by Jack Vance
Comandore swept from the tent, and Huss settled himself
on his stool. Sam Salazar scratched at the flap. “Well, lad?” growled Huss. “Why do you loiter?”
Sam Salazar placed the Hein Huss manikin on the table. “I have no wish to keep this doll.”
“Throw it in a ditch, then.” Hein Huss spoke gruffly. “You must stop annoying me with stupid tricks. You efficiently obtrude yourself upon my attention, but you cannot transfer from Comandore’s troupe without his express consent.”
“If I gain his consent?”
“You will incur his enmity; he will open his cabinet against you. Unlike myself, you are vulnerable to a hoodoo. I advise you to be content. Isak Comandore is highly skilled and can teach you much.”
Sam Salazar still hesitated. “Jinxman Comandore, though skilled, is intolerant of new thoughts.”
Hein Huss shifted ponderously on his stool, examined Sam Salazar with his water-clear eyes. “What new thoughts are these? Your own?”
“The thoughts are new to me, and for all I know new to Isak Comandore. But he will say neither yes nor no.”
Hein Huss sighed, settled his monumental bulk more comfortably. “Speak then, describe these thoughts, and I will assess their novelty.”
“First, I have wondered about trees. They are sensitive to light, to moisture, to wind, to pressure. Sensitivity implies sensation. Might a man feel into the soul of a tree for these sensations? If a tree were capable of awareness, this faculty might prove useful. A man might select trees as sentinels in strategic sites, and enter into them as he chose.”
Hein Huss was skeptical. “An amusing notion, but practically not feasible. The reading of minds, the act of possession, televoyance, all similar interplay, require psychic congruence as a basic condition. The minds must be able to become identities at some particular stratum. Unless there is sympathy, there is no linkage. A tree is at opposite poles from a man; the images of tree and man are incommensurable. Hence, anything more than the most trifling flicker of comprehension must be a true miracle of jinxmanship.”
Sam Salazar nodded mournfully. “I realized this, and at one time hoped to equip myself with the necessary identification.” “To do this you must become a vegetable. Certainly the tree will never become a man.”
“So I reasoned,” said Sam Salazar. “I went alone into a grove of trees, where I chose a tall conifer. I buried my feet in the mold, I stood silent and naked—in the sunlight, in the rain; at dawn, noon, dusk, midnight. I closed my mind to manthoughts, I closed my eyes to vision, my ears to sound. I took no nourishment except from rain and sun. I sent roots forth from my feet and branches from my torso. Thirty hours I stood, and two days later another thirty hours, and after two days another thirty hours. I made myself a tree, as nearly as possible to one of flesh and blood.” Hein Huss gave the great inward gurgle that signalized his amusement. “And you achieved sympathy?”
“Nothing useful,” Sam Salazar admitted. “I felt something of the tree’s sensations—the activity of light, the peace of dark, the coolness of rain. But visual and auditory experience —nothing. However, I do not regret the trial. It was a useful discipline.”
“An interesting effort, even if inconclusive. The idea is by no means of startling originality, but the empiricism—to use an archaic word—of your method is bold, and no doubt antagonized Isak Comandore, who has no patience with the superstitions of our ancestors. I suspect that he harangued you against frivolity, metaphysics, and inspirationalism.” “True,” said Sam Salazar. “He spoke at length.”
“You should take the lesson to heart. Isak Comandore is sometimes unable to make the most obvious truth seem credible. However, I cite you the example of Lord Faide who considers himself an enlightened man, free from superstition. Still, he rides in his feeble car, he carries a pistol sixteen hundred years old, he relies on Hellmouth to protect Faide Keep.” “Perhaps—unconsciously—he longs for the old magical times,” suggested Sam Salazar thoughtfully.
“Perhaps,” agreed Hein Huss. “And you do likewise?”
Sam Salazar hesitated. “There is an aura of romance, a kind of wild grandeur to the old days—but of course,” he added quickly, “mysticism is no substitute for orthodox logic.”
“Naturally not,” agreed Hein Huss. “Now go; I must consider the events of tomorrow.”
