Tales of the Dying Earth

by Jack Vance

  "They are not simple," said Ildefonse after reflection. "We have come under attack: do we retaliate? If so: how? Or even: why? The world is moribund."

  "But I am not! I am Rhialto, and such treatment offends me!"

  Ildefonse nodded thoughtfully. "That is an important point. I, with equal vehemence, am Ildefonse!"

  "More, you are Ildefonse the Preceptor! And now you must use your legitimate powers."

  Ildefonse inspected Rhialto through blue eyes blandly half-closed. "Agreed! I nominate you to enforce my edicts!"

  Rhialto ignored the pleasantry. "I am thinking of IOUN stones."

  Ildefonse sat up in his chair. "What is your exact meaning?"

  "You must decree confiscation from the ensqualmated witches of all IOUN stones, on grounds of policy. Then we will work a time-stasis and send sandestins out to gather the stones."

  "All very well, but our comrades often conceal their treasures with ingenious care."

  "I must confess to a whimsical little recreation—a kind of intellectual game, as it were. Over the years I have ascertained the hiding-place of every IOUN stone current among the association. You keep yours, for instance, in the water reservoir of the convenience at the back of your work-room."

  "That, Rhialto, is an ignoble body of knowledge. Still, at this point, we cannot gag at trifles. I hereby confiscate all IOUN stones in the custody of our bewitched former comrades. Now, if you will impact the continuum with a spell, I will call in my sandestins Osherl, Ssisk and Walfing."

  "My creatures Topo and Bellume are also available for duty."

  The confiscation went with an almost excessive facility. Ildefonse declared: "We have struck an important blow. Our position is now clear; our challenge is bold and direct!"

  Rhialto frowningly considered the stones. "We have struck a blow; we have issued a challenge: what now?"

  Ildefonse blew out his cheeks. ' The prudent course is to hide until the Murthe goes away."

  Rhialto gave a sour grunt. "Should she find us and pull us squeaking from our holes, all dignity is lost. Surely this is not the way of Calanctus."

  "Let us then discover the way of Calanctus," said Ildefonse. "Bring out Poggiore's Absolutes; he devotes an entire chapter to the Murthe. Fetch also The Decretals of Calanctus, and, if you have it, Calanctus: His Means and Modes."

  4

  Dawn was still to come. The sky over Wilda Water showed a flush of plum, aquamarine and dark rose. Rhialto slammed shut the iron covers of the Decretals. "I find no help. Calanctus describes the persistent female genius, but he is not explicit in his remedies."

  Ildefonse, looking through the The Doctrines of Calanctus, said: "I find here an interesting passage. Calanctus likens a woman to the Ciaeic Ocean which absorbs the long and full thrust of the Antipodal Current as it sweeps around Cape Spang, but only while the weather holds fair. If the wind shifts but a trifle, this apparently placid ocean hurls an abrupt flood ten or even twenty feet high back around the cape, engulfing all before it. When stasis is restored and the pressure relieved, the Ciaeic is as before, placidly accepting the current. Do you concur with this interpretation of the female geist?"

  "Not on all counts," said Rhialto. "At times Calanctus verges upon the hyperbolic. This might be regarded as a typical case, especially since he provides no program for holding off or even diverting the Ciaeic flood."

  "He seems to suggest that one does not strive, ordinarily, to control this surge but, rather, rides over it in a staunch ship of high freeboard."

  Rhialto shrugged. "Perhaps so. As always, I am impatient with obscure symbolism. The analogy assists us not at all."

  Ildefonse ruminated. "It suggests that rather than meeting the Murthe power against power, we must slide across and over the gush of her hoarded energy, until at last she has spent herself and we, like stout ships, float secure and dry."

  "Again, a pretty image, but limited. The Murthe displays a protean power."

  Ildefonse stroked his beard and looked pensively off into space. "Indeed, one inevitably starts to wonder whether this fervor, cleverness and durability might also govern her—or, so to speak, might tend to influence her conduct in, let us say, the realm of—"

  "I understand the gist of your speculation," said Rhialto. "It is most likely nuncupatory."

