Planet of Adventure

by Jack Vance

  Enthusiasm for the 'cult' galvanized Cath; a radio transmitter was constructed and signals were projected toward Clari. Somewhere, the activity was resented; someone launched torpedoes which devastated Settra and Ballisidre. The Dirdir are commonly held responsible, but this is absurd; why should they trouble themselves? I assure you that they are much too distant, too uninterested.

  "Regardless of agency, the deed was done. Settra and Ballisidre were laid low, the 'cult' was discredited; the Dirdirmen were expelled; the 'round' swung back to orthodoxy. Now even to mention the 'cult' is considered vulgarity, and so we arrive at your case. Clearly you have encountered and assimilated 'cult' dogma; it now manifests itself in your attitudes, your acts, your goals. You seem unable to distinguish fact from fancy. To speak bluntly, you are so disoriented in this regard as to suggest psychic disorder."

  Reith closed his mouth on a wild laugh; it would only reinforce Anacho's doubts as to his sanity. A dozen remarks rose to his tongue; he restrained them all. At last he said, "All else aside, I appreciate your candor."

  "Not at all," said the Dirdirman serenely. "I imagine that I have clarified the nature of the girl's apprehension."

  The Dirdirman blinked up at the pink moon Az. "So long as she was outside the

  'round' at Pera and elsewhere, she made sympathetic allowances. But now return to Cath is imminent..." He said no more, and presently went to his couch in the saloon.

  Reith went to the forward pulpit under the great bow lantern. A cool draft of air fanned his face; the raft drifted idly about the treetop. From the ground came a furtive crackle of footsteps. Reith listened; they halted, then resumed and diminished off under the trees. Reith looked up into the sky where pink Az, blue Braz careened. He looked back at the deck-house where slept his comrades: a boy of the Emblem nomads, a clown-faced man evolved toward a race of gaunt aliens; a beautiful girl of the Yao, who thought him mad. Below sounded a new pad of footsteps. Perhaps he was mad indeed ...

  By morning Reith had recovered his equanimity, and was even able to find grotesque humor in the situation. No good reason to change his plans suggested itself, and the sky-raft limped south as before. The forest dwindled to scrub, and gave way to isolated plantings and cattle-runs, field huts, lookout towers against the approach of nomads, an occasional rutted road. The raft displayed an ever more aggravated instability, with an annoying tendency for the stern to sag. At mid-morning a range of low hills loomed ahead, and the raft refused to climb the few hundred feet necessary to clear the ridge. By the sheerest luck a cleft appeared through which the raft wobbled with ten feet to spare.

  Ahead lay the Dwan Zher and Coad: a compact town with a look of settled antiquity. The houses were built of weathered timber, with enormous high-peaked roofs and a multitude of skew gables, eccentric ridges, dormers, tall chimneys.

  A dozen ships rode to moorings; as many more were docked across from a row of factors' offices. At the north of town was the caravan terminus, beside a large compound surrounded by hostelries, taverns, warehouses. The compound seemed a convenient spot to set down the raft; Reith doubted if it could have held itself in the air another ten miles.

  The raft dropped stern first; the repulsors gave a labored whine and went silent with a meaningful finality. "That's that," said Reith. "I'm glad we've arrived."

  The group took up their meager luggage, alighted and left the raft where it had landed.

  At the edge of the compound Anacho made inquiries of a dung merchant and received directions to the Grand Continental, the best of the town's hostelries.

  Coad was a busy town. Along the crooked streets, in and out of the ale-colored sunlight, moved men and women of many casts and colors: Yellow Islanders and Black Islanders, Horasin bark-merchants muffled in gray robes; Caucasoids such as Traz from the Aman Steppe; Dirdirmen and Dirdirmen hybrids; dwarfish Sieps from the eastern slopes of the Ozanalai who played music in the streets; a few flat-faced white men from the far south of Kislovan. The natives, or Tans, were an affable fox faced people, with wide polished cheekbones, pointed chins, russet or dark brown hair cut in a ledge across the ears and foreheads. Their usual garments were knee-length breeches, embroidered vest, a round black pie-plate hat. Palanquins were numerous, carried by short gnarled men with oddly long noses and stringy black hair: apparently a race to themselves; Reith saw them in no other occupation. Later he learned them to be natives of Grenie at the head of the Dwan Zher.

