by Jack Vance
The hack, so he imagined, increased its speed. Jubal ducked around the corner, stepped into an areaway.
The hack, emerging from Sprade Way, turned in the opposite direction.
Jubal left his hiding place and proceeded along the street. Presently he encountered another hack; climbing into the gaunt compartment, he spoke the address of Hever House.
Along the tree-shrouded boulevards, up the hillside, around the Cham he rode; down Hever Lane, up to the front entrance.
Flanish slid aside the portal a minimal gap, crooked a finger. Jubal entered, and at Flanish’s gesture followed him along a corridor. They passed a drawing room, from which issued voices and laughter; glancing through the doorway Jubal saw a group of young men and women sipping from crystal goblets, discussing those topics which amused them most. Sune Mircea looked up and Jubal thought that perhaps she saw him, though her eyes were unfocused.
Nai the Hever waited for him in the library, a fold of newspaper on the table before him. “Your exploits have preceded you. ‘The anonymous hero who with unswerving courage’, and so forth.”
“My name is not mentioned? My identity is unknown?”
“What difference does it make?”
Jubal had resolved to maintain at all times a mien at least as cool and imperturbable as that of Nai the Hever. “I wonder exactly how and why the event occurred. In short: am I known by name or by description? Or was the affair a mistake? If not a mistake, then who betrayed me?”
“These are interesting questions,” said Nai the Hever. “Exactly what occurred?”
“As I approached Wysrod, I fell into a strange mood. My Uncle Vaidro has urged me never to ignore a hunch, and remembering my previous experience I put myself on the alert. Arriving at the depot, I became even more apprehensive: justly so, as it turned out. In the foyer I noticed a small man in a dark blue quat standing at the side. He showed no interest in me, but as I went out he followed. I halted just beyond the door, as if I were awaiting someone. He came after me, walked a few paces to the side, then turned and aimed his gun. I dropped to the ground and his shot struck a man unlucky enough to be walking past. Before he could shoot again I threw my knife and pierced his neck.”
“Thoughtless,” grumbled Nai the Hever. “You should have overpowered him.”
“With his gun poised for a second shot? You are poorly advised in defensive tactics. In any event, since I wished no notoriety, I retrieved my knife, wiped it on the dead man’s shirt, for which he had no further use, and departed as quickly as possible.”
“There, at least, you demonstrated tact.” Nai the Hever touched the paper before him. “The victim was a magnate of high caste, the Noble Cansart of the Waygards. His assassination is a general source of mystification. No one can even speculate as to a motive. Several bystanders extol the courage of—let me see, what is the text?—‘a young man apparently not of exalted caste, and of unrecognizable ilk, though certain persons suspect him of being a Glint. This young man demonstrated remarkable resource and seriously disabled the madman, in fact expunging his life. Then, modestly refusing to accept the plaudits of the bystanders, the young man departed without delay. The bereaved Waygard ilk is anxious to express a commendation to the unknown stalwart.’” With a fastidious forefinger, Nai the Hever pushed the paper aside.
“The question remains,” said Jubal, “who instigated the attack? And more importantly, how did this person know that I was due to return?”
Nai the Hever compressed his lips. “You must school yourself against blatantly obvious observations, and also rhetorical questions which only serve to blunt the keen edge of attention.”
“Allow me to rephrase the question. Do you know who planned this attack upon me?”
“The natural assumption would be: Ramus Ymph.”
“And how did—or I should ask: do you know how Ramus Ymph learned that I was to return to Wysrod on this date?”
“Someone evidently told him.”
“Who?”
“I have no certain knowledge. Let us drop the matter. It is essentially a side-issue—”
“Not to me! I emphasize this!”
“Yes. Well, for a moment let us discuss Eiselbar and your findings there. I take it you have something to report?”
“I do indeed. In connection with the second half of my payment, there seems to be some disagreement as to whether the amount was two or three thousand toldecks—”
Nai the Hever interposed an apparently idle question. “How much palladium did you bring home?”
“A trivial side-issue, to use your words.”
