The Magnificent Showboats

by Jack Vance

  “This is fallacy,” declared Zamp. “The death sentence was pronounced not by the management of this vessel, but by the town Lanteen. We can only transform the occasion from a sordid little affair in a cellar to exalted drama in which you perform an indispensable role. In your place I would cooperate with great zest.”

  “I will gladly change with you,” said the prisoner. “Otherwise it is all one.”

  “Another matter,” said Zamp. “The role personifies Evulsifer as a fair man of distinguished appearance — in fact I usually play the part myself, up to the moment of execution. You do not match this description, and I would wish to shave your beard, cut your hair, supply you with a wig and dress you in fine garments. Otherwise you must be executed in a black robe with a heavy cowl.”

  “I am not vain,” said the man. “If you must execute a popinjay, put your own head on the block and all requirements will be met.”

  Zamp said in disgust: “You are intractable. Solicit no favors from me.”

  The prisoner rattled the bars of his cage. “Look forward to your own death with foreboding! In the afterlife I plan to deal harshly with all my enemies!”

  “I suspect that our future planes of existence will be quite distinct,” said Zamp loftily, and walked away from the cage. He spent a moment reflecting upon the prisoner’s threat. Could such things be? If so, what weird events must transpire in the afterlife! … Hmm. Here was material for a new drama.

  At the bow he found Bonko. “Make ready for departure,” said Zamp. “We sail up the Lant as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll need an hour to comb the taverns,” said Bonko.

  “Departure time, then, will be noon.”

  Zamp returned to the quarter-deck, and consulted the River Index notes on Port Whant:

  Originally settled by a tribe of white Nens, Port Whant is to this day notorious for the truculence of its citizens. The Whants nevertheless are not parsimonious and can be expected to provide enthusiastic audiences for high-quality productions. This very spontaneity of reaction however is a mixed blessing if the performance is shabby, mean, or inconsiderable, when the Whants may well make a vehement expression, or go so far as to demand refund, to which the wise ship-master will give instant accommodation.

  The Whants are ruled by a warlord, who leads them on their raids, and whom they hold in deepest reverence. The current warlord is Lop Loiqua, a man of considerable force.

  Under no circumstance make facetious reference to the town, or to the warlord. The Whants in any case are a rather grim folk who dislike farce or travesty; tragic dramas such as Xerxonistes or The Monster of Munt are generally well received.

  The Whants are most sensitive to color stimulation. Females should wear no yellow, as this is for the Whants a sexual excitant, and is considered a signal of invitation. Similarly men should wear no red, which might be interpreted as a challenge. Black is a color of debasement, worn by pariahs —

  Chaunt the steward approached. “A person to see you, sir. She is waiting by the gangplank.”

  Zamp rose to his feet and peered down to the main deck. “Indeed, indeed. Show her to my cabin.” Zamp set his jacket, and tugged his cap to the jauntiest angle possible. He waited a moment, then descended to the main deck and entered his cabin.

  His visitor stood by the table, one hand resting on the umber surface. The two inspected each other for a moment, then Zamp doffed his cap and tossed it across the room in a gesture of gallant abandon. The young woman watched without expression, evincing neither interest nor approval. She wore a costume which set off her slender figure to excellent advantage: soft gray trousers, black ankle-boots, a flaring dark blue cape. Her glossy blonde hair was held in place by a loose-crowned black beret with a tassel hanging past her right ear. Zamp could find no clues in her garments or features as to her race, caste or place of origin. He said: “I believe that we have met before, at the Jolly Glassblower.”

  The young woman seemed a trifle puzzled and Zamp asked himself, was it possible that she had not noticed him?

  “This may well be. You are Apollon Zamp?”

  “I claim that dubious distinction, indeed. What of yourself?”

  “I wish to become a member of your troupe.”

  “Aha! Please be seated. Will you take a glass of wine?”

  “Nothing, thank you.” The young woman seated herself in the chair which Zamp brought forward. “You are naturally wondering as to my dramatic capabilities. They are not large, but on the other hand I demand no large salary.”

  “I see,” said Zamp. “What in fact are these capabilities?”

  “Well, I can no doubt act parts; I play a minor guitar with some facility, and I can give chess demonstrations.”

