Maske: Thaery

by Jack Vance

  “This is Jubal. I have modified my appearance. I am calling from Forloke.”

  “What are you doing here in Glentlin?” Vaidro’s voice was curt.

  “I plan to visit your lodge tomorrow morning; I will explain everything then.”

  “Best that you come tonight. I leave for Droad House early.”

  “Of course, if you are unable to delay. But would not tomorrow morning be more convenient?”

  “You have not heard the news then?”

  “Evidently not.”

  “You remember Cadmus off-Droad and his claim to the Droad succession?”

  “Very well.”

  “He has made his claim good. He brought perrupters to Droad House; he has killed your brother Trewe, and now occupies the premises.”

  “In that case I will kill him.”

  “You may be deprived of the privilege. I have notified the kindred. There is to be bloodshed at Droad House.”

  “I will come at once.”

  Chapter 13

  The era of warfare among the Glint clans had departed but traditions lingered, and blood-feuds spanning generations still persisted. If Cadmus off-Droad thought that the assertion of his claims would excite only a nominal response, the immediate convergence of the Droad kindred upon Droad House must have come as a dampening surprise.

  Droad House occupied the center of a meadow, to the side of the River Alys, with steep forested hills surrounding.

  For Cadmus off-Droad to arrive during the night with his company of masked33 perrupters, to pound on the door, to present his demands to Trewe Droad and then, upon Trewe’s defiance, to shoot him dead, was the work of only minutes; the process of quelling Trewe’s children and killing the most obstreperous required a further ten minutes; and then, Cadmus off-Droad considered that the best part of his work was finished—at, after all, a very small cost.

  Cadmus off-Droad, a man obsessed rather than depraved, stood a foot taller than most of his fellow men.

  The hair clung close to his huge head in yellow-gray knots; his eyes, under lowering brows and shaggy ledges of hair, glimmered dull as the eyes of a dead fish. Enormous hands swung loose as if dangling on chains; his knees bulged forward and he stood with a bent crooked posture. Cadmus had brooded the better part of his life on the trivial technicality which had elevated Trewe to rank and debased Cadmus.

  He had now righted the wrong and he was confident that the world in due course would accept his point of view.

  At noon on the day following his assault upon Droad House, he was summoned to the telephone by the cowed chamberlain. Vaidro Droad’s face stared at him. “The entire ilk is gathering. Will you come forth from Droad House unarmed to meet your fate, or will you fight and take innocent men to death with you?”

  Cadmus at first failed to gather the import of the words. “I am the Droad; I have taken what is mine.

  There can be no talk of death.”

  “You are a murderer, and the ilk will tear you into pieces.”

  “Let them try,” said Cadmus indifferently. “Do you think me helpless? I have weapons—as many as I need. I have perrupters in unlimited numbers; when one falls two others will take his place.”

  “The kindred are coming down from the mountains,” said Vaidro, “by the tens and dozens and scores and hundreds. Tomorrow Droad House will be surrounded.”

  “Surround away. I hold hostages: Zonne Droad, and the daughters.”

  “And Bessel Droad?”

  “He attacked me and destroyed my scape; I killed him in return. Whoever else troubles me I will kill, and I will burn his house. Do not think me weak and helpless; I have resources of which you are ignorant and I will wipe the mountains clean. I am Cadmus the Droad and Droad House is mine—and you must accept the fact.”

  The pane went dark.

  Vaidro and Jubal stood in the shade of a low stone-oak on the flanks of Broken Mountain. A quarter-mile distant and a hundred yards below was Droad House.

  Vaidro said: “He has about fifty perrupters. Cadmus is quite right. We can’t attack without losing a hundred men. We can’t starve him out because we starve the hostages. But we can wait. And do you know what will happen?”

  “Cadmus will become very restless.”

  “True. He will find that his prize has lost its savor. But also his perrupters will start making squares. This is unavoidable. And then they will be useless.”

  “So he cannot afford to wait. And therefore he will attack.”

  “That was his threat. He said he would wipe the mountains clean of the Droad Kinship.”

  “Not with fifty perrupters.”

  “Which suggests that he commands more perrupters elsewhere.”

