by Jack Vance
“Certainly.”
“One of these special inspections has now become necessary. I need a man of resource, tact and self-assurance. You are possessed, at least, of the latter. Are you willing to undertake this task?”
“For seventeen toldecks a week? No.”
“The compensation will be adequate.”
“In that case I will be glad to listen.”
“It is a job which should gratify your savage Glint vindictiveness. I take it that you are not reconciled to Ramus Ymph?”
“A man who twice has attempted my life? Why have you not tracked down the responsibility for this warrant, so that I might act?”
“This is not presently consequential. Listen.” Nai the Hever leaned his elbows on the desk and knit his pale fingers. “Your information warned us of Ramus Ymph’s off-planet activities. My misgivings were instantly aroused and I placed Ramus Ymph under close surveillance.
“One week ago Ramus Ymph covertly departed Wysrod. He flew to Tissano, then rode ercycle south through Isedel, making continual efforts at stealth. Near Ivo, during the dead of night, he slipped across the border into Djanad, and we were unable to track him further, but radar reported the passage of an object into space.
“In short, Ramus Ymph has once more departed Maske: presumably to the place he visited before. The clothes you supplied have been exhaustively studied and our experts trace them to a certain world of the Gaean Reach. So now—what next?”
“I would not presume to advise you.”
“We might ask Ramus Ymph for the facts,” said Nai the Hever. “Two objections mar the elegant simplicity of this plan. First, the Ymphs are a powerful ilk, whom I do not care to antagonize. In fact, I struggle constantly to appease them. Secondly, putting questions to Ramus Ymph might well bar us from a much larger knowledge. Therefore I have decided that inquiries should be made on the scene. It is a task which falls within your competence, and you shall make this inquiry.”
For all his speculations Jubal had expected nothing so remarkable. After a moment he asked: “Why do you select me for this job?”
Nai the Hever made an urbane gesture. “You are strongly motivated; you know something of the background; you show a marked investigative talent. These facts compensate to some extent for your inexperience. Also, we are reluctant to use other inspectors, whose loss, let us say, might cause us inconvenience.”
“I do not care for suicide any more than these other inspectors,” said Jubal.
“Quite possibly there will be no risk whatever,” said Nai the Hever. “You will of course be thoroughly briefed and transportation will be provided. Additionally—yes, yes! Do not anticipate! You will receive a suitable compensation.”
“Just what do you have in mind? A raise to twenty toldecks?”
“Of course not. Promotions do not come so easily. I propose a lump sum payment of, let us say, five hundred toldecks upon the successful completion of your mission.”
Jubal showed a grin of derision. “If I were a fool enough to take your proposition seriously, I would insist upon altering the terms. The word ‘successful’ would be omitted and ‘five hundred’ changed to ‘ten thousand’. You would pay me five thousand toldecks before I left Wysrod and another five thousand upon my return, before I so much as made my report.”
Nai the Hever leaned back, his face pale and brooding. “Ten thousand toldecks? For a journey most folk would pay to enjoy? Your avarice is really grandiose!”
“What is ten thousand toldecks to you? I will be paid from public funds. There is clearly dire risk to this mission. My life is precious to me, if not to you. Send Eyvant Dasduke; he’ll go for five hundred toldecks, and I’ll take over his job.”
“The figure,” intoned Nai the Hever, “will be based upon two thousand toldecks, plus a bonus of two thousand toldecks if you produce valuable results. That is a generous, definite and final offer. Accept or return to your sewer inspecting.”
“I might more readily accept,” said Jubal, “if you had resolved that other affair. I have suffered the capricious cruelty of your daughter—”
“Your terms are probably not accurate.”
“‘Probably’! Why haven’t you discovered the truth?”
“I have been busy with other matters. If you are so interested, ask her yourself.”
Jubal snorted. “When? How? Where? She would refuse to see me, much less answer my questions.”
“We will clarify this matter once and for all,” said Nai the Hever. “Come to Hever House this evening, at sundown. Present yourself at the side entrance. I assure you that the Lady Mieltrude will respond to your questions.”
