Marune Alastor 933

by Jack Vance

  Lorcas said: "Do you recall your remarks of a week ago?"

  "In regard to what?"

  "Psychomorphosis."

  "A large word," grumbled Skogel. "I spoke it at random."

  "Would any of this apply to my friend?"

  "Certainly. Why not?"

  "And the source of this psychomorphosis?"

  Skogel put his hands on the counter and leaning forward scrutinized Efraim with owlish intensity. "You are a Rhune?"

  "What is your name?"

  "I seem to be Efraim, Kaiark of Scharrode."

  "Then you must be wealthy."

  "I don't know whether I am or not."

  "And you want the return of your memory?"

  "Naturally."

  "You have come to the wrong place. I deal in commodities of other sorts." Skogel slapped the counter and made as if to turn away again.

  Lorcas said smoothly: "My friend insists that you at least accept a fee, or honorarium, for your advice."

  "Fee? For words? For guesses and hypotheses? Do you take me for a man without shame?"

  "Of course not!" declared Lorcas. "He only wants to learn where his memory went."

  "Then this is my guess, and he may have it free of cost. He has eaten Fwai-chi shag." Skogel indicated the shelves, cases, and cabinets of his shop, which were stocked with bottles of every size and shape, crystallized. herbs, stoneware jugs, metal oddments, tins, phials, jars, and an unclassifiable miscellaneity of confusing scope. "I will reveal a truth," declared Skogel portentously. "Much of my merchandise, on a functional level, is totally ineffective. Psychically, symbolically, subliminally, the story is different! Each item exerts its own sullen strength, and sometimes I feel myself in the presence of elementals. With an infusion of spider grass, mixed perhaps with pulverized devil's eye, I achieve astounding results. The Benkenists, idiots and witlings as they are, aver that only the credulous are affected; they are wrong! Our organisms swim in a paracosmic fluid, which no one can comprehend; none of our senses find scope or purchase, so to speak. Only by operative procedures, which the Benkenists deride, can we manipulate this ineffable medium; and by so stating, am I therefore a charlatan?" Skogel slapped the counter with split-faced grin of triumph.

  With delicate emphasis Lorcas inquired: "And what of the Fwai-chi?"

  "Patience!" snapped Skogel. "Allow me my brief moment of vanity. After all, I do not veer too far astray."

  "By all means," said Lorcas hastily. "Declaim to your heart's content."

  Not altogether mollified, Skogel took up the thread of his remarks. "I have long speculated that the Fwai-chi interact with the paracosmos somewhat more readily than men, although they are a taciturn race and never explain their feats, or perhaps they take their multiplex environment for granted. In any event, they are a most peculiar and versatile race, which the Majar, at least, appreciate. I refer of course to that final. poor fragment of the race who live over the hill." Skogel looked truculently from Lorcas to Efraim, but neither challenged his opinion.

  Skogel continued. "A certain shaman of the Majars fancies to consider himself in my debt, and not too long ago he invited me to Atabus to witness an execution.

  My friend explained an innovation in Majar justice: the suspect, or the adjudged

  - among the Majars the distinction is slight - is dosed with Fwai-chi shag, and his reactions, which range from torpor through hallucination, antics, convulsions, frantic feats of Agility, to instant death, are noted. The Majar are nothing but a pragmatic folk; they take a lively interest in the capabilities of the human organism, and consider themselves great scientists. In my presence they administered a golden-brown gum from dorsal Fwai-chi shags, and the suspect at once fancied himself four different persons who conducted a vivacious conversation among themselves and the onlookers, employing a single tongue and larynx to produce two and sometimes three voices simultaneously. My host described some of the other effects he had witnessed, and mentioned a certain shag whose exudation blotted away human memory. I therefore suggest that your friend has been dosed with Fwai-chi shag." He peered from one to the other, showing a small trembling smile of triumph. "And that, in short, is my opinion."

  "All very well," said Lorcas, "but how is my friend to be cured?"

  Skogel made a careless gesture. "No cure is known, for the reason that none exists. What is gone, is gone."

  Lorcas looked ruefully at Efraim. "So there you have it. Someone dosed you with Fwai-chi shag."