  Ildefonse gave his head a wistful shake. "Sometimes one's thoughts go where they will."

  A golden insect darted out of the shadows, circled the lamp and flew back into the darkness. Rhialto instantly became alert. "Someone has entered Falu, and now waits in the parlour." He went to the door and called out sharply: "Who is there? Speak, or dance the tarantella on feet of fire."

  "Hold hard your spell!" spoke a voice. "It is I, Lehuster!"

  "In that case, come forward."

  Into the work-room came Lehuster, soiled and limping, his shoulder feathers bedraggled, in a state of obvious fatigue. He carried a sack which he gratefully dropped upon the leather-slung couch under the window.

  Ildefonse surveyed him with frowning disfavor. "Well then, Lehuster, you are here at last! A dozen times during the night we might have used your counsel, but you were nowhere to be found. What, then, is your report?"

  Rhialto handed Lehuster a tot of aquavit. 'This will alleviate your fatigue; drink and then speak freely."

  Lehuster consumed the liquid at a gulp. "Aha! A tipple of rare quality! . . . Well then, I have little enough to tell you, though I have spent a most toilsome night, performing necessary tasks. All are en-squalmed, save only yourselves. The Murthe, however, believes that she controls the entire association."

  "What?" cried Rhialto. "Does she take us so lightly?"

  "No great matter." Lehuster held out the empty goblet. "If you please! A bird flies erratically on one wing. . . . Further, the Murthe appropriated all IOUN stones to her personal use—"

  "Not so!" said Ildefonse with a chuckle. "We cleverly took them first."

  "You seized a clutch of glass baubles. The Murthe took the true stones, including those owned by you and Rhialto, and left brummagem in their place."

  Rhialto ran to the basket where the presumptive IOUN stones reposed. He groaned. "The mischievous vixen has robbed us in cold blood!"

  Lehuster gestured to the sack he had tossed upon the couch. "On this occasion, we have bested her. Yonder are the stones! I seized them while she bathed. I suggest that you send a sandestin to replace them with the false stones. If you hurry, there is still time; the Murthe dallies at her toilette. Meanwhile hide the true stones in some extra-dimensional cubby-hole, so that they may not be taken from you again."

  Rhialto summoned his sandestin Bellume and issued an appropriate instruction.

  Ildefonse turned to Lehuster: "By what means did Calanctus confound this dire and frightening female?"

  "Mystery still shrouds the occasion," said Lehuster. "Calanctus apparently used an intense personal force and so kept Llorio at bay."

  "Hmmf. We must learn more of Calanctus. The chronicles make no mention of his death; he may still be extant, perhaps in the Land of Cutz!"

  "Such questions also trouble the Murthe," said Lehuster. "We may well be able to confuse her and induce her retreat."

  "How so?"

  "There is no time to lose. You and Rhialto must create an ideal semblance in the shape of Calanctus, and here, at least, I can be of assistance. The creation need not be permanent, but it must be sufficiently vital so that Llorio is persuaded that once again she pits herself against Calanctus."

  Ildefonse pulled doubtfully at his beard. "That is a major undertaking."

  "With scant time for its execution! Remember, by winning the IOUN stones you have defied the Murthe with a challenge which she cannot ignore!"

  Rhialto jumped to his feet. "Quickly then! Let us do as Lehuster suggests! Time is short."

  "Hmmf," growled Ildefonse. "I do not fear this misguided harridan. Is there no easier way?"

  "Yes! Flight to a far dimension!"

  "You
know me better than that!" declared Ildefonse. "To work! We will send this witch squealing and leaping with skirts held high as she bounds over the brambles!"

  "That shall be our slogan," declared Lehuster. "To work!"

  The semblance of Calanctus took form on the work table: first an armature of silver and tantalum wires built upon an articulated spinal truss, then a shadowy sheathing of tentative concepts, then the skull and sensorium, into which were inserted all the works of Calanctus, and a hundred other tracts, including catalogues, compendia, pantolo-gies and universal syntheses, until Lehuster counselled a stop. "Already he knows twenty times as much as the first Calanctus! I wonder if he can organize such a mass?"