  On a balcony Reith thought he glimpsed a Dirdir, but he could not be certain.

  Once Traz grabbed his elbow and pointed to a pair of thin men in loose black trousers, black capes with tall collars all but enveloping their faces, soft cylindrical black hats with wide brims: caricatures of mystery and intrigue.

  "Pnumekin!" hissed Traz in a something between shock and outrage. "Look at them!

  They walk among other men without a look aside, and their minds full of strange thinking!"

  They arrived at the hostelry, a rambling edifice of three stories, with a cafe on the front veranda, a restaurant in a great tall covered arbor to the rear and balconies overlooking the street. A clerk at a wicket took their money, distributed fanciful keys of black iron as large as their hands and instructed them to their rooms.

  "We have traveled a great dusty distance," said Anacho. "We require baths, with good quality unguents, fresh linen, and then we will dine."

  "It shall be as you order."

  An hour later, clean and refreshed, the four met in the downstairs lobby. Here they were accosted by a black-haired blackeyed man with a pinched melancholy face. He spoke in a gentle voice. "You are newly arrived at Coad?"

  Anacho, instantly suspicious, drew himself back. "Not altogether. We are well-known and have no needs."

  "I represent the Slave-taker's Guild, and this is my fair appraisal of your group. The girl is valuable, the boy less so. Dirdirmen are generally considered worthless except in clerical or administrative servitude, for which we have no demand. You would be rated a winkle-gatherer or a nut-huller, of no great value.

  This man, whatever he is, appears capable of toil, and would sell for the standard rate. Considering all, your insurance will be ten sequins a week."

  "Insurance against what?" demanded Reith.

  "Against being taken and sold," murmured the agent. "There is a heavy demand for competent workers. But for ten sequins a week," he declared triumphantly, "you may walk the streets of Coad night and day, secure as though the demon Harasthy rode your shoulders! Should you be sequestered by an unauthorized dealer the Guild will instantly order your free release."

  Reith stood back, half-amused, half-disgusted. Anacho spoke in his most nasal voice: "Show me your credentials."

  " 'Credentials'?" asked the man, his chin sagging.

  "Show us a document, a blazon, a patent. What? You have none? Do you take us for fools? Be off with you!"

  The man walked somberly away. Reith asked, "Was he in truth a fraud?"

  "One never knows, but the line must be drawn somewhere. Let us eat; I have a good appetite after weeks of steamed pulses and pilgrim plant."

  They took seats in the dining room: actually a vast airy arbor with a glass ceiling admitting a pale ivory light. Black vines climbed the walls; in the corners were purple and pale-blue ferns. The day was mild; the end of the room opened to a view of the Dwan Zher and a wind curled bank of cumulus at the horizon.

  The room was half-full; perhaps two dozen people dined from platters and bowls of black wood and red earthenware, talking in low voices, watching the folk at other tables with covert curiosity. Traz looked uneasily here and there, eyebrows raised in disapproval of so much luxury: undoubtedly his first encounter with what must seem a set of faddish and overcomplicated niceties, reflected Reith.

  He noticed Ylin-Ylan staring across the room, as if astonished by what she saw.

  Almost immediately she averted her eyes, as if uncomfortable or embarrassed.

  Reith followed her gaze, but saw noth
ing out of the ordinary. He thought better of inquiring the cause of her perturbation, not wishing to risk a cool stare.

  And Reith grinned uncomfortably. What a situation: almost as if she were cultivating an active dislike for him! Perfectly comprehensible, of course, if Anacho's explanations were correct. His puzzlement regarding the girl's agitation was now resolved by the sardonic Dirdirman.

  "Observe the fellow at the far table," murmured Anacho. "He in the green and purple coat."

  Turning his head, Reith saw a handsome young bravo with carefully arranged hair and a rich mustache of a startling gold. He wore elegant garments, somewhat rumpled and well-used: a jacket of soft leather strips, dyed alternately green and purple, breeches of pleated yellow cloth, buckled at knee and ankle with brooches in the shape of fantastic insects. A square cap of soft fur, fringed with two-inch pendants of gold beads, slanted across his head; an extravagant garde-nez of gold filigree clung to the ridge of his nose. Anacho muttered,

  "Watch him now. He will notice us, he will see the girl."

