Jack Vance - Gaean Reach 02, page 5
Wysrod: where he had come with such naïve hopes to shape his future! He brought out Vaidro’s letter. Nai the Hever had not even read it. Jubal threw the letter to the ground. Then hastily, so that he should not be apprehended for littering, he retrieved it and thrust it in his pocket. So much for his fine dreams. What now? The Bureau of Public Employment? Back to Glentlin and Ballas Cove? Jubal stirred restlessly on the bench. Life suddenly seemed stale and flat. He looked around the square, feeling strange as a wild beast among these sedate shops, each jealously guarding a small monopoly. He morosely studied the narrow store-fronts. A three-story structure offered jellies, candied fruit, dried pickle, conserves of a hundred flavors. Another sold Djan lace; the next sound-enhancers; the next drafting implements; the next cutlery; the next mythical bestiaries, globes of Old Earth, manuals of dream interpretation. Small enterprises, few less than three or four hundred years old, some so old as to be public institutions. Wysrod! a small town in the center of the Great Hole—but for the Thariots the focus of sentient life…Jubal rose slowly to his feet. Orienting himself by the angle between Mora and Skay, he set off toward Duskerl Bay.
Wysrod, a secret and complicated city, frustrated Jubal still another time. He walked back and forth, along angled ways and dog-leg lanes, in and out of sequestered squares, down a grand avenue flanked by tall townhouses which abruptly ended at the Palace of Memorials. At last Jubal signaled a hack and required that he be conveyed to the Marine Parade. “It lies a hundred paces yonder,” said the driver, after looking Jubal up and down. “Why not walk?”
“I trust nothing of this weird maze. Take me to the Marine Parade and a decent inn, where one can get a breath of air from off the sea.”
“For someone like yourself the Sea-Wrack should serve.”
“Very well,” said Jubal sadly. “Take me to the Sea-Wrack.”
The hack drove along the Marine Parade to a comfortably shabby building, shaded under three daldank trees, with a long verandah overlooking the water and a tavern to provide ale, wine, clam toddy, and fried fish to those desirous: the Sea-Wrack Inn.
Jubal was assigned a chamber halfway along the verandah. In the tavern he consumed a plate of fish-cakes and a jug of beer, then morosely went out upon the verandah.
Near his room waited a tall young man who twirled a bit of chain culbrass around his finger. He was spare, languid and superbly elegant; his demeanor suggested recondite knowledge and world-weariness.
Jubal halted to assess the situation. An assassin? Unlikely. There had been no time for the necessary formalities.
The man watched Jubal indifferently. Jubal went to his door, and the man spoke: “You are Jubal Droad?”
“What of it?”
“His Excellency Nai the Hever wishes you to appear at his Parloury offices tomorrow morning at the fourth hour.”
A bubble of cold fury exploded in Jubal’s mind. “What does he want?”
“As to that I can’t inform you.”
“If he wishes conversation, he may meet me here. I have nothing to say to him.”
The young man inspected Jubal with dispassionate interest. But he only said: “You have heard the message.” Then he turned to depart.
“You do not appear to understand me,” said Jubal. “The situation is at equilibrium. I am not obliged to him, nor he to me. If he wants something he comes here. If I want something I go there. Please clarify this procedure to Nai the Hever.”
The man merely smiled a dry smile. “The time is the fourth hour; the place is the Parloury.” He departed.
Chapter 5
Describe the circumstances in exact detail,” said Nai the Hever. Leaning back, he fixed his transparent gaze upon Jubal Droad, who returned the inspection with as much dignity as he could command. Expostulation, irony, any sort of vehemence: all were equally pointless. Jubal responded to the instruction in a passionless voice. “There is little to add to what I have already told you.”
“Nevertheless, I wish to hear the detailed account.”
