by Jack Vance
From Djanad there is easy access by several of the plateaus. I decided that my deed-debtor18 had joined the High Trail out of Djanad. What would a man of this sort hope to accomplish in this region? I could come to no conclusion.
“When I left the infirmary I went west along the trail. At Mount Cardoon the broken wall was repaired and the trail was open. Thereafter I carefully studied the ground, hoping to discover where Ramus Ymph had joined the trail. I found the place after only two miles, on the other side of Mount Cardoon. The marks were not apparent; Ramus Ymph had tried to conceal them but nevertheless I found them. They bore to the left into Djanad, only a half-mile off the trail. Strange affairs were afoot.
“I followed the tracks, south across a moor and down-slope into a valley. The land was quite deserted: a wilderness. I could not know how far the tracks led, and I was afraid to travel alone into Djanad, since I carried only my Glint blade. I decided to proceed two hours, so that I could return to Skyshaw Inn before sunset. The wheel-marks were plain enough. They led down-slope around a forest, then disappeared on a meadow of gaddle-stem. I skirted the meadow but found no more tracks. A puzzle! How could tracks leave a meadow without entering? I crossed the meadow, and at the center I discovered several areas where the gaddle-stem had been crushed by great pressure. Between these marks the growth was discolored and wilted. I wondered if a space-ship had not come down upon this meadow. I remembered the sounds I had heard during the morning, and I was quite certain: Ramus Ymph had alighted from a space-ship. He had gone off-world and returned.”
“He might have come to meet the ship,” observed Nai the Hever.
“The wheel-track left the meadow. No wheel-track entered.”
“What of the perrupters? Did they wear a uniform?”
“Brown tunics on black breeches. I looked in the reference but found nothing similar.”
“Please continue.”
“I examined the place. I was certain that a space-ship had landed to discharge the man I now know as Ramus Ymph.”
“So much is reasonable,” agreed Nai the Hever.
“I then reflected that the perrupters could not know the exact time of Ramus Ymph’s arrival, and that they must have awaited him for a certain period. I went to the woods and came upon a place where the troop had camped. I found a pit where they had buried garbage. The time was late. I returned along the wheeltracks to the High Trail and Skyshaw Inn.”
Nai the Hever looked off through a window, across Travan Square. Studying the placid face, something like that of a hyper-intelligent fox, Jubal wondered as to the chances of success for his ploy.
Nai the Hever turned back to Jubal. “The situation is as it stands.”
“What of Ramus Ymph? Will you prosecute under the Alien Influence Act?”
“This would ordinarily be the case. On the other hand, when we wonder as to a person’s peculiar activities, we pretend not to notice small delinquencies, in order to understand the whole affair. There is always time to reel in the slack, so to speak. But all this is of no conceivable interest to you.”
“On the contrary. Ramus Ymph still owes me blood.”
“He would not agree to this. He is savagely angry.”
“That is not my concern. He broke my body; I have only denied him a trivial honor.”
“You would find that Ramus Ymph rates each of his honors at the worth of one hundred bodies such as yours.”
“I balance the scale differently.”
Nai the Hever made a purposeful movement. The interview was ended. He thrust an envelope toward Jubal. “An honorarium for your services. There are no opportunities at Wysrod. Return to Glentlin and find useful work. I wish you every success.”
Jubal rose to his feet. “Are you interested in Ramus Ymph’s off-world business?”
Nai the Hever’s voice became suddenly sharp. “Why do you ask?”
“Simple curiosity. I can easily discover where he spent his time.”
“Indeed. How?”
“I must reserve this information until certain conditions are met.”
Nai the Hever leaned back in his seat. “What are these conditions?”
“They are quite personal. But you are uninterested in such things. After all, we are not close friends.”
“True,” sighed Nai the Hever. “Nevertheless I see that I must hear you out.” He gestured to the chair.
“Please be expeditious.”
Jubal seated himself once more. “Perhaps I am oversensitive, but it seems that our relationship has not flowed as gracefully as I had hoped. I brought you a letter which you refused to read.”
“Ah well, let us not mar the occasion with either recriminations or vain regrets.”