  "But who is he?"

  Anacho gave his fingertips an irritated twitch. "His name? I do not know. His status: high, in his own opinion at least. He is a Yao cavalier."

  Reith turned his attention to Ylin-Ylan, who watched the young man from the corner of her eye. Miraculous how her mood had altered! She had become alive and aware, though obviously twitching with nervousness and uncertainty. She flicked a glance toward Reith, and flushed to find his eyes on her. Bending her head she busied herself with the appetizers: dishes of gray grapes, biscuits, smoked sea-insects, pickled fern-pod. Reith watched the cavalier, who was unenthusiastically dining upon a black seed-bun and a dish of pickles, his gaze off across the sea. He gave a sad shrug, as if discouraged by his thoughts, and shifted his position. He saw the Flower of Cath, who feigned the most artless absorption in her food. The cavalier leaned forward in astonishment. He jumped to his feet with such exuberance as nearly to overturn the table. In three long strides he was across the room and down on one knee with a sweeping salute which brushed his cap across Traz's face. "Blue Jade Princess! Your servant Dordolio.

  My goals are won."

  The Flower bowed her head with an exact modicum of restraint and pleased surprise. Reith admired her aplomb. "Pleasant," she murmured, "in a far land to chance upon a cavalier of Cath."

  "'Chance' is not the word! I am one of a dozen who went forth to seek you, to win the boon proclaimed by your father and for the honor of both our palaces. By the wattles of the Pnume's First Devil, it has been given to me to find you!"

  Anacho spoke in his blandest voice. "You have searched extensively, then?"

  Dordolio stood erect, made a cursory inspection of Anacho, Reith, and Traz, and performed three precise nods. The Flower made a gay little motion, as if the three were casual companions at a picnic. "My loyal henchmen; all have been of incalculable help to me. But for them I doubt if I would be alive."

  "In that case," declared the cavalier, "they may ever rely upon the patronage of Dordolio, Gold, and Carnelian. They shall use my fieldname Alutrin Stargold." He performed a salute which included all three, then snapped his finger at the serving woman. "A chair, if you please. I will dine at this table."

  The serving woman somewhat unceremoniously pushed a chair into place; Dordolio seated himself and gave his attention to the Flower. "But what of your adventures? I assume them to be harrowing. Still you appear as fresh as ever-decidedly unharrowed."

  The Flower laughed. "In these steppe-dweller's garments? I have not yet been able to change. I must buy dozens of sheer necessities before I dare let you look at me."

  Dordolio, glancing at her gray garments, made a negligent gesture. "I had noticed nothing. You are as ever. But, if you wish, we will shop together; the bazaars of Coad are fascinating."

  "Of course! Tell me of yourself. My father issued a behest, you say?"

  "He did indeed, and swore a boon. The most gallant responded. We followed your trail to Spang where we learned who had taken you: Priestesses of the Female Mystery. Many gave you up for lost, but not I. My perseverance has been rewarded! In triumph we will return to Settra!"

  Ylin-Ylan turned a somewhat cryptic smile toward Reith. "I am of course anxious to return home. What luck to find you here in Coad!"

  "Remarkable luck," said Reith dryly. "We arrived only an hour ago from Pera."

  "Pera? I do not know the place."

  "It lies at the far west of the Dead Steppe."

  Dordolio gave an opaque stare, then once more he addressed himself to the Flower. "What hardships you must have suffered! But now you walk under the aegis of Dordolio! We return at once to Settra."

  The meal proceeded, Dordolio and Ylin-Ylan conversing with great vivacity. Traz, preoccupied with the unfamiliar table implements, turned them dour glances, as if he suspected their ridicule. Anacho paid them no heed; Reith ate in silence.

  Finally Dordolio sat back in his chair. "Now, as to the practicalities: the packet Yazilissa is at mooring, and shortly departs for Vervodei. A melancholy task to take leave of your comrades, good fellows all, I'm sure, but we must arrange our passage home."

  Reith spoke in an even voice. "All of us, so it happens, are bound for Cath."

  Dordolio presented his blank questioning stare, as if Reith spoke an incomprehensible language.

