Marune Alastor 933

by Jack Vance

  The most venerable of the men responded: "Tragically, Force. Our Kaiark Jochaim was pierced by a Gorget bolt. Otherwise not badly, but not well. There have been doubts and misgivings. From Torre a band of warriors invaded our land. The Kang Destian ordered out a force, but there was little correspondence in rank2; and no great combat ensued. Our blood boils for revenge upon Gosso of Gorgetto. The Kang Destian has delayed retaliation; when will he order forth our power?

  Remember, from the crest of Haujefolge our sails command his castle. We can invade, then while Gosso sweats and wheezes, we can drop down a force and take Gorgance Strang."

  "First things first," said Efraim. "I now go to Benbuphar Strang to discover what irregularities, if any, exist. Have you information, or even suspicions, in this regard?"

  The sage performed another gesticulation of a ritual effacement. "I would never reflect upon Benbuphar irregularities, let alone give them voice."

  "Do so now," said Efraim. "You will be doing your Kaiark a service."

  "As you will, Force, but remember, by the nature of things, we of the town know nothing. Uncharitable persons blink askance at the Kraike Singhalissa's projected trisme with Kaiark Rianlle of Eccord."

  "What?" exclaimed Efraim. "And how is it to be with the Kraike Dervas?"

  "She is to be rusticated, or so goes the rumor. Such is Singhalissa's price for the Dwan Jar, where Rianlle yearns to build a pavilion. This at least is common knowledge: We learn also of trisme between the Kang Destian and the Lissolet Maerio. If these trismes were to take place, what then? Does it not seem that Rianlle would sit high in the counsels of Scharrode? Still, now that you are at hand, and Kaiark by right, the question is moot."

  "I am pleased with your candor," said Efraim. "What else has occurred during my absence?"

  "Nothing of consequence, although, in my opinion, the mood of the realm has become slack. Loons and villains wander by mirk, instead of remaining at home to guard their households; and then when light returns, we are reluctant to unbolt our doors, for fear of finding a corpse on the porch. Again, now that you are home, the evil influences must subside."

  He bowed and withdrew; Efraim and Lorcas proceeded across the commons toward the castle, after first dismissing the sullen Flaussig and sending him back to Port Mar.

  As they approached, a pair of heralds appeared on the twin bartizans over the portal; lifting coiled bronze sad-horns they blew a set of agitated fanfares: The portals swung wide; a platoon of guards stood at attention, and out marched four heralds playing further fanfares: wild excited progressions of sounds, just perceptibly contrapuntal.

  Efraim and Lorcas passed through a vaulted tunnel iota a courtyard. In a tall-backed chair sat the Kraike Singhalissa; beside her stood the Kang Destian, dark eyebrows lowering.

  The Kraike rose to her feet, to stand almost as tall as Destian; she was a woman of obvious force, with lustrous eyes and angular features. A gray turban contained her dark hair; her gray gauze gown seemed dull and characterless until the eye took note of the subtle play of light, the shadow of the half-concealed figure.

  Singhalissa spoke in a high sweet voice: "We give you a ritual welcome, although you have returned at an inconvenient time; why should we deny it? In less than a week the legitimacy of your tenure would have dissolved; as certainly you have instructed yourself. It seems far from civil that you. have neglected to notify us of your plans, inasmuch as we have providently taken steps to transfer the succession."

  "Your points are well-taken," said Efraim. "I could not dispute them if they were not founded upon incorrect premises. I assure you that my difficulties have far exceeded yours. Nevertheless, I am sorry that you have been inconvenienced and I sympathize with Destian's disappointment."

  "No doubt," said Destian. "May we inquire the circumstances of your long absence?"

  "Certainly; you are entitled to an explanation. At Port Mar I was drugged, placed aboard a spaceship, and sent far off across the Cluster. I encountered many difficulties and succeeded in returning to Port Mar only yesterday. As soon as possible I hired an aircar and was conveyed to Scharrode."

  Destian's mouth compressed even deeper at the corners. He shrugged and turned away.

  "Most curious;" said Singhalissa, in her high clear voice. "Who worked this malignant deed?"

  "I will discuss the matter with you in detail, at some future time."

