by Jack Vance
"In every respect, save one," said Dussel, a person moonfaced and a trifle portly. "We must verify the charges and subcharges for our lodging."
"Quite so; a wise precaution! Landlord, how do you quote our room-rent, stated in toto, inclusive of all extras, imposts, fees for water, heating, cleaning and ventilation, and with free access to the latrine?"
Dildahl quoted rates for his various styles of accommodation, and the two travellers settled upon a chamber with rates and amenities to their satisfaction.
"Now then," said Dildahl. "All is in order, except your signatures on the documents. Here, and here, if you please.
Harbig still held back. "All seems in order, but why must we subject our poor horses to the shameful burden of Hens? Somehow I find the condition a source of anxiety."
Dussel nodded in thoughtful agreement. "It seems to ensure a nervous visit for the traveller."
"Aha!" cried Dildahl. "You cannot imagine the sly tricks and feats of criminal cunning which the ordinary innkeeper must endure! Never will I forget this apparently innocent young couple who rode down from the Brakes and commanded from me my best. I kindly obliged and served to their order, so that the whole kitchen was in an uproar with the preparation of special dishes and the serving of fine wines. In the morning, when I presented my modest little account, they claimed penury. ‘We have no money!' they told me, merry as larks. I said: Then I fear I must take your horses!' They laughed again. ‘We have no horses! We traded them all for a boat!' That day I learned a bitter and costly lesson. Now I keep custody of my surety, in my own barn!"
"A sorry tale!" said Dussel. "Well then, Harbig: what of this paper? Shall we sign?"
"What harm can come of it?" asked Harbig. "These prices seem fair and we are neither paupers nor fly-by-nights."
"So be it," said Dussel. "However I must, in all conscience, add a notation. Landlord, I write: ‘My horse is extremely valuable and must have excellent care.' "
"A good idea!" said Harbig. "I will write the same... . There! And tonight I shall put prudence behind me! Though it cost a round penny or more, I vow that I will partake of Dildahl's special boiled beef with horseradish sauce and good bread and butter!"
"I am heartily of your persuasion!" declared Dussel. At suppertime, Harbig and Dussel came handily to the common room, and took their places at the table. When Dildahl came to see to their pleasure, Harbig and Dussel both commanded a goodly portion of boiled beef. Dildahl dolefully reported that the meat had burned in the pot and all had been thrown out to the dogs. "Still, we have fine fish to offer: indeed, fish is our specialty!"
Harbig said: "I think that, in lieu of good beef, 1 will make do with lamb shanks, and let there be no stinting with the garlic!"
"For me the same!" declared Dussel. "And shall we not also crack a bottle of good but inexpensive red wine?"
"Exactly in order!" declared Harbig. "Dussel, you are a man of exquisite discrimination."
"Alas!" sighed Dildahl. "At noon six druids arrived and each ate lamb shanks with both cheeks, so that tonight the kitchen boy ate the remaining scraps for his supper. But no matter; I can offer a succulent pie of crayfish tails, or a brace of fine brown trout, at their prime, sizzling in butter and vinegar."
Harbig scanned the board. "They are not written on the menu. How are the prices? Fair, or so I expect, with the whole lake at your doorstep?"
"When it comes to fish, we are at our best! What of two dozen pilchard, with lemons and sorrel?"
"Toothsome, no doubt, but price, man! What of the price?"
"Oh ha ha, I am not certain; it varies with the catch."
Harbig dubiously eyed the menu. "Lentil soup might be tasty."
"Soup is off," said Dildahl. "What of a plate of splendid salmon roe, with capers and butter, with a salad of cress and parsley?"
"And the price?"
Dildahl gave his hand a deprecating wave. "It might be more or it might be less."
"I rather fancy the salmon roe," said Dussel. "Tonight that shall be my meal."
"I shall dine on trout," said Harbig. "Let there be an adequacy of side-dishes."
Dildahl bowed and rubbed his hands. "So it shall be."
The two were served their fish, which they consumed with gusto, along with two bottles of wine. Soon thereafter they sought their beds.
In the morning, Dildahl provided a breakfast of porridge with curds. Harbig and Dussel ate briskly, and then called out for their scores.
