by Jack Vance
The practice went on into the night, while the pink moon sailed behind the ouinga trees, and the blue moon rose in the east. Finally Cauch pronounced himself satisfied. “You would deceive almost anyone. So then, to the couch. Tomorrow we journey to Urmank.”
The sleeping cubicle was dim, cracks in the rattan wall admitting slits of green and yellow light from the pavilion lamps, as many more from the pink and blue moons shining from different directions to make a multicolored mesh on the floor.
Zap 210 went to the wall and peered through the cracks out toward the avenue which ran under the ouingas. She looked for several minutes. Reith came to join her. “What do you see?”
“Nothing. They would not let themselves be seen so easily.” She turned away and with an inscrutable glance toward Reith went to sit on one of the wicker couches. Presently she said, “You are a very strange man.”
Reith had no reply to make.
“There is so much you don’t tell me. Sometimes I feel as if I know nothing whatever.”
“What do you want to know?”
“How people of the surface act, how they feel ... why they do the things they do...”
Reith went to where she sat and stood looking down at her. “Do you want to learn all these things tonight?”
She sat looking down at her hands. “No. I’m afraid ... Not now.”
Reith reached out and touched her head. He was suddenly wildly tempted to sit down beside her and tell her the tale of his remarkable past ... He wanted to feel her eyes on him; to see her pale face attentive and marveling ... In fact, thought Reith, he had begun to find this strange girl with her secret thoughts stimulating.
He turned away. As he crossed to his own couch he felt her eyes on his back.
* * *
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE MORNING SUNLIGHT entered the cubicle, strained by the withes of the wall. Going out upon the pavilion, Reith and Zap 210 found Cauch making a breakfast of pilgrim-pod cakes and a hot broth redolent of the shore. He inspected Reith and Zap 210 narrowly, paying particular attention to the turbans and their gait. “Not too bad. But you tend to forget. More swagger, lady, more shrug to your shoulders. Remember when you leave the pavilion you are Hedaijhans, in case suspicions have been aroused, in case someone waits and watches.”
After breakfast, the three went out upon the avenue which led northward under the ouinga trees, Reith and Zap 210 as thoroughly Hedaijhan as turban, shawl and mincing gait could make them, to a pair of carts drawn by a type of animal Reith had not previously seen: a gray-skinned beast which pranced elegantly and precisely on eight long legs.
Cauch climbed aboard the first cart; Reith and Zap 210 joined him. The carts departed Zsafathra.
The road led out upon a damp land of reeds, water-plants, isolated black stumps trailing lime-green tendrils. Cauch gave a great deal of his attention to the sky, as did the Zsafathrans in the cart behind. Reith finally asked: “What are you watching for?”
“Occasionally,” said Cauch, “we are molested by a tribe of predatory birds from the hills yonder. In fact, there you see one of their sentinels.” He pointed to a black speck flapping across the southern sky; it appeared the size of a large buzzard. Cauch went on in a voice of resignation. “Presently they will fly out to attack us.
“You show no great alarm,” said Reith.
“We have learned how to deal with them.” Cauch turned and gestured to the cart behind, then accelerated the pace of his own cart, to open up a gap of a hundred yards between the two. Out of the southern skies came a flock of fifty or sixty flapping birdcreatures. As they drew near Reith saw that each carried two chunks of stone half the size of his head. He looked uneasily toward Cauch. “What do they do with the rocks?”
“They drop them, with remarkable accuracy. Assume that you stood in the road, and that thirty creatures flew above you at their customary height of five hundred feet. Thirty stones would strike you and crush you to the ground.”
“Evidently you have learned how to frighten them off.”
“No, nothing of the sort.”
“You disturb their accuracy?”
“To the contrary. We are essentially a passive people and we try to deal with our enemies so that they disconcert or defeat themselves. Have you wondered why the Khors do not attack us?”
“The thought has occurred to me.”
“When the Khors attack-and they have not done so for six hundred years-we evade them and by one means or another penetrate their sacred groves. Here we perform acts of defilement, of the most simple, natural and ordinary sort. They no longer can use the grove for procreation and must either migrate or perish. Our weapons, I agree, are indelicate, but typify our philosophy of warfare.”
“And these birds?” Reith dubiously watched the approach of the flock. “Surely the same weapons are ineffectual?”
