There was only one settled city on Vyapore, and because it was the only one it was nameless. Herndon found a room in a cheap boarding-house run by a swine-eared Dombruun, and washed the sweat from his face with the unpleasantly acrid water of the tap.
Then he went downstairs into the bright noonday heat. The stench of rotting vegetation drifted in from the surrounding jungle on a faint breeze. Herndon said at the desk, "I'm looking for a Vonnimooro named Mardlin. Is he around?"
"Over there," said the proprietor, pointing.
Mardlin the Vonnimooro was a small, weaselly-looking creature with the protuberant snout, untrustworthy yellow eyes, and pebbly brown-purple fur of his people. He looked up when Herndon approached. When he spoke, it was in lingua spacia with a whistling, almost obscene inflection.
"You looking for me?"
"It depends," Herndon said. "Are you Mardlin?"
The jackal-creature nodded. Herndon lowered himself to a nearby seat and said in a quiet voice, "Bollar Benjin sent me to meet you. Here are my credentials."
He tossed a milky-white clouded cube on the table between them. Mardlin snatched it up hastily in his leathery claws and nudged the activator. An image of Bollar Benjin appeared in the cloudy depths, and a soft voice said, "Benjin speaking. The bearer of this cube is known to me, and I trust him fully in all matters. You are to do the same. He will accompany you to Borlaam with the consignment of goods."
The voice died away and the image of Benjin vanished. The jackal scowled. He muttered, "If Benjin sent a man to convey his goods, why must I go?"
Herndon shrugged. "He wants both of us to make the trip, it seems. What do you care? You're getting paid, aren't you?"