The thin, dark, solitary boy who had taken to himself the name of Gastel Etzwane [1] had become a hollow-cheeked young man with an intense and luminous gaze. When Etzwane played music the corners of his mouth rose to bring a poetic melancholy to his otherwise saturnine features; otherwise his demeanor was quiet and controlled beyond the ordinary. Etzwane had no intimates save perhaps old Frolitz the musician, who thought him mad…

On the day following his visit to the Jurisdictionary he received a message from Aun Sharah. 'The investigation has yielded immediate information, in which I am sure you will be interested. Please call at your convenience."

Etzwane went at once to the Jurisdictionary.

Aun Sharah took him to a chamber high in one of the sixth-level cupolas. Four-foot-thick sky lenses of water-green glass softened the lavender sunlight and intensified the colors of the Canton Glirris rug. The room contained a single table twenty feet in diameter, supporting a massive contour map. Approaching, Etzwane saw a surprisingly detailed representation of Caraz. Mountains were carved from pale Canton Faible amber, with inlaid quartz to indicate the presence of snow and ice. Silver threads and ribbons indicated the rivers; the plains were gray-purple slate; cloth in various textures and colors represented forests and swamps. Shant and Palasedra appeared as incidental islands off the eastern flank.

Aun Sharah walked slowly along the northern edge of the table. "Last night," he said, "a local Discriminator [2] brought in a seaman from the Gyrmont docks. He told a strange tale indeed, which he had heard from a bargeman at Erbol, here at the mouth of the Keba River. " Aun Sharah put his finger down on the map. The bargeman had floated a load of sulfur down from this area up here "-Aun Sharah touched a spot two thousand miles inland- "which is known as Burnoun. About here is a settlement, Shillinsk; it is not shown… At Shillinsk the bargeman spoke to nomad traders from the west, beyond these mountains, the Kuzi Kaza…"

Etzwane returned to Fontenay's Inn in a diligence, to meet Ifness on his way out the door. Ifness gave him a distant nod and would have gone his way had not Etzwane stepped in front of him. "A single moment of your time."

Ifness paused, frowning. "What do you require?"

"You mentioned a certain Dasconetta. He would be a person of authority?"

Ifness looked at Etzwane sidelong. "He occupies a responsible post, yes."

"How can I get in touch with Dasconetta?"

Ifness reflected. "In theory, several methods exist. Practically, you would be forced to work through me."

"Very well; be so good as to put me into contact with Dasconetta."

Ifness gave a wintry chuckle. "Matters are not all that simple. I suggest that you prepare a brief exposition of your business. You will submit this to me. In due course I will be in contact with Dasconetta, at which time I may be able to transmit your message, assuming, naturally, that I find it neither tendentious nor trivial."

"All very well," said Etzwane, "but the matter is urgent. He will be sure to complain at any delay."

Ifness spoke in a measured voice. "I doubt if you are capable of predicting Dasconetta's reactions. The man makes a fad of unpredictability."

"Nevertheless, I believe that he will give serious regard to my business," said Etzwane, "especially if he is concerned for his prestige. Is there no way to communicate with him directly?"

Ifness made a gesture of weary resignation. "Well then, briefly, what is your proposal? If the matter is important, I can at least advise you."

"I realize this," said Etzwane. "But you are preoccupied with research; you stated that you could not cooperate with me, that you lacked authority, and you implied that all must be referred to Dasconetta. Hence, the rational course is to discuss my business with Dasconetta at once."

"You have misinterpreted my remarks," said Ifness, his voice rising a trifle. "I stated that I had no place for you in my entourage, that I could not escort you on a tour of the Earth worlds. I did not indicate that my authority was insufficient or that I deferred to Dascon-etta in any respect, save that imposed by an administrative technicality. I must listen to your business, since this is my function. So then, what is the matter which has so excited you?"

Etzwane spoke tonelessly. "A report out of Caraz has come to my attention. It may be no more than a rumor, but I feel that it must be investigated. To this end I need a swift vehicle, which I am sure Dasconetta can supply."

"Aha! Well, well, indeed. And what is the nature of this rumor?"

Etzwane went on in a flat voice. "Roguskhoi have appeared in Caraz: a considerable horde."

Ifness gave a curt nod. "Go on."

The horde fought an army of men, who reputedly used energy weapons. The Roguskhoi were apparently defeated, but here the rumor is uncertain."

"What is the source of this information?"

"A mariner who heard the tale from a Caraz bargeman."

"Where did the occurrence take place?"

"Is not this irrelevant?" asked Etzwane. "I am requesting only a suitable vehicle in which to investigate the business."

Ifness spoke gently, as if to an irrational child. "The situation is more complex than you suppose. If you communicated this request to Dasconetta, or anyone else of the Coordination, they would merely refer the matter back to me, with a sharp comment as to my competence. Further, you know the proscriptions which control Fellows of the Institute: we never interfere with the flow of local events. I have violated this precept, of course, but so far I have been able to justify my acts. If I allowed you to place this remarkable request before Dasconetta, they would think me not only irresponsible but foolish. There is no help for it. I agree that the rumor is significant, and whatever my personal inclinations I may not ignore it. Let us return into the tavern; I now require from you all factual information."

For an hour the discussion continued, Etzwane politely persistent, Ifness formal, rational, and impervious as a block of glass. Under no circumstances would he attempt to procure for Etzwane a vehicle of the type he had in mind.

In that case," said Etzwane, "I will proceed with less efficient transportation."

The statement surprised Ifness. "You seriously intend to venture into Caraz? Such a journey might occupy two or three years-assuming day-to-day survival."

"I have taken all this into account," said Etzwane. "Naturally I will not trudge afoot through Caraz. I intend to fly."

"By balloon? By glider? " Ifness raised his eyebrows. "Across the wilds of Caraz?"

"Long ago the folk of Shant built a combination craft, the so-called 'Farway.' The fuselage and wing roots were gas-inflated; the wings were long and flexible. Such a craft is heavy enough to glide, but light enough to stay aloft on a breath."

Ifness toyed with a silver trinket. "And once you touch ground?"

"I am vulnerable, but not helpless. A man, single-handed, can kite himself up in an ordinary glider; still, he must wait for wind. The Farway rises against an easy breeze. The voyage will be a risk, I agree."

"A risk? Suicide."

Etzwane nodded somberly. "I would prefer the use of a power vehicle such as Dasconetta might supply."

Ifness gave the silver trinket a petulant jerk. "Return here tomorrow. I will arrange for air transportation. You will be under my orders."

For the folk of Shant the affairs of the next canton were of small concern; Caraz was as far as the Schiafarilla [3] and not nearly so visible. Etzwane, a musician, had traveled every region of Shant and was somewhat wider in his viewpoints; nevertheless Caraz was to him no more than a far region of windy wastes, mountains, and chasms of incomprehensible scale. The rivers of Caraz straddled vast plains, brimming too wide to be seen from bank to bank. Durdane, nine thousand years before, had been settled by fugitives, recalcitrants, and dissidents; the wildest and most irredeemable had fled to Caraz to lose themselves forever, wandering from one hazy distance into the next. Their descendants still roamed the solitudes.