With a grim smile Dildahl brought each man his tally.
Harbig cried out aghast. "Am I reading correctly? Or are the figures upside-down? My score comes to nineteen silver florins fourpence!"
Dussel was likewise dumbfounded. "For a platter of roe I am accustomed to paying no more than a few groats or maybe a good red penny; I seem to see here a demand for twenty-one silver florins! Harbig, are we awake? Or still asleep and roaming some never-never land?"
"You are awake and my prices are real," said Dildahl shortly. "At Kemuun's Antler, fish is very dear, since it is prepared by secret recipes."
"So be it," said Harbig. "If pay we must, then pay we will."
The two travellers glumly opened their wallets and paid over silver coins, to the sum required. Harbig said: "Now, if you please, bring us our horses, as we are in a hurry to be off and on our way."
"Immediately!" Dildahl called an order to the kitchen boy, who ran out to the barn. A moment later he returned faster than he had gone. "Sir, the barn is broken open! The door hangs loose and the horses are gone!"
"What!" cried Harbig. "Do I hear aright? My great champion Nebo which I value at a hundred pieces of gold? Or even two hundred?"
In shock Dussel cried: "And my prize steed from Morocco, which cost me one hundred golden crowns, but which I would not sell for three hundred?"
Harbig said sternly: "Dildahl, your joke has gone far enough! Produce our horses upon this instant, or else pay us over their value, and precious horses indeed they were! For Nebo I demand two hundred crowns of gold!"
Dussel declared his loss to be even greater: "For Ponzante I need two hundred and fifty gold crowns even to approach a settlement."
Dildahl finally found his tongue. "These cited prices are absolutely outrageous! For a single gold crown I can buy the finest of steeds!"
"Ah ha ha! Our horses are like your fish. Pay on this instant four hundred and fifty gold crowns!"
"You cannot enforce this insane demand!" declared Dildahl. "Be off with you, or the stablemen will beat you well, and cast you into the lake!"
"Trouble yourself only to look along the road," said Harbig. "You will notice an encampment of twenty soldiers, from the army of Aillas, King of Ulfland. Reimburse us our stolen horses, or prepare to kick from the royal gibbet."
Dildahl ran to the door and with pendulous lower lip sagging, took note of the encampment. Slowly he turned back to Harbig. "Why have these soldiers come to Lake Quyvern?"
"First, to attack Ska and drive them from the region. Second, to burn the wicker crow and to liberate druid captives. Third, to investigate rumours of villainy at Kernun's Antler, and to hang the landlord if the charges seem well-grounded."
Dussel said sternly, "Once more: pay us for our horses or we will call for the king's protection!"
"But I own no such sum!" Dildahl grimaced. "I will return your florins; that must suffice."
"Bah! Not enough! We now take title to the inn, as you take title to your guests' horses, ‘in full and even exchange'. Dussel, at last you fulfill your dreams! You are the landlord-in-residence at a fine country inn! As a first step, impound all the coins in yonder drawer and the gold in Dildahl's strong-box."
"No, no, no!" cried Dildahl. "Not my precious gold!"
Dussel ignored the outcry. "Dildahl, show me the strongbox. Then you must go, and promptly. We will allow you the clothes on your back."
Dildahl still could not accept his fate. "This is an unthinkable turn of events!"
Harbig raised his eyebrows
dubiously. "Surely you did not believe that you could continue robbing your guests forever?"
"It is a mistake! Somewhere there must be recourse!"
Harbig said: "Be grateful that you deal with us, not the sergeant of yonder platoon, who already has selected a tree and measured a rope."
Dildahl growled: "I detect strange coincidences. How do you know so much about yonder troop?"
"I am their captain. Dussel, if you must know, has been chief cook at Jehaundel, but with King Gax gone, his services are no longer required, and he has always hoped to keep a country inn. Dussel, am I correct in this?"
"In every respect! Now, Dildahl, show me the strong-box, then be on your way."
Dildahl set up a great moaning. "Have mercy! My spouse is afflicted in the lower limbs and cannot walk; the veins circle her legs like purple snakes! Must we crawl on our hands and knees in the dust?"