  “The obvious approach would be down the Aubrey Gulch from Grandmother Pass. This is the nearest route from Djanad to Droad House.”

  “We should set out scouts and arrange for ambushes.”

  “If Ramus Ymph has involved himself, as I suspect, he will also bring pressure to bear, from one direction or another: perhaps above.”

  “Then you must communicate with Nai the Hever. Ramus Ymph lies within his range of interest.”

  At the nearby Trestle Glen Inn, Jubal made telephone contact with Nai the Hever, and described the events at Droad House.

  Nai the Hever seemed abstracted. He listened with only lackluster interest. “This is no concern of D3. The Glints must police their own irruptions.”

  “Let me restate certain facts,” said Jubal. “Cadmus off-Droad arrived in a scape, which was certainly not his property, and which has now been destroyed. He expects reinforcements. I suggest that Ramus Ymph, in return for Cape Junchion, has agreed to provide decisive support.”

  Nai the Hever made a soft sound of displeasure. “By reinforcements, you presumably mean perrupters… We’ll order out a patrol. The reinforcements will not arrive.” Nai the Hever reached to break the connection, then, as if by afterthought, said: “If possible, take Cadmus Droad alive.”

  “Circumstances will decide that matter.”

  A day passed, a night and a morning. The Droad kindred, as Vaidro had promised, surrounded Droad House, and every hour saw the arrival of fresh contingents from the remote homesteads. From Ballas Harbor had been brought a pair of antique long-rifles, once used to guard the tide-locks. They were battered and corroded, but still capable of projecting a succession of explosive pellets along a line of light.

  These, mounted on North Knoll and Pomegranate Knoll, commanded the approach to Droad House.

  At noon Cadmus Droad showed his bulk briefly on one of the upper balconies. He peered right, then left from under lowering eyebrows, raised his clenched fist high in a savage awkward gesture, then stepped back into the shadows.

  Halfway through the afternoon Jubal again telephoned Nai the Hever and presented a report, brief because there was nothing much to tell. Once again Nai the Hever seemed only marginally interested in the siege.

  He troubled himself to remark that Ramus Ymph had not yet shown himself either at Ymph House, or at Gais Palace in the Athander Fens. Almost incidentally, he revealed that patrol craft had discovered and destroyed a large force of perrupters in Great Shome Valley, along the route to Droad House.

  Vaidro exulted at the news. “Cadmus is caught in a cleft stick. He can neither back up nor go forward. If he attacks he will be slaughtered. If he delays, his troops will set up housekeeping. I will call him again and give him the option of surrender.”

  Cadmus Droad’s face, appearing on the pane, was haggard and drawn, like the skull of a bison a month dead in the desert.

  “Your reinforcements will never arrive,” said Vaidro. “Did you know this?”

  Cadmus merely stared. At last a husky growling sound rose from his throat. “I need no reinforcements. I am resident in my rightful house. Come put me out.”

  “There is no hurry.”

  “Do you think to starve us? First to die will be Zonne Droad and the girl-children. We will eat them and throw
their bones from the balcony.”

  “We do not intend to starve you. But let me issue to you a threat. You are to die now: this is ordained. It is as sure as the black hulk of Skay. But if your hostages are harmed, you will die very slowly. Those are your choices.”

  Cadmus Droad produced a harsh guffaw. “There are surprises due you! It is I who will be stating conditions!” The pane abruptly went blank.

  Vaidro slowly turned away. “He is a madman. But he is not yet beaten. He still reckons resources.”

  “Which means Ramus Ymph.”

  “If Ramus Ymph is in fact involved. We have no direct proof.”

  “The indirect proof is sufficient.”

  “Perhaps so. In any case, Cadmus will not be reinforced by land. So we must watch the sky.”

  At sunset clouds swelled up the northern sky; dusk was accompanied by heavy triple- and quadruple-pronged slashes of lightning. Two hours later the clouds had dissipated, and the sky was dark and clear. At midnight a gibbous Skay rose in the east.

  High over Droad House appeared a dark shape: at first no more than a blur, then, as it swiftly settled, a solid object.

