by Jack Vance
"A pleasant thought. Unluckily I fear I will be occupied. You seem to have altered your style." His glance indicated Etzwane's garments.
Etzwane scowled. "The clothes are nothing. A waste of money."
"And your petition to the Faceless Man: Have you had a response?"
Etzwane stared at him stonily, wondering if Ifness enjoyed subterfuge for its own sake,; surely Ifness had noticed him at the board! He said carefully, I bought the petition at a cost of five hundred florins. The answer has been posted. It is yonder."
He led Ifness to the board. Ifness read with his head thrust slightly forward. "Hmm," said Ifness. Then in a sharp voice, "Who wrote the remarks at the bottom of the sheet?"
"I did."
"What?" Ifness's voice was vibrant. Etzwane had never before seen him exercised. "Do you realize that in the building opposite a telescope is fixed on this board! You scribble your callow and irrelevant complaints, then stalk grandly over to implicate me. Do you realize that you are about to lose your head? Now we are both in danger."
Etzwane started to make a hot retort, but Ifness's gesture cut him short. "Act naturally; do not pose or posture. Cross to the Pomegranate Portal; continue slowly along. I must alter certain arrangements."
His head whirling, Etzwane crossed the plaza, moving with as natural a stride as he could muster. He looked toward the Aesthetic Corporation offices, from which, so Ifness averred, the board was telescopically monitored. The objective lens might well be that particularly lucid glass boss directly opposite the board. The Faceless Man hardly sat with his own eyes glued to the lens; a functionary no doubt kept vigil. The telescope would readily pick up the colors in Etzwane's torc; when he turned away, the man's curiosity would hold on him, and he would have observed the colloquy with Ifness.
If all were as Ifness declared. At least, thought Etzwane, he had startled Ifness from his supercilious calm.
He passed through the Pomegranate Portal, so called for festoons of dark scarlet fruit, into Serven Airo Way beyond.
Ifness caught up with him. It is possible that your act went unnoticed," said Ifness. "But I cannot risk even one chance in ten."
Etzwane, still surly, said, I understand none of your actions."
"Still, you would prefer not to lose your head?" asked Ifness in his most silky voice.
Etzwane gave a noncommittal grunt.
"Here is the situation," said Ifness. "The Faceless Man will shortly learn of your acts. He may well take your head; he has already taken the heads of three persons who have pushed too hard in this connection. I propose to prevent this. Next I intend to learn the identity of the Faceless Man. Then I will urge him to alter his policy."
Etzwane looked at Ifness in awe. "Can you do this?"
"I intend to try. You may be able to assist me."
"Why have you formed such plans? They are surprising!"
"Why did you file a five-hundred-florin petition?"
"You know my motives," said Etzwane stiffly.
"Exactly," said Ifness. "It gives me reason to trust in your participation. Walk faster. We are not being followed. Turn to the right at the Old Rotunda."
Passing from the city of glass, they walked a quarter mile north along the Avenue of the Thasarene Directors, into a lane shaded by tall blue-green hedges, through a gap to a small cottage of pale blue tile. Ifness unlocked the door, ushered Etzwane within. 'Take off your jacket quickly."
Etzwane sulkily obeyed the instructions. Ifness indicated a couch. "Lie down, on your face."
Again Etzwane obeyed. Ifness wheeled over a table on which rested an assortment of tools. Etzwane rose from the couch to examine them; Ifness curtly told him to lie back. "Now, on your life, do not move."
Ifness switched on a bright light and clamped Etzwane's torc in a small vise. He slipped a metal strip between the torc and Etzwane's neck, then clipped a u-shaped device to the strip. He touched a button; the device set up a soft hum; Etzwane felt a tingle of vibration. "Electron flow is impeded," said Ifness. "It is safe to open your torc." With a spinning razor-sharp wheel he sliced the flexite of the torc along its seam. Putting the tool aside, he split the torc open, then, with a long-nose pliers, he drew forth a length of black soft stuff. "The dexax is removed." With a hooked rod he worked at the internal lock. The torc fell away from Etzwane's neck.
"You are no longer subject to the control of the Faceless Man," said Ifness.
