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Helsse shrugged. "A special mode of singing. It is not altogether without
value. If everyone belabored themselves thusly, there would be far less
awaile.'
Reith listened. "Judge me harshly, all," moaned the singer. "I have performed
a terrible crime; it is because of my despair."
"Offhand," said Reith, "it seems absurd to discuss my best advantage over
Lord Cizante with Cizante's aide."
"Ah, but your best advantage is not necessarily Lord Cizante's disadvantage,"
said Helsse. "With Dordolio the case is different."
"Lord Cizante showed me no great courtesy," mused Reith. "I am not anxious to
do him a favor. On the other hand, I do not care to assist Dordolio, who calls
me a superstitious barbarian."
"Lord Cizante was perhaps shocked by your news," suggested Helsse. "As for
Dordolio's charge, it is obviously inaccurate and need no longer be
considered."
Reith grinned. "Dordolio has known me a month; can you dispute him on the
basis of such short acquaintance?"
If he had hoped to discomfit Helsse, he was unsuccessful. Helsse's smile was
bland. "I am usually correct in my appraisals."
"Suppose that I were to make a set of apparently wild assertions: that Tschai
was flat, that the tenets of the 'cult' were correct, that men could live
underwater-what would become of your opinion?"
Helsse considered soberly. "Each case is different. If you told me Tschai was
flat, I would certainly revise my judgment. If you argued the creed of the
'cult,' I would suspend a decision and listen to your remarks, for here is a
matter of opinion and no evidence exists, at least to my knowledge. If you
insisted that men could live underwater I might be inclined to accept the
statement as a working premise. After all, the Pnume submerge, as do the
Wankh;
why not men, perhaps with special equipment?"
"Tschai is not flat," said Reith. "Men are able to live underwater for short
periods using artificial gills. I know nothing of the 'cult' or its
doctrines."
Helsse sipped from his goblet of essence. The singer had departed; a dance
troupe now came forth: men in black leggings and sleeves, nude from upper
thigh to rib cage. Reith stared in fascination for a moment or two, then
looked away.
"Traditional dances," explained Helsse, "relating to Pathetic Communion. This
is 'Precursory Movement of the Ministrants toward the Expiator."'
"The 'ministrants' are torturers?"
"They are those who provide latitude for absolute expiation. Many become
popular heroes because of their passionate techniques." Helsse rose to his
feet.
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"Come. You have implied at least a mild interest in the 'cult.' As it happens,
I
know the location of their meeting place, which is not far from here. If you
are interested, I will take you there."
"If the visit is not contrary to the laws of Cath."
"No fear of that. Cath has no laws, only customs, which seems to suit the Yao
well enough."
"Peculiar," said Reith. "Killing is not proscribed?"
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"It offends custom, at least under certain circumstances. However, the
professional assassins of the Guild and the Service Company work without
public reproach. In general the folk of Cath do what they see fit and suffer
more or less opprobrium. So you may visit the 'cult' and incur, at the worse,
invective."
Reith rose to his feet. "Very well; lead the way."
They walked across the Oval, through a winding alley into a dim avenue. The
eccentric silhouettes of the houses opposite leaned across the sky, where Az
and
Braz both ranged. Helsse rapped at a door displaying a pale blue phosphor. The
two men waited in silence. The door opened a crack; a long-nosed face peered
forth.
"Visitors," said Helsse. "May we come in?"
"You are associates? I must inform you that here is the district center for
the Society of Yearning Refluxives."
"We are not associates. This gentleman is an outlander who wishes to learn
something of the 'cult."'
"He is welcome and yourself as well, since you seem to have no concern for
'place.' "
"None whatever."
"Which marks you either the highest of the high or the lowest of the low.
Enter then. We have little entertainment to offer-convictions, a few theories,
fewer facts." The Refluxive swept aside a curtain. "Enter."
Helsse and Reith stepped into a large low room. To one side, forlorn in so
much vacant space, two men and two women sat drinking tea from iron pots.
The Refluxive made a half-obsequious, half-sardonic gesture. "Here we are;
stare yourself full at the dreadful 'cult.' Have you ever seen anything less
obstreperous?"
"The 'cult,"' said Helsse, somewhat sententiously, "is despised not for the
look of its meeting halls, but for its provocative assumptions."
"'Assumptions' bah!" declared the Refluxive in a voice of peevish complaint.
"The others persecute us but we are the chosen in knowledge."
Reith asked: "What, precisely, do you know?"
"We know that men are strangers to Tschai."
"How can you know this?" demanded Helsse. "Human history fades into murk."
"It is an intuitive Truth. We are equally certain that someday the Human Magi
will call their seed back Home! And then what joy! Home is a world of bounty,
with air that rejoices in the lungs, like the sweetest Iphthal wine! On Home
are golden mountains crowned with opals and forests of dreams! Death is a
strange accident, not a fate; all men wander with joy and peace for company,
with delicious viands everywhere for the eating!"
"A delightful vision," said Helsse, "but do you not consider it somewhat
conjectural? Or more properly, institutional dogma?"
"Possibly so," declared the stubborn Refluxive. "Still, dogma is not
necessarily falsehood. These are revealed truths, and behold: the revealed
image of Home!" He pointed to a world globe three feet in diameter hanging at
eye-level.
Reith went to inspect the globe, tilting his head this way and that, trying to
identify outline of sea and shore, finding here a haunting familiarity, there
utter disparity. Helsse came to stand beside him. "What does it look like to
you?" His voice was light and careless.
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