  He rose, helped Ylin-Ylan to her feet; the two went to saunter on the terrace beyond the arbour. The serving woman brought the score. "Five sequins, if you please, for five meals."

  "Five?"

  "The Yao ate at your table."

  Reith paid over five sequins from his wallet. Anacho watched in amusement. "The Yao's presence is actually an advantage; you will avoid attention upon your arrival at Settra."

  "Perhaps," said Reith. "On the other hand, I had hoped for the gratitude of the girl's father. I need all the friends I can find."

  "Events sometimes display a vitality of their own," observed Anacho. "The Dirdir teleologists have interesting remarks to make on the subject. I recall an analysis of coincidences-this, incidentally, not by a Dirdir but by a Dirdirman Immaculate..." As Anacho spoke on, Traz went out on the terrace to survey the roofs of Coad; Dordolio and Ylin-Ylan walked slowly past, ignoring his presence.

  Seething with indignation Traz returned to Reith and Anacho. "The Yao dandy urges her to dismiss us. She refers to us as nomads-rude but honest and dependable."

  "No matter," said Reith. "Her destiny is not ours."

  "But you have practically made it so! We might have remained in Pera, or taken ourselves to the Fortunate Isles; instead-" He threw up his arms in disgust.

  "Events are not occurring as I expected," Reith admitted. "Still, who knows? It may be for the best. Anacho thinks so, at any rate. Would you please ask her to step over here?"

  Traz went off on his errand, to return at once. "She and the Yao are off to buy what they call suitable garments! What a farce! I have worn steppe-dwellers'

  clothes all my life! The garments are suitable and useful."

  "Of course," said Reith. "Well, let them do as they wish. Perhaps we also might make a change in our appearance."

  Toward the dock area was the bazaar; here Reith, Anacho and Traz fitted themselves out in garments of somewhat less crude cut and material: shirts of soft light linen, short-sleeved vests, loose black breeches buckling at the ankle; shoes of supple gray leather.

  The docks were but a few steps away; they continued on to inspect the shipping, and the Yazilissa immediately engaged their attention: a three masted ship over a hundred feet long, with passenger accommodations in a tall many-windowed after-house, and in a row of 'tween-decks cabins along the waist. Cargo booms hung over the docks; bales of goods were hoisted aloft, swung up, over and into the holds.

  Climbing the gangplank, they found the supercargo who verified that the Yazilissa sailed in three days, touching at ports in Grenie and Horasin, then faring by way of Pag Choda, the Islands of Cloud, Tusa Tula
at Cape Gaiz on the western thrust of Kachan, to Vervodei in Cath: a voyage of sixty or seventy days.

  Inquiring as to accommodations, Reith learned that all first class staterooms were booked as far as Tusa Tula, and all but one of the 'tween-decks cabins.

  There was, however, unlimited deckclass accommodation, which according to the supercargo was not uncomfortable except during the equatorial rains. He admitted these to be frequent.

  "Not satisfactory," said Reith. "At the minimum we would want four second-class cabins."

  "Unfortunately I can't oblige you unless cancellations come in, which is always possible."

  "Very well; I am Adam Reith. You may reach me at the Grand Continental Hotel."

  The supercargo stared at him in surprise. "'Adam Reith'? You and your group are already on the passenger list."

  "I'm afraid not," said Reith. "We only arrived in Coad this morning."

  "But only an hour ago, perhaps less, a pair of Yao came aboard, a cavalier and a noblewoman. They took accommodation in the name of 'Adam Reith'; the grand suite in the after-house-that is to say, two staterooms with a private saloon-and deck passage for three. I requested a deposit; they stated that Adam Reith would come aboard to pay the passage fee, which is two thousand three hundred sequins. Are you Adam Reith?"

  "I am Adam Reith, but I plan to pay no two thousand three hundred sequins. So far as I am concerned, cancel the booking."

  "What sort of tomfoolery is this?" demanded the supercargo. "I have no inclination for such frivolity."

  "I have even less desire to cross the Draschade Ocean in the rain," said Reith.

  "If you want recourse, seek out the Yao."

  "A pointless exercise," growled the supercargo. "Well then, so be it. If you will be happy with something less than luxury, try aboard the Vargaz: the cog yonder. She's departing in a day or so for Cath, and no doubt can find room for you."