Black and Purple; talk to no one; interfere with nothing. Last visit I lost a seaman who bought a shawl at a Black shop, then drank wine at a Purple booth. He staggered aboard the ship with foam coming from his nose."

Anacho chose to remain aboard the Vargaz. Reith went ashore with Traz. Crossing the dock they found themselves on a wide street paved with slabs of mica-schist.

To either side were houses built crudely of stone and timber, surrounded by rubbish. A few motor vehicles of a type Reith had not previously seen moved along the street; Reith assumed them to be of Wankh manufacture.

Around the shore to the north rose the Wankh towers. In this direction also lay the spaceport.

There seemed to be no public conveyances; Reith and Traz set off on foot. The huts gave way to somewhat more pretentious dwellings, and then they came to a square surrounded on all sides by shops and booths. Half of the folk were Black, half Purple; neither took notice of the other. Blacks patronized Blacks; Purple shops and booths served Purples. Blacks and Purples jostled each other, without acknowledgment or apology. Detestation hung in the air like a reek.

Reith and Traz crossed the square, continued north along a road paved with concrete, and presently came to a fence of tall glass rods surrounding the spacefield. Reith halted, surveyed the lie of the land.

"I am not naturally a thief," he told Traz. "But notice the little spaceboat! I would gladly confiscate that from its present owner."

"It is a Wankh boat," Traz pointed out pessimistically. "You would not know how to control it."

Reith nodded. "True. But if I had time-a week or so-I could learn. Spacecraft are necessarily similar."

"Think of the practicalities!" Traz admonished him.

Reith concealed a grin. Traz occasionally reverted to the stern personality of Onmale, the near-vital emblem which Traz had worn at the time of their first meeting. Traz shook his head dubiously. "Are valuable vehicles left unattended, ready to fly off into the sky? Unlikely!"

"No one seems to be aboard the small ship," argued Reith. "Even the freighters seem to be empty. Why should there be vigilance? Who would wish to steal them, except a person like myself?"

"Well then, what if you managed to enter the ship?" Traz demanded. "Before you could understand how to operate the machinery, you would be found and killed."

"No question but that the project is risky," agreed Reith.

They returned to the port, and the Vargaz, when once more they were aboard, seemed a haven of normalcy.

Cargo was discharged and loaded all during the night. In the morning with all passengers and crew members aboard, the Vargaz threw off moorings, hoisted sail and glided back out into the Draschade Ocean.

The Vargaz sailed north under the bleak Kachan coast. On the first day a dozen Wankh keeps appeared ahead, passed abeam and were left in the haze astern. On the second day the Vargaz passed in front of three great fjords. From the last of these a motor galley plunged forth, wake churning up astern. The captain immediately sent two men to man the blast-cannon. The galley cut through the swells to pass behind the cog; the captain instantly put about and brought the cannon to bear once more. The galley swung away and off to sea, with the jeers and hoots from the men aboard coming faintly across the water.

A week later Dragan, first of the Isles of Cloud, appeared on the port beam. On the following day the cog put into Wyness; here Palo Barba, his spouse, and his orange-haired daughters disembarked. Traz looked wistfully after them. Edwe turned and waved; then the family was lost to sight among the yellow silks and white linen cloaks of the dockside crowd.

Two days the cog lay at Wyness, unloading cargo, taking on stores and fitting new sails; then the lines were thrown off and the cog put to sea.

With a brisk wind from the west the Vargaz drove through the chop of the Parapan. A day passed and a night and another day, and the atmosphere aboard the Vargaz became suspenseful, with all hands looking east, trying to locate the loom of Charchan. Evening came; the sun sank into a sad welter of brown and gray and murky orange. The evening meal was a platter of dried fruit and pickled fish, which no one ate, preferring to stand by the rail. The night drew on; the wind lessened; one by one the passengers retired to their cabins. Reith remained on deck, musing upon the circumstances of his life. Time passed. From the quarterdeck came a grumble of orders; the main yard creaked down the mast and the Vargaz lost way. Reith went back to the rail. Through the dark glimmered a shine of far lights: the coast of Cath.