Etzwane rubbed his neck, which felt thin-skinned and naked. Rising from the couch, he looked slowly from the torc to Ifness. "How did you learn to do this?"
"You will remember the torcs I salvaged on Gargamet Meadow. I studied these with great care." He indicated the interior of Etzwane's torc. These are the coded receptors; this is a trigger mechanism. If a signal comes through from the Faceless Man, this fiber jerks to detonate the explosive. Off comes your head. This is the echo relay, which allows the Faceless Man to discover your whereabouts; it is now inoperative. These nodules I believe to be energy accumulators."
He stood frowning down at the device so long that Etzwane became restless and donned his tunic.
Ifness finally said, If I were the Faceless Man, I might well suspect a cabal, of which Gastel Etzwane was not the most important member. I would not instantly take Etzwane's head, but I would use the echo circuit to locate him and investigate his activities."
"That seems reasonable enough," said Etzwane grudgingly.
"On this basis," said Ifness, "I will attach a signal to your torc; if and when the Faceless Man tries to locate you, we will be warned." He busied himself. "When he receives no return signal, he must assume that you have left the district, and we will have verified his interest in Gastel Etzwane. Above all, I do not wish to alarm him or put him on his guard."
Etzwane asked the question that long had been at the front of his mind. "What, in fact, are your wishes?"
"I hardly know," Ifness murmured. "My perplexity is greater than your own."
Sudden illumination came to Etzwane. "You are a Palasedran! You come to observe the work of the Roguskhoi!"
"Not true." Ifness, seating himself on a couch, regarded Etzwane with a passionless gaze. "Like yourself, I wonder at the Roguskhoi and the Faceless Man's unconcern. Like yourself, I have been prompted to action. It is no less illicit for me than for you."
"What kind of action do you plan?" Etzwane asked cautiously.
"My first goal must be to identify the Faceless Man," said Ifness. "After that I will be guided by events."
"You claim not to be Palasedran," said Etzwane. "Nevertheless, this remains a possibility."
"My conduct in Mirk Valley was that of a Palasedran?"
Etzwane reflected upon Ifness's action. In no respect had Palasedran interests been advanced, or so it would seem. And the tools on the table: marvelous things! Of shining metal, of substances to which he could put no name—but not Palasedran. "If you are not Palasedran, what are you? Certainly no man of Shant."
Ifness leaned back on the couch, an expression of intense boredom on his face. "With churlish persistence you press for information I clearly do not wish to extend. Since your cooperation now becomes useful, I am forced to make certain disclosures. You have discerned that I am not a man of Shant. I am, in fact, an Earthman, a Fellow of the Historical Institute. Are you any the wiser?"
Etzwane surveyed him with a fierce gaze. "Earth is a real place?"
"Very real indeed."
"Why are you here on Shant?"
Ifness spoke in a patient voice. The folk who came to Durdane nine thousand years ago were secretive and eccentric; they marooned themselves and sank their spaceships in the Purple Ocean. On Earth Durdane is long forgotten—except by the Historical Institute. I am the latest in a succession of Fellows resident upon Durdane— and possibly the first to ignore the First Law of the Institute: Fellows may never interfere in the affairs of the worlds they study. We are organized as a fact-gathering association, and we so restrict ourselves. My conduct in regar
d to the Faceless Man is absolutely illicit; in the purview of the Institute I am a criminal."
"Why, then, did you concern yourself?" Etzwane demanded. "Because of the Roguskhoi raids?"
"My motives need not concern you. Your interests, so far as they go, are concurrent with mine; I do not care to be more explicit."
Etzwane ran his hand through his hair and sank back down upon the couch opposite to that on which Ifness sat. "These are great surprises." He warily studied Ifness. "Are there other Earth-men on Durdane?"
Ifness replied in the negative. 'The Historical Institute spreads its personnel thin."
"How do you move between here and Earth?"
"Again, this is information I prefer to keep to myself."
Before Etzwane could make an irritated reply, his torc produced a sharp buzzing sound. Ifness jumped to his feet; in one long stride he was at the torc. The buzzing stopped, leaving a silence that had a weighty and sinister quality of its own. Somewhere, thought Etzwane, the Faceless Man had turned away from his instruments frowning.