Sam Salazar departed, and Hein Huss, rumbling and groaning, hoisted himself to his feet. He went to the flap of his tent, surveyed the camp. All now was quiet. The fires were embers, the warriors lay in the pits they had cut into the moss. To the north and south spread the woodlands. Among the trees and out on the downs were faint flickering luminosities, where the First Folk gathered spore-pods from the moss.
Hein Huss became aware of a nearby personality. He turned his head and saw approaching the shrouded form of Jinxman Enterlin, who concealed his face, who spoke only in whispers, who disguised his natural gait with a stiff stiltlike motion. By this means he hoped to reduce his vulnerability to hostile jinxmanship. The admission carelessly let fall of failing eyesight, of stiff joints, forgetfulness, melancholy, nausea might be of critical significance in controversy by hoodoo. Jinxmen therefore maintained the pose of absolute health and virility, even though they must grope blindly or limp doubled up from cramps.
Hein Huss called out to Enterlin, lifted back the flap to the tent. Enterlin entered; Huss went to the cabinet, brought forth a flask, poured liquor into a pair of stone cups. “A cordial only, free of overt significance.”
“Good,” whispered Enterlin, selecting the cup farthest from him. “After all, we jinxmen must relax into the guise of men from time to time.” Turning his back on Huss, he introduced the cup through the folds of his hood, drank. “Refreshing,” he whispered. “We need refreshment; tomorrow we must work.”
Huss issued his reverberating chuckle. “Tomorrow Isak Comandore matches demons with Anderson Grimes. We others perform only subsidiary duties.”
Enterlin seemed to make a quizzical inspection of Hein Huss through the black gauze before his eyes. “Comandore will relish this opportunity. His vehemence oppresses me, and his is a power which feeds on success. He is a man of fire, you are a man of ice.”
“Ice quenches fire.”
“Fire sometimes melts ice."
Hein Huss shrugged. “No matter. I grow weary. Time has passed all of us by. Only a moment ago a young apprentice showed me to myself.”
“As a powerful jinxman, as Head Jinxman to the Faides, you have cause for pride.”
Hein Huss drained the stone cup, set it aside. “No. I see myself at the top of my profession, with nowhere else to go. Only Sam Salazar the apprentice thinks to search for more universal lore; he comes to me for counsel, and I do not know what to tell him.”
“Strange talk, strange talk!” whispered Enterlin. He moved to the flap of the tent. “I go now,” he whispered. “I go to walk on the downs. Perhaps I will see the future.”
“There are many futures.”
Enterlin rustled away and was lost in the dark. Hein Huss groaned and grumbled, then took himself to his couch, where he instantly fell asleep.
II
The night passed. The sun, flickering with films of pink and green, lifted over the horizon. The new planting of the First Folk was silhouetted, a sparse stubble of saplings, against the green and lavender sky. The troops broke camp with practiced efficiency. Lord Faide marched to his car, leaped within; the machine sagged under his weight. He pushed a button, the car drifted forward, heavy as a waterlogged timber.
A mile from the new planting he halted, sent a messenger back to the wagons of the jinxmen. Hein Huss walked ponderously forward, followed by Isak Comandore, Adam Mc-Adam, and Enterlin. Lord Faide spoke to Hein Huss. “Send someone to speak to the First Folk. Inform them we wish to pass, offering them no harm, but that we will react savagely to any hostility.”
“I will go myself,” said Hein Huss. He turned to Comandore, ‘‘Lend me, if you will, your
brash young apprentice. I can put him to good use.”
“If he unmasks a nettle trap by blundering into it, his first useful deed will be done,” said Comandore. He signaled to Sam Salazar, who came reluctantly forward. “Walk in front of Head Jinxman Hein Huss that he may encounter no traps or scythes. Take a staff to probe the moss.”
Without enthusiasm Sam Salazar borrowed a lance from one of the foot soldiers. He and Huss set forth, along the low rise that previously had separated North from South Wildwood. Occasionally outcroppings of stone penetrated the cover of moss; here and there grew bayberry trees, clumps of tarplant, ginger-tea, and rosewort.
A half mile from the planting Huss halted. “Now take care, for here the traps will begin. Walk clear of hummocks, these often conceal swing-scythes; avoid moss which shows a pale blue; it is dying or sickly and may cover a deadfall or a nettle trap.”