Jubal reflected a moment. “I lay in the Ivo infirmary for three weeks. During this time I studied maps of the region. Why had the man, whom I now know to be Ramus Ymph, traveled this remote region in such a peculiar style? I examined the maps. The trail after leaving Ivo proceeds toward Glentlin through a wilderness. Six miles from Ivo is the Skyshaw Inn. I telephoned from the infirmary: they had not seen Ramus Ymph, his ercycle or his perrupters. Ramus Ymph, therefore, had entered the trail between Mount Cardoon and the Skyshaw. On the Isedel side the ground drops away in steep gullies. There are no roads. From Djanad there is easy access by several of the plateaus. I decided that my deed-debtor*had joined the High Trail out of Djanad. What would a man of this sort hope to accomplish in this region? I could come to no conclusion.
“When I left the infirmary I went west along the trail. At Mount Cardoon the broken wall was repaired and the trail was open. Thereafter I carefully studied the ground, hoping to discover where Ramus Ymph had joined the trail. I found the place after only two miles, on the other side of Mount Cardoon. The marks were not apparent; Ramus Ymph had tried to conceal them but nevertheless I found them. They bore to the left into Djanad, only a half-mile off the trail. Strange affairs were afoot.
“I followed the tracks, south across a moor and down-slope into a valley. The land was quite deserted: a wilderness. I could not know how far the tracks led, and I was afraid to travel alone into Djanad, since I carried only my Glint blade. I decided to proceed two hours, so that I could return to Skyshaw Inn before sunset. The wheel-marks were plain enough. They led down-slope around a forest, then disappeared on a meadow of gaddle-stem. I skirted the meadow but found no more tracks. A puzzle! How could tracks leave a meadow without entering? I crossed the meadow, and at the center I discovered several areas where the gaddle-stem had been crushed by great pressure. Between these marks the growth was discolored and wilted. I wondered if a space-ship had not come down upon this meadow. I remembered the sounds I had heard during the morning, and I was quite certain: Ramus Ymph had alighted from a space-ship. He had gone off-world and returned.”
“He might have come to meet the ship,” observed Nai the Hever.
“The wheel-track left the meadow. No wheel-track entered.”
“What of the perrupters? Did they wear a uniform?”
“Brown tunics on black breeches. I looked in the reference but found nothing similar.”
“Please continue.”
“I examined the place. I was certain that a space-ship had landed to discharge the man I now know as Ramus Ymph.”
“So much is reasonable,” agreed Nai the Hever.
“I then reflected that the perrupters could not know the exact time of Ramus Ymph’s arrival, and that they must have awaited him for a certain period. I went to the woods and came upon a place where the troop had camped. I found a pit where they had buried garbage. The time was late. I returned along the wheel-tracks to the High Trail and Skyshaw Inn.”
Nai the Hever looked off through a window, across Travan Square. Studying the placid face, something like that of a hyper-intelligent fox, Jubal wondered as to the chances of success for his ploy.
Nai the Hever turned back to Jubal. “The situation is as it stands.”
“What of Ramus Ymph? Will you prosecute under the Alien Influence Act?”
“This would ordinarily be the case. On the other hand, when we wonder as to a person’s peculiar activities, we pretend not to notice small delinquencies, in order to understand the whole affair. There is always time to reel in the slack, so to speak. But all this is of no conceivable interest to you.”
“On the contrary. Ramus Ymph still owes me blood.”
“He would not agree to this. He is savagely angry.”
“That is not my concern. He broke my body; I have only denied him a trivial honor.”
“You would find that Ramus Ymph rates each of his honors at the worth of one hundred bodies such as yours.”
“I balance the scale differently.”
Nai the Hever made a purposeful movement. The interview was ended. He thrust an envelope toward Jubal. “An honorarium for your services. There are no opportunities at Wysrod. Return to Glentlin and find useful work. I wish you every success.”
Jubal rose to his feet. “Are you interested in Ramus Ymph’s off-world business?”
Nai the Hever’s voice became suddenly sharp. “Why do you ask?”
“Simple curiosity. I can easily discover where he spent his time.”
“Indeed. How?”