  The muscles were stretched and drawn taut; the skin was applied, along with a thick pelt of dark short hair over the scalp and down the forehead. Lehuster worked long and hard at the features, adjusting the jut of the jaw, the thrust of the short straight nose, the breadth of the forehead, the exact shape and curve of eyebrows and hair-line.

  The ears were affixed and the auditory channels adjusted. Lehuster spoke in an even voice: "You are Calanctus, first hero of the 18th Aeon."

  The eyes opened and gazed thoughtfully at Lehuster.

  "I am your friend," said Lehuster. "Calanctus, arise! Go sit in yonder chair."

  The Calanctus-form rose from the table with only a trifling effort, swung his strong legs to the floor and went to sit in the chair.

  Lehuster turned to Rhialto and Ildefonse. "It would be better if now you stepped into the parlour for a few minutes. I must instill memories and associations into this mind; he must be vivid with life."

  "A full lifetime of memories in so short a time?" demanded IIdefonse. "Impossible!"

  "Not so, in a time-compression! I will also teach him music and poetry; he must be passionate as well as vivid. My instrument is this bit of dry flower-petal; its perfume works magic."

  Somewhat reluctantly Ildefonse and Rhialto went to the parlour, where they watched morning come full to Low Meadow.

  Lehuster called them to the work-room. "There sits Calanctus. His mind is rich with knowledge; he is perhaps even broader in his concepts than his namesake. Calanctus, this is Rhialto and this is Ildefonse; they are your friends."

  Calanctus looked from one to the other with mild blue eyes. "I am glad to hear that! From what I have learned, the world is sorely in need of amity."

  Lehuster said aside: "He is Calanctus, but with a difference, or even a certain lack. I have given him a quart of my blood, but perhaps it is not enough. . . . Still, we shall see."

  Ildefonse asked: "What of power? Can he enforce his commands?"

  Lehuster looked toward the neo-Calanctus. "I have loaded his sensorium with IOUN stones. Since he has never known harm he is easy and gentle despite his innate force."

  "What does he know of the Murthe?"

  "All there is to be known. He shows no emotion."

  Rhialto and Ildefonse regarded their creation with skepticism. "So far Calanctus seems still an abstraction, without over-much volition," said Rhialto. "Can we not give him a more visceral identification with the real Calanctus?"

  Lehuster hesitated. "Yes. It is a scarab which Calanctus always wore on his wrist. Dress him now in apparel, then I will give him the scarab."

  Ten minutes later Rhialto and Ildefonse entered the parlour with Calanctus, who now wore a black helmet, a breast-plate of polished black metal, a black cape, black breeches and black boots, with silver buckles and accoutrements.

  Lehuster nodded. ' 'He is as he should be. Calanctus, hold out your arm! I will give you a scarab worn by the first Calanctus, whose identity you must assume. This bracelet is yours. Wear it always around your right wrist."

  Calanctus said: "I feel the surge of power. I am strong! I am Calanctus!"

  Rhialto asked: "Are you strong enough to accept the sleight of magic? The ordinary man must study forty years even to become an apprentice."

  "I have the power to accept magic."

  "Come then! You shall ingest the Encyclopedia, then the Three Books of Phandaal, and if then you are neither dead nor mad I will pronounce you a man strong beyond any of my experience. Come! Back to the work-room."

  Ildefonse remained in the parlour. . . . Minutes passed. He heard a queer choking outcry, quickly quelled.

  Calanctus returned to the parlour with firm steps. Rhialto, coming after, walked on sagging knees with a green pallor on his face.

  Calanctus spoke somberly to Ildefonse: "I have accepted magic. My mind reels with spells; they are wild, but still I control their veering forces. The scarab gave me the strength."

  Lehuster spoke. "The time is near. Witches gather on the meadow: Zanzel, Ao of the Opals, Barbanikos, and others. They are fretful and agitated. ... In fact, Zanzel approaches."

  Rhialto looked to Ildefonse. "Shall we use the opportunity?"