Nai the Hever wearily brought forth an envelope, which he tossed to Jubal. “Two thousand toldecks.”
Jubal flicked through the notes. “No doubt you are recording my remarks?”
Nai the Hever inclined his head.
“Then I must speak deliberately.” He paused as Flanish brought a tray of tea and wafers, then quietly departed.
“I arrived at the city of Kyash. It is a remarkable place, quite unlike Wysrod, and the Eisels are no less extraordinary. They ignore both caste and ilk, and gauge a stranger’s quality only by the depth of his pocketbook. The system is straightforward, and the folk are congenial, if rather too gregarious. Their music still rings in my ears.”
Nai the Hever, gravely sipping tea, offered no comment.
“I took accommodation at the Hotel Gandolfo. Ramus Ymph was not known there. I made further inquiries, without result. Then on a merchandise counter, to my astonishment, I noticed a Djan rug. I discovered that Ramus Ymph, using the name ‘Husler Arphenteil’, had brought a considerable number of Djan rugs to Kyash, hoping to sell them to the tourists.
“He seems to have met with very little success—perhaps none whatever. The question arises, why should Ramus Ymph, of an important ilk, sell rugs at Kyash? Why should he require Gaean SVU instead of solid toldecks?” Jubal looked inquiringly at Nai the Hever. “Can you guess?”
“No.”
“Ramus Ymph has an absolutely grand ambition. He wishes to buy a space-yacht: specifically that type known as the Sagittarius.”
“How did you learn this?”
“The idle remark of a rug dealer induced me to visit a space-yacht agency, where I made indirect inquiries.”
Nai the Hever made the faint sibilant sound which indicated his approval. “So what then?”
“Eventually I located Ramus Ymph’s hotel, only to learn that he had departed. I traced him to the People’s Joy Tourist Agency, and once again missed him: he had gone on a tour of the outer planets. I decided to follow and joined a module of forty tourists en route to Zalmyre. This was the only feasible procedure; a single traveler can find no accommodation, as all facilities are calculated for groups of forty.
“The experience was memorable. My thirty-nine fellows were enthusiastic and gay. They were frequently intoxicated and made a great deal of noise. The music was incessant.”
“Ramus Ymph submitted himself to this treatment?” asked Nai the Hever in amazement.
“So I am given to understand, though he went in company with a certain Husler Wolmer, who owns the agency. I suspect that he hopes to sell his rugs to the People’s Joy Tourist Agency, or otherwise earn the funds he requires for his Sagittarius.”
“Did you, then, encounter Ramus Ymph on Zalmyre?”
“By the very nature of the system, I could not do so. The modules move from place to place, one following the other. I could not escape my module in order to join Ramus Ymph’s, not even temporarily.
I was forced to pick up scraps of information as we moved. These items were meager and essentially meaningless. He was described as an alert and interested tourist, making no complaints, destroying no property, discarding a minimum of litter across the countryside. He was not considered congenial, and certain folk resented his habits of authority. The Eisels are not only gregarious; they are dedicated egalitarians, and what is good enough for one is good enough for all.”
N
ai the Hever showed a small veiled smile. “So you never met Ramus Ymph?”
Jubal made a gesture, counseling Nai the Hever to patience. “The A-116 Module, or the ‘Jolly Wayfarers’, as we called ourselves, toured Zalmyre in a glass-domed capsule, stabilized for comfort, air-conditioned, equipped with a refreshment bar, television panes, and individual music suffusers. We drifted down the Orgobats River, each night stopping at a riverside lodge, where we were provided entertainment, gambling facilities, the services of a masseuse or masseur, and souvenir photographs. We visited the Iron-tree Grove, where each of us was allowed to inscribe a leaf. We inspected a Khret-Hurde settlement, which is a society of two disparate indigenous races, interacting to their mutual advantage.
They tolerate tourists, but refuse to perform eccentric dances, fertility rites, or shamanistic marvels, and the Jolly Wayfarers thought them somewhat dull. We arrived at Sunset Cape on an ocean whose name I forget, where the group enjoyed a carnival masque with staff escorts and a gala banquet.