“I cannot enforce amity upon you, but I can rightfully demand the respect to which I am entitled.”
“My dear fellow,” said Nai the Hever, “so far as I am concerned, you have exactly that.”
“You might well display this regard rather more openly.”
“It is really a matter of personal style.”
“Very well, I will take your regard for granted. May I pay my addresses to your daughter?”
Nai the Hever’s eyebrows rose. “They would be most unwelcome, especially since she has been planning to espouse Ramus Ymph.”
“‘Has been’?”
Nai the Hever shrugged. “Circumstances are altered. Who knows what will happen? But we make progress. I hold you in appropriate esteem. You may not pay your addresses to the Lady Mieltrude. Do you have other conditions?”
“Yes indeed. I came to Wysrod hoping for suitable employment. To this end I brought you a letter of introduction which I will ask you to reexamine.”
“Very well.” Nai the Hever languidly held out his hand; Jubal tendered him the letter.
Nai the Hever read, looked up slowly. “It is signed by Vaidro. The Iron Ghost. Why did you not tell me so to begin with? No matter.” He sighed. “I see that I must do something for you, regardless of complaints elsewhere. Do you realize that a dozen times a day I am asked to provide someone a fine career? Well then, I will place you—suitably.”
“At what salary, and with what prospects?”
“Sufficient salary; and you must make your own prospects. I can only give you a start. Are there any further conditions? Then let us discuss Ramus Ymph.”
“With pleasure. You wish to learn where he went. May I ask why?”
Nai the Hever straightened in his seat. He spoke crisply. “I have agreed to offer you employment, necessarily in one of the departments under my supervision. As a private citizen I tolerated your rather offensive latitude of manner. I am now your superior officer, and you must display conventional respect.
Henceforth you will obey my instructions, curb your tongue and try to learn the rudiments of civilized behavior. Now, without further circumlocution, tell me what you know.”
“After I examined the site where the ship landed,” said Jubal, “I went to investigate the forest, where, as I informed you, I found evidence of a camp, with a filled-over garbage pit. Let us refer to this fact as Idea One.
“When Ramus Ymph attempted my death he was dressed as a Thariot nobleman. I asked myself, had he worn these garments during his trip into space, or had the perrupters brought them along with the ercycle?
If the latter, where were his off-world clothes? This was Idea Two.
“Combining the two concepts, I dug up the garbage pit and found a parcel of clothes, of unusual style, and I carried them back with me into Thaery.”
Nai the Hever made a slight sibilant sound, which, so Jubal would learn, constituted his only signal of approval. “Where are these garments now?”
“I have them secreted nearby.”
Nai the Hever spoke toward a mesh. “Send in Eyvant. Your classification is Junior Assistant Inspector in Department Three of the Sanitary and Hygiene Office. Eyvant Dasduke will be your superior. He will instruct you in your duties. Conceivably you will make a successful career; i
f so you will have Eyvant to thank.”
Long after, when recalling those words, Jubal would smile wearily at the recollection.
Into the office came the tall young man who only the evening before had summoned Jubal to the office of Nai the Hever.
“Jubal Droad has accepted a post with Department Three,” said Nai the Hever. “You will instruct him in his duties. Now, however, I wish you to accompany him to a place nearby, where he will place a parcel into your custody. Bring this parcel here immediately.”
Eyvant wordlessly walked from the room. Jubal hesitated.
Nai the Hever had turned away and was inspecting a pamphlet.
Jubal followed Eyvant Dasduke.
Chapter 6
The Wysrod hacks were famous across Thaery. The gaunt silhouettes, the tall coffin-like compartments on disproportionately short and squat undercarriages, were ubiquitous: lurching and swaying around corners, swarming the boulevards like grotesque insects, flitting through the night unseen except for dangerously dim side-lamps. In such a hack Jubal and Eyvant Dasduke proceeded to the airport. They rode in silence, by Dasduke’s preference. Jubal could not help but envy his lofty assurance, as if all his opinions were naturally and inherently right; as if nothing conceivable could provoke him to an incorrect reaction.
