On the riverbank beyond the docks, screened by brush as well as murk, Targovi thankfully removed the mane from his head. Besides being messy and itchy, it had interfered with the oxygill it covered, making him chronically short of breath. A quick chemical rinse out of a bottle Wo Lia had provided, followed by a dip in the stream, got the black dye off his fur. He toweled himself fairly dry and put on the clothes his accomplice had brought him. Besides his breechcloth and belt, this included a loose robe with cowl that she had purchased in Aurea according to his specifications. While he was making no further attempt at disguise for the nonce, a full garment might come in handy at some later time.
The sun was again a disc, low above the river. Mist was breaking into thin white streamers, as warmth seeped into the valley. Though hunger gnawed in Targovi’s guts, he decided he had better establish himself before seeking a foodstall. He padded back into town and through twilight still blue under the trees.
Passersby gave him looks but sounded no alarm.
He had counted on that—bet his life on it, in fact. The public cry for him had not most likely been confined to the Aurea vicinity. Nobody would have imagined he’d be able to get this far undetected through habitation; and had he tried to make his way through the backwoods, he would have perished. Planet-wide bulletins would merely add to an already enormous perturbation.
Here in Lulach he continued just the trader from Imhotep whom folk had long known. He could have arrived on any of the numerous boats that came and went, day and night. Cynthians are inquisitive by nature, perhaps even more than humans; however, this was essentially a community of small businesses, therefore one which did not intrude on privacy. Targovi knew he was yet on the “Wanted” list at patrol stations everywhere. Such interchange of information was automatic. Anybody who thought to inquire of the data bank at local headquarters would get a full description of him and his misdeeds, including the reward offered. He had spent a considerable while in his cage figuring out what to do about that.
The station house was a frame building in a grove of ocherous-glowing fruit trees. (A shame that no colonist could enjoy more than the sight. The flesh was not poisonous, but its flavor was almost nil and, eaten, it would make an inert mass in the stomach.) Since the founding of a major base on Daedalus, the Navy had taken over most police functions, except in areas such as Zacharia that retained autonomy. Few places required much in the way of law enforcement. A detail was apt to consist largely of personnel recruited in the district, who had served elsewhere but were now approaching retirement age. At need, they could summon swift help from outside.
Entering, Targovi found a Cynthian who sported a lieutenant’s comets on a collar that was her principal outfit, chatting with a couple of elderly enlisted ratings. “Why, hail,” she said in surprise. “What brings you here?”
“Something that calls for a confidential meeting, Rihu An,” he replied.
She chirred her kind of laugh. “Do you have smuggled goods for sale, you rogue? The market has gotten brisk, too much so for my poor monies.”
“No, this is more interesting.”
She led him to the outer office, closed its door, and crouched expectant. “I lay on you a secret you must keep,” he said. “Only in seeming am I a footloose peddler. The truth is that for long I have been a secret agent for Intelligence.”
Her tail bottled. “What say you?”
He made a deprecating gesture. “Oh, I am no Flandry. I am among many who go about, alert, reporting whatever they learn, and sometimes helping in some or other petty operation. You know of us. You did not know I am of the fellowship. Urgency requires I reveal it to you.”
Albeit relatively unsophisticated, Rihu An was capable. “Prove it.”
“Certainly.” He glided to the computer terminal. “Ng-ng-r-r, to avoid possible sleight-of-hand, would you care to take this yourself?” She sprang to the desktop. “Key for Central Database, please. Now key for Restricted—I’ll turn my back while you put in your identification and certify you have a need to know … Are you done? Very well, next comes this.” He recited a string of numbers and letters.