“I must reserve this information until certain conditions are met.”
Nai the Hever leaned back in his seat. “What are these conditions?”
“They are quite personal. But you are uninterested in such things. After all, we are not close friends.”
“True,” sighed Nai the Hever. “Nevertheless I see that I must hear you out.” He gestured to the chair. “Please be expeditious.”
Jubal seated himself once more. “Perhaps I am oversensitive, but it seems that our relationship has not flowed as gracefully as I had hoped. I brought you a letter which you refused to read.”
“Ah well, let us not mar the occasion with either recriminations or vain regrets.”
“I cannot enforce amity upon you, but I can rightfully demand the respect to which I am entitled.”
“My dear fellow,” said Nai the Hever, “so far as I am concerned, you have exactly that.”
“You might well display this regard rather more openly.”
“It is really a matter of personal style.”
“Very well, I will take your regard for granted. May I pay my addresses to your daughter?”
Nai the Hever’s eyebrows rose. “They would be most unwelcome, especially since she has been planning to espouse Ramus Ymph.”
“‘Has been’?”
Nai the Hever shrugged. “Circumstances are altered. Who knows what will happen? But we make progress. I hold you in appropriate esteem. You may not pay your addresses to the Lady Mieltrude. Do you have other conditions?”
“Yes indeed. I came to Wysrod hoping for suitable employment. To this end I brought you a letter of introduction which I will ask you to reexamine.”
“Very well.” Nai the Hever languidly held out his hand; Jubal tendered him the letter.
Nai the Hever read, looked up slowly. “It is signed by Vaidro. The Iron Ghost. Why did you not tell me so to begin with? No matter.” He sighed. “I see that I must do something for you, regardless of complaints elsewhere. Do you realize that a dozen times a day I am asked to provide someone a fine career? Well then, I will place you—suitably.”
“At what salary, and with what prospects?”
“Sufficient salary; and you must make your own prospects. I can only give you a start. Are there any further conditions? Then let us discuss Ramus Ymph.”
“With pleasure. You wish to learn where he went. May I ask why?”
Nai the Hever straightened in his seat. He spoke crisply. “I have agreed to offer you employment, necessarily in one of the departments under my supervision. As a private citizen I tolerated your rather offensive latitude of manner. I am now your superior officer, and you must display conventional respect. Henceforth you will obey my instructions, curb your tongue and try to learn the rudiments of civilized behavior. Now, without further circumlocution, tell me what you know.”
“After I examined the site where the ship landed,” said Jubal, “I went to investigate the forest, where, as I informed you, I found evidence of a camp, with a filled-over garbage pit. Let us refer to this fact as Idea One.
“When Ramus Ymph attempted my death he was dressed as a Thariot nobleman. I asked myself, had he worn these garments during his trip into space, or had the perrupters brought them along with the ercycle? If the latter, where were his off-world clothes? This was Idea Two.
“Combining the two concepts, I dug up the garbage pit and found a parcel of clothes, of unusual style, and I carried them back with me into Thaery.”
Nai the Hever made a slight sibilant sound, which, so Jubal would learn, constituted his only signal of approval. “Where are these garments now?”
“I have them secreted nearby.”
Nai the Hever spoke toward a mesh. “Send in Eyvant. Your classification is Junior Assistant Inspector in Department Three of the Sanitary and Hygiene Office. Eyvant Dasduke will be your superior. He will instruct you in your duties. Conceivably you will make a successful career; if so you will have Eyvant to thank.”
Long after, when recalling those words, Jubal would smile wearily at the recollection.
Into the office came the tall young man who only the evening before had summoned Jubal to the office of Nai the Hever.
“Jubal Droad has accepted a post with Department Three,” said Nai the Hever. “You will instruct him in his duties. Now, however, I wish you to accompany him to a place nearby, where he will place a parcel into your custody. Bring this parcel here immediately.”
Eyvant wordlessly walked from the room. Jubal hesitated.