  “These are special talents, to be sure,” said Zamp. “Can you perform agile dances?”

  “This is a skill in which I have not been trained,” said the young woman rather haughtily.

  “Hmm,” said Zamp. “Do you know the tragic drama Evulsifer?”

  “I fear not.”

  “The nude ghost of Princess Maude walks the parapets of Castle Doun during the second act. You might adequately command the role.”

  “The nudity is of course simulated?”

  “Ghostliness is suggested by the use of a gossamer curtain. Nudity, however, is better portrayed by actuality than by simulation. Such has been our experience.”

  The young woman looked out the casements and across the water. Zamp studied her profile, which he found exquisite. “Ah well,” she muttered, more to herself than Zamp, “what difference does it make?”

  Zamp said: “You know my name, but you still have not enlightened me as to your own.”

  “You may address me as —” she hesitated and frowned. “It is a difficult matter to reconcile formality with convenience.”

  “Perhaps you could simply tell me your name.”

  “It is Damsel Tatwiga Berjadre Ilkin al Marilszippor cam Zatofoy dal Tossfleur cam Ysandra dal Attikonitsa al Blanche-Aster Wittendore.”

  “The pedigree is imposing,” said Zamp. “I will call you Damsel Blanche-Aster. And where is your home-place?”

  “My birthplace is Castle Zatofoy in the land of Wyst.”

  Zamp pursed his lips. “These places are not known to me.”

  “They are remote, as are the circumstances of my life, and I prefer not to discuss them.”

  “As you wish,” said Zamp. “Now — if you are to join the troupe — you must adopt a possibly novel point of view. We function as a unit; we have no place aboard for acrimonious or abrasive personalities, diffidence, languor or excessive temperament. Prudence, discretion, restraint are indispensable qualities as we sail from town to town, inasmuch as each is different from the next and we can risk offending no one. For instance, at Port Whant you may wear no yellow, inasmuch as this will be regarded as receptivity to sexual proposals.”

  Damsel Blanche-Aster gave him a cold glance. “I am sure that such vulgar episodes are uncommon.”

  Zamp gave a casual laugh. “Not altogether. In fact, after a month or so, you will drop the words ‘common’ and ‘uncommon’ from your vocabulary.”

  Damsel Blanche-Aster sat looking off across the cabin and out the stern casements, and it seemed to Zamp that she was on the verge of rising to her feet and departing the ship. But she sighed and made some sort of internal adjustment, and Zamp breathed easier.

  “As for your compensation,” said Zamp, “I can offer you the wage of a part-player, which will be augmented as you demonstrate new skills. Aboard this ship I emphasize versatility, which I find to be stimulating for everyone.”

  Damsel Blanche-Aster gave an indifferent shrug. “As for my quarters, I prefer a cabin similar to this, with adjacent bathing facilities.”

  Zamp stared in wonder. “My dear young lady, no such similar cabin exists!” He essayed a facetious gallantry, which he immediately knew to be a mistake. “Unless of course you care to share this cabin with me.” He added lamely: “Wh
ich might, ha, offend less fortunate members of the troupe.”

  Damsel Blanche-Aster ignored the suggestion as if it had not been made. Her voice frosted the air. “Essentially, I require only privacy; if necessary, I am willing to put up with inconvenience.”

  Zamp pulled at his blonde goatee. “In view of your obvious gentility, you may take your meals here with me in this cabin. On the deck below is a spacious lazarette, conveniently adjacent to my private bath, which can be used as a cabin. It is not particularly airy nor bright, but nowhere else aboard ship can I provide the privacy you request.”

  “It must suffice. I will order my effects aboard at once.”

  “We depart at noon, so please make haste.”

  Zamp escorted Damsel Blanche-Aster out on deck and with a warm weakness of the joints watched her leave the ship. He shook his head in wonder. A marvel, a nonesuch, a rarity! He craned his neck to look after her erect supple form as she walked along the esplanade. A creature beautiful as the dawn, luminous with intelligence. Even her hauteur was fascinating! But no denying a profoundly strange quality to the situation, which only a simpleton could ignore! Why would such a remarkable person opt for the life of a show-boat player? A mystery which he would endeavor to resolve, along with all her other mysteries and reticences. Zamp considered the days to come with a thrill of anticipation: as if he had returned to adolescence and were experiencing the pangs of infatuation.

