by Jack Vance
“What do you know of seriousness?” The Wael spoke in mild derision. “An outsider is pain to us all.
Look how the leaves curl as we pass; see the branches draw aside. Your mind sends out flaming thoughts; you come through our forest like a raging comet.”
Jubal peered at the man, wondering if he were mad. From below the three-tufted head-cloth round eyes dull as pebbles in a round wrinkled face looked placidly back. “Even while I sleep?” asked Jubal.
“Asleep or awake; you must learn control, so that you will not blaze through our sacred jin.”
Jubal decided that polite acquiescence might most effectively soothe his eccentric companion. “I’d undertake to do so, of course, but I’ll probably never again visit Durruree.”
“If you bring deceit in your heart, you will never leave.”
Jubal rearranged his position and looked off toward the rising sun. “I plan no deceit.”
Silence. Jubal looked around; the man had disappeared. Jubal rose to his knees and peered over the side.
The scape rode twenty feet above the forest floor. Horizontal beams of pale violet-tinged sunlight filtered through the trunks. Jubal saw no one, below or aloft… Puzzling. Had he been tricked by his imagination?
Jubal returned to his seat. Such incidents were not to his taste, especially at this hour of the morning.
Mora rose into the sky. Jubal ate from the parcel of dried fruit which had been provided him, and drank thin sweet wine from a gourd. The scape drifted north, along the turnings and bends of the forest tunnel. These were jin trees, growing to no perceptible pattern. Jubal noticed an occasional marker or carved stake. From time to time Waels moved among the trees, posturing, ordering the ground, laving the trees with liquid from porcelain bowls.
The scape moved across a glade. Jubal turned to find the man with the three-tufted head-cloth again sitting in the bow of the scape. “I wish I knew how you do that,” said Jubal.
“You would gain nothing. Every instant a million events occur one iota past the edge of your awareness.
Do you believe that?”
“How can I dispute you?” Jubal answered sourly. “I know only what I can know. What I can’t know, I don’t know.”
“Do you wish to learn?”
“Learn what?”
“That is the wrong question. ‘What’ is constructed by each person for himself and in spite of himself. You can only learn ‘how’ and sometimes an inkling of ‘why’. The ‘what’ is merely the quality which distinguishes you from Ramus Ymph.”
“I really don’t understand you in the slightest degree. I suspect that I am going insane.”
The man made a gesture of unconcern. “I will set your mind at ease. The cosmos is various; many environments occupy the same area. The ‘whats’ and ‘hows’ and ‘whys’ are different each from each. All you could learn in Wellas are our local insights. Our realities are our neighbors’ superstitions.”
“The Waels are considered extraordinary folk; this is true enough.”
“And now you endorse this opinion?”
“I feel that you are amusing yourself at my expense with tricks and riddles.”
“You are not offended?”
“I am puzzled. For instance, why dance among the trees?”
“For exuberance, and joy, and solemnity. To reassure the souls who live in the trees. To assert Now, and work it into the same substance as Then.”
“Still, to dance one must eat, and if the forests grow across all the fields the dancing must stop.”
“The halcyon days are gone,” intoned the man. “Change is in the air. Ramus Ymph rides through the Werwood, and you follow, bursting with rage, and tonight you will know your fate.”
Jubal scowled. “Who are you?”
“I am the Minie.”
“Why are you riding with me?”
The man made no answer and Jubal turned away in annoyance.
After a moment he glanced toward the bow, and as he had expected, the man was gone.
Through the forest, across glades and still ponds, into a land of standing rocks, up a shadowed valley, out upon a moor. Clouds drifted across the sky, almost scraping a cluster of crags, the remnants of an ancient volcanic neck.
The scape slid across the moor; crags loomed above; the scape settled to the turf beside a grove of sprawling thick-trunked trees which Jubal thought might be a variety of jin. From a low stone building came a man wearing a white three-tufted head-cloth. With a dreamer’s stolid acceptance of the marvellous, Jubal saw him to be the Minie.