  "I wonder who," said Efraim. "I wonder who."

  Lorcas turned to speak to Skogel, but the shopkeeper had disappeared into the dim chamber at the rear of his establishment.

  Lorcas and Efraim returned along the Street of the Clever Flea to the Estrada, Efraim pensive and grim. Lorcas, after darting half a dozen glances toward his companion, could no longer contain his curiosity. "So now what will you do?"

  "What must be done."

  Ten paces later Lorcas said: "You evidently have no fear of death."

  Efraim shrugged.

  Lorcas asked: "How will you achieve this business?"

  "I must return to Scharrode," said Efraim. "Is there any other way? My enemy is someone I know well; would I drink with a stranger? In Port Mar were the following persons: Kaiark Jochaim, who is dead, the Kraike Singhalissa, the Kang Destian, the Lissolet Sthelany. Then, from Eccord, the Kaiark Rianlle, the Kraike Dervas, and the Lissolet Maerio. And, conceivably, Matho Lorcas, except in this case, why would you take me to Skogel7"

  "Precisely so," said Lorcas. "On that distant occasion I dosed you only with good wine from which you took no harm."

  "And you saw nothing significant, nothing suspicious, nothing dire?"

  Lorcas reflected. "I noticed nothing overt. I felt stifled passion and flows of emotion, but where they led I could not divine. To be candid, I expected strange personalities among the Rhunes, and I made no attempt to understand what I saw.

  Without a memory you will also be handicapped."

  "Very likely. But now I am Kaiark and everyone must go at my pace. I can recover my memory at leisure. What is the best transportation to Scharrode?"

  "There's no choice," said Lorcas. "You hire an aircar and fly out." He looked casually up into the sky, which Cirse was about to depart. "If you permit, I will accompany you."

  "What is your interest in the affair?" asked Efraim suspiciously.

  Lorcas responded with an airy gesture. "I have long wished to visit the Realms.

  The Rhunes are a fascinating people and I am anxious to learn more about them.

  And, if the truth be known, I am anxious to pursue one or two acquaintances."

  "You might not enjoy your visit. I am Kaiark, but I have enemies and they might not distinguish between us."

  "I rely upon the notorious Rhune revulsion against violent conduct, which they abandon only during their incessant wars. And who knows? You might find a companion useful."

  "Perhaps. Who is this acquaintance whom you are anxious to cultivate? The Lissolet Sthelany?"

  Lorcas nodded glumly. "She is an intriguing young woman; in fact, I will go so far as to say that she represents a challenge. As a rule, pretty ladies find me sympathetic, but the Lissolet Sthelany barely notices my existence."

  Efraim gave a sour chuckle. "In Scharrode the situation will be worse rather than better."

  "I expect no true triumphs; still, if I can persuade her to alter her expression from time to time, I will consider the journey a success."

  "I doubt if all will go so easily. The Rhunes find outland manners coarse and vulgar."

  "You are Kaiark; your orders must be obeyed. If you decree tolerance, then the Lissolet Sthelany must instantly bend to your will."

  "It will be an interesting experiment," said Efraim. "Well then, make yourself ready; we leave at once!"

  1. Chorasm: Sebalism carried to a remarkable extreme.

  Chapter 6

  During early isp Efraim arrived at the office of the local air transport s
ervice, to find that Lorcas had already hired an aircar of no great elegance - its metalwork stained by long exposure to the elements, the glass of the dome clouded, the flanges around the pods cratered and corroded. Lorcas said apologetically: "It's the best available, and quite dependable; in a hundred and two years the engine has never failed, or so I'm told."

  With a skeptical eye Efraim surveyed the vehicle. "If it flies us to Scharrode, I don't care what it looks like."

  "Sooner or later the craft will collapse, most likely in mid-air. Still the alternative is shank's mare along the Fwai-chi trails. The terrain is most impressive, nor would you make so dignified an arrival."

  "There is something in what you say," Efraim admitted. "Are you ready to leave?"

  "At any time. But let me make a suggestion. Why not send a message ahead to prepare them for your coming?"

  "So that someone can fly out and shoot us down?"

  Lorcas shook his head. "Aircars are banned to the Rhunes, for just this reason.

