She, at least, seemed to be adaptable. She had overcome her fear of darkness enough to follow him about in the forest.
But she was not watching the night creatures. She was watching him. He started the nabrulk with a flick of the reins.
* * * *
Darzek and his family had entered Northpor at dawn, along with the stream of carts and wagons headed for the mart. He planned to go directly to the Kammian version of an inn. Both Sajjo and the widow, Wesru, knew where several inns were located, though of course they had no personal experience of them. Once he’d found accommodations, Darzek intended to systematically search for the Synthesis headquarters, shouting his way through the lanes of Northpor. And he would take Sajjo along, to keep him from getting lost or wandering in circles.
But he found the Synthesis headquarters himself, without shouting, on his way into the city. He found it by recognizing the house opposite, which he had scrutinized more carefully than he realized while looking out of the window at the traffic on the morning of his arrival. In his earlier, frantic search, it had not occurred to him to look for the house across the lane.
Once he had found it, he had no difficulty in identifying the headquarters house. He turned and marched up to the front door, with Sajjo and Wesru following him wonderingly. During a lull in the traffic noises, he knocked vigorously and shouted, “Anyone home?”
There was no response. He tried the door; it was locked. He knew that he had left it unlocked.
He handed the baby to Wesru. Wait here, he said.
He moved around to the back of the house, tiptoeing through the flowers and noticing as he did so that they were beginning to look scraggly. Weeds were springing up among them.
The rear door also was locked. Darzek quickly picked the lock and entered the house, shouting again, “Anyone home?”
The remains of his breakfast lay on the bench where he had trimmed the hard crust from the bread he ate. The remainder of the loaf was still there, now covered with mold. He passed quickly through the house, from the upstairs rooms to the concealed trap doors in the basement and the transmitter frame below.
He’d found the right house, but there was no sign that anyone had been here since he left. Dust lay thickly everywhere.
He went to the front door, tripped the ponderous lock, and opened it. Come in, he told Wesru and Sajjo. Welcome home.
While they waited, their wonderment had changed to uneasiness. Now their uneasiness was transformed to astonishment. The immediate problem was food, and Darzek dispatched Wesru and Sajjo to the nearest neighborhood forum to buy as much as they could carry. While they were gone, Darzek functioned as baby-sitter and tried to convince himself that he’d made progress since he last sat in this kitchen. “But in what direction?” he demanded, and he had no answer.
By the time they had finished a hasty breakfast, all of them were reeling with weariness. Darzek got the others comfortably ensconced in an upstairs bedroom, hoping that the luxury of the place wouldn’t keep them awake.
He had no time for sleep himself. There was something very peculiar about the agent situation on Kamm, and the more he thought about it, the more uneasy it made him.
* * * *
He went directly to the subbasement, closing the trap doors after him. His first stop was the moon base. There was no one there. Neither could he find any certain indication that anyone had been there recently. The floor of the supply room was jammed with cartons brought in by the automatic conveyor. Several cartons had been opened, seemingly at random, but Darzek could not say whether this had been done since his own arrival on Kamm.
He spent some minutes contemplating the complexities of the communications center. Any kind of an SOS message about missing agents would eventually reach Supreme, so probably it was just as well that he didn’t know how to send one.
He returned to the base
But she was not watching the night creatures. She was watching him. He started the nabrulk with a flick of the reins.
* * * *
Darzek and his family had entered Northpor at dawn, along with the stream of carts and wagons headed for the mart. He planned to go directly to the Kammian version of an inn. Both Sajjo and the widow, Wesru, knew where several inns were located, though of course they had no personal experience of them. Once he’d found accommodations, Darzek intended to systematically search for the Synthesis headquarters, shouting his way through the lanes of Northpor. And he would take Sajjo along, to keep him from getting lost or wandering in circles.
But he found the Synthesis headquarters himself, without shouting, on his way into the city. He found it by recognizing the house opposite, which he had scrutinized more carefully than he realized while looking out of the window at the traffic on the morning of his arrival. In his earlier, frantic search, it had not occurred to him to look for the house across the lane.
Once he had found it, he had no difficulty in identifying the headquarters house. He turned and marched up to the front door, with Sajjo and Wesru following him wonderingly. During a lull in the traffic noises, he knocked vigorously and shouted, “Anyone home?”
There was no response. He tried the door; it was locked. He knew that he had left it unlocked.
He handed the baby to Wesru. Wait here, he said.
He moved around to the back of the house, tiptoeing through the flowers and noticing as he did so that they were beginning to look scraggly. Weeds were springing up among them.
The rear door also was locked. Darzek quickly picked the lock and entered the house, shouting again, “Anyone home?”
The remains of his breakfast lay on the bench where he had trimmed the hard crust from the bread he ate. The remainder of the loaf was still there, now covered with mold. He passed quickly through the house, from the upstairs rooms to the concealed trap doors in the basement and the transmitter frame below.
He’d found the right house, but there was no sign that anyone had been here since he left. Dust lay thickly everywhere.
He went to the front door, tripped the ponderous lock, and opened it. Come in, he told Wesru and Sajjo. Welcome home.
While they waited, their wonderment had changed to uneasiness. Now their uneasiness was transformed to astonishment. The immediate problem was food, and Darzek dispatched Wesru and Sajjo to the nearest neighborhood forum to buy as much as they could carry. While they were gone, Darzek functioned as baby-sitter and tried to convince himself that he’d made progress since he last sat in this kitchen. “But in what direction?” he demanded, and he had no answer.
By the time they had finished a hasty breakfast, all of them were reeling with weariness. Darzek got the others comfortably ensconced in an upstairs bedroom, hoping that the luxury of the place wouldn’t keep them awake.
He had no time for sleep himself. There was something very peculiar about the agent situation on Kamm, and the more he thought about it, the more uneasy it made him.
* * * *
He went directly to the subbasement, closing the trap doors after him. His first stop was the moon base. There was no one there. Neither could he find any certain indication that anyone had been there recently. The floor of the supply room was jammed with cartons brought in by the automatic conveyor. Several cartons had been opened, seemingly at random, but Darzek could not say whether this had been done since his own arrival on Kamm.
He spent some minutes contemplating the complexities of the communications center. Any kind of an SOS message about missing agents would eventually reach Supreme, so probably it was just as well that he didn’t know how to send one.
He returned to the base
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