  "As you please." She inclined her head toward Lorcas. "And who is this gentleman?"

  "I wish to present my friend, the Noble Matho Lorcas. He has given me invaluable assistance and will be our guest. I believe that he and the Kang Destian became casually acquainted at Port Mar."

  Destian scrutinized Lorcas a brief three seconds. Then, muttering something under his breath, he turned away. Lorcas said gravely, "I recall the occasion perfectly; it is a pleasure to renew the acquaintance."

  At the back of the colonnade, in the shadow of one of the tall portals, the form of a young woman seemed gradually to materialize. Efraim saw her to be the Lissolet Sthelany, slight and supple in her nimbus of translucent gray gauze.

  Her eyes, like those of the Kraike, were somber and lustrous, but her features were pensive rather than minatory, delicate rather than crisp, and only remotely similar to those of either Singhalissa or Destian. She was further differentiated by her expression of detachment and indifference. Efraim and Lorcas both might have been strangers for all the animation of her greeting.

  Lorcas had found Sthelany fascinating at Port Mar, and his interest, so Efraim noticed, had not diminished - almost too obviously, although no one troubled to take note.

  Singhalissa, sensing Sthelany's presence, spoke over her shoulder. "As you see, the Kaiark Efraim is again with us. He has suffered outrageous indignities; some unknown person has played him a series of malicious tricks."

  "Indeed!" remarked Sthelany in a soft voice. "I am dismayed to hear this. Still, one cannot expect to roam the back alleys of Port Mar and evade the consequences. As I recall, he was in the most questionable company."

  "We are all disturbed by the situation," said Singhalissa. "The Kaiark of course has our sympathy. He has brought as his guest the Noble Matho Lorcas, or so I believe his name to be: his friend from Port Mar."

  The Lissolet's acknowledgment of the introduction, if any less emphatic, would have been undetectable. She spoke to Efraim in a voice as clear and sweet as that of Singhalissa, "Who performed these heartless acts upon you?"

  Singhalissa answered for Efraim. "The Kaiark prefers not to enlarge upon the matter at this time."

  "But we are most interested! These indignities offend us all!"

  "That is true enough," said the Kraike.

  Efraim had been listening with a sour grin. "I can tell you very little. I am as puzzled as you are - perhaps more so."

  "More so? I know nothing."

  The Kraike said abruptly, "The Kaiark and his friend have had a fatiguing journey and will wish to refresh themselves." She addressed herself to Efraim.

  "I assume that you will now occupy the Grand Chambers?"

  "It would seem appropriate that I do so."

  Singhalissa turned and beckoned to a grizzled heavy-shouldered man who wore, over the black and scarlet Benbuphar livery, a black velvet mantle embroidered in silver and a black velvet tricorn cap. "Agnois, bring a selection of the Kaiark's effects down from the North Tower."

  "At once, Your Presence." Agnois the First Chamberlain departed.

  The Kraike Singhalissa ushered Efraim along a dim hall hung with portraits of all the dead kaiarks, each, by the urgency of his gaze and the poise of his upraised hand, straining to communicate his wisdom across the ages.

  A pair of tall iron-bound doors barred the way, with a gorgon's head of oiled black iron at the center of each; perhaps contrived by a kaiark's cogence3.

  Singhalissa halted by the doors; Efraim stepped forward to fling them wide but could not discover the mechanism which controlled the latch. Singhalissa said drily, "Al
low me," then pressed a boss. The doors swung open.

  They entered a long antechamber, or trophy room. Cases lined the walls, displaying curios, collections, artifacts; objects of stone, wood, fired clay, glass; insects preserved in transparent cubes; sketches, paintings, calligraphy; Books of Life, a thousand other volumes and portfolios, monographs unnumbered. A

  long table occupied the center of the room, on which glowed a pair of lamps in green glass shades. Above the cases portraits of kaiarks and kraikes stared down at those who passed below.

  The trophy room opened on a vast high-ceilinged room paneled in wood almost black with age. Rugs patterned in maroon, blue, and black covered the floor; tall narrow windows overlooked the valley.

  The Kraike indicated a dozen cases along the wall. "These are Destian's belongings; he assumed that he would be occupying these chambers; he is naturally annoyed by the turn of events." She stepped to the wall and touched a button; almost at once Agnois the First Chamberlain appeared. "Yes, Your Presence?"