“Why cannot you locate the traps by clairvoyance?” asked Sam Salazar in a rather sullen voice. “It appears an excellent occasion for the use of these faculties.”
“The question is natural,” said Hein Huss with composure. “However you must know that when a jinxman’s own profit or security is at stake his emotions play tricks on him. I would see traps everywhere and would never know whether clairvoyance or fear prompted me. In this case, that lance is a more reliable instrument than my mind.”
Sam Salazar made a salute of understanding and set forth, with Hein Huss stumping behind him. At first he prodded with care, uncovering two traps, then advanced more jauntily; so swiftly indeed that Huss called out in exasperation, “Caution, unless you court death!”
Sam Salazar obligingly slowed his pace. “There are traps all around us, but I detect the pattern, or so I believe.” “Ah, ha, you do? Reveal it to me, if you will. I am only Head Jinxman, and ignorant.”
“Notice. If we walk where the spore-pods have recently been harvested, then we are secure.”
Hein Huss grunted. “Forward then. Why do you dally? We must do battle at Ballant Keep today.”
Two hundred yards farther, Sam Salazar stopped short. “Go on, boy, go on!” grumbled Hein Huss.
“The savages threaten us. You can see them just inside the planting. They hold tubes which they point toward us.”
Hein Huss peered, then raised his head and called out in the sibilant language of the First Folk.
A moment or two passed, then one of the creatures came forth, a naked humanoid figure, ugly as a demonmask. Foam-sacs bulged under its arms, orange-lipped foam-vents pointed forward. Its back was wrinkled and loose, the skin serving as a bellows to blow air through the foam-sacs. The fingers of the enormous hands ended in chisel-shaped blades, the head was sheathed in chitin. Billion-faceted eyes swelled from either side of the head, glowing like black opals, merging without definite limit into the chitin. This was a representative of the original inhabitants of the planet, who until the coming of man had inhabited the downs, burrowing in the moss, protecting themselves behind masses of foam exuded from the underarm sacs.
The creature wandered close, halted. “I speak for Lord Faide of Faide Keep,” said Huss. “Your planting bars his way. He wishes that you guide him through, so that his men do not damage the trees, or spring the traps you have set against your enemies.”
“Men are our enemies,” responded the autochthon. “You may spring as many traps as you care to; that is their purpose.” It backed away.
“One moment,” said Hein Huss sternly. “Lord Faide must pass. He goes to battle Lord Ballant. He does not wish to battle the First Folk. Therefore it is wise to guide him across the planting without hindrance.”
The creature considered a second or two. “I will guide him.” He stalked across the moss toward the war party.
Behind followed Hein Huss and Sam Salazar. The autochthon, legs articulated more flexibly than a man’s, seemed to weave and wander, occasionally pausing to study the ground ahead.
“I am puzzled,” Sam Salazar told Hein Huss. “I cannot understand the creature’s actions.”
“Small wonder,” grunted Hein Huss. “He is one of the First Folk, you are human. There is no basis for understanding.”
“I disagree,” said Sam Salazar seriously.
“Eh?” Hein Huss inspected the apprentice with vast disapproval. “You engage in contention with me, Head Jinxman Hein Huss?”
“Only in a limited sense,” said Sam Salazar. “I see a basis for understanding with the First Folk in our common ambition to survive.”
“A truism,” grumbled Hein Huss. “Granting this community of interests with the First Folk, what is your perplexity?”
“The fact that it first refused, then agreed to conduct us across the planting.”
Hein Huss nodded. “Evidently the information which intervened, that we go to fight at Ballant Keep, occasioned the change.”
“This is clear,” said Sam Salazar. “But think-”
“You exhort me to think?” roared Hein Huss.
“-here is one of the First Folk, apparently without
distinction, who makes an important decision instantly. Is he one of their leaders? Do they live in anarchy?”
“It is easy to put questions,” Hein Huss said gruffly. “It is not as easy to answer them.”
“In short-”
“In short, I do not know. In any event, they are pleased to see us killing one another.”
