"This is how Jan is now known?"
The other nodded. "And beware the dogs," he said, "or, for that matter, anything else which is alive and may harbor intelligence."
"What is your name, captain?" asked Sam.
"In this port, I have no name at all or a false one, and I see no reason for lying to you. Good day, Sam."
"Good day, captain. Thank you for your words."
Sam rose and departed the harbor, heading back toward the business district and the streets of the trades.
The sun was a red discus in the heavens, rising to meet the Bridge of the Gods. The prince walked through the awakened city, threading his way among the stalls displaying the skills of the workmen in the small crafts. Hawkers of unguents and powders, perfumes and oils, moved about him. Florists waved their garlands and corsages at the passer-by; and the vintners said nothing, sitting with their wineskins on rows of shaded benches, waiting for their customers to come to them as they always did. The morning smelled of cooking food, musk, flesh, excrement, oils and incense all churned up together and turned loose to wander like an invisible cloud.
Dressed as a beggar himself, it did not seem out of place for him to stop and speak to the hunchback with the begging bowl.
"Greetings, brother," he stated. "I am far from my quarter on an errand. Can you direct me to the Street of the Weavers?"
The hunchback nodded and shook his bowl suggestively.
He withdrew a small coin from the pouch concealed beneath his tattered garments. He dropped it into the hunchback's bowl and it quickly vanished.
"That way." The man gestured with his head. "The third street you come upon, turn there to the left. Then follow it past two streets more, and you will be at the Circle of the Fountain before the Temple of Varuna. Coming into that Circle, the Street of the Weavers is marked by the Sign of the Awl."
He nodded to the hunchback, patted his hump and continued on his way.
When he reached the Circle of the Fountain, the prince halted. Several dozen people stood in a shifting line before the Temple of Varuna, most stern and august of all the deities. These people were not preparing to enter the Temple, but rather were engaged in some occupation that required waiting and taking turns. He heard the rattling of coins and he wandered nearer.
It was a machine, gleaming and metallic, before which they moved.
A
man inserted a coin into the mouth of a steel tiger. The machine began to purr. He pressed buttons cast in the likenesses of animals and demons. There came then a flashing of lights along the lengths of the Nagas, the two holy serpents who twisted about the transparent face of the machine.
He edged closer.
The man drew down upon the lever that grew from the side of the machine cast in the likeness of the tail of a fish.
A holy blue light filled the interior of the machine; the serpents pulsed redly; and there, in the midst of the light and a soft music that had begun to play, a prayer wheel swung into view and began spinning at a furious pace.
The man wore a beatific expression. After several minutes, the machine shut itself off. He inserted another coin and pulled the lever once more, causing several of those nearer to the end of the line to grumble audibly, remarking to the effect that that was his seventh coin, it was a warm day, there were other people waiting to get some praying done and why did he not go inside and render such a large donation directly to the priests? Someone replied that the little man obviously had much atoning to do. There then began some speculation as to the possible nature of his sins. This was accompanied by considerable laughter.
Seeing that there were several beggars waiting their turn in line, the prince moved to its end and stood there.
As the line advanced, he noted that, while some of those who passed before the machine pushed its buttons, others merely inserted a flat metal disc into the mouth of the second tiger on the opposite side of the chassis. After the machine had ceased to function, the disc fell into a cup and was retrieved by its owner. The prince decided to venture an inquiry.
He addressed the man who stood before him in line:
"Why is it," he asked, "that some men do have discs of their own?"
"It is because they have registered," said the other, without turning his head.
"In the Temple?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
He waited half a minute, then inquired, "Those who are unregistered, and wish to use itthey push the buttons?"
"Yes," said the other, "spelling out their name, occupation, and address."
"Supposing one be a visitor here, such as myself?"
"You should add the name of your city."
"Supposing one is unlettered, such as myselfwhat then?"
The other turned to him. "Perhaps ''twere better," he said, "that you make prayer in the old way, and give the donation directly into the hands of the priests. Or else register and obtain a disc of your own."
"I see," said the prince. "Yes, you are right. I must think of this more. Thank you."