Wuu executed a gesture not favored in polite society. “Credit is nothing. I am showered with it for doing that which I would do for nothing.”

“Well then, there is the matter of identification,” Ryo continued stubbornly. “Mine was taken. Even if it had not been, I’m not sure I could reach a ship before the Servitors contacted it and had me held in confinement. I must be listed in every computer terminal on the planet by now.”

“Then we must fashion a safe identity for you, my boy.” Wuu considered the problem, then explained, “I have been widowed twice. Both times through unfortunate accidents. There are no natural offspring, but it would surprise no one were I to announce that I had adopted several. You can pose as my adopted offspring, which I suspect you are already, in spirit if not legally.

“I told you that I know much of the underlife of Ciccikalk. In addition to those who prey upon the unwary I am also conversant with many engaged in other forms of extralegal activity. Some of them are writers. Such writing is never particularly inspiring, but their limited editions are masterpieces. You will retain your personal name, which is common enough not to arouse suspicion, I think. We will give you a new clan, family, and hive. You will become Ryozeljadrec. How does that strike you?”

“Heavily enough to make me a candidate for a long stay in an adjustment burrow, but if you really think it will be believed …”

“Knowledge and money combined can work miracles, my boy. Alien monsters, monstrous aliens—I feel a poem coming on already,” and he rattled off a string of singsong High Thranx whistle words, harmonically arranged and lovely to hear.

“That’s fine,” Ryo said admiringly.

“Nothing, nothing. Garbage not worth setting to chip. Rough words, but we will find inspiration worthy of publication, my boy.”

“I hope something good comes of all this. What if your—ah, forger proves not as efficient as you seem to think he will?”

“I have a title, this •Eint.’ It must be good for something. Surely it will enable us to brazen our way past any uncertainty. Since you don’t have the experience for it, I shall do the brazening for us both. I do it all the time. Is not poetry a method of brazening one’s way past a listener’s defenses, in order to get directly at his emotions? Poetry’s more than harmonics and math, you know. We’ll manage our way, don’t worry.

“There is one thing. Have you given thought to your family and premate?”

Suddenly Ryo did not feel very well.

"Constantly,” he murmured.

“That is as it should be. You struck me as a responsible young fellow. We’ll draft a communication to one of them. It will arrive in this Paszex of yours by a most circuitous route so that its origin cannot be traced. It will not go off at all until we are safely on our way and out of the Willow-wane system.