included several compendiums produced by Fellows of the Naturalist Society, all descriptive and anatomical studies of non-terrestrial life forms, and also three rare works by William Charles Schulz: THE LAST AND FIRST EOUATION AND EVERYTHING ELSE; DISCORD, GRINDING AND SLOPE: WHY MATHEMATICS AND THE COSMOS MAKE POOR FITS; and the PAN-MATHEMATIKON. The curator asked: “The Naturalist Society is perhaps preparing to make another donation?'
'Not at the present time,' said Wayness.
The Cornelis Pameijer Museum of Natural History owned a set of six volumes describing a variety of alien homologues created by the dynamics of parallel evolution. The six volumes had been designed and published by the Naturalist Society. The Museum supported no other collection of Society documents or papers.
The Pythagorean Museum owned four monographs upon the abstruse subject of nonhuman music and sonic symbolism, by Peter Bullis, Eli Newberger, Stanford Vincent and Captain R. Pilsbury.
The Bodleian Library owned a single volume of sketches depicting the generation of the quasi-living crystals of the world Tranque, Bellatrix V.
The Funusti Memorial Museum at Kiev at the edge of The Great Altaic Steppe, lacked a formally designated information officer, but after consultation between museum functionaries, Wayness was transferred to a somber young curator with a long pallid face, coal-black hair which he wore brushed severely back from his high narrow forehead. While clearly of an earnest disposition, he seemed to find Wayness agreeable, in both semblance and conduct. He listened with careful attention to her questions and was able to provide information at once. Yes, the Museum’s extensive collections included several treatises produced by members of the Naturalist Society, analyzing various aspects of non-terrestrial communication. He mentioned in passing, almost as if an afterthought, a separate collection of antique papers, still be completely collated, but which definitely included records, registers and other documents from the files of the ancient Naturalist Society. The collection was generally not open to public inspection, but it was impossible to include an officer of the Naturalist Society in this category, and Wayness would be allowed to study the collection at her convenience.
This would be immediately, said Wayness, since she wished to compile a general bibliography of all such material for the use of the rejuvenated Society. The curator approved of the idea, and identified himself as Lefaun Zadoury. Upon her arrival he would give Wayness every possible assistance, so he assured her.
'Let me ask one last question,' said Wayness. “Within the last twelve years has a woman by the name of Simonetta Clattuc, or possibly Viola Fanfarides, or Monette, looked over this material?'
Lefaun Zadoury, thinking the question a trifle odd, arched his black eyebrows, then turned aside to consult his records. 'Definitely not.'
“That is good news,” said Wayness, and the discussion ended on a cordial basis.
Almost effervescent with hope, Wayness took herself far to the north and east, over mountains, lakes and rivers and finally down upon the great Altaic Steppe and the ancient city Kiev.
The Funusti Museum occupied the grandiose precincts of the old Konevitsky Palace on Murom Hill, at the back of Kiev's Old Town. Wayness took lodging at the Mazeppa Hotel, and was shown into a suite of rooms paneled in pale brown chestnut, decorated with red and blue floral designs. Her windows overlooked Prince Bogdan Yurevlch Kolsky Square: a roughly pentagonal area paved with slabs of pink-gray granite. On three sides, two cathedrals and a monastery lovingly restored or perhaps constructed in the ancient style, held aloft dozens of onion-domes, gilded with gold foil, or painted red, blue, green, or in spiral stripes.
Wayness read from a pamphlet she found on a nearby table: “The structures to be perceived at various sides of Kolsky Square and exact replications of the original structures, and have been rebuilt with careful attention to the Old Slavic style, using traditional materials and methods.”
“To the right is Saint Sophia's Cathedral with nineteen domes. At the center is Saint Andrews Church of eleven domes, and to the left is Saint Michael's Monastery with only nine domes. The cathedral and the church are lavishly decorated with mosaics, statues and other bedizenment of gold and jewels. Old Kiev suffered many devastations, and Kolsky Square has witnessed many awful incidents. But today, visitors from across the Gaean Reach come only to marvel at the inspiring architecture and at the power of priests who were able to wring so much wealth from a land at that time so poor.”
The wan sunlight of mid-afternoon illuminated the old square; many folk were abroad, clasping their coats, mantles and cloaks tightly about themselves against the gusts of wind which blew down from the hills. Wayness started to telephone the Funusti Museum, then thought better of it; nothing could be gained by calling so late in the day. Lefaun Zadoury had already been extremely helpful and she did not want him to suggest that he meet her somewhere and show her the slights of the city.
Wayness went out alone on the square and looked into Saint Sophia's Cathedral, then dined at Restaurant Carpathia on lentil soup, wild boar with mushrooms and hazelnut torte.
Leaving the restaurant, Wayness discovered that twilight light had fallen over the city. Old Kolsky Square was windy, dark and deserted; she crossed to the Mazeppa Hotel in complete solitude. “It is as if I were sailing across the ocean in a small boat,” she told herself.
In the morning she telephoned Lefaun Zadoury at the Funusti Museum. As before, he seemed to be wearing a voluminous black gown, which Wayness thought rather odd and fusty. “Wayness Tamm here,” she told the long somber face. “If you remember, I called you from Fair Winds, near Shillaway.'
“Of course I remember! You are here more quickly than I had expected. Are you coming to the museum?'
“If it is convenient.”
“One time is as good as another! I shall look forward to seeing you; in fact, I will try to meet you in the loggia.'
Lefaun Zadoury enthusiasm, muted as it was, assured Wayness that her decision not to call Funusti Museum the previous afternoon had been correct.
A cab took Wayness north along Sorka Boulevard with the Dnieper River to the right and a row of massive apartment blocks of concrete and glass to the left, with tier upon tier of other apartment blocks ranged along the hills behind. The cab at last turned up a side road, wound up the hillside and halted in front of a massive structure, overlooking the river and the steppe beyond.
“The Funusti Museum,' said the cab driver. 'Once the palace of Prince Konevitsky, where the lords dined on fine meats and honeycakes by day and danced the fandango by night. Now it is quiet as the grave, a place where everyone walks on tiptoe and wears black. And should one dare to belch one must crawl under a table to hide. Which, then, is better: the joys of splendor and grace, or the black shame of pedantry and mingering? The question supplies its own answer.'
Wayness alighted from the cab. “I see that you are something of a philosopher.'
“True! It is in my blood! But first and foremost, I am a Cossack!'
'And what is a Cossack?”
The driver stared incredulously. “Can I believe my ears? But know I see that you are an off-worlder. Well then, a Cossack is a natural aristocrat; he is fearless and steadfast and cannot be coerced. Even as a cab driver he conducts himself with Cossack dignity. At the end of a journey, he does not calculate his fare; he announces the first figure that comes into his head. If the passenger does not choose to pay, well then: what of that? The driver gives him a single glance of contempt and drives off in disdain.'
“Interesting. And what fare are you calling out to me?'
'Three sols.'
“That is far too much. Here is a sol. You may accept it or drive off in disdain.'
'Since you are an off-worlder and do not understand these things, I will take the money. Shall I wait? There is nothing here of interest you will be in and out in a trice.”
'No such luck,” said Wayness. 'I must pore over some tiresome old papers and I cannot guess how long I will be.'
'As you wish.'
Wayness crossed the front terrace and entered a marble floored loggia which seemed alive with echoes. Gilded pilasters stood along the wall; above hung an enormous chandelier of ten thousand crystals. Wayness looked