“Eventually we returned to the space-port. Ramus Ymph’s module, ‘the Dauntless Bluebirds’, had already arrived and were awaiting the ship. I naturally searched for Ramus Ymph, but he was no longer a member of the group. Somewhere along the route he had detached himself from the tour. I put discreet questions to Husler Wolmer, but found him impenetrable.
“At Kyash I returned to the Gandolfo, to consider my next tactic. I had hardly arrived before two gentlemen came to see me. They identified themselves as officials of the Peace and Tranquility Bureau. I asked them if they were not, in fact, police agents, and they admitted that functionally the roles were similar. They began to question me. Why had I so consistently misrepresented myself? Why had I used so many different names? What was my interest in rugs, not to mention space-yachts and Husler Wolmer?
“I expressed indignation. Was this not Eiselbar, where a visitor could do as he liked, so long as he neither destroyed property nor shoplifted? True, to a degree, they told me, but in order to maintain such an atmosphere of careless irresponsibility, they kept everyone under a quiet but comprehensive surveillance.
“We fell into a philosophical discussion. The egalitarian society, so they explained, is characterized by placidity, order, and the willingness of each individual to restrict himself to his allotted set of perquisites.
Such conditions were not automatic, so I was assured, and even many of the tourists confused liberty with license. Since the PTB could not act without knowledge, comprehensive surveillance and detailed records were a necessity.
“In some puzzlement I asked, ‘What of the therapeutic sexual resorts, where people go to purge themselves of warps and inhibitions? Surely in this case…?’
“‘Every activity is monitored, photographed and recorded,’ I was told, ‘to the ultimate benefit of the innocent tourist. Troublesome persons, of course, can sharply be brought to heel by any of several means.’
“They returned to my particular case. Were they to understand that I refused to explain my conduct?
“I had already explained it, I told them: the idle caprice of a tourist.
“They replied that I was definitely not the sort of tourist they wanted; they advised me to leave the planet before I tripped while crossing a walkway and fell among the slimes. Such accidents often happened to disruptive persons, especially those who disturbed persons like Husler Wolmer.
“I saw the wisdom of their advice and caught the first ship for Frinsse, and so returned to Wysrod.”
Nai the Hever said in a measured voice: “I must say that you have returned with rather more information than I expected. Let us now discuss the matter in full detail.”
“Willingly,” said Jubal, “but first, if you please, to a subject of direct concern to me. Someone who has access to information regarding my movements is transmitting this information to Ramus Ymph.”
“So it would seem,” said Nai the Hever thoughtfully.
“Why are you so calm? It is a serious matter! We must identify this person and subject him—or her—to an exacting punishment.”
“The suggestion has its value,” said Nai the Hever crisply. “Still, I cannot always work as directly as I might wish. The Ymphs are extremely powerful. Delicate equilibriums restrict my options and I cannot simply bring justice to bear, even if I wanted to do so.”
“Oh? Why should you not?”
Nai the Hever showed his cold smile. “Because all the mysteries surrounding Ramus Ymph have not yet been illuminated. Those which remain might be most important of all. For instance, how does he transport himself back and forth to Eiselbar? Our reconnaissance on several occasions has observed space-ships putting into Skay, ships never noted on the official register. We are sensitive and anxious in regard to mysterious space-ships. The immediate speculation, that Ramus Ymph is a Binadary, seems absurd. Still, where did he secure the rugs which he attempted to sell on Eiselbar?”
“Why not merely invite Ramus Ymph here for a cup of tea and ask him to explain?”
“The idea has the virtue of simplicity,” said Nai the Hever gravely. “I confess that it had not occurred to me. I am always reluctant to pull on strings until I learn where they lead and to what they are attached.”
He rose to his feet to indicate that the conference was at an end. “Tomorrow we will analyze your report in greater detail. For now—”
“One further matter: I would like to inquire as to my current status and salary.”
Nai the Hever tugged at his pale chin. “For a week or so you had better remain inactive, until we learn whether or not your trip has repercussions. D3 cannot afford to employ a person even nominally guilty of crime; our budget is already minimal.”
