The Faraz approached the atoll: once the crater and surrounding rim of a volcano, now a circlet of a dozen sickle-shaped islands around a shallow lagoon.

The seaward aspect of Yipton focused into detail. The structures, of two, three, four and five spindly stories, standing on frail-seeming poles, leaned against each other for support, with porches and balconies cantilevered out in unlikely directions. Colors were muted: black, rust, the gray-green of old bamboo, a hundred tones of brown. On the breeze came a new waft of the Big Chife, causing another stir among the passengers.

The ferry slowed, settled lunging and surging into the water, veered

behind a breakwater of lashed bamboo poles, drifted across the harbor and up 10 the dock. The Big Chife, no longer thinned by the breeze, attained full force.

On a choice area at the back of the dock, the Arkady Inn rose five rambling irregular stories to overlook harbor, breakwater and the sea beyond. The ground floor opened upon a terrace with tables shaded under pink and pale green parasols. Patrons of the hotel sat at their lunch while watching the activities of the harbor, apparently oblivious to the Chife, as indeed they were, and the incoming tourists felt somewhat more hopeful. The folk on the terrace seemed jovial and quite relaxed. Unless appearances deceived, the admonitions of the blue pamphlet could not be enforced so severely as to cause terror and apprehension. Or perhaps, as a gaunt gentleman in a Byronish pillow hat nervously suggested, these happy patrons were those who had paid, and paid, and paid, and as a consequence felt no fear.

Boats plied the harbor, moving in and out of canals; putting out to sea, or returning; or simply floating while the crew cleaned fish, shelled molluscs or repaired their gear. Along the shore bamboo grew like jets of greenery, sixty feet tall, while coconut palms, rooted in minute plots of soil, leaned out over the canals. In boxes on the balconies grew potherbs and greens; jardinieres trailed blue fronds and rose-pink tock berries

The passengers from the Faraz filed across a gangplank of squeaking bamboo poles to the dock, through a gate and past a wicket manned by a pair of Oomps." One Oomp stood watching faces with grave attention; the other collected a landing fee of three sols from each arrival. With bland expressions they both ignored the grumbling and complaints.

The Bold Lions paid over their fees with disdainful flourishes, in a manner of noblesse oblige, which Glawen preferred not to emulate. Then all walked up the flight of broad stairs to the hotel.

At the registration desk Aries stepped forward: "We are the Bold Lions! There will be eight rooms reserved for us."

' Oomps (contraction of Oomphaw's Police Sergeantry):

members of an elite militia, responsible only to the Oomphaw. They were men of extraordinary physique, with heads shaved bald, ears cropped to points and lips tattooed black.

They wore crisp tan tunics, while knee-length kirtles, and ankle boots of a tough black metalloid substance exuded by a sea snail. A band of this same glossy black substance encircled their foreheads; to this band were attached spikes symbolic of rank. Most intriguing of all was the emblem, or ideogram, embroidered on the back of each tunic, in black and red; a symbol of unknown meaning.

"Just so, sir. A fine block of rooms on the fourth floor.

How long will you be staying?"

"So far, this is indefinite. We will see how it goes."

Glawen came forward: "I am with the group, though without reservation, and will need a room."

"Of course, sir. You may have a nice chamber in the same block as the others, if you like."

"That will serve very well."

Upon climbing to the fourth floor, Glawen found his room at the end of the corridor: a pleasant cubicle with a small canal directly below, and, beyond, a wilderness of roofs.

Mats covered the floor; the walls were formed of split bamboo, in several layers; from the ceiling hung a globular lume in a basket of black withe. Furnishings consisted of a bed cushion, now rolled against the wall, a table, a chair and a wardrobe. The bathroom and latrine were across the corridor, with an old woman in attendance to collect fees as specified on the schedule.

Glawen read the placard affixed to the wall which listed services and entertainments available to the tourist, with the associated charges. The day was warm and humid; Glawen changed into light clothing and went down to the lobby. This was an expansive area with walls and ceiling of the ubiquitous bamboo, varnished honey brown. Along the back wall hung dozens of grotesque masks, carved from blocks of black johowood--irresistible souvenirs for the tourist. On the floor lay dramatic rugs woven in startling colors and odd patterns, which added an attractive vivacity to the atmosphere of the room. A line of doorways opened on the terrace, where hotel guests loitered over their lunch.

Glawen seated himself on a wicker couch to the side of the lobby, despite himself fascinated by the ambience of Arkady Inn. Groups of tourists sat about the lobby, regaling newly arrived contingents with descriptions of their remarkable experiences along the byways and canals of Yipton. A dozen barefoot bar boys wearing only white kirtles moved quietly back and forth serving rum punch, ling-lang toddy, smiler juice (mixed from secret ingredients) and green elixir ("salubrious, clarifying of the mental way locks conducive to merry diversities").

A group of Bold Lions descended the stairs: Aries, Cloyd, Dauncy and Kiper. Aries took note of Glawen from the corner of his eye, but ostentatiously turned away and led the group to a table across the room.

Glawen brought out the chart supplied in the information pamphlet.

The area of Bodwyn Wook's interest, north and east of the hotel, was labeled: "Industrial and Warehousing: non tourist area."

Glawen sat back wondering how best to deal with Kirdy, who almost certainly had misrepresented the degree of authority extended him by Bodwyn Wook.

Glawen considered what he felt to be his range of options and in the end decided that the least attractive of these, simple submission to Kirdy's dictates, was by all odds the most practical. He must swallow dignity, exasperation and half a dozen other emotions and adapt himself to his new role as Kirdy's assistant.

Even as Glawen swallowed this bitter pill, Kirdy came down the stairs. He looked around the lobby, then came to sit beside Glawen.

"Aren't you going on the tour?"

Glawen looked at him blankly.

"What tour?"

"It's what the Yips call their Orientation Tour. The charge is four sols, which pays for a guide and canal transportation. We'll be back for supper; then it's off and away to Pussycat Palace."

"I haven't been invited on the tour," said Glawen.

"As for Pussycat Palace, I'll pass that up as well."

Kirdy stared at Glawen in wonder.

"How so?"

Glawen sighed; Kirdy already was about to become tiresome.

"It's no great matter. The girls are apathetic, which makes me feel foolish. Also, I'd be wondering who had just preceded me on the premises."

"That's sheer tommyrot!" scoffed Kirdy.

"I'm an old hand at it and I never feel foolish. It's a treat for them;

otherwise they'd be out tending sea lettuce. They'll give you all kinds of action if you just hint that you're displeased; in fact, sometimes they'll do it all over again, rather than be reported, which means a whipping for them."

"This is valuable information and I'll keep it in mind," said Glawen.

"It's clear that you know how to handle women.

But for me the process still lacks appeal."

Kirdy's face became set.

"People in our line of work can't afford such qualms and quirks; you're too finicky by far. I want you to mingle with the Bold Lions in all situations;

otherwise you call attention to yourself and arouse suspicion, which we don't need."

Glawen scowled across the lobby. Uther and Shugart had just come downstairs to join the others. Aries stood poised with one foot raised to a low table; his black cloak hung to striking effect. He noticed Glawen's attention and turned away. Glawen said: "Certain of the group clearly prefer not to associate with me."

Kirdy chuckled.

"A pity that your feelings are so vulnerable. Don't go grieving to Bodwyn Wook; he'll only laugh at you."