III
The passage through the planting was made without incident. A mile to the east the autochthon stepped aside and without formality returned to the forest. The war party, which had been marching in single file, regrouped into its usual formation. Lord Faide called Hein Huss and made the unusual gesture of inviting him up into the seat beside him. The ancient car dipped and sagged; the power-mechanism whined and chattered. Lord Faide, in high good spirits, ignored the noise. “I feared that we might be forced into a time-consuming wrangle. What of Lord Ballant? Can you read his thoughts?”
Hein Huss cast his mind forth. “Not clearly. He knows of our passage. He is disturbed.”
Lord Faide laughed sardonically. “For excellent reason! Listen now, I will explain the plan of battle so that all may coordinate their efforts.”
“Very well.”
“We approach in a wide line. Ballant’s great weapon is of course Volcano. A decoy must wear my armor and ride in the lead. The yellow-haired apprentice is perhaps the most expendable member of the party. In this way we will learn the potentialities of Volcano. Like our own Hellmouth, it was built to repel vessels from space and cannot command the ground immediately under the keep. Therefore we will advance in dispersed formation, to regroup two hundred yards from the keep. At this point the jinxmen will impel Lord Ballant forth from the keep. You no doubt have made plans to this end.”
Hein Huss gruffly admitted that such was the case. Like other jinxmen, he enjoyed the pose that his power sufficed for extemporaneous control of any situation.
Lord Faide was in no mood for niceties and pressed for further information. Grudging each word, Hein Huss disclosed his arrangements. “I have prepared certain influences to discomfit the Ballant defenders and drive them forth. Jinxman Enterlin will sit at his cabinet, ready to retaliate if Lord Ballant orders a spell against you. Anderson Grimes undoubtedly will cast a demon—probably Everid—into the Ballant warriors; in return, Jinxman Comandore will possess an equal or a greater number of Faide warriors with the demon Keyril, who is even more ghastly and horrifying.”
“Good. What more?”
“There is need for no more, if your men fight well.”
“Can you see the future? How does today end?”
“There are many futures. Certain jinxmen—Enterlin for instance—profess to see the thread which leads through the maze; they are seldom correct.”
“Call Enterlin here.”
Hein Huss rumbled his disapproval. “Unwise, if you desire victory over Ballant Keep.”
Lord Faide inspected the massive jinxman from under h
is black saturnine brows. “Why do you say this?”
“If Enterlin foretells defeat, you will be dispirited and fight poorly. If he predicts victory, you become overconfident and likewise fight poorly.”
Lord Faide made a petulant gesture. “The jinxmen are loud in their boasts until the test is made. Then they always find reasons to retract, to qualify.”
“Ha, ha!” barked Hein Huss. “You expect miracles, not honest jinxmanship. I spit—” he spat. “I predict that the spittle will strike the moss. The probabilities are high. But an insect might fly in the way. One of the First Folk might raise through the moss. The chances are slight. In the next instant there is only one future. A minute hence there are four futures. Five minutes hence, twenty futures. A billion futures could not express all the possibilities of tomorrow. Of these billion, certain are more probable than others. It is true that these probable futures sometimes send a delicate influence into the jinxman's brain. But unless he is completely impersonal and disinterested, his own desires overwhelm this influence. Enterlin is a strange man. He hides himself, he has no appetites. Occasionally his auguries are exact. Nevertheless, I advise against consulting him. You do better to rely on the practical and real uses of jinxmanship.”
Lord Faide said nothing. The column had been marching along the bottom of a low swale; the car had been sliding easily downslope. Now they came to a rise, and the power-mechanism complained so vigorously that Lord Faide was compelled to stop the car. He considered. “Once over the crest we will be in view of Ballant Keep. Now we must disperse. Send the least valuable man in your troupe forward—
the apprentice who tested out the moss. He must wear my helmet and corselet and ride in the car."
Hein Huss alighted, returned to the wagons, and presently Sam Salazar came forward. Lord Faide eyed the round, florid face with distaste. "Come close,” he said crisply. Sam Salazar obeyed. "You will now ride in my place," said Lord Faide. “Notice carefully. This rod impels a forward motion. This arm steers—to right, to left. To stop, return the rod to its first position."