  "Remove the Kang Destian's belongings."

  "At once, Presence." He departed.

  "How, may I ask, did the Kaiark meet his death?"

  The Kraike looked sharply at Efraim. "You have heard nothing of this?"

  "Only that he was killed by the Gorgets."

  "We know little more. They came as mirk-men and one of them shot a bolt at Jochaim's back. Destian planned a foray of vengeance immediately after his investiture."

  "Destian can order a foray whenever he chooses. I will put no hindrance in his way."

  "You intend not to participate?" The Kraike's clear voice tinkled with a cool emotion.

  "I would be foolish to do so, while there are mysteries to be clarified. Who knows but what I also might die of a Gorget bolt?"

  "You must act as your wisdom directs. When you are rested you will find us in the hall. With your permission I will now leave you."

  Efraim bowed his head. "I am grateful for your solicitude."

  The Kraike departed. Efraim stood alone in the ancient parlor. In the air hung a redolence of leather bookbindings, waxed wood, old fabric, and also a faint mustiness of disuse. Efraim went to look out one of the tall windows, each protected by an iron shutter. The time was green rowan; the light lay wan across the landscape.

  He turned away and gingerly began to explore the chambers of the Kaiark. The parlor was furnished with massive pieces, well-worn and not uncomfortable, if somewhat stately and ponderous. At one end of the room cases ten feet tall displayed books of every description. Efraim wondered what had been Jochaim's special virtuosities. For that matter, what had been his own?

  In a sideboard he found various flasks of liquor, for the Kaiark's private ingestion. A rack displayed a dozen swords; evidently weapons of fame and glory.

  A portal nine feet tall and three feet wide opened into an octagonal sitting room. A segmented glass dome high above, flooded the chamber with light. A green rug covered the floor; the wall panels were painted to represent views over Scharrode from several high vantages: the work, no doubt, of some long-dead kaiark who had professed the rendering of painted landscapes. A spiral stairs led aloft to a balcony, which led to an exterior promenade. Across the sitting room a short hall led into the Kaiark's wardrobe. Uniforms and formal dress hung in closets; chests contained shirts and underlinen; on shelves were ranged dozens of boots, shoes, sandals, slippers: all glossy with polish, brushed and burnished. Kaiark Jochaim had been a punctilious man. The personal belongings, the garments and uniforms communicated nothing. Efraim felt uneasy and resentful; why had not these garments long ago been discarded?

  A tall door opened on the Kaiark's bed chamber: a relatively small room plainly furnished; the bed was little more than a cot, with a hard thin mattress. Efraim saw room for change here; he had no present taste for asceticism. A short hall opened first upon a bathroom and watercloset, then upon a small chamber furnished with a table and chair: the Kaiark's refectory. Even as Efraim examined the room a dumbwaiter rumbled up from the cellar kitchens, bringing a tureen of soup, a loaf of bread, a plate of leeks in oil, a quantity of black-brown cheese, and a tankard of beer. The service, as Efraim would learn, was automatic; every hour the collation would be renewed, and the Kaiark never need suffer the embarrassment of calling for food.

  Efraim discovered himself to be hungry and ate with good appetite. Returning into the hall, he noted that it continued to a flight of dark winding stairs. A

  noise from the bedroom attracted his attention. He returned to find a pair of valets removing the garments of the dead Kaiark and arranging in their stead a wardrobe conspicuously less ample: presumably the clothes he had left in his old quarters.

  "I go now to bathe," Efraim told one of the valets. "Lay out something suitable for me to wear."

  "With haste, Force!"

  "Also, remove this bed, and bring in something larger and more comfortable."

  "Immediately, Force!"

  Half an hour later Efraim inspected himself in the mirror. He wore a gray coat over a white shirt, black breeches, black stockings, and black velvet shoes - garments suitable for informal occasions within the castle. The clothes hung loosely on his body; he had lost weight since the episode at Port Mar.

  The stairs at the back of the hall had not yet been explored. He climbed twenty feet to a landing, where he opened a door and looked out into a hall.