Nai the Hever had turned away and was inspecting a pamphlet.
Jubal followed Eyvant Dasduke.
* Loose translation of smaidair—i.e.: a person who has gained mana at the expense of another person, thus establishing a psychic disequilibrium. The imbalance is often mutually recognized and a voluntary reparation made. In other cases the balance is forcibly restored, and is barely distinguishable from ‘revenge’, though the distinction is very real.
Chapter 6
The Wysrod hacks were famous across Thaery. The gaunt silhouettes, the tall coffin-like compartments on disproportionately short and squat undercarriages, were ubiquitous: lurching and swaying around corners, swarming the boulevards like grotesque insects, flitting through the night unseen except for dangerously dim side-lamps. In such a hack Jubal and Eyvant Dasduke proceeded to the airport. They rode in silence, by Dasduke’s preference. Jubal could not help but envy his lofty assurance, as if all his opinions were naturally and inherently right; as if nothing conceivable could provoke him to an incorrect reaction.
At a convenient way-place in his musings, Eyvant Dasduke turned Jubal a side-glance. “What’s to be your grade?”
“I am Junior Assistant Inspector.”
Eyvant gave his head a sour and wondering shake. “We’re top-heavy now. I can’t imagine how you got aboard.” And he added thoughtfully, “We dance to nervous music around D3.”
Jubal ventured a polite question: “What are to be my duties?”
“I’ll have to look over the work-sheets.” Eyvant’s tone became brisk and brassy. “Our principal job is inspection of the inns—checking cleanliness, cuisine, courtesy. You’ll take an orientation course, then go out and train in the field. Promotions come slow, I warn you.”
Jubal heaved a sad sigh. This was not the career he had in mind. Better than nothing? Perhaps.
Eyvant asked idly: “What is this parcel we are about to secure?”
Jubal’s hesitation was imperceptibly brief. Nai the Hever had not specifically enjoined silence, but by the very nature of things discretion was surely in order.
On the other hand, he was not anxious to antagonize his immediate superior. “I think it contains fabric—perhaps a garment.” So much Eyvant Dasduke would notice for himself.
“A garment? Whose garment?”
“This, I believe, is what Nai the Hever wishes to determine. You yourself are a Full Inspector?”
“Yes, quite.” And he grudgingly went on to say: “It is not a prestigious occupation, but Dasdukes have no great influence in Wysrod. We are Drune Tree folk.”
“How do Departments D1 and D2 occupy themselves?”
“D1 maintains industrial safety. D2 controls price and quality standards. D4 regulates weights and measures. D5 makes property evaluations. D6 of course is the Thariot Internal Police Force. D3 is the most inglorious of the lot.”
“Why then did you select D3 for your career?”
“I might ask the same of you.”
Jubal gave a starkly honest response. “It was the best I could get.”
Eyvant looked out the window of the hack. In an even voice he said: “The work has certain compensations. As an inspector you will travel everywhere across Thaery and meet a multitude of people.”
“And my salary?”
“You will start at seventeen toldecks a week, with travel expenses in the field.”
“Seventeen toldecks! That is not a large sum!”
“Our budget is low; we meet it by paying poor salaries to the juniors.”
Jubal sat limply back in the seat. Nai the Hever had used the word ‘sufficient’ rather than ‘generous’; at Wysrod an ear for such distinctions was clearly indispensable. “How much do I earn as a Full Assistant Inspector?”
“Your rate is then twenty-nine toldecks.”
“Then, finally, when I achieve Inspectorship?”
“You might earn forty or fifty toldecks a week. Much depends upon the man.”
They arrived at the Point Sul depot. Jubal secured the parcel and placed it in the custody of Eyvant Dasduke; the two returned down-hill and out upon the Marine Parade. At the Sea-Wrack Inn Jubal chose to alight. Eyvant Dasduke gave him instructions: “Report to Chamber 95 tomorrow morning at the first hour. A Sub-Inspector will supervise your training.”