  The object had not gone unnoticed. Vaidro had altered the single functioning range-finder of the two long-rifles to contrive a crude sensor; before the shape had taken on optical substance, Vaidro had watched the dull pink mark descending the range-finder scale.

  Vaidro shook Jubal awake from his dozing. “Look up yonder.”

  The object settled with a kind of deliberate stealth. From the top of Plum Tree Knoll came the beam of a searchlight; the object was revealed as a large scape, paneled with an improvised armor of detervan shields. From the long-rifles issued two more beams of syrupy green-yellow light to touch the scape.

  Along each beam, like bubbles in a glass tube, sped a succession of luminous pellets. The scape became an instant incandescent flourish of falling fragments.

  “Cadmus Droad’s expectations have diminished,” said Jubal. “There went his reinforcements.”

  “More likely his vehicle of escape,” said Vaidro. “Now he will attempt a sortie; he no longer has other options. I predict that within one half hour he will try his destiny.”

  “And I predict that he will make his thrust through the back garden. He will burst through the garvet hedge and strike for the Low Woods.”

  “I believe that you are right, and we will prepare for his coming.”

  A half hour passed, each minute quivering with an almost audible vibration. Nervous flickering lights showed from Droad House, where ordinarily there were none. Among the knolls and under the trees shapes shifted position, muttered together, looked to their weapons.

  In the garvet hedge a gap quietly folded aside to leave a stubble of cut stumps. Through the gap ran the perrupters, holding shields before them. Behind lumbered Cadmus off-Droad, a four-foot cutlass in one hand, a six-pound cudger gun in the other. To his right loomed another man, clad like the perrupters in black, with a black war-mask concealing his face, a black grandee’s hat pulled low over his forehead.

  Searchlights from right and left illuminated the meadow. Cudger guns snapped and stuttered. The perrupters, shifting their shields to protect themselves, doggedly drove for the Low Woods. Gun-fire found chinks between the shields; perrupters fell, opening new gaps; suddenly the firm ranks became a welter of struggling bodies. Cadmus bawled frantic curses, to see his plans go awry. The kindred advanced from cover. Vaidro yelled: “Stay back! Stay back! They still have their weapons!”

  Cadmus halted, then turned to retreat to Droad House. The kindred, abandoning caution, rushed forward to block his line of retreat, firing cudger guns as they came. Vaidro cried: “Take Cadmus alive! Don’t kill the brute! Take him alive!”

  The perrupters, dazzled by the searchlights, turned away from the Low Woods to attack their tormentors, but were almost immediately destroyed.

  Cadmus threw down his shield. Swinging his cutlass and brandishing his gun, he strode over the corpses, hacking at the kindred, shooting, shouting.

  “Take him alive!” screamed Vaidro. “Don’t kill the beast!”

  “Take me alive if you can!” bawled Cadmus. “Approach, you Droad dog-spit! Taste my steel!”

  “I am here,” said Jubal.

  Cadmus pointed the six-pound cudger gun. “Now you shall be nowhere.”

  Jubal threw his knife. The blade glimmered instantly in the searchlight, plunged into Cadmus’ wrist. The gun dropped from shocked fingers. Cadmus stooped to grope. Droads swarmed upon him. Cadmus toppled, fell with a grunt, then heaved himself erect, shaking off his enemies. Once more he held the gun.

  He aimed at Jubal; Vaidro sadly shot him through the forehead. Cadmus stalked backward on stiff legs, then toppled.

  “A pity,” said Vaidro. “It could not be avoided.”

  Jubal recovered his knife, then turned to search the field. The man in the black hat had retreated into Droad House. The kindred stood panting, staring numbly down at the dead.

  Into the glare of the searchlight stepped the man in the black mask. By her ankles he held aloft a wailing girl six years old: Sanket Droad. In the other hand he held a knife, the point pressed against the child’s face. Behind came three other men, each clasping a hostage: Zonne Droad and two girls of eight and ten, Merliew and Theodel.

  The masked man stood full in the beam of the searchlight. An awed hush stilled the kindred.

  The man called in a trumpet voice: “Detain me, no one! I intend to walk from here, and all must stand aside. Else these four females feel the knife!”