  Summoning Chaunt, Zamp gave instructions as to the lazarette, then returned to the quarterdeck and pretended to study the River Index.

  … Bilch, like other communities up and down the Vale of Lant, must constantly stay on the alert against the rapacity of the Whants, and in consequence has evolved a curious psychology compounded of nervousness and fear, repressed hostility, and the ordinary human need for self-assertion and pride. The folk of Bilch therefore seem almost disoriented and victims of confused impulses. The official who one moment gives an obsequious greeting may on the next turn to snarling and gnashing his teeth like a cur. On the other hand, the gang of furtive youths who in the shelter of darkness pelt the visitor with rocks might well perform prodigies of selfless valor to save him from drowning …

  Members of the troupe straggled up the gangplank, removing the pegs opposite their names on the roster-board as they stepped on deck. A pair of porters brought Damsel Blanche-Aster’s belongings aboard: three varnished rattan cases with iron clips and hinges: rich cases indeed! Zamp strolled forward to the bow, not wishing to be in evidence when Damsel Blanche-Aster herself came aboard. For a day or two he would maintain a courteous distance, almost an aloofness. Such an attitude would intrigue her imagination and stimulate her female predacity. She would wonder where and how she was lacking and exert herself to be captivating … Garth Ashgale, on the quarterdeck of his Fironzelle’s Golden Conceit, called across the water: “So then: you are faring forth?”

  “I am indeed. And you?”

  “I must make repairs, worse luck, or I’d be up the Lant myself. How far up do you venture?”

  “I have not yet decided.”

  “Good luck then and large audiences. What will you play at Port Whant?”

  “Evulsifer, though we are rusty at the roles.”

  “An excellent choice! The Whants are a dismal lot. Give them gore and they’ll never notice the deficiencies.” Garth Ashgale — smiling rather broadly, thought Zamp — waved his hand and turned away.

  Damsel Blanche-Aster came aboard. She halted a moment, looked right and left along the decks, up and down the masts, then sauntered aft to the quarterdeck, to stand leaning on the taffrail looking north up the brimming Vissel.

  Bullocks were harnessed to the capstan; Zamp gave the order to cast off lines: Miraldra’s Enchantment eased out upon the Lant. Zamp ordered all sails set; on a broad reach the ship drove up-river. Damsel Blanche-Aster came up behind Zamp. “Master Zamp, if you please!”

  Zamp turned to find Damsel Blanche-Aster’s face puzzled and uncertain. She asked: “Where are we going? The Vissel flows yonder!”

  “Exactly. This is the Lant. We will present entertainments at certain of the upstream towns.”

  “But are you not sailing north to play at the Grand Festival?”

  “I have not definitely decided. All in all I think not. The way is long and the outcome uncertain.”

  “But you gained King Waldemar’s invitation!”

  “The festival is still two months distant; there is time to spare if I change my mind.”

  Damsel Blanche-Aster looked back toward Lanteen, then went thoughtfully to a wicker chair and seated herself.

  Zamp pulled up a chair and settled beside her. “This afternoon we begin rehearsals for Evulsifer. I play a part in this drama; in fact I myself will be Evulsifer.”

  “And I must walk nude today across the battlements?”

  “Only if such a condition pleases you.”

  Damsel Blanche-Aster gave a curt nod. “I have resigned myself to indignities, which I trust you will try to minimize.”

  “You speak with such dire foreboding! I intend that you shall enjoy yourself. Do you know, I have yet to see you laugh?”

  Damsel Blanche-Aster turned him a level glance. “Why should you concern yourself? We are utter strangers.”

  “Not quite!” declared Zamp. “I reject this theory!” He reflected that his policy of reserve and aloofness had not proved feasible. “My position is a lonely one. Now, suddenly, you are here: a person of beauty and intelligence. Is it a miracle that I should wonder at your disconsolate expression? Or that I should point out how the sun scintillates along the waves; how perfectly the white sails swell and sweep against the blue sky; how pleasant it is to sit here and raise a finger to Chaunt for tea or iced punch or whatever is wanted?”