Harbig spoke to Dussel: "Dildahl seems to manage well enough at the stove, and deals especially kindly with fish. Why not keep him at work as pot-boy and under-cook, while his spouse makes herself useful milking the cows, making cheese and butter, digging turnips, carrots and leeks, and working the soil, all from a kneeling position, to spare her sore legs? Entirely by the mercy of King Aillas, of course."
"Dildahl, what do you say?" demanded Dussel. "Will you serve me faithfully, without complaint or shiftlessness, at my direction?"
Dildahl rolled his eyes high, and clenched his fists. "If I must, I must."
"Very good. First, point out the location of your, or, better to say, my strong-box."
"It is under the flagstone of my private parlour."
"Now my parlour. You must move at once, out to one of the cottages. Then scour this floor until each plank glows the colour of new straw! I wish to see neither soil nor stain on the floor of the Lakeshore Inn, which is certain to become a rustic resort for the gentility of Xounges!"
II
TWITTEN's CORNERS, in the Forest of Tantrevalles, was the site each year of three fairs, to which came traders and buyers from all across the Elder Isles, human and halfling alike, each hoping to discover some wonderful charm or trinket or elixir to bring advantage to his life or gold to his wallet.
The first and the last of these so-called ‘Goblin Fairs' marked, respectively, the spring and autumn equinoxes. The second, or middle, fair started on that evening known to the druids as ‘Pignal aan Haag', to the fairies of Forest Tantrevalles as ‘Summersthawn', to the Ska archivists as ‘Soltra Nurre', in the language of primaeval Norway: a time marking the start of the lunar year, defined as the night of the first new moon after the summer solstice. For reasons unknown this night had come to be a time of unusual influences and oblique pressures from entities aroused to sentience. Wanderers of high places often thought to hear the echo of windy voices and the drumming of far galloping hooves.
At the inn known as ‘The Laughing Sun and the Crying Moon', hard by Twitten's Corners, the night was known as ‘Freamas', and meant a spate of incessant toil for Hockshank the innkeeper. Even before Freamas the inn was crowded with folk of many sorts who had come to mingle in unconventional camaraderie, to sell, to buy, to trade, or only to watch and listen, or perhaps to seek out some long-lost friend, or some defaulted enemy, or to recover an item of which they had been deprived; the yearnings were as disparate as the folk themselves.
Among these folk was Melancthe, who had arrived early to take up the apartment reserved for her use.
For Melancthe the fair was surcease from introspection, an occasion where her presence aroused little attention and less curiosity. Hockshank the landlord was casual in regard to his clientele, so long as they paid in good silver and gold, caused no nuisance, and exuded no vile, foul nor arresting odors, and his common room knew a wide variety of halflings and hybrids, oddities and nonesuches, as well as persons, like Melancthe, apparently ordinary in their qualities.
Arriving early on the day before Freamas, Melancthe went to watch construction of the booths around the periphery of the meadow. Many merchants already displayed their wares, hoping to engage the visitor of limited means before he spent all his coin elsewhere.
Melancthe went slowly from booth to booth, listening without comment to the excited calls of the hucksters, showing a faint smile when she saw something which pleased her. Along the eastern edge of the meadow she came upon a sign painted in green, yellow and white:
HERE ARE THE PREMISES OF THE NOTABLE AND SINGULAR
ZUCK
DEALER IN OBJECTS UNIQUE UNDER THE FIRMAMENT!
MY PRICES ARE FAIR; MY GOODS ARE OFTEN REMARKABLE!
No GUARANTIES; No RETURNS; No REFUNDS;
Zuck himself stood behind the counter of his booth: a person short, plump, round-faced, near-bald, with an innocent inquiring expression. A button of a nose and round plum-coloured eyes pointed at the comers hinted of halfling blood in his heritage, as did a sallow green cast to his complexion.
Zuck regularly sold at the fair, and specialized in materia magica: the substances from which potions and elixirs were generally compounded. Today his wares included a novelty. Between a tray of small bronze bottles and cubes of clear gum a single flower stood displayed in a black vase.
Melancthe's attention was instantly attracted. The flower was notable both for its odd conformation and its colours, so vivid and intense as to be almost palpable: brilliant black, purple, frosty blue and carmine red.