  "We would be fools if we did not!"

  "My thoughts precisely. If you will take yourself to the side arbor. .. ."

  Rhialto went out on the front terrace, where he met Zanzel, who lodged an emphatic protest in the matter of the missing IOUN stones.

  "Quite right!" said Rhialto. "It was a dastardly act, done at the behest of Ildefonse. Come to the side arbor and I will redress the wrong."

  Zanzel walked to the side arbor where Ildefonse desensitized her with the Spell of Internal Solitude. Ladanque, Rhialto's chamberlain, lifted Zanzel to a barrow and wheeled her to the gardener's shed.

  Rhialto, emboldened by his success, stepped to the front terrace and signaled to Barbanikos, who, following Rhialto into the side arbor, met a similar disposition.

  So it went with Ao of the Opals, Dulce-Lolo, Hurtiancz and others, until the only witches remaining upon the meadow were the absent-minded Vermoulian and Tchamast the Didactor, both of whom ignored Rhialto's signal.

  Llorio the Murthe dropped down upon the meadow in a whirl of white cloud-spume. . . . She wore an ankle-length white gown, silver sandals, a silver belt and a black fillet to confine her hair. She put a question to Vermoulian, who pointed toward Rhialto, at the front of Falu.

  Llorio slowly approached. Ildefonse, stepping from the arbor, bravely directed a double spell of Internal Solitude against her; it bounced back and, striking Ildefonse, sent him sprawling.

  Llorio the Murthe halted. "Rhialto! You have mistreated my coterie! You have stolen my magic stones, and so now you must come to Sadal Suud not as a witch, but as a servant of menial sort, and this shall be your punishment. Ildefonse will fare no better."

  From Falu came Calanctus. He halted. Llorio's taut jaw sagged; her mouth fell open.

  Llorio spoke in a gasping voice: "How are you here? How did you evade the triangle? How ..." The voice seemed to catch in her throat; in consternation she stared into the face of Calanctus. She found her voice. "Why do you look at me like that? Faithless I have not been; I now depart for Sadal Suud! Here I do only what must be done and it is you who are faithless!"

  "I also did what must be done, and so it must be done again, for you have ensqualmated men to be your witches; so you have broken the Great Law, which ordains that man shall be man and woman shall be woman."

  "When Necessity meets Law, then Law gives way: so you spoke in your Decretals!"

  "No matter. Go you shall to Sadal Suud! Go now, go alone, without the ensqualmations."

  Llorio said: "It is all one; a sorry band they are, either as wizards or witches, and in candour I wanted them only for entourage."

  "Go then, Murthe!"

  Llorio instead looked at Calanctus with a peculiar expression mingled of puzzlement and dissatisfaction on her face. She made no move to depart, which would seem to be both a taunt and a provocation. "The aeons have not dealt kindly with you; now you stand like a man of dough! Remember how you threatened to deal with me should we meet again?" She took another step forward, and showed a cool smile. "Are you afraid of my strength? So it must be! Where now are your erotic boasts and predictions?"

>   "I am a man of peace. I carry concord in my soul rather than attack and subjugation. I threaten naught; I promise hope."

  Llorio came a step closer and peered into his face. "Ah!" she cried softly. "You are an empty facade, no more, and not Calanctus! Are you then so ready to taste death's sweetness?"

  "I am Calanctus."

  Llorio spoke a spell of twisting and torsion, but Calanctus fended it away with a gesture, and called a spell in turn of compressions from seven directions, which caught the Murthe unready and sent her reeling to her knees. Calanctus bent in compassion to lift her erect; she flared into blue flame and Calanctus held her around the waist with charred arms.

  Llorio pushed him back, her face contorted. "You are not Calanctus; you are milk where he is blood!"

  Even as she spoke the scarab in the bracelet brushed her face; she screamed and from her throat erupted a great spell—an explosion of power too strong for the tissues of her body, so that blood spurted from her mouth and nose. She reeled back to support herself against a tree, while Calanctus toppled slowly to lie broken and torn on his back.