"Excellent!" Ifness declared. "The Faceless Man is interested in you. We will persuade him to reveal himself."
"All very well," said Etzwane, "but how?"
"A tactical exercise, which we will discuss presently. At the moment I wish to resume the business which your presence in the Plaza interrupted. I was about to dine."
The two returned to the Corporation Plaza; here they kept to the peripheral arcade, beyond the purview of the observer in the Corporation Center. Etzwane looked toward the Office of Petitions; the purple-and-black-bordered document was no longer to be seen. He informed Ifness of the fact.
"Another evidence of the Anome's sensitivity," said Ifness in an abstracted voice. "Our work will be the easier on this account."
"How so?" demanded Etzwane, ever more irritated by Ifness's condescension.
Ifness looked sidewise with raised eyebrows and spoke in a patient voice: "We must induce the Faceless Man to reveal himself. A quail cannot be seen until it moves; so with the Faceless Man. We must generate a situation which he will wish to inspect in his own person, rather than relying upon his Benevolences. The fact of his sensitivity makes such a reaction more likely."
Etzwane gave a sardonic grunt. "Just so. What situation do we generate?"
'It is a matter we must discuss. First, let us dine."
They seated themselves in the loggia of the Old Pagane Restaurant; their meal was set before them. Ifness stinted himself nothing. Etzwane, unsure whether or not he might be required to pay his own score, dined less lavishly. In the end, however, Ifness laid down money for both meals and leaned back to sip the dessert wine. "Now, to our business. The Faceless Man returned a polite response to your five hundred florins and in fact evinced interest only when you noted your dissatisfaction. This calibrates one of our parameters."
Etzwane wondered where all this was leading.
Ifness mused: "We must act within bounds of Garwiy law, to • give the Aesthetic Corporation no pretext for action. Perhaps we will offer an informative lecture on the Roguskhoi and promise startling revelations. The faceless Man has demonstrated his concern in regard to this subject; in all probability he will be interested enough to attend."
Etzwane agreed that such a contingency was possible. "But who will give such a lecture?"
"That is a matter to be carefully considered," said Ifness. "Let us return to the cottage. Again I must modify your torc so that it becomes a tool of aggression rather than a mere warning device."
In the cottage once more, Ifness worked two hours on the modification of Etzwane's torc. At last he completed his work. A pair of inconspicuous wires now led to a coil of fifty turns tied down upon a square of stiff fiber board. This is a directional antenna," said Ifness. "You will wear the coil under your shirt. Warning signals inside the torc will notify you when an attempt is being made either to locate you or to take your head. By turning, you will maximize the signals and thus determine their direction. Allow me now to place the torc around your neck."
Etzwane submitted without enthusiasm. "It seems," he grumbled, "that I am to function as bait."
Ifness allowed himself a frosty smile. "Something of the sort. Now listen carefully. The explosive impulse you will feel as a vibration against the back of your neck. The locator pulse will be received as a vibration at the right side. In either case, turn until you maximize the vibration. The source will then be directly in front of you."
Etzwane nodded grimly. "And what of you?"
"I will carry a similar device. With luck we should be able to strike a fix upon our subject."
"And what if we are unlucky?"
"This, to be frank, is my expectation. Such facile success is too much to hope for. We may startle our quail on this occasion, but other quail may move as well and so confuse us. But I will carry my camera; we will at least have an exact record of the occasion."
Chapter 10
At those places throughout Garwiy designated for the display of public announcements appeared large placards printed in brown and black on white paper with a yellow border: colors to signify dire and fateful import, with overtones of the sensationally macabre.
The ROGUSKHOI EXPOSED!
Who are these horrid savages who ravage and rape, who torment our land? Where do they come from? What is their plan?
AN ANONYMOUS ADVENTURER JUST RETURNED FROM THE HWAN WILL REVEAL STARTLING FACTS AND EVEN MORE STARTLING SUSPICIONS. WHO SHARES THE BLAME FOR THIS INFESTATION? YOU WILL HEAR AN AMAZING ACCUSATION!
