Free Planet of Adventure Omnibus by Jack Vance

brought me to the attention of the First
Race. I trusted to ingenuity and refused to be chastened. I compounded my
original offense; I exacerbated the situation a dozen times over. At last in a
spasm of irritation, I dislodged Enze Edo from his seat a mile above the
steppe.” Ankhe at afram Anacho made a gesture of whimsical fatalism. “By one
means or another I evaded the Derogators; so now I am here, without plans and
no resources other than my-” Here he used an untranslatable word, comprising
the ideas of intrinsic superiority, intellectual élan, the inevitability of
good fortune deriving from these qualities.
    Traz gave a
snort and went off to hunt his breakfast. Anacho watched with covert interest
and presently sauntered after him. The two ran here and there through the
rubble, catching and eating insects with relish. Reith contented himself with a
handful of pilgrim pods.
    The
Dirdirman, hunger appeased, returned to examine Reith’s clothes and equipment. “I
believe the boy said ‘Earth, a far planet.’ “ He tapped his button-nose with a
long white finger. “I could almost believe it, were you not shaped precisely
like a sub-man, which renders the idea absurd.”
    Traz said in
a somewhat lordly tone, “Earth is the original home of men. We are true men.
You are a freak.”
    Anacho gave
Traz a quizzical glance. “What is this, the creed of a new sub-man cult? Well
then, it is all the same to me.”
    “Enlighten
us,” requested Reith in a silky voice. “How did men come to Tschai?”
    Anacho made
an airy gesture. “The history is well-known and perfectly straightforward. On
Sibot the home-world the Great Fish produced an egg. It floated to the shore of
Remura and up the beach. One half rolled into the sunlight and became the
Dirdir. The other rolled into the shade and became Dirdirmen.”
    “Interesting,”
said Reith. “But what of the Chaschmen? What of Traz? What of myself?”
    “The
explanation is hardly mysterious; I am surprised that you ask. Fifty thousand
years ago the Dirdir drove from Sibol to Tschai. During the ensuing wars Old
Chasch captured Dirdirmen. Others were taken by the Pnume; and later by the
Wankh. These became Chaschmen, Pnumekin, Wankhmen. Fugitives, criminals,
recalcitrants and biological sports hiding in the marshes interbred to produce
the sub-men. And there you have it.
    Traz looked
to Reith. “Tell the fool of Earth; explain his ignorance to him.”
    Reith only
laughed.
    Anacho gave
him a puzzled appraisal. “Beyond question you are a unique sort. Where are you
bound?”
    Reith pointed
to the northwest. “Pera.”
    “The City of
Lost Souls, beyond the Dead Steppe ... You will never arrive. Green Chasch range
the Dead Steppe.”
    “There is no
way to avoid them?”
    Anacho
shrugged. “Caravans cross to Pera.”
    “Where is the
caravan route?”
    “To the
north, at no great distance.”
    “We will
travel with a caravan, then.”
    “You might be
taken and sold for a slave. Caravan-masters are notoriously without scruple.
Why are you so anxious to reach Pera?”
    “Reasons
sufficient. What are your own plans?”
    “I have none.
I am a vagabond no less than yourself. If you do not object, I will travel in
your company.”
    “As you wish,”
said Reith, ignoring Traz’s hiss of disgust.
    They set
forth into the north, the Dirdirmen maintaining an inconsequential chatter
which Reith found amusing and occasionally edifying, and which Traz pretended
to ignore. At noon they came to a range of low hills. Traz shot a skate-shaped
ruminant with his catapult. They built a fire, broiled the animal on a spit and
made a good meal. Reith asked the Dirdirman, “Is it true that you eat human
flesh?”
    “Certainly.
It can be the most tender of meats. But you need not fear, unlike the Chasch,
Dirdir and Dirdirmen are not compulsive gourmands.”
    They climbed
up through the hills, under low trees with soft blue and gray foliage, trees
laden with plump red fruits which Traz