At a convenient way-place in his musings, Eyvant Dasduke turned Jubal a side-glance. “What’s to be your grade?”
“I am Junior Assistant Inspector.”
Eyvant gave his head a sour and wondering shake. “We’re top-heavy now. I can’t imagine how you got aboard.” And he added thoughtfully, “We dance to nervous music around D3.”
Jubal ventured a polite question: “What are to be my duties?”
“I’ll have to look over the work-sheets.” Eyvant’s tone became brisk and brassy. “Our principal job is inspection of the inns—checking cleanliness, cuisine, courtesy. You’ll take an orientation course, then go out and train in the field. Promotions come slow, I warn you.”
Jubal heaved a sad sigh. This was not the career he had in mind. Better than nothing? Perhaps.
Eyvant asked idly: “What is this parcel we are about to secure?”
Jubal’s hesitation was imperceptibly brief. Nai the Hever had not specifically enjoined silence, but by the very nature of things discretion was surely in order.
On the other hand, he was not anxious to antagonize his immediate superior. “I think it contains fabric—perhaps a garment.” So much Eyvant Dasduke would notice for himself.
“A garment? Whose garment?”
“This, I believe, is what Nai the Hever wishes to determine. You yourself are a Full Inspector?”
“Yes, quite.” And he grudgingly went on to say: “It is not a prestigious occupation, but Dasdukes have no great influence in Wysrod. We are Drune Tree folk.”
“How do Departments D1 and D2 occupy themselves?”
“D1 maintains industrial safety. D2 controls price and quality standards. D4 regulates weights and measures. D5 makes property evaluations. D6 of course is the Thariot Internal Police Force. D3 is the most inglorious of the lot.”
“Why then did you select D3 for your career?”
“I might ask the same of you.”
Jubal gave a starkly honest response. “It was the best I could get.”
Eyvant looked out the window of the hack. In an even voice he said: “The work has certain compensations. As an inspector you will travel everywhere across Thaery and meet a multitude of people.”
“And my salary?”
“You will start at seventeen toldecks a week, with travel expenses in the field.”
“Seventeen toldecks! That is not a large sum!”
“Our budget is low; we meet it by paying poor salaries to the juniors.”
Jubal sat limply back in the seat. Nai the Hever had used the word ‘sufficient’ rather than ‘generous’; at Wysrod an ear for such distinctions was clearly indispensable. “How much do I earn as a Full Assistant Inspector?”
“Your rate is then twenty-nine toldecks.”
“Then, finally, when I achieve Inspectorship?”
“You might earn forty or fifty toldecks a week. Much depends upon the man.”
They arrived at the Point Sul depot. Jubal secured the parcel and placed it in the custody of Eyvant Dasduke; the two returned down-hill and out upon the Marine Parade. At the Sea-Wrack Inn Jubal chose to alight. Eyvant Dasduke gave him instructions: “Report to Chamber 95 tomorrow morning at the first hour. A Sub-Inspector will supervise your training.”
The hack rattled down the Marine Parade. Jubal went to the balustrade and looked out over Duskerl Bay, where the locks were admitting a beautiful purple-hulled felucca19 of two orange kites… Seventeen toldecks a week. Instruction in the lore of bathroom drains and soiled linen. Junior Assistant Inspector Jubal Droad, alert and keen to pay his respects to Lady Mieltrude of Hever…
Eyvant Dasduke entered the office of Nai the Hever by a disguised door. Nai the Hever unsealed the parcel and spread the contents across a table.
There were four articles. First: a brick-red jacket cut to an odd loose-shouldered, pinch-waisted pattern.
Second: trousers, vertically striped yellow and silver, loose about the hips and knees. Third: shoes of glossy dark green leather with rakish ankle-flaps, a long pointed toe, a sole of twin resilient disks under the heel and ball of the foot. Fourth: a hat of dark red velvet, cocked and creased into a complicated shape, with a rosette of yellow ribbons at the side.
“Do you recognize these?” asked Nai the Hever.
“I have seen similar in the files. I recall no exact correspondence.”
“Ramus Ymph wore them down from off-world.”