At a wineshop Jubal considered the extraordinary proposal made by Nai the Hever… A concept took shape in his mind, so obvious, so natural, so monstrous, that he sat back stunned.
An hour passed, and another; Mora sank down the sky. Jubal returned to his lodgings, in one of the crooked lanes behind the Parloury. Somberly he arrayed himself in his none-too-splendid best. From the commode he took the gray steel blade given him at his boyhood rite, wet with three bloods. The blade had a secret name: Saerq—‘Mountain Wind’; it was an unusually heavy weapon, of crystallized steel strengthened by a lattice of iron threads, balanced evenly for throwing. Jubal hefted the blade on his palm, then fixing the sheath to the inside of his waist-band, hung the comforting weight of Saerq along his thigh.
The time still lacked an hour to sunset. Seating himself at the table, Jubal carefully composed a document, which he folded and tucked into his pocket.
Mora now hung low in the west. Jubal went down to the street and hailed a hack. “To Hever House, along the Cham.”
Along crooked lanes, overhung by tall crabbed gables, up one of the boulevards into the hills, around to the Cham and so to Hever House. Jubal walked under the entrance arch, sauntered up the steps to the stately main portal. The twin doors slid aside; Flanish the major-domo hurried forward. He recognized Jubal. “Please, sir, what is it this time?”
Jubal stepped into the foyer and Flanish was forced to give ground. “Announce me, if you please, to the Nobilissimus,” said Jubal. “I am expected.”
Flanish hesitated. “What name shall I announce?”
“I am the Honorable Jubal Droad; where is your memory?”
Flanish signaled a footman and whispered a word in his ear. With a resentful glance from the corner of his eye toward Jubal he marched from the room. The footman stood by the wall, unobtrusively keeping Jubal under surveillance.
Five minutes passed. Nai the Hever appeared, in casual gray evening dress. He surveyed Jubal with barely concealed annoyance. “I believe that I asked you to use the side entrance.”
“As you know, I am a Glint,” said Jubal. “I use no man’s side entrance.”
“This is Wysrod, not Glentlin, and we must make concessions to local propriety.”
“If you recall,” said Jubal, “I am here to discuss a matter of propriety: a criminal act committed by your daughter. She is the one who should use the side door, not I.”
Nai the Hever made a small crisp gesture. “Come, let us make an end to this sorry affair. Flanish, ask Lady Mieltrude to join us in the small salon.” And to Jubal: “This way, please.” He led Jubal into a room hung with a pair of magnificent Djan tapestries: jungle landscapes woven of violet, green and dark red filaments. A white carpet muffled the floor; a pair of ancient Djan pots rested on an ivorywood table. Nai the Hever remained standing, nor did he invite Jubal to sit. A minute passed. Nai the Hever spoke casually: “I am accustomed to informality; in my position I deal with persons of every caste. The Lady Mieltrude, on the other hand, is quite conventional; she allows considerations of decorum to influence her conduct, so be guided.”
Jubal’s jaw dropped in astonishment. “Can you not understand that your daughter has committed a vicious crime? Do you consider this decorous conduct?”
“We shortly will hear the Lady Mieltrude’s views on the matter. I emphasize that s
he will respond only to correct behavior.”
“Perhaps then you would prefer to question her.”
“Not at all,” said Nai the Hever. “You are anxious to learn certain facts. This is a reasonable request; I acquiesce. But I am not here to assist your inquisition.”
“As you wish.”
“Please do not lean on that table,” said Nai the Hever. “It is extremely old and has never been dealt with roughly.”
“I only laid my hand on the piece!” retorted Jubal in indignation. “What do you take me for?”
Nai the Hever gave an uninterested shrug. He turned as Mieltrude entered the room. She wore an informal white gown; under a quat of limp pale blue leather her pale hair hung smooth to the turn of her jaw.
Ignoring Jubal, she looked with an almost demure expression to her father. “You asked me to join you?”