Melancthe could not remove her gaze from the flower. She asked: "Zuck, good Zuck: what flower is that?"
"Lovely lady, that I cannot say. A fellow of the forest brought me this single bloom that I might gauge the mood of the market."
"Who might be this wonderful gardener?"
Zuck laid his finger beside his nose and showed Melancthe a knowing grin. "The person is a falloy and of a distant nature; he insists upon anonymity, so that he will not be subjected to lengthy theoretical discussions, or stealthy attempts to learn his secret."
"The flowers, then, must grow somewhere in the forest nearby."
"Quite so. The flowers are sparse and each is more magnificent than the next."
"Then you have seen others?"
Zuck blinked. "As a matter of fact: no. The falloy is a great one for hyperbole, and avaricious to boot. However, I have insisted upon moderate prices for the sake of my reputation."
"I must buy the flower; what, in fact, is your price?" Zuck looked blandly up toward the sky. "The day is almost done, and I like to end with an easy sale, to serve as an omen for tomorrow. For you, lovely lady, I will quote an almost trifling sum: five crowns of gold."
Melancthe looked at Zuck in innocent surprise. "So much gold for a single flower?"
"Ah bah, does the price seem high? In that case, take it for three crowns, as I am in a hurry to shutter my booth."
"Zuck, dear Zuck: I seldom carry coins of gold!"
Zuck's voice became somewhat flat. "What coins then do you carry?"
"Look! A pretty silver florin! For you, good Zuck, for your very own, and I will take the flower."
Melancthe reached across the counter and lifted the flower from the vase. Zuck looked dubiously at the coin. "If this is for me, what remains for the falloy?"
Melancthe held the flower to her nose and kissed the petals. "We will pay him when next he brings us flowers. I want them all, every one!"
"It is a poor way to do business," grumbled Zuck. "But I suppose that you must prevail."
"Thank you, dear Zuck! The flower is superb, and its perfume likewise! It exhales a draught from the very shores of paradise!"
"Ah well," said Zuck. "Tastes differ, and I sense only a rather disreputable chife."
"It is rich," said Melancthe. "It opens doors into rooms where I have never looked before."
Zuck mused: "A bloom of such evocation is definitely undervalued at a single silver bit."
"Then here is another, to guarantee my interests! Remember, all the flowers must be sold to me, and me alone!"
&n
bsp; Zuck bowed. "So it shall be, though you must be prepared to pay the fair price!"
"You shall not find me wanting. When does the gardener come again?"
"As to that, I cannot be sure, since he is a falloy."
III
WHEN DUSK FELL OVER THE MEADOW Melancthe returned to the inn, and presently appeared in the common room. She went to a table in the shadows. For her supper she was served a tureen bubbling with a stew of hare, mushrooms, ramp, parsley and wine, with a crust of new bread, a conserve of wild currants, and a flask of currant wine. A mote of dust drifted down from above to settle into the wine, where it formed a bubble.
Melancthe, observing the event, instantly became still.
From the bubble issued a small voice, so faint and soft that she bent forward to hear it.
The message was brief; Melancthe sat back, her mouth drooping in annoyance. With a touch of the forefinger she broke the bubble. "Once again," she muttered to herself. "Once again I must use my purple fire to warm this icy sea-green monument to decorum. But I need not mix one with the other—unless the caprice comes on me." She contemplated her flower and inhaled its perfume, while far away at Trilda, Shimrod, studying an ancient portfolio in his workroom, was visited with a shudder of uneasiness.
Shimrod set the portfolio aside and slowly stood erect. He closed his eyes, and into his mind drifted the image of Melancthe, as if she floated in dark water, nude and relaxed, hair drifting loose beside her face.
Shimrod frowned off across the room. At a basic and elementary level, the image was stimulating; on another level, It aroused only skepticism.
Shimrod pondered a moment or two in the silence of his work-room, then reached out and tapped a small silver bell.
"Speak!" said a voice.
"Melancthe has come floating along a dark stream and into my mind," said Shimrod. "She wore a minimum of garments, which is to say, none at all. She broke into my studies I and started my blood to moving; then she departed, smiling in a manner of cool insolence. She would not have troubled herself without a purpose."
