effort which must now wrench Shant will beyond all question change our lives, in modes still unimaginable.
Etzwane looked once more to see who had formulated the piece. Mialambre Octagon of Wale . . . Finnerack demanded somewhat peevishly: "How long do you propose to stand reading in the street?"
Etzwane signaled a passing diligence. "To Sershan Palace." Finnerack presently spoke: "We are being followed."
Etzwane looked at him in surprise. "Are you sure?"
"When you stopped to buy the journal a man in a blue cape stepped off to the side. While you read he stood with his back turned. When we walked forward he did likewise. Now a diligence follows behind."
"Interesting," said Etzwane.
The diligence turned left from Kavalesko Avenue out upon the Parade of the Chama Reyans. A diligence coming at no great distance behind turned also.
"Interesting," said Etzwane once again.
For a space they rolled along the Parade, then swung up the Metempe, a marble avenue connecting central Garwiy with the three Ushkadel terraces. Similax trees stood against the sky to cast plum-colored gloom over the pale stone. Behind, inconspicuously, came the second diligence.
A road glanced off to the side, under tape trees and similax. Etzwane called up to the driver: "Turn here!"
The driver tapped the neck of the long-legged pacer; smartly the diligence swung to the left, under tape trees so full and supple that the foliage stroked the top of the diligence. "Stop," said Etzwane. He jumped out. "Drive forward slowly."
The diligence continued, the pacers walking. Etzwane ran back to the intersection.
Silence, except for the rustle of the tapes, then the jingle of an approaching diligence. The sound grew louder; the diligence reached the intersection, halted. A keen-featured face peered up the side road. . .. Etzwane stepped forward; the man turned him a startled look, then spoke a quick word to his driver. The diligence spun away up the Metempe.
Etzwane rejoined Finnerack, who turned him a crooked side-glance, expressing a variety of emotions: dislike, vindication, saturnine amusement, and together, in an unlikely combination, curiosity with indifference. Etzwane, at first inclined to keeping his own counsel, decided that if his plans were to have application Finnerack had best be informed as fully as possible. "The Chief Discriminator of Garwiy is disposed to intrigue. This is my supposition, at least. If I am killed he is the first to suspect."
Finnerack gave a noncommittal grunt. Etzwane looked back down the Metempe; no one seemed to be following.'
The diligence turned into the Middle Way as green-spark street lamps came to life. Far around the arc of the Ushkadel they drove, past the ranked palaces of the Aesthetes, and at last came to the portal of the Sershans. A bulb of massive glass flickered pale blue and violet. [12] Etzwane and Finnerack alighted; the diligence jingled off into the gloom.
Etzwane crossed the wide loggia, followed, at a casual stroll, by Finnerack. Etzwane stopped to listen; from within came that almost imperceptible stir which told of routine and unexcited occupation. Was that not the rasp of new fibers in a wood-horn? • Etzwane grimaced; he had no real bent for intrigue, coercion, large designs. What an improbable condition that he, Gastel Etzwane, should be master of Shant! Still, better he than Finnerack— or so came a message from the under part of his mind.
Etzwane put his misgivings aside. He took Finnerack to the entrance, where in response to his signal a footman drew aside the door.
Etzwane and Finnerack stepped into the reception hall, into a magic environment of opposing vitran panels, where nymphs disported in Arcadian landscapes. Aganthe came slowly forward. He looked drawn, even a trifle unkempt, as if events had eroded his morale; he saw Etzwane with a gleam of hope. Etzwane asked, "Have affairs gone well?"
"Not well!" declared Aganthe, with a ring in his voice. "The ancient Sershan Palace has
Etzwane looked once more to see who had formulated the piece. Mialambre Octagon of Wale . . . Finnerack demanded somewhat peevishly: "How long do you propose to stand reading in the street?"
Etzwane signaled a passing diligence. "To Sershan Palace." Finnerack presently spoke: "We are being followed."
Etzwane looked at him in surprise. "Are you sure?"
"When you stopped to buy the journal a man in a blue cape stepped off to the side. While you read he stood with his back turned. When we walked forward he did likewise. Now a diligence follows behind."
"Interesting," said Etzwane.
The diligence turned left from Kavalesko Avenue out upon the Parade of the Chama Reyans. A diligence coming at no great distance behind turned also.
"Interesting," said Etzwane once again.
For a space they rolled along the Parade, then swung up the Metempe, a marble avenue connecting central Garwiy with the three Ushkadel terraces. Similax trees stood against the sky to cast plum-colored gloom over the pale stone. Behind, inconspicuously, came the second diligence.
A road glanced off to the side, under tape trees and similax. Etzwane called up to the driver: "Turn here!"
The driver tapped the neck of the long-legged pacer; smartly the diligence swung to the left, under tape trees so full and supple that the foliage stroked the top of the diligence. "Stop," said Etzwane. He jumped out. "Drive forward slowly."
The diligence continued, the pacers walking. Etzwane ran back to the intersection.
Silence, except for the rustle of the tapes, then the jingle of an approaching diligence. The sound grew louder; the diligence reached the intersection, halted. A keen-featured face peered up the side road. . .. Etzwane stepped forward; the man turned him a startled look, then spoke a quick word to his driver. The diligence spun away up the Metempe.
Etzwane rejoined Finnerack, who turned him a crooked side-glance, expressing a variety of emotions: dislike, vindication, saturnine amusement, and together, in an unlikely combination, curiosity with indifference. Etzwane, at first inclined to keeping his own counsel, decided that if his plans were to have application Finnerack had best be informed as fully as possible. "The Chief Discriminator of Garwiy is disposed to intrigue. This is my supposition, at least. If I am killed he is the first to suspect."
Finnerack gave a noncommittal grunt. Etzwane looked back down the Metempe; no one seemed to be following.'
The diligence turned into the Middle Way as green-spark street lamps came to life. Far around the arc of the Ushkadel they drove, past the ranked palaces of the Aesthetes, and at last came to the portal of the Sershans. A bulb of massive glass flickered pale blue and violet. [12] Etzwane and Finnerack alighted; the diligence jingled off into the gloom.
Etzwane crossed the wide loggia, followed, at a casual stroll, by Finnerack. Etzwane stopped to listen; from within came that almost imperceptible stir which told of routine and unexcited occupation. Was that not the rasp of new fibers in a wood-horn? • Etzwane grimaced; he had no real bent for intrigue, coercion, large designs. What an improbable condition that he, Gastel Etzwane, should be master of Shant! Still, better he than Finnerack— or so came a message from the under part of his mind.
Etzwane put his misgivings aside. He took Finnerack to the entrance, where in response to his signal a footman drew aside the door.
Etzwane and Finnerack stepped into the reception hall, into a magic environment of opposing vitran panels, where nymphs disported in Arcadian landscapes. Aganthe came slowly forward. He looked drawn, even a trifle unkempt, as if events had eroded his morale; he saw Etzwane with a gleam of hope. Etzwane asked, "Have affairs gone well?"
"Not well!" declared Aganthe, with a ring in his voice. "The ancient Sershan Palace has
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