Jubal stepped to the ground and the Minie signaled him into the structure. “Come; refresh yourself.”
Jubal entered the structure, blinking through the dimness. The Minie conducted him to a rough wooden table and indicated a bowl of porridge. “Eat.”
Jubal slowly drew back the stool and seated himself. “Where is Ramus Ymph?”
“He is yonder at the place we call Zul Erdour.”
Jubal tensed himself to rise but the Minie spoke in a stern voice: “Eat! Make peace with yourself; order your thoughts. The Sen will not be moved by malice.”
“What is Ramus Ymph doing now?”
“He is explaining his business.”
Jubal pushed the bowl aside. “How can I refute what I do not know? I want to hear the words from his own tongue.” He rose to his feet. “Give me a Wael garment and a head-cloth, so that he does not recognize me; otherwise he will not state his case.”
“On the peg hangs a head-cloth and a cloak.”
Jubal donned the cloak and head-cloth; still dissatisfied, he dipped his hands in mud and soot and rubbed his cheeks, neck and forehead to darken his skin. The Minie beckoned him. “Follow me.”
They walked up a path which led between a pair of crags and into a central glade. A dozen great trees grew to the side. Mist drifted down across the crags to swirl through the high foliage. Jubal stopped in his tracks. These were like no trees he had seen before. Each seemed an entity in itself: a massive creature of incalculable sentience, grim and domineering. In the shadows stood a dozen Waels, all watching something beyond Jubal’s range of vision.
“There are the Sen,” murmured the Minie. Jubal was not able to determine whether he referred to the trees or the Waels, or perhaps both. “You have arrived at the Zul Erdour,” the Minie continued. “Before you leave there will be a judgment.”
“I did not come here to be judged,” said Jubal. “My business is with Ramus Ymph.”
The Minie signed him to proceed along the path, into the shade of the trees. A bed of age-polished serpentine, as dense as jade, rose a few inches above the turf: here stood Ramus Ymph, beside a tree with a massive knotted trunk eight feet in diameter.
Ramus Ymph wore a black suit and a loose cap of dark green and red, with a black panache. He stood straight; his face glowed with fervor; his voice rang with a confident lilt.
“The scope of the plan is now before you,” declared Ramus Ymph. “At specified areas along the Wellas shoreline and at several locations elsewhere, depots, or, let us say, commercial enclaves of appropriate size, are to be established, never—so it is stipulated—upon arable land. Within these places the Association undertakes to erect suitable warehouses, technical shops if necessary, and likewise housing, to whatever extent necessary, for employees, commercial agents and casual transients. At these places your goods and services will be exchanged for the commodities useful to you. In the past Wellas has carefully isolated itself from alien contact, that the unique institutions of Wellas might be preserved. I respect this ambition! Nothing will be required from the Waels except passive cooperation. We assist each other in trust and good-fellowship, to mutual advantage. There is nothing more to be said; please now give me the endorsement or the rejection of my proposal.” With a polite salute to those persons present, Ramus Ymph moved to the side of the stone platform, and waited. Jubal marveled at his composure; could he not feel the stillness and awe of Zul Erdour?
&nb
sp; The Minie stood beside Ramus Ymph, close to the Old Tree. Jubal’s jaw dropped in amazement. A moment before the Minie had stood at his side. The Minie spoke in a dry voice. “We have heard your proposals with hope, since our needs are great. We would undertake such a compact without guile; as a weak and timid people, we lack flexibility. By the same token, when we reckon vice and virtue, our judgments are stark. We react with the merciless finality of the weak and timid. You are competent and strong; from you we expect candour: especially here at Zul Erdour, in the shadow of the Sen.”
“Just so,” said Ramus Ymph, smiling and equable. He looked past the Minie to the great tree. His eyes moved up the trunk to a great gnarl twenty feet above the ground. His face became momentarily puzzled.