  Jubal slowly came forward. He halted ten feet from the masked man. “Do you know me?”

  “I do not care to know you. Stand aside!”

  “I am Jubal Droad. Put down the girl and fight me with your knife. If you live, you will go free, I swear it.”

  “I will go free regardless.” The masked man’s voice rang sharp and clear, as if he were singing. He stepped forward. Jubal stood in his way. The man, slinging the girl over his shoulder, clasped her so that the point of the blade touched her eye.

  Something flickered bright in the searchlight—a thrown knife hurtling in from the side, across Jubal’s shoulder, toward the masked man’s throat, only to clatter and glance from the gorget of his mask. He cried out in rage, his muscles tensed. The knife in his hands jerked and the girl screamed, her eyeball pierced.

  Jubal lunged forward, but a pair of hands seized him and held him back. From over his shoulder came Vaidro’s voice. “Let him go! He will kill her!”

  “He has blinded her!”

  “She has one eye left. Bide your time. Thaery is not all so large.”

  The man stepped past Jubal; picking his way stiff-legged across the corpses, he entered the shade of Low Woods and disappeared. No one went after.

  Flames roared high from Droad House. Jubal watched for a moment or two, then turned and walked away.

  At noon of the following day, Jubal called Nai the Hever from the telephone at the Trestle Glen Inn.

  “Cadmus off-Droad is dead. Ramus Ymph escaped.”

  “You identified Ramus Ymph?”

  “I am certain it was he.”

  “You are certain? Or do you merely entertain a suspicion?”

  “My suspicions are very strong indeed, even though he wore a mask.”

  “Then you cannot absolutely identify him.”

  “No.”

  After a moment Nai the Hever said: “Are you not now the Droad chieftain, or sachem, whatever you call your notables? Why are you so glum?”

  Jubal stared into the still white face. “You expect me to rejoice at my brother’s death and the burning of my ancestral home?”

  “It is sensible to enjoy the gains arising from any situation.”

  “I have no gains to enjoy. Only losses.”

  “You must be the judge of this. What, precisely, were the circumstances?”

  “Ramus Ymph brought Cadmus off-Droad to Droad House in his scape. They
murdered my brother, but my brother’s son destroyed the scape. Its wreckage rests on the meadow. My kindred at once surrounded Droad House and Ramus Ymph became a prisoner, along with Cadmus off-Droad. He ordered in a relief force from Djanad; it was intercepted by your patrol. In desperation he called for an armored scape in hopes of escaping. We destroyed this scape and killed Cadmus. Ramus Ymph found himself in most unhappy circumstances. He used my brother’s widow and her three daughters as hostages to free himself.”

  “What then? Assuming that this man was indeed Ramus Ymph.”

  “He traveled down the Flant River to Arrasp; under the cliffs he abandoned his hostages and went aboard a National felucca. He put to sea and I traced him no further.”

  “You have fulfilled the essential requirements of your mission,” said Nai the Hever. “We now suspect the nature of Ramus Ymph’s activities. But his motives still elude us. Why, for instance, is Ramus Ymph anxious to acquire Cape Junchion? From your base in Glentlin you will now explore his movements in detail and try to explicate these motives.”

  “Ramus Ymph has departed Glentlin, taking his motives with him,” said Jubal. “There is nothing more to be learned here. I am anxious to discuss my suspicions with Ramus Ymph face to face.”

  Nai the Hever sighed. “Your Glint instincts are most inconvenient. This confrontation you envision is not presently useful; in fact your presence in Wysrod now becomes an actual embarrassment.”

  Jubal stared into the pale face. He carefully controlled the timbre of his own voice. “Why an embarrassment?”

  “Events have occurred; perspectives have shifted. Specifically, the Ymphs have learned that you are a returned emigrant, and wish to deal with you on this basis. I prefer you to remain in Glentlin.”

  “How did they learn of this?”

  “We can only speculate.”

  “Exactly. I speculate that only two persons knew of my mission to Kyash: yourself and your daughter.”

  “There were others,” said Nai the Hever airily. “Certain officers of the Space Navy, for instance.”