“Yes, my dear, a matter to be clarified. This is Jubal Droad, whom you brought to the Parloury.”
“I remember distinctly.”
“He claims to have suffered inconvenience; he begs to place one or two perplexities before you, that you may elucidate the facts to his understanding.”
“I will resolve his problems as best I may, but I hope he will be expeditious, as I am expecting a telephone call.”
“Thank you, my dear. Jubal Droad, you may explain your difficulties.”
Jubal had listened with amazement, looking from one to the other. He addressed Nai the Hever. “Do I hear aright? Are these the terms in which we discussed this matter?”
“Please explain the areas of your uncertainty.”
Jubal struggled with words, then brought out the bogus warrant: “Did you or did you not take out this warrant against my life?”
Mieltrude inspected the document with minimal interest. “I recall something of the sort.”
“The warrant is illegal. You have committed a crime.”
Mieltrude let the warrant slip from her fingers to the floor. “The events have run their course.” She turned to her father. “I do not think we need take them any further.”
Jubal persisted. “You admit that you elicited this warrant?”
“The topic has no present application; my best advice is that you dismiss the entire matter… Will you be at home this evening, Father? We must make a start at reworking our guest-list.”
Jubal turned to Nai the Hever. “Sir, will you be good enough to explain to your daughter that this is not one of her usual frivolities. Please point out that a warrant has been issued against her and that she is liable for punishment.”
Nai the Hever reflected a moment. “Allow me a conjecture. Perhaps a paper was placed before the Lady Mieltrude, with a suggestion that traditional stabilities should always be supported, and the Lady Mieltrude signed the paper with no more deliberation than she thought the subject merited.”
Jubal’s voice cracked in outrage. “And an innocent man barely escapes a scalded skin and broken bones?
And that innocent man is me, a Glint nobleman of the highest caste? This transcends girlish fun.”
“I will be in the music room with Sune,” Mieltrude told her father. “As soon as you are free, we shall discuss the placings.”
“In due course, my dear.”
Mieltrude sauntered from the room. Jubal thoughtfully retrieved the warrant from the floor.
“So there you have it,” said Nai the Hever. “Let us consider the matter closed. Come this way, into my library, which has been proofed against eavesdrop; we have other affairs to discuss.”
In the library Nai the Hever waved Jubal to a straight-backed chair and went to lean against a long table covered with documents and journals.
Jubal seated himself with deliberation. “I understand then that you are waiving arbitration of this warrant?
If so, there will be no difficulty in having it processed.”
“My dear fellow, you are a positive monomaniac! Can you not leave off a subject when clearly all are bored with it? I cannot spend the entire evening with you, and we must discuss your mission.”
“This remarkable mission,” sneered Jubal. “It is not flattering to be taken for a lackwit!”
Nai the Hever seated himself in an easy-chair. Leaning back he contemplated Jubal with clinical dispassion. “You have been offered a challenging assignment and a chance to earn a handsome wage. I am puzzled by your attitude. Surely you are not trying to jockey for more money?”
“I am trying to tell you that your plot is transparent.”
“Indeed. Which plot is this?”
“You intend to ship me off-planet forever to dissolve the embarrassment of your daughter’s crime. What good are six thousand toldecks if they are here and I am there?”
Nai the Hever smiled in wry amusement. “I see that you will make a competent inspector after all. You have a natural bent for subterfuge and deceit. Compared to you, I am an innocent. But in this case you are wrong. No such plot exists.”
“I would like you to prove this.”
Nai the Hever’s amusement swiftly became scorn. “As you yourself pointed out, it is not flattering to be taken for a lackwit. Would I waste such elaborate machinations upon so trivial a problem? You live in a world of distorted reality.”
Jubal was unmoved. “This is precisely the indignant bluster you would use if in fact you were working a plot against me.”
Nai the Hever reached into a drawer and brought forth a sheaf of notes. “There is proof that you can understand. Two thousand toldecks.” He tossed them to Jubal. “Four thousand will be your total wages, not six thousand. Let us have no misunderstanding on this account, at least.”