“I would presume so,” Cauch agreed, “though for a fact we have never tested them. In this case we do nothing whatever.”
The birds soared overhead; Cauch urged the dray-beast into a sinuous lope. One by one the birds dropped their stones, which fell to strike the road behind the cart.
“The birds, you must understand, can only compute the position of a stationary target; in this case their accuracy is their undoing.„
The stones were all dropped; with croaks of frustration the birds flew back to the mountains. “They will more than likely return with another load of stones,” said Cauch. “Do you notice how this road is elevated some four feet above the surrounding marsh? The toil has been accomplished by the birds over many centuries. They are dangerous only if you stand to watch.”
The carts moved through a forest of wax-brown trees, seething with hordes of small white fuzz-balls, half-spider, halfmonkey, which bounded from branch to branch, venting raucous little screams and hurling twigs at the travelers. The road then led twenty miles across a plain littered with boulders of honey-colored tuff, toward a pair of tall volcanic necks, each growing into an ancient weathered castle, in ages past the headquarters of hermetic cults but now, according to Cauch, the abode of ghouls. “By day they are never seen, but by night they come down to prowl the outskirts of Urmank. Sometimes the Thangs catch them in traps for use at the carnival.”
The road passed between the peaks and Urmank came into view: a disorderly straggle of high, narrow houses of black timber, brown tile and stone. A quay bordered the waterfront, where half a dozen ships floated placidly at moorages. Behind the quay was the marketplace and bazaar, to which a flutter of orange and green banners gave a festive air. A long wall of crumbling brick bounded the bazaar; a clutter of mud huts beyond seemed to indicate a caste of pariahs.
“Behold Urmank!” said Cauch. “The town of the Thangs. They are not fastidious as to who comes and who goes, provided only that they take away fewer sequins than they brought.”
“In my case they will be disappointed,” said Reith. “I hope to gain sequins, by one means or another.”
Cauch gave him a marveling side-glance. “You intend to take sequins from the Thangs? If you control such a miraculous power please share it with me. The Thangs have cheated us so regularly that now they regard the process as their birthright. Oh, I tell you, in Urmank you must be wary!”
“If you are cheated, why do you deal with them?”
“It seems an absurdity,” Cauch admitted. “After all, we could bring a ship and sail it to Hedaijha, the Green Erges, Coad-but we are a wry people; it amuses us to come to Urmank where the Thang provide entertainments. Look yonder; see the area wrapped around with brown and orange canvas? There is the site of the stilting. Beyond are the games of chance, where the visitor invariably loses more than he gains. Urmank is a challenge to Zsafathra; always we hope to outwit the Thangs.”
“Our joint efforts may yield a profit,” said Reith. “At least I can bring a fresh outlook to bear.”
Cauch gave an indifferent shrug. “Zsafathrans have tried to outdo the Thangs from beyond the brink of me
mory. They deal with us by formula. First we are enticed by the prospect of quick gain; then after we have put down our sequins the prospects recede ... Well, first we will refresh ourselves. The Inn of the Lucky Mariner has proved satisfactory in the past. As my associate you are safe from thuggery, kidnap and slave-taking. However, you must guard your own money; the Thangs can be coerced only so far and no further.”
The common room at the Inn of the Lucky Mariner was furnished in a style Reith had not seen previously on Tschai. Angular chairs of wooden posts and poles lined the walls, which were whitewashed brick. In alcoves glass pots displayed the movement of iridescent seaworms. The chief functionary wore a brown caftan buttoned down the front, a black skullcap, black slippers and black finger-guards. His face was bland, his manners suave; he proffered for Reith’s inspection a pair of adjoining cubicles furnished with couch, nightstand and lamp, which, with fresh body linen and foot ointment, rented for the inclusive sum of three sequins. Reith thought the figure reasonable and said as much to Cauch.
“Yes,” said Cauch. “Three sequins is no great amount, but I recommend that you make no use of the foot ointment. As a new amenity, it arouses suspicion. It may stain the woodwork, whereupon you will be levied an extra charge. Or it may contain a pulsing vescient, the balm for which sells at five sequins the dram.”
Cauch spoke in full earshot of the functionary, who laughed quietly and without offense. “Old Zsafathran, you are overskeptical for once. Recently we were required to accept a large stock of tonics and ointments in lieu of payment, and we have merely put these substances at the disposal of our guests. Do you require a diuretic or a vermifuge? We supply these at only a nominal charge.”