  He stepped through. The door seemed to be a section of the paneling, invisible when closed. As he stood examining the door and speculating upon its purpose, the Lissolet Sthelany emerged from a chamber at the end of the hall. At the sight of Efraim. she hesitated. then approached slowly, her face averted. The green rays of Cirse, shining from the window at the end of the hall, backlighted her figure; Efraim wondered hour he had ever considered the gauze gowns drab. He watched her as she approached, and it seemed that her cheeks became suffused with a faint flush. Modesty? Annoyance? Excitement? Her expression gave no indication as to her feelings.

  Efraim stood watching as she drew nearer. Evidently she intended to continue past, without acknowledging his presence. He leaned forward, half of a mind to put his arm around her waist. Sensing his intent, she stopped short and turned him an alarmed glance. No question as to her beauty, thought Efraim; she was enchanting, perhaps the more so for the peculiar Rhune predispositions.

  She spoke in a light colorless voice: "Why do you bolt so precipitously from the mirk-hole? Do you intend to startle me?"

  "Mirk-hole?" Efraim looked blankly over his shoulder at the passage. "Yes, of course. I had not considered..." Meeting her wondering gaze he stopped short.

  "No matter. Come down to the Grand Chamber, if you will. I would like to talk with you." He held open the door but Sthelany recoiled in amazement.

  "Through the mirk-way?" She stared from Efraim to the passage, then gave a cool trill of laughter: "Do you care so little for my dignity?"

  "Of course not," Efraim declared hastily. "I am absentminded of late. Let us go by the ordinary route."

  "At your convenience, Force." She waited.

  Efraim, recalling nothing of the castle's internal plan, reflected a moment, then set off down the corridor in the direction which seemed most logically to lead to the Kaiark's chambers.

  Sthelany's cool voice came from behind him. "Does Your Awesome Presence first intend to inspect the tapestry collection?"

  Efraim halted and reversed his direction. He walked past the Lissolet without comment and continued to a bend in the hall, which gave upon a foyer. Before him wide stone stairs flanked by heavy balustrades and archaic lamps of wrought iron led down to the main floor. Efraim descended, with the Lissolet coming demurely behind him. With only a second or two of hesitation he headed for the Kaiark's chambers.

  He opened the tall doors with the gorgon's heads without difficulty, and ushered Sthelany into the trophy room. He closed the door sad pulled a chair away from the table for her use. Giving him her now familiar glance of sardonic per
plexity she asked: "Why do you do that?"

  "So that you may sit, and hopefully relax, and so that we may talk at our ease."

  "But I may not sit in your presence, under the eyes of your ancestors!" She spoke in a mild and reasonable voice. "Do you wish me to suffer a ghost blight?"

  "Naturally not. Let us go into the parlor, where the portraits will not trouble you."

  "Again, this is most unconventional."

  Efraim lost patience. "If you don't care to talk with me, you certainly have my permission to go."

  Sthelany leaned gracefully back against the table. "If you order me to talk, I must obey."

  "Naturally I will not give such an order."

  "What do you wish to talk about?"

  "I don't really know. Truth to tell, I am puzzled. I have undergone a hundred strange experiences; I have seen thousands of new faces; I have visited the Connatic's Palace on Numenes... Now that I have returned, the customs of Scharrode seem strange."

  Sthelany considered the matter. "For a fact you seem a different person. The old Efraim was rigorously correct."

  "I wonder... I wonder..." mused Efraim. He looked up to find Sthelany watching him intently. "So you notice a difference in me?"

  "Of course. If I did not know you so well I would think you a different man - especially in view of your peculiar absentmindedness."

  After a moment Efraim said, "I confess to confusion. Remember, I did not realize I was Kaiark until yesterday. And arriving here, I discover an atmosphere of resentment, which is not at all pleasant."

  Sthelany showed surprise at Efraim's ingenuousness. "What would you expect?

  Singhalissa may no longer call herself Kraike; she lacks all legitimate place here at Benbuphar Strang. No less do I and Destian; we all must make plans for dreary old Disbague. We live here at your sufferance. It is a sad turn of events for us."

  "I am not anxious that you leave, unless you wish to go." Sthelany gave an indifferent shrug. "My feelings are of interest only to myself."

  "Incorrect. I am interested in your feelings."