The Left Hand Of Darkness (Hainish Cycle #4) - Ursula K. Le Guin Page 0,55

come and ask to join, after us, in second place. In either case the shifgrethor of Karhide will be diminished; and in either case, we drive the sledge. If we have the wits to take this advantage now, it will be a permanent advantage and a certain one!’ Then turning to me, ‘But the Ekumen must be willing to help us, Mr. Ai. We have got to have more to show our people than you alone, one man, already known in Erhenrang.’

‘I see that, Commensal. You’d like a good, showy proof, and I’d like to offer one. But I cannot bring down the ship until its safety and your integrity are reasonably secure. I need the consent and the guarantee of your government, which I take it would mean the whole board of Commensals – publicly announced.’

Obsle looked dour, but said, ‘Fair enough.’

Driving home with Shusgis, who had contributed nothing but his jovial laugh to the afternoon’s business, I asked, ‘Mr. Shusgis, what is the Sarf?’

‘One of the Permanent Bureaus of the Internal Administration. Looks out after false registries, unauthorized travel, job-substitutions, forgeries, that sort of thing – trash. That’s what sarf means in gutter-Orgota, trash, it’s a nickname.’

‘Then the Inspectors are agents of the Sarf?’

‘Well, some are.’

‘And the police, I suppose they come under its authority to some extent?’ I put the question cautiously and was answered in kind. ‘I suppose so. I’m in the External Administration, of course, and I can’t keep all the offices straight, over in Internal.’

‘They certainly are confusing; now what’s the Waters Office, for instance?’ So I backed off as best I could from the subject of the Sarf. What Shusgis had not said on the subject might have meant nothing at all to a man from Hain, say, or lucky Chiffewar; but I was born on Earth. It is not altogether a bad thing to have criminal ancestors. An arsonist grandfather may bequeath one a nose for smelling smoke.

It had been entertaining and fascinating to find here on Gethen governments so similar to those in the ancient histories of Terra: a monarchy, and a genuine fullblown bureaucracy. This new development was also fascinating, but less entertaining. It was odd that in the less primitive society, the more sinister note was struck.

So Gaum, who wanted me to be a liar, was an agent of the secret police of Orgoreyn. Did he know that Obsle knew him as such? No doubt he did. Was he then the agent provocateur? Was he nominally working with, or against, Obsle’s faction? Which of the factions within the Government of Thirty-Three controlled, or was controlled by, the Sarf? I had better get these matters straight, but it might not be easy to do so. My course, which for a while had looked so clear and hopeful, seemed likely to become as tortuous and beset with secrets as it had been in Erhenrang. Everything had gone all right, I thought, until Estraven had appeared shadowlike at my side last night.

‘What’s Lord Estraven’s position, here in Mishnory?’ I asked Shusgis, who had settled back as if half asleep in the corner of the smooth-running car.

‘Estraven? Harth, he’s called here, you know. We don’t have titles in Orgoreyn, dropped all that with the New Epoch. Well, he’s a dependent of Commensal Yegey’s, I understand.’

‘He lives there?’

‘I believe so.’

I was about to say that it was odd that he had been at Slose’s last night and not at Yegey’s today, when I saw that in the light of our brief morning interview it wasn’t very odd. Yet even the idea that he was intentionally keeping away made me uncomfortable.

‘They found him,’ said Shusgis, resettling his broad hips on the cushioned seat, ‘over in the Southside in a glue factory or a fish cannery or some such place, and gave him a hand out of the gutter. Some of the Open Trade crowd, I mean. Of course he was useful to them when he was in the kyorremy and Prime Minister, so they stand by him now. Mainly they do it to annoy Mersen, I think. Ha, ha! Mersen’s a spy for Tibe, and of course he thinks nobody knows it but everybody does, and he can’t stand the sight of Harth – thinks he’s either a traitor or a double agent and doesn’t know which, and can’t risk shifgrethor in finding out. Ha, ha!’

‘Which do you think Harth is, Mr. Shusgis?’

‘A traitor, Mr. Ai. Pure and simple. Sold out his country’s claims in