“Sabul is the senior member of the Abbenay Institute in physics,” said Shevek. “I used to work with him.”

“An older rival; jealous; meddled with your books; been clear enough. We hardly need an explanation, Oiie,” said the fourth man, Chifoilisk, in a harsh voice. He was middle-aged, a swarthy, stocky man with the fine hands of a desk worker. He was the only one of them whose face was not completely shaven: he had left the chin bristling to match his short, iron-grey head hair. “No need to pretend that all you Odonian brothers are full of brotherly love,” he said. “Human nature is human nature.”

Shevek’s lack of response was saved from seeming significant by a volley of sneezes. “I do not have a handkerchief,” he apologized, wiping his eyes.

“Take mine,” said Atro, and produced a snowy handkerchief from one of his many pockets. Shevek took it, and as he did so an importunate memory wrung his heart. He thought of his daughter Sadik, a little dark-eyed girl, saying, “You can share the handkerchief I use.” That memory, which was very dear to him, was unbearably painful now. Trying to escape it, he smiled at random and said, “I am allergic to your planet. The doctor says this.”

“Good God, you won’t be sneezing like that permanently?” old Atro asked, peering at him.

“Hasn’t your man been in yet?” said Pae.

“My man?”

“The servant. He was supposed to bring you some things. Handkerchiefs included. Just enough to tide you over till you can shop for yourself. Nothing choice—I’m afraid there’s very little choice in ready-made clothes for a man your height!”

When Shevek had sorted this out (Pae spoke in a rapid drawl, which matched with his soft, handsome features), he said, “That is kind of you. I feel—” He looked at Atro. “I am, you know, the Beggarman,” he said to the old man, as he had said to Dr. Kimoe on the Mindful “I could not bring money, we do not use it. I could not bring gifts, we use nothing that you lack. So I come, like a good Odonian, ‘with empty hands.’ ”

Atro and Pae assured him that he was a guest, there was no question of payment, it was their privilege. “Besides,” Chifoilisk said in his sour voice, “the Ioti Government foots the bill.”

Pae gave him a sharp glance, but Chifoilisk, instead of returning it, looked straight at Shevek. On his swarthy face was an expression that he made no effort to hide, but which Shevek could not interpret: warning, or complicity?

“There speaks the unregenerate Thuvian,” old Atro said with his snort. “But you mean to say, Shevek, that you brought nothing at all with you—no papers, no new work? I was looking forward to a book. Another revolution in physics. See these pushy young fellows stood on their heads, the way you stood me with the Principles. What have you been working on?”

“Well, I have been reading Pae—Dr. Pae’s paper on the block universe, on Paradox and Relativity.”