“At the moment, nothing,” said Cauch.
“What of your Hedaijhan friends? Everyone is the better for an occasional purge, which we offer at ten bice. No? Well then, for your evening meal let me recommend The Choicest Offerings of Land and Sea a few steps to the right along the quay.”
“I have dined there on a previous occasion,” said Cauch. “The substances set before me would have quelled the appetite of a High-castle ghoul. We will buy bread and fruit in the market.”
“In that case, be so good as to patronize the booth of my nephew, opposite the depilatorium!”
“We will inspect his produce.” Cauch led the way out upon the quay. “The Lucky Mariner’s comparatively scrupulous; still, as you see, one must be alert. On my last visit, a troupe of musicians played in the common room. I stopped for a moment to listen and on my reckoning discovered a charge of four sequins. As far as the offer of purgative at little or no charge”-here Cauch coughed-”this is all very well. On a previous visit to Urmank a similar offer was put to my grandfather, who accepted and thereafter discovered a lock on the door to the convenience, and consequent usage charge. The medication, in the long run, cost him dearly. It is wise in one’s dealings with the Thangs to examine every aspect of a situation.”
The three strolled along the quay, Reith examining the ships with interest. These were all fat-bellied little cogs, with high poops and foredecks, propelled by sails when the wind was fair and an electric jet-pump otherwise. In front of each a board announced the name of the ship, the port of destination and the date of sailing.
Cauch touched Reith’s arm. “It might be imprudent to evince too great an interest in the ships.”
“Why?”
“At Urmank it is always the part of wisdom to dissemble.”
Reith looked back up the quay. “No one appears to be heeding us. If they are, they will take it for granted that I dissemble and actually plan a journey overland.”
Cauch sighed. “At Urmank life has many surprises for the unwary.”
Reith halted by a board. “The ship Nhiahar. Destination: Ching, the Murky Isles, the South Schanizade Coast, Kazain. A moment.” Reith climbed a gangplank and approached a thin and somber man in a leather apron.
“Where is the captain, if you please?”
“I am he.”
“In connection with a voyage to Kazain: what fare would you demand for two persons?”
“For the Class A cabin I require four sequins per person per diem, which includes nutrition. The passage to Kazain is generally thirty-two days; hence the total fee for two persons is, let us say, two hundred and sixty sequins.”
Reith expressed surprise at the magnitude of the amount, but the captain maintained an indifferent attitude.
Reith returned to the dock. “I need something over two hundred and fifty sequins.”
“Not an impossible sum,” said Cauch. “A diligent laborer can earn four or even five sequins a day. Porters are always in demand along the docks.”
“What of the gambling booths?”
“The district is yonder, beside the bazaar. Needless to say, you are unlikely to overcome the Thang gamesters on their own premises.”
They walked into a plaza paved with squares of salmon-pink stone. “A thousand years ago the tyrant Przelius built a great rotunda here. Only a floor remains. There: food-stalls. There: garments and sandals. There: ointments and extracts...” As Cauch spoke he pointed toward various quarters of the plaza, where the booths offered a great variety of goods: foodstuffs, cloth, leather; an earth-colored melange of spices; tinware and copper; black iron slabs, pads, rods and bars; glassware and lamps; paper charms and fetishes. Beyond the floor of the rotunda and the more or less orderly array of booths were the entertainments: orange tents with rugs in front where girls danced to nose-flutes and snap-blocks. Some wore garments of gauze; others danced bare to the waist; a few no more than a year or two from childhood wore only sandals. Zap 210 watched these and their postures with amazement. Then, with a shrug and a numb expression, she turned away.
Muffled chanting attracted Reith’s attention. A canvas wall enclosed a small stadium, from which now came a sudden chorus of hoots and groans. “The stilt contests,” Cauch explained. “It appears that one of the champions has been downed, and many wagers have gone by the boards.”
As they passed the stadium Reith caught a view of four men on ten-foot stilts stalking warily around each other. One kicked forth with his stilt; another struck a blow with a pillow-headed club; a third caught unaware careened away, preserving his balance by a miracle, while the others hopped after him like grotesque carrion-birds.