Jubal sheafed through the notes. A sizeable sum. With another two thousand, almost enough to buy a boat like the Clanche. “Two thousand toldecks carry conviction,” Jubal agreed. “Fetch out paper and ink, if you please, and write as I dictate.”
Nai the Hever made no move. “And what will you dictate?”
“Write, and you will learn.”
“Dictate and I will record. Then I will learn. So what is this statement of yours?”
Jubal brought out his paper. “First the place and date… Then: ‘Know all men by this document that I, Nai the Hever, in my official capacity as Servant of the Thariot Servantry, hereby request and contract with the Honorable Jubal Droad that he undertake a task at his inconvenience and peril in furtherance of the public weal. It is stipulated that this task, by my explicit instructions, shall take Jubal Droad on a voyage away from the planet Maske, that this voyage shall not, by my executive decree, be considered a contravention of the laws of Thaery, and that Jubal Droad may publicly and freely resume his full former caste and privileges as a Thariot and a high-born Glint upon completion of the work. I guarantee to furnish safe and comfortable transport to Jubal Droad, from Wysrod to the stipulated destination and back. I agree to pay him the sum of six thousand toldecks—’”
“Four thousand toldecks.”
“‘—four thousand toldecks, said payment to be made immediately upon Jubal Droad’s return to Thaery, or as soon after as is convenient to him. I acknowledge Jubal Droad to be both my personal agent and the agent of the state, and I solemnly undertake to hold him guiltless and defend him with all the power of my office against any accusation which may be brought against him in connection with the above-named task, specifically contravention of the Alien Influence Act.’” Jubal leaned back. “Then you must sign, and affix your seal, your thumb and your secret Hever oath, and the document must be witnessed.”
Nai the Hever stopped the recorder. “You make unreal demands. Such a document, if publicized, might conceivably be used to my disadvantage by the Ymphs. You must rely upon our unwritten compact.”
“I must trust you, in short?”
“Exactly.”
Jubal tossed the two thousand toldecks to the table. He rose to his feet. “Good night Nai the Hever.”
“One moment.” Nai the Hever tugged at his pale pointed chin. Presently
he said: “If I provided you such a document, where would you keep it?”
“In a safe place, naturally.”
“Where?”
“That is my private affair.”
Nai the Hever reflected further, the metal lights dancing in his eyes. “Very well,” he sighed. “I must do your bidding.” He turned to a communicator. “My dear Mieltrude.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Go to my private study. At the desk open the drawer marked ‘Official No. 4’. Bring me two sheets of parchment, a stylus, and that flask of ink marked ‘Official Documentary’. Bring these articles to the library.”
“Yes, Father.”
A moment later Mieltrude appeared with the articles Nai the Hever had requested. “Thank you, my dear,”
said Nai the Hever. “Please wait a moment. I want you to witness a document.”
Jubal made an instant protest. “She is not only frivolous but undependable. In deference to a father’s ears I will not characterize her more accurately. Also, she will never be discreet; our secrets will be the banter of all Wysrod by midnight tonight.”
“Calm yourself,” said Nai the Hever. “You judge her too harshly. A witness is a witness. Who else is in the house, daughter?”
“Sune Mircea has been with me, but she is on the point of leaving. Shall I fetch her?”
“Two giddy girls on a matter of such importance?” stormed Jubal. “My suspicions have returned!”
“In that case we will do without Sune,” said Nai the Hever. He took parchment, stylus and ink. “First, I write date, place, time. Now the text.”
Jubal cried in a voice of desperation. “Really, sir! Not in front of this girl! She is personally concerned. Is this a sensible procedure?”
“Her errors have taught her wisdom,” said Nai the Hever. “She has become quite judicious.” He turned on the recorder: “Know all men by this document,” droned Jubal’s voice, “that I, Nai the Hever, in my official capacity…”
Nai the Hever completed the affidavit, signed and sealed it. Mieltrude without comment affixed her signature.
Nai the Hever folded the document, tucked it into an envelope, and handed it to Jubal.