  Damsel Blanche-Aster deigned a faint smile. “Chaunt unfortunately is not omnipotent.”

  “You require something beyond his capacity? What might it be? … No, don’t tell me. Perhaps I don’t really want to probe your mysteries.” Zamp waited, watching her covertly sidewise, but she made no response, merely sat gazing pensively across the water.

  For a period the two sat in silence. Zamp at last spoke: “A word about your role. It is both easy and demanding. You have no lines to speak but you must project a spectral intimation; you must awe the audience with a chill of the unknown.”

  “I have seen ghosts walk at Castle Zatofoy. There is no difficulty to the matter.”

  “Permit me to ask why, rather than residing at this noble castle, you are now here on the Lant River?”

  “The simplest of reasons. The castle was conquered. My family was killed. I am lucky to have escaped with my life. There is now no more Castle Zatofoy; it was burned, then broken apart stone from stone.”

  Zamp shook his head sympathetically. “There are worse fates than life aboard Miraldra’s Enchantment.”

  “Doubtless.”

  Chaunt the steward appeared. “Where shall I lay out lunch, sir?”

  “In the cabin. The Honorable Damsel Blanche-Aster will be taking her meals with me.”

  At lunch Damsel Blanche-Aster was as uncommunicative as before; Zamp noted, however, that she ate with a good appetite.

  During the afternoon the troupe rehearsed Evulsifer and Zamp was not displeased with the effort. Damsel Blanche-Aster walked the battlements in a most satisfactory style; Bonko, in the role of executioner, beheaded a dummy with satisfying precision.

  During the evening meal Damsel Blanche-Aster seemed somewhat more relaxed. Zamp, however, took pains not to press too hard at intimacy. When the table had been cleared, Zamp poured two goblets of amaranthine liquor and brought a small guitar from his cabinet. “I would like to hear you play, if it pleases you to do so.”

  Damsel Blanche-Aster unenthusiastically took the guitar, fingered the strings and placed it on the table. “It is tuned incorrectly.”

  “Tell me how you prefer the tuning.”

  Damsel Blanche-Aster herself tuned
the guitar, then played a slow simple melody to a twanging of rhythmic chords. “The song has words, which I have forgotten.” She again placed the guitar on the table and rose to her feet. “I am not in the mood to play; please excuse me.” She departed the cabin.

  Zamp followed her out on deck. The sun had set behind the low banks of the Lant; twilight sky reflected on the water. Zamp called Bonko and gave orders for the evening: “The wind seems fresh and fair; we will sail until night grows dark, then anchor in the stream. Put out robber nets and post a four-man look-out. This is nomad country, and vigilance is necessary.”

  Zamp took the guitar to the quarterdeck and sat for a half-hour playing idle chords, but Damsel Blanche-Aster after standing at the bow returned aft and went below to her cabin.

  Chapter V

  On the afternoon of the second day out of Lanteen Port Whant appeared on the north bank: a cramped cluster of two- and three-storied houses constructed of timber and plastered stone, with roofs meeting and joining and slanting at every angle. Zamp had arrayed Miraldra’s Enchantment in its most festive guise. Screens of withe and wood towered above the midship gunwales to suggest an imposing castle; aloft fluttered flags and bunting of white and green: the colors least offensive to the Whants.

  With maximum display, Miraldra’s Enchantment approached the Port Whant dock, flags fluttering, tumblers cart-wheeling to the music of belphorns, drums and screedles. Back and forth across the triatic stay marched acrobats carrying advertising placards and the emblem of Port Whant. The girls of the troupe lined the parapets of the simulated castle, wearing gowns of pale blue, to indicate a state of demure chastity.

  A dozen or so folk from the town sauntered out upon the docks. They wore shapeless cloaks of dark brown furze and stood in small silent groups; Zamp signaled his troupe to even greater efforts.

  The boat glided up to the dock; hawsers were dropped over bollards; the vessel was warped close to the dock and made secure. Meanwhile the troupe exerted itself to the utmost. The tumblers leaped, caracoled, turned back-flips; the acrobats pretended to fall from the stay, catching themselves by one last grasp; the girls, now in transparent hip-length smocks of pale blue gauze, to combine the maximum titillation with the minimum provocation, leapt back and forth across the upper windows of the simulated castle.