Jubal, following his gaze, discovered the suggestion of a human countenance in the contorted pattern of the bark. Odd.
Ramus Ymph addressed the Minie in a voice of genial reason. “Why such portentous language? I utter no perorations; I undertake no miracles; I simply place my terms before you for endorsement.”
“Words spoken twice are not doubled in meaning,” said the Minie. “Is the nature of this contract clear to all?” His gaze wandered about the glade.
With a harsh effort Jubal Droad found his voice. “I wish to ask a few questions.”
The Minie inquired of Ramus Ymph: “Will you reply in all candour?”
“Willingly! Ask away!”
The Minie stared toward Jubal, who, drawn by the gaze, moved slowly forward to the base of the stone floor. Ramus Ymph watched him approach without emotion. “Ask all the questions you like.”
“You have asked permission to commence commercial operations on Wellas?”
“Quite true.”
“Where?”
“At various sites along the coast, perhaps in the interior, such sites not to exceed ten acres of area. I undertake neither to pre-empt arable land nor to encroach upon the sacred groves of jin. In return I am to be accorded a patent of free development.”
“And what does this mean?”
“That I am to manage the enterprises without hindrance or interference.”
“What kind of commercial operations do you plan?”
“Ordinary trade, to begin with. Wellas requires cereals, oils, tools and instruments, fabrics and fibers. At the new depots these will be exchanged for Wael products and services, to our mutual profit.”
“Your business then is trading, pure and simple?”
“I trade, I merchandise, I perform services, I represent—but only within the precincts of my rigidly delineated enclaves. The Wael way of life need not be affected, and all construction will accord exquisitely with the landscape: such is my intent.”
“How much construction do you propose?”
Ramus Ymph made an off-hand gesture. “Whatever is needed. Warehouses, transfer facilities, adequate accommodation.”
“Will not even minimal construction mar the scenic grandeur of Wellas?”
“This is inevitable,” said Ramus Ymph. “I would be the last to deny it. The operative word is ‘minimal’. I intend only needful construction.”
“What of your personnel?”
“I will employ Waels, if possible. If Waels are unable to provide the necessary services, I must naturally look elsewhere.”
“You mentioned ‘adequate accommodation’—what would this mean?”
Ramus Ymph gazed thoughtfully across the Zul Erdour, then darted a quick sidelong glance toward Jubal.
“The term is self-explanatory.”
“Agreed. But what is adequate for me might not be adequate for you. Do you intend to live in a tent behind your warehouse?”
Ramus Ymph laughed. “Something better than that. I would hope to provide decent shelter for those who need it.”
“Transients? Casual passers-by? Visitors to Wellas?”
“Certainly.”
“Accommodation free of charge? That is a hospitable attitude.”
Ramus Ymph laughed again and shook his head. “I am hospitable to a point, but not to the extent you suggest. I intend to collect a reasonable fee for any services I provide.”
“In essence then, at each of your trade depots you would be operating an inn.”
“The word applies, in its broadest sense. I think we have exhausted the subject. Are there questions from anyone else? If not, I would wish to—”
“But I am not finished,” said Jubal. “I am curious in regard to these ‘inns’.”
“There is not much more I can tell you,” said Ramus Ymph. “The Association’s plans are not yet detailed.”
“I am trying to understand the scope of your operation. How many persons will you employ at each trading depot?”
“I can’t make even an estimate.”
“Your Wael employees would live in their own domiciles?”
“So I would presume.”
“Each ‘inn’, then, would house administrative personnel: perhaps six or eight persons. Are these figures reasonable?”
Ramus Ymph shrugged. “I haven’t calculated quite so closely.”
“The ‘inns’ would accommodate, at most, a dozen persons?”
“More or less.”
“Certainly not as many as eighteen?”
“I have fixed upon no formal designs. Certainly it is better to plan large than small.”
“You would agree that eighteen is an upper limit?”
“Not necessarily,” said Ramus Ymph testily. “I would prefer to retain flexibility.”
