Before anyone had moved a pace, a rotund figure, chunky-looking even for a Hyadean, swept out of the doorway, arms extended as if greeting long-lost friends. In all Cade’s time of dealing with them, this was the most incongruous Cade had seen. His skin hue was dark, varying from blue to purple at the nose and cheeks, and what could be seen of his hair was crimson, protruding at the sides below a native-style, wide-brimmed derby. Along with the hat he wore a poncho embroidered with brightly colored designs, and voluminous trousers tucked into calf-length boots. He recognized Vrel and Thryase, doubtless from video exchanges, and greeted them exuberantly in Hyadean, gripping each in turn in the customary Hyadean fashion, Roman style, hands gripping the other’s wrist. Then he switched to Terran handshakes. “You must be Dr. Armley, whom we’ve heard about. . . . And you are Professor Wintner. . . .”
“This is Corto Tevlak,” Vrel managed to squeeze in.
Tevlak waved at the surroundings. “We don’t have much in the way of campus life here. But welcome anyway. There are three more waiting inside to meet you.” He turned to usher the party back toward the doorway, at the same time speaking in short, simple, but well-formed sentences. “And how are you shaping up this morning? Flew in last night. The altitude sometimes affects Terrans. We don’t seem so bothered by it.”
“Last night was a bit rough,” Cade said. “We’re okay now.”
“Splendid.”
They passed on into the house. In the hallway, Tevlak took off his derby and jammed it on top of one of several gaudily painted Indian devil masks glaring down from the wall above a carved rack bearing coats and cloaks. The interior admitted little sun but was well lit artificially. It was virtually a gallery of art, dress, ornaments, and furnishings, not just local forms but mixing styles from everywhere. Besides Indian blankets and tapestries adorning the walls and covering chair backs, and pottery pieces emblazoned with Inca or in some cases possibly Central American designs, Cade picked out a couple of Benin bronzes, ebony carvings and figurines that looked African, an Arab burnous, and a Cossack astrakhan hat. Crossed Maori throwing spears commanded the rear of an alcove, between an arrangement of Navajo sand paintings. The bureau at the rear of the large room that Tevlak led them to was Victorian European or North American; a hand-cut glass decanter atop an ivory lacework corner table that could have been Turkish held a decorative wax candle (ugh); the Easter Island head set on the sill of the high window was wearing a French kepi. Marie caught Cade’s eye and gave a short, bemused shake of her head.
Two of the Hyadeans that Tevlak had mentioned—a youngish-looking man and an older female—were seated together at one end of a large central table, which from the litter of bric-a-brac on the surrounding shelves and side cabinet had been cleared to make room. A shiny cylindrical object with what looked like a lens was set up on a stand at the other end, and a couple of similar devices were to the sides of the room. They looked like cameras. A flat box with a screen lay near the one on the table. There was another box with a screen and controls, along with an opened case of papers, pieces of auxiliary equipment, and other oddments in front of the younger Hyadean. He looked at Cade expectantly and seemed tempted to grin, though uncertain if he should. He had dark green hair blending into black in parts, and had acquired a T-shirt with an animal design and inscription in Spanish, though still worn beneath a regular Hyadean tunic jacket. His features were familiar.
“I know you, don’t I?” Cade began. “Where was it . . . ?”
“Veyan Nyarl,” the Hyadean supplied. “We met at the mission in Los Angeles a few months ago. I was passing through the West Coast.”
“Yes, right! You were the . . . `investigator’—from some Hyadean reporting outfit that worked with the news media.”
“I still am.” Nyarl indicated the female with him. “And this is the person in charge of my . . . I suppose you’d say something like `section’: Hetch Luodine.”