"As you wish," said Helsse graciously. "I will send the chauffeur for the man."

He spoke into the mesh.

Anacho murmured, "If the arrangements were already made, the qualms of a trusting person might easily be drugged."

Helsse nodded judiciously. "I believe I can assuage your anxieties."

A moment later the old man sauntered up to the carriage.

"Inside, if you please," said Helsse.

The old man poked his white-maned face through the door. "My time is valuable; what do you want of me?"

"A matter for your profit."

"Profit, eh? I can at least listen." He entered the carriage, and seated himself with a comfortable grunt. The air took on the odor of a spicy, slightly rancid pomade. Helsse stood in front of him. With a side glance toward Reith he said,

"Our arrangement is canceled. Do not heed my instructions."

" 'Arrangement'? 'Instructions'? What are you talking about? You must mistake me for another. I am Zarfo Detwiler."

Helsse made an easy gesture. "It's all one. We want you to translate a Wankh document for us, the guide to a treasure hoard. Translate correctly, you shall share the booty."

"No, no, none of that." Zarfo Detwiler waved a black finger. "I'll share the booty with pleasure; additionally I want a hundred sequins, and no recriminations if I fail to satisfy you."

"No recriminations, agreed. But a hundred sequins for possibly nothing?

Ridiculous. Here: five sequins and eat your fill of the expensive sweetmeats."

"That last I'll do anyway; am I not your invited guest?" Zarfo Detwiler popped a handful of dainties into his mouth. "You must think me a moon-calf to offer but five sequins. Only three persons in Settra can so much as tell you which side of a Wankh ideogram is up. I alone can read meaning, by virtue of thirty toilsome years in the Ao Hidis machine shops."

The haggling proceeded; Zarfo Detwiler eventually agreed to fifty sequins and a tenth share of the assumptive spoils. Helsse signaled Reith, who produced the documents.

Zarfo Detwiler took the papers, squinted, frowned, ran his fingers through his white mane. He looked up and spoke somewhat ponderously: "I will instruct you in Wankh communication at no charge. The Wankh are a peculiar folk, totally unique.

Their brain works in pulses. They see in pulses and think in pulses. Their speech comes in a pulse, a chime of many vibrations which carries all the meaning of a sentence. Each ideogram is equivalent to a chime, which is to say, a whole unit of meaning. For this reason, to read Wankh is as much a matter of divination as logic; one must enunciate an entire meaning with each ideogram.

Even the Wankhmen are not always accurate. Now this matter you have here-let me see. This first chimehm. Notice this comb? It usually signifies an equivalence, an identity. A square of this texture shading off to the right sometimes means

'truth' or 'verified perception' or 'situation' or perhaps 'present condition of the cosmos.' These marks-I don't know. This bit of shading-I think it's a person talking. Since it's at the bottom, the base tone in the chord, it would seem that-yes, this trifle here indicates positive volition. These marks--hm. Yes, these are organizers, which specify the order and emphasis of the other elements. I can't understand them; I can only guess at the total sense.

Something like 'I wish to report that conditions are identical or unchanged' or

'A person is anxious to specify that the cosmos is stable.' Something of the sort. Are you sure that this is information regarding treasure?"

"It was sold to us on this basis."

"Hm." Zarfo pulled at his long black nose. "Let me see. This second symbol: notice this shading and this bit of an angle? One is 'vision'; the other is

'negation.' I can't read the organizers, but it might mean 'blindness' or

'invisibility...' "

Zarfo continued his lucubrations, poring over each ideogram, occasionally tracing out a fragment of meaning, more often confessing failure, and becoming ever more restive. "You have been gulled," he said at last. "I'm certain there is no mention of money or treasure. I believe this is no more than a commercial report. It seems to say, as close as I can fathom: 'I wish to state that conditions are the same.' Something about peculiar wishes, or hopes, or volitions. 'I will presently see the dominant man, the leader of our group.'

Something unknown. 'The leader is not helpful,' or perhaps 'stays aloof.' 'The leader slowly changes, or metamorphoses, to the enemy.' Or perhaps, 'The leader slowly changes to become like the enemy.' Change of some sort-I can't understand. 'I request more money.' Something about arrival of a newcomer or stranger 'of utmost importance.' That's about all."

Reith thought to sense an almost imperceptible relaxation in Helsse's manner.

"No great illumination," said Helsse briskly. "Well, you have done your best.

Here is your twenty sequins."

"'Twenty sequins'!" roared Zarfo Detwiler. "The price agreed was fifty! How can I buy my bit of meadowland if I am constantly cheated?"

"Oh very well, if you choose to be niggardly."

"Niggardly, indeed! Next time read the message yourself."

"I could do as well, for all the help you've given us."

"You were duped. That is no guide to treasure."

"Apparently not. Well then, good day to you."

Reith followed Zarfo from the carriage. He looked back in at Helsse. "I'll remain here, for a word or two with this gentleman."

Helsse was not pleased. "We must discuss another matter. It is necessary that the Blue Jade Lord receives information."

"This afternoon I will have a definite answer for you."

Helsse gave a curt nod. "As you wish."

The carriage departed, leaving Reith and the Lokhar standing in the street.

Reith said, "Is there a tavern nearby? Perhaps we can chat over a bottle."

"I am a Lokhar," snorted the black-skinned old man. "I do not addle my brains and drain my pockets with drink; not before noon, at any rate. However you may buy me a fine Zam sausage, or a clut of headcheese."

"With pleasure."

Zarfo led the way to a food shop; the two men took their purchases to a table on the street.

"I am amazed by your ability to read the ideograms," said Reith. "Where did you learn?"

"At Ao Hidis. I worked as a die cutter beside an old Lokhar who was a true genius. He taught me to recognize a few chimes, and showed me where the shadings matched intensity vibrations, where sonority equated with shape, where the various chord components matched texture and gradation. Both the chimes and the ideograms are regular and rational, once the eye and the ear are tuned. But the tuning is difficult." Zarfo took a great bite of sausage. "Needless to say, the Wankhmen discourage such learning; if they suspect a Lokhar of diligent study, he is discharged. Oh, they are a crafty lot! They jealously guard their role as intercessors between the Wankh and the world of men. A devious folk! The women are strangely beautiful, like black pearls, but cruel and cold, and not prone to dalliance."

"The Wankh pay well?"

"Like everyone else, as little as possible. But we are forced to concede. If labor costs rose, they would take slaves, or train Blacks and Purples, one or the other. We would then lose employment and perhaps our freedom as well. So we strive without too much complaint, and seek more profitable employment elsewhere once we are skilled."

"It is highly likely," said Reith, "that the Yao Helsse, in the gray and green suit, will ask what we discussed. He may even offer you money."

Zarfo bit off a chunk of sausage. "I shall naturally tell all, if I am paid enough."

"In that case," said Reith, "our conversation must deal in pleasantries, profitless to both of us."

Zarfo chewed thoughtfully. "How much profit had you in mind?"