"And your business?"
"I prefer to explain that in person."
The stationmaster spoke into a telephone, waited, spoke again. He
looked at Glawen.
"They don't care about your preferences;
they want to know your business."
"I need information in regard to Ogmo Enterprises."
The stationmaster spoke into the telephone, then told Glawen.
"They don't know what you are talking about."
"Recently the six persons on that list visited Cadwal. I want to learn who supplied them the tickets. That is my only concern."
The stationmaster transmitted the information, listened, put down the telephone and slowly turned to Glawen.
"I am truly surprised."
"How so?"
"They have agreed to speak with you."
"Is that so amazing?"
"In a way. They deal with very few outsiders. Go up the road, knock on the door. When you are met, ask for the Ordene Zaa. Go gently, my friend! These are odd folk!"
"I will ask my questions as politely as possible. If they don't care to answer, I will leave. There is no other option open to me."
"That seems a reasonable program."
The stationmaster accompanied Glawen to the door. Together they watched a group of Zubenites hunching across the square.
Glawen asked: "How can you distinguish men from women?"
"That is a favorite question of the tourists! I always tell them: "Why bother to find out?"" "You haven't made friends with any of the local ladies?"
"Pshaw! That would be what is called an exercise in futility. They think no more of me than if I were a nanny goat." He pointed across the square.
"There is the start of the road up the hill."
Glawen crossed the square, bending his neck to a chilly wiad from the north. Where the road left the square, a sign read:
MONO MANTIC SEMINARY Warning! Keep out!
Glawen ignored the sign and started up the road. Back and forth he trudged: a hundred yards to the left, a hundred yards to the right, with each traverse broadening the vista across the steppes of Lutwfler Country.
The seminary loomed across the sky. The road made a final turn and swung back to pass before the front of the structure.
Glawen halted to catch his breath where three stone steps led up to a small porch and a heavy timber door. In the wan light of Zonk's Star, the panorama was that of a world notably different from his own, in perspective, in the flux of color and light and most of all in mood. At his feet the town was a clot of brownish-red, umber or dull ocher structures with black roofs huddled around the square.
Beyond were the cultivated lands, with windbreaks of frocks and sorcerer trees, and then the steppes, fading at last into the murk.
Glawen turned to the seminary. He squared his shoulders, settled his jacket and looked up the face of the building.
The tall narrow windows seemed blind and vacant, as if no one troubled to look out at the view. A most cheerless place in which to study, thought Glawen, with the single advantage: there would be no frivolities or entertainments to distract the students. He stepped forward, raised and let fall the brass door-knocker.
A moment passed. The door opened; a burly round-faced man, somewhat taller than Glawen, with round close-set eyes, looked forth. He wore a gown of gray-brown first and a cowl leaving only his face exposed. He gave Glawen a scowling inspection.
"Why do you think we post signs? Are you illiterate?"
"I am not illiterate, and I read your sign."
"So much the worse! We don't take kindly to intruders!"
Glawen controlled his voice.
"I am Captain Glawen Clattuc. I was told to knock at the door and inquire for the Ordene Zaa."
"Were you indeed? And what is your business?"
"I have already explained it over the telephone."
"Explain it again; I don't admit every popinjay who comes skulking around in search of treasure."
Glawen drew himself up.
"I am not acquainted with your methods. What is your name?"
"That is not germane, at the moment."
Glawen read names from the list.
"Are you one of these?"
"I am Mutis, if you must know."
"Then you were present at the Thurben Island excursion?"
"What of it?"
"Who provided you your tickets?"
Alutis held up his hand.