“The stilt-fighters are mostly Black Mountain mica-cutters,” said Cauch. “The outsider who wagers on the bouts might as well drop his money into a hole.” Cauch gave his head a rueful jerk. “Still, we always hope. My brother’s name-father won forty-two sequins at the eel-race some years ago. I must admit that for two days previously he burnt incense and implored divine intervention.”
“Let’s watch an eel-race,” said Reith. “If divine intervention earns a profit of forty-two sequins, our own intelligence should produce at least as much and hopefully more.”
“This way then, past the brat-house.”
Reith was about to inquire what a brat-house might be, when a grinning urchin ran dose and kicked Reith on the shins then, dodging back, made an ugly face and ran into the brat-house. Reith looked after the child in wrathful puzzlement. “What’s the reason for that?”
“Come,” said Cauch. “I’ll show you.”
He led the way into the brat-house. On a stage thirty feet distant stood the child, who upon their entrance emitted a hideous taunting squeal. Behind the counter stood a suave middle-aged Thang with a silky brown mustache. “Nasty tyke, don’t you think? Here, give him a good pelting. These mud-balls come ten bice apiece. The dung-packets are six to the sequin and these prickle-burrs are five to the sequin.”
“Yah, yah, yah!” screamed the urchin. “Why worry? He couldn’t heave a rock this far!”
“Go ahead, sir, give it to him,” suggested the operator. “Which will it be? The mud-balls? The dung-packets make a hideous reek; the brat despises them. And the thorn-balls! He’ll rue the day he attacked you.”
“You get up there,”
said Reith. “Let me throw at you.”
“Prices double, sir.”
Reith departed the brat-house with the taunts of both urchin and operator accompanying him to the reach of earshot.
“Wise restraint,” said Cauch. “No sequins, to be earned in such a place.”
“One can’t live by bread alone ... but no matter. Show me the eel races.”
“Only a few steps further.”
They walked toward the sagging old wall which separated the bazaar from Urmank Old Town. At the very edge of the open area, almost in the shadow of the wall, they came to a U-shaped counter surrounded by two-score men and women, many wearing outland garments. A few feet beyond the open end of the U a wooden reservoir stood on a concrete platform. The reservoir, six feet in diameter and two feet high, was equipped with a hinged cover and emptied into a covered flume which ran between the arms of the U, to empty into a glass basin at the far bend. The attention of the players was riveted upon the glass basin; as Reith watched a green eel darted forth from the chute and into the basin, followed after a moment or two by eels of various other colors.
“Green wins again!” cried out the eel-master in a voice of anguish. “Lucky lucky green! Hands behind the screen, please, until I pay the winners! I am sorely hit! Twenty sequins for this Jadarak gentleman, who risked a mere two sequins. Ten sequins for this green-hatted lady of the Azote Coast, who chanced a sequin on the color of her hat! ... What? No more? Is this all? I have not been struck so sorely as first I feared.” The operator cleared the boards of sequins laid down upon the other colors. “A new race will now occur; arrange your bets. Sequins must be placed squarely upon the chosen color, if you please, to avoid misunderstanding. I set no limit; bet as high as you please, up to a limit of a thousand sequins, since my total wealth and reserve is only ten thousand. Five times already I have been bankrupted; always I have climbed back from poverty to serve the gambling folk of Urmank; is this not true dedication?”‘ As he spoke, he gathered the eels into a basket and carried them to the upper end of the chute. He hauled on a rope which, passing over a frame, lifted the lid of the reservoir. Reith edged close and peered down into the pool of water contained within. The eel-master made no objection. “Look your fill, my man; the only mysteries here are the eels themselves. If I could read their secrets I would be a rich man today!” Within the reservoir Reith saw a baffle which defined a spiral channel originating at a center well and twisting out to the chute, with a gate to the center well which the eel-master now snapped shut. In the center well he placed the eels and closed down the lid. “You have witnessed,” he called out. “The eels move at random, as free as though they traveled the depths of their native streams. They whirl, they race, they seek a ray of light; when I raise the gate all will dash forth. Which will win the race to the basin? Ah, who knows? The last winner was Green; will Green win again? Place your bets, all bets down! Aha! A grandee here wagers generously upon Gray and Mauve, ten sequins on each! What’s this? A purple sequin upon Purple! Behold all! A noblewoman of the Bashai backlands wagers a hundred value on Purple! Will she win a thousand? Only the eels know.”