MIDAFTERNOON KYALISDAY
AT THE PUBLIC PAVILION
IN PANDAMON PARK
On a hundred bulletin boards the placards were posted, and even the folk of Garwiy took notice, reading the placards once, twice, a third time. Ifness was pleased with the effect. "The Faceless Man will not ignore this. Yet we give neither him nor the Corporation cause to interfere."
Etzwane said sourly, "I'd rather that you were the 'anonymous adventurer.'"
Ifness laughed—in high good humor. "What? The talented Gastel Etzwane uncomfortable before an audience? What happens when you play one of your instruments?"
That is different."
"Possibly so. But as the 'anonymous adventurer', I could not use my camera. You have memorized the material?"
"As much as needs be," growled Etzwane. "In all candor, I dislike acting as your cat's-paw. I do not care to be seized by the Discriminators[†††††] and clapped off to Stonebreakers' Island while you dine on pomfret and ginger eggs at the Old Pagane."
"Unlikely," said Ifness. "Not impossible but unlikely."
Etzwane merely grunted. As an "anonymous adventurer" he wore a bulky cape of black fur, square and wide across the shoulders, with sand-colored breeches and black boots: the garments of a Canton Shkoriy mountaineer. The medallion of his torc showed at his neck; the designation "musician" was not at odds with the role of "adventurer." Slender, taut, his face keen and quick-featured, Gastel Etzwane cut a gallant figure in the mountaineer's costume; insensibly it affected his stride, his mannerisms, his mode of thought. He had become in fact the "anonymous adventurer." Ifness, wearing dark gray trousers, a loose white shirt, a soft gray jacket, was as usual. If Ifness felt any emotion, he gave no indication; They arrived at Pandamon Park.
"A half hour to the midafternoon chime," said Ifness. "A fair number of folk are about; all idle wanderers, or so I suspect. No person of Garwiy is early for an event. Those who come to hear the scandal will arrive one minute before the chime."
"What if none arrive?" asked Etzwane in melancholy hopefulness.
"There will be some," said Ifness, "including the Faceless Man, who cannot be happily anticipating the occasion. He may even post a Discriminator to discourage the speech. I suspect, however, that he will listen, then act as circumstances dictate. We must stimulate him to push his 'explode' button."
"And when I retain my head?"
"The torc circuits must occasionally fai
l; he will conclude that such is the case and send forth other impulses. Remember the signal I have stipulated."
"Yes, yes," muttered Etzwane. "I hope he doesn't become dissatisfied with his explosive and shoot me with a gun."
"A risk we must take . . . The time is still twenty minutes to the chime. Let us stand in the shadows yonder and rehearse the matter of your address."
The midafternoon chime sounded. From the foliage came the "anonymous adventurer." Looking neither right nor left, walking with something of a swagger, he approached the rostrum. He went to the rear, climbed the white-glass steps, and approached the lectern. He stopped short to study the magenta-bordered notice on the green-glass surface.
It was the Faceless Man's reaction, and it read:
Your advertisement has excited the interest of the ANOME himself. He requests discretion, that you may not jeopardize certain very sensitive investigations. The AN-OME'S opinion is this: the Roguskhoi are a nuisance, a tribe of disreputable folk already on the decline. A person properly informed will stress the minor and transitory aspects of the matter, or he might even wish to discuss a subject of more general interest.
Etzwane put down the notice. He examined the faces that had collected around the rostrum. A hundred persons stood watching; as many more sat on benches. To the left stood Ifness; he had pulled a merchant's hood over his soft white hair and by some peculiar alteration of pose now seemed one with the others. Did the Faceless Man stand among the people present? Etzwane looked from face to face. There: that hollow-cheeked man with the lank black hair and burning eyes. Or that small man yonder with the high round forehead, the delicate mouth. Or the handsome Aesthete in the green cloak with the neat fringe of black beard along his jaw. Or the stern man in the plum-colored habit of the Eclectic Godhead. Others, still others.
Etzwane wasted a moment or two longer, steeling himself to immobility. The audience had now assembled. Etzwane leaned forward and began to speak, and because of the magenta-bordered notice he altered his remarks.