“You might conceivably wish to accommodate more than eighteen?”
“Conceivably.”
“As many as fifty.”
Ramus Ymph smiled. “Now you are simply plucking figures out of the air.”
“I am interested in the extent of your plans. The terms of your proposal allow a great deal of latitude.”
Ramus Ymph considered a moment. “I can tell you this. I am an indefatigable optimist and I think in generous terms.”
“Still, you do not intend to construct needlessly.”
“Of course not. But sometimes an expansive vision is wisest in the end.”
“In any event, your inns will house a maximum of how many?”
“I can’t specify an exact figure.”
“As many as fifty?”
“Perhaps.”
“A hundred? Two hundred?”
“These are large numbers,” said Ramus Ymph cautiously. “My prime concern is to create the basic fact of the depots.”
“But you do not rule out ‘inns’ housing as many as two hundred visitors?”
“I repeat: I am an optimist and a visionary. I rule out nothing.”
“But consider: not three travelers a month visit Wellas. How can even an optimist plan to erect a chain of six or eight large hotels where no need exists?”
“Travelers are unpredictable; they go anywhere if suitable accommodations and scenic attractions beckon them. And never forget: travelers exude a golden effluent!”
“Where would they originate? Certainly not Dohobay, nor Djanad, nor even Thaery.”
Ramus Ymph’s patience was wearing thin. “Are we not straying far from our topic?”
“It must be a matter to which you have given careful consideration. If you prefer to withhold this information—”
“This is not the case. I prefer not to waste time with irrelevances.”
“We have ample time; no one here is impatient, and all of us are interested in the details of your scheme.
For instance, how will so many travelers arrive and depart? By National feluccas?”
Ramus Ymph smiled wearily. “Since we are speculating—obviously not.”
“Since we are speculating—who then would perform this service?”
“Why not a fleet of luxurious modern vessels specifically designed for such a service?”
“Why not?” replied Jubal. “But what of the Nationals? Surely they would forbid the use of their ocean?”
; Ramus Ymph smiled scornfully. “It is quite preposterous that a handful of backward mariners should control the world’s ocean. The Association would not allow it.”
“You have organized the Association?”
“True. I have powerful friends.”
“They are interested in your planned developments?”
“Very much so. They will provide all necessary capital.”
“Who are the other members of this syndicate?”
“Their names would mean nothing to you.” Ramus Ymph, either uneasy or self-conscious, tugged at his mustache. “We comprise an earnest and energetic group. I give you my assurance of this!”
“I would like to learn more about your syndicate. It is based at Wysrod?”
“This is really confidential information!”
Jubal smilingly shook his head. “Under the circumstances no pertinent information can be considered confidential.”
From the Minie’s still face came an utterance: “You must disclose all information.”
Ramus Ymph recovered his poise. “I have nothing to hide. My associates are based at Kyash, on the planet Eiselbar; they are competent and highly experienced; you need have no fears on this score. Every year millions of tourists visit Eiselbar, where they are efficiently housed, transported and entertained.”
“This information provides a new perspective upon your proposal,” said Jubal.
“Not really,” said Ramus Ymph. “We are interested in profit. The Eisel techniques are demonstrably profitable.”
“Evidently you will not confine your operations to Wellas?”
“Quite correct. Dohobay is an interesting region, and the Happy Isles are well adapted to our program.”
“Despite the opposition of the Nationals, and doubtless the Thariots?”
Ramus Ymph gave a disinterested shrug. “What can they do? With modern weaponry, we can coerce the Nationals and intimidate the Thariots.”
“By ‘we’ do you mean your Association, or the Pan-Djan, or—perhaps—someone else?”
Ramus Ymph stared at Jubal in consternation.
Jubal asked: “What are the motives of your allies? Do you know?”
Ramus Ymph blurted: “You are no Wael! Where have I met you before?”
“On the High Trail. In the Parloury chambers. At Droad House.”