“But I am guilty of no crime!” exclaimed Jubal in amazement.
“True, but someone might make a vindictive assertion that you had engaged in criminal migration and had transgressed the Alien Influence Act.”
“In that case your document specifically exculpates me. I acted as an agent of the state.”
“Just so. Still, why provoke a useless confrontation? Let us see what develops. If, in due course, no one challenges your presence in Wysrod, then you may resume your previous routine.”
“My salary continues, needless to say?”
Nai the Hever hesitated. “It is not the usual practise.” He raised his hand as Jubal started to speak. “But in this case I suppose we must sidestep regulations.”
“What increment may I expect?”
Nai the Hever spoke with an edge to his voice. “As I have already made clear, you must reconcile yourself to the usual rise through the ranks. Your present salary is quite adequate to a person of your caste and condition. Incidentally, since we are discussing money, where is the surplus palladium?”
“I left it at the depot. Here is my accounting.” Jubal passed across a sheet of paper.
Nai the Hever glanced at the entries. “Hm. I see that you did not stint yourself. ‘Gandolfo Hotel’—the place must be a shrine of sybaritic luxury.”
“It is the best hotel of Kyash.”
“Hmf. ‘Rent of wig’. I am perplexed. Why need you rent a wig?”
“Disguise.”
“And this entry: ‘Regalement—five farthings’?” Nai the Hever looked at Jubal with raised eyebrows.
“I observed the Mountain Veil Waterfall on Zalmyre through a pay telescope. It might be argued that I should bear this expense myself.”
Nai the Hever put the paper aside. “I will study your accounts when I have more time. For now that is all.”
“One more question: what of these attempts on my life?”
“I doubt if they will continue. Still, it might be wise to change your lodgings, or undertake a walking tour of the Glistelamet Dells.”
Four days later Nai the Hever summoned Jubal to his office in the Parloury. He wasted no time on preliminaries. “You must truncate your holiday; I am able to employ you in a manner which will not compromise the agency. The matter concerns Ram
us Ymph. During the middle of the night he departed Athander by scape. We have traced him to a village named Forloke, in Glentlin.”
“That is near the lodge of my Uncle Vaidro!”
“Exactly. He has taken lodging at Dintelsbell Inn, using the name Serje Estope. You are now to visit your uncle. We must assume that Ramus Ymph is acquainted with your appearance; and you must alter yourself, with a clouche,32 face pigment, a short black beard.”
“And then?”
“I am interested in his activities. Why has he gone to Glentlin, of all places?”
Jubal reflected a moment. “I have never mentioned my first encounter with Ramus Ymph. It may or may not relate to his present movements. He tried to buy Cape Junchion from the Droads.”
“When did this occur?”
Jubal described the circumstances. Nai the Hever listened with no more expression than a lizard. “You should have spoken of this before.”
“It did not seem noteworthy.”
“All facts have meaning.” Nai the Hever caused a map of Glentlin to be projected upon the wall-pane.
“Show me Droad House and Cape Junchion.”
“Here and here. Junchion is both the westernmost and northernmost point of Thaery.”
Nai the Hever considered the map. “As you say, the matter may be of no consequence. In any event, my personal scape will fly you to Forloke. You observe Ramus Ymph and inquire into his activities. Remain inconspicuous and avoid personal contact.”
Just after sunset, with the sky a welter of purple, cerise, red and blue, Jubal approached Dintelsbell Inn on the outskirts of Forloke. He entered, requested accommodation and was conveyed to a pleasant chamber under the gables with a view down Wildwater Valley. He dined in a near-empty hall, notable only for the absence of Ramus Ymph. Later, in the tavern, a few idle inquiries revealed that Ramus Ymph had departed the premises earlier the same day, leaving no information as to his future movements, nor had he communicated anything during his stay other than a few terse civilities.
Jubal went to the telephone and called the mountain lodge of his Uncle Vaidro. Vaidro’s face appeared on the pane. He stared uncomprehendingly at the dark face with its short dark beard.