“How do you know this?”
“From the Glint. It would appear quite definite.”
Eyvant surveyed the garments with distaste. “Surely not Skay?”
Nai the Hever smiled thinly. “I can’t imagine Ramus Ymph as a Binadary. No. He’s been farther than Skay.”
“Odd.”
“Very odd. The usual motives seem not to fit. Well, it’s all one. Let him lead; we will follow.”
“As you say.”
Nai the Hever indicated the clothes. “The technicians may be able to learn something. We are sadly provincial here in Thaery, probably to our great advantage. By the same token we are ignorant of the universe. Perhaps the time has come to repair the deficiency.”
“We’ll need considerably more funding than we have at present.”
“True. Money is tight. How would I explain such a need to Myrus? I must give the matter thought. How do you find your new inspector?”
“The Glint? He seems reasonably intelligent, and quite discreet. But I doubt if you’ll find your ‘passionless precision’ here.” Eyvant alluded to one of Nai the Hever’s more vivid pronouncements: “Department D3 is my tool; I require that the human components function with passionless precision!”
Nai the Hever said, “Handle him carefully. He will be employed where emotional motivation is a positive factor.”
Jubal Droad loitered along the Marine Parade. The time was early evening; the sky showed a plum-violet afterglow. Low in the west Skay was an enormous thin silver hook. Others strolled the Marine Parade: dark shapes, musing upon their private affairs.
Jubal leaned on the balustrade and looked off across Duskerl Bay. Seventeen toldecks a week: an inspector of fleas and complaint books. The advantages were real but modest: an easy life roaming the counties of Thaery, good food and good wine, compliments from the innkeepers—but he must bid his dreams goodby… The same held true if he became a National. Suppose he emigrated off-world? Jubal studied the sky with brooding fascination. Little was visible except a wavering panel of the Zangwill Reef, hanging slantwise behind Skay.
Jubal straightened up from the balustrade. “Already I feel an old man.” He slouched along the Marine Parade to the Sea-Wrack Inn and stepped into the tavern. He seated himself on a bench to the
side and presently was served a goblet of soft fruit wine. At seventeen toldecks a week, he must satisfy himself with less than the best. Conditional, of course, upon his accepting the post offered by that prince of generosity, Nai the Hever. With a somber eye Jubal inspected the other patrons of the tavern and speculated as to their occupations. The two middle-aged men, both short with soft little bodies, were tradesmen, or clerks of advanced skill. They chatted and giggled and prodded each other’s arm like schoolgirls. One of these men, meeting Jubal’s mordant gaze, stopped short as if startled. He muttered to his friend; both turned surreptitious glances toward Jubal. Hunching in their seats, they continued their conversation in a manner more subdued. Jubal turned away. Nearby stood a man of different quality, a tall dark-visaged man wearing tight black trousers and a tall black dath. His face, pale, gaunt, and melancholy, seemed somehow haunted, or obsessed by secret thoughts. His shoulders and arms were knotted with muscle; his legs, under tight cloth, showed hard knobs and cords. A manual laborer, hazarded Jubal, or more likely an artisan: a man skilled with hands and strength, who had known recent tragedy. At a nearby table a man in a faded gray blouse supped upon a platter of goulash, bread and leeks.
A National, thought Jubal, and no doubt a hard lot. His hair, a dun harsh stubble, showed thin spots, as if the growth had been impeded by blows or scrapes; his nose splayed to the side. The man’s movements, however, were slow and easy, and his eyes showed no more than a placid interest in the surroundings.
Jubal waited until the man had wiped his platter with the bread, then took his own flask and goblet to the table. “May I intrude upon your company?”
“As long as you like.”
“I assume you to be a National.”
“This observation, which surely you do not intend offensively—”
“By no means.”
“—is correct. I am master of the Clanche, whose mast swings yonder; my name is Shrack.”
“I am Jubal Droad, a gentleman of Glentlin. I would like to ask your advice.”
Shrack made an expansive gesture. “A National’s advice is generally reckoned no more and no less profound than the cry of the kakaru-bird. Nonetheless, ask away.”