  The present issue is one of dignity, and if I may presume to advise you, a Kaiark announces his arrival so that a formal reception may be arranged. I will speak for you, as your aide, which will lend dignity to the occasion."

  "Very well, do as you like."

  "The Kraike Singhalissa is now the head of the household?"

  "So I would suppose."

  At a videophone as antiquated as the aircar, Lorcas put through a call.

  A footman in a black and scarlet uniform responded. "I speak for Benbuphar Strang. Please state your business."

  "I want a few words with the Kraike Singhalissa," said Lorcas. "I have important information to transmit."

  "You must call at some other time. The Kraike is in consultation regarding the investiture."

  "Investiture? Of whom?"

  "Of the new Kaiark."

  "And who will this be?"

  "The present Kang Destian, who is next in order of succession."

  "And when does the investiture occur?"

  "In one week's time, when the present Kaiark is to be declared derelict."

  Lorcas laughed. "Please inform the Kraike that the investiture may be canceled, since Kaiark Efraim is immediately returning to Scharrode."

  The footman stared into the screen. "I cannot take responsibility for such an announcement."

  Efraim stepped forward. "Do you recognize me?"

  "Ah, Force,1 indeed I do!"

  "Deliver the message as you heard it from the Noble Matho Lorcas."

  "Instantly, Force!" The footman inclined himself in a stiff bow, and faded in a dazzle of halations.

  The two returned to the aircar and clambered aboard. Without ceremony the pilot clamped the ports, opened the throttle and the ancient aircraft, creaking and vibrating, lurched up and away to the east.

  With the pilot, who identified himself as Tiber Flaussig, talking over his shoulder and ignoring both altimeter and the terrain below, the aircraft cleared the ridges of the First Scarp with a hundred yards to spare. As if by afterthought the pilot lifted the craft somewhat higher, although the land at once fell away a thousand feet to become an upland plain. A hundred sprawling lakes reflected the clouds; scour and deep-willow grew in isolated copses, with a gnarled catafalque tree here and there. Thirty miles east the Second Scarp thrust crags of naked rock up past the clouds. Flaussig, discussing certain outcrops below, declared them rich sources of such gems as tourmaline, peridot, topaz, and spinel - all protected from human exploitation by reason of Fwai-chi prejudice. "They claim this as one of their holy places, and so reads the treaty. They care no more for the jewels than for common stones; but they can smell a man from fifty miles away and lay on him their curse of a thousand itches, or a fiery bladder, or piebald skin. The area is now avoided."

  Efraim pointed ahead to the looming scarp. "In a single minute we will all be crushed to pulp, unless you quickly raise this craft at least two thousand feet."

  "Ah yes," said Flaussig. "The scarp approaches, and we will give it due respect." The aircar rose at a stomach-gripping rate, and from the engine box came a stuttering wheeze which caused Efraim to twist about in alarm. "Is this vehicle finally disintegrating?"

  Flaussig listened with a puzzled frown. "A mysterious sound certainly, one which I have not heard before. Still, were you as old as this vehicle, your viscera would also produce odd noises. Let us be tolerant of the aged."

  As soon as the craft once more flew a level course the disturbing sounds dwindled into silence. Lorcas pointed ahead toward the Third Scarp, still fifty miles ahead. "Start now to ascend, in a gradual manner. The aircar is more likely to survive such treatment."

  Flaussig acceded to the request, and the vehicle rose at a gradual angle to meet the prodigious bulk of the Third Scarp. Below passed a desolation of ridges, cols, chasms, and, rarely, a small forested valley. Flaussig waved his hand around the fearsome landscape. "Within the range of vision, around the whole of the cataclysmic tumble, live perhaps twenty fugitives: desperados, condemned criminals, and the like. Commit no crimes in Port Mar or here is where you will wind up."

  Neither Lorcas nor Efraim saw fit to comment.

  A cleft appeared; the aircar glided through with rock walls close to right and left and great buffets of wind thrusting the craft from side to side; then the cleft fell away and the aircar flew over a landscape of peaks, cliffs, and river valleys. Flaussig waved his hand in another inclusive arc. "The Realms, the glorious Realms! Beneath us now Waierd, guarded by the Soldiers of Silence...

  And now we fly across the realm Sherras. Notice the castle in the lake..."

  "How far to Scharrode?"

  "Yonder, over the crags. That is the answer given to all such questions. Why do you visit a place so dour?"

  "Curiosity, perhaps."

  "You'll learn nothing from them; they're as tight as stones, like all Rhunes.

  Below now and behind those great trees is the town Tangwill, home to no more than two or three thousand. The Kaiark Tangissel is said to be insane for women, so he keeps captives in deep dungeons where they don't know whether or not it is mirk, and he visits them during all the periods of the month, except during mirk when he's off on his prowling."

  "Nonsense," muttered Efraim, but the pilot paid no heed.

  "The great spire to the left is called Ferkus -"

  "Up, man, up!" screamed Lorcas. "You're running us into the ridge!"

  With a petulant gesture Flaussig jerked the aircraft high, to skim that crag to which Lorcas had made reference; for a period he flew in sullen silence. Below the ground rose and fell, and Flaussig, disdaining further altitude, veered back and forth among crystalline crags, grazed precipices, skirted glaciers and mounds of scree, the better to display his insouciant control over aircraft, landscape, and passengers. Lorcas made frequent expostulations, which Flaussig ignored, and at last guided the aircar down into an irregular valley three to four miles wide and fifteen miles long. At the eastern end a cascade fell two thousand feet into a lake, with nearby the town Esch. Away from the lake flowed a slow river, curving across a meadow and under Benbuphar Strang, then back and forth from pool to pool to the far western end of the valley, where it departed through a narrow gorge.

  Near Esch the valley had been tamed to cultivation; the fields were enclosed by dense hedges of bramble berry, as if to hide them from view. In other such fields grazed cattle, while the slopes to either side of the valley were planted as orchards. Elsewhere meadows alternated with forests of banice, white oak, shrack, interstellar yew; through the clear air the foliages - dark green, crimson, sooty ocher, pale green - glowed like colors painted on black velvet.

  Efraim half-smiled to the fleeting brush of a sudden poignant emotion. Perhaps an exhalation from his occluded memory? Such twinges had been occurring with increasing frequency. He glanced at Lorcas to find him also staring about in wistful wonder. "I have heard how the Rhunes cherish each stone of the landscape," said Lorcas. "The reason is clear. The Realms are s
mall segments of Paradise."

  Flaussig, having unloaded the scanty luggage, now stood in an expectant attitude. Lorcas spoke with slow and careful diction. "The fee was prepaid in Port Mar. The management wished to make sure of their money, no matter what else happened."

  Flaussig smiled politely. "In circumstances like the present, a gratuity is usually extended."

  "Gratuity?" exclaimed Efraim in a passion. "You are lucky to escape a penalty for criminal ineptitude!"

  "Further," said Lorcas, "remain here until his Force the Kaiark permits you to leave. Otherwise he will order his secret agent in Port Mar to meet you and break every bone in your body."

  Flaussig bowed in a state of injured dignity. "It shall be as you wish. Our firm has built its reputation upon service. Had I known I was transporting grandees of Scharrode, I would have used more formality, since appropriate behavior is also a watchword at our firm."

  Lorcas and Efraim had already turned toward Benbuphar Strang, a castle of black stone, umber tile, timber; and stucco, built to the dictates of that peculiar gaunt style typical of the Rhunes. The chambers of the first floor were enclosed by walls thirty feet high, with tall narrow windows, elaborating above into a complicated system of towers, turrets, promenades, bays, balconies, and eyries.

  This was home, mused Efraim, and this was terrain over which he had walked a thousand times. He looked westward along the valley, across the pools and meadows, past the successive silhouettes of the forests, the colors muted by the haze, until they became purple-gray shadow under the far crags: he had looked across this vista ten thousand times... He felt no recollection.

  He had been recognized from the town. Several dozen men in black jackets and buff pantaloons hurried forth, with half as many women in gray gauze gowns.

  The men, approaching, performed complicated gestures of respect, then came forward, halting at a distance precisely reckoned by protocol.

  Efraim asked, "How have things gone during my absence?"