"Faith," muttered Paddy, "I hope you'll let me use the bathroom."
"What's that? What's that?"
"I was inquiring about my wife," said Paddy smoothly "When do I see her?"
"The recreation hall is open tomorrow. Until then she'll be well enough." He departed, a little ball of hard brown in an embroidered surcoat.
Paddy looked up and down the barracks. A few of the sleeping tubs held the bodies of low-caste Shauls, Asmasians, Canopes, the long-limbed Herpetanthroids of New Hellas, a few other Earthers.
In the tub next to him lay a Labirite from Deneb Ten, a small mottled anthropoid with arms like lengths of cable and flabby hands. He was watching Paddy with blind-looking eyes.
"What's your act, Earther?" he asked in the Badaic language.
"I'm a magician," replied Paddy morosely.
"A good one, it is to be presumed?"
"The best. Flames—lore of the little folk...." Paddy's voice died to a mutter.
"You'd better be good," said the Labirite. "A night or so ago they saw through a magician's tricks and they threw food at him."
Paddy raised his eyebrows. "Are they then so finicky, these Hinks?"
The Labirite said, "Indeed they are. Never forget, here is the cream of Badau, only the Langtry clan and maybe one or two of the highest lords otherwise. There's a convention on now and they're more than usually excitable, vehement, abrupt. And if they chose to stick you with one of their poniards no one would think twice about it."
"Whisht, whisht!" muttered Paddy. "And me with my cat's cradle tricks." Aloud he said, "And where might Suite Ten be?"
The Labirite swivelled his prunelike eyes away. "I don't know. One of the porters will tell you. If it's stealing you plan, don't get caught."
"Indeed, no stealing," said Paddy. "In Suite Ten is an old friend I'm looking for."
The Labirite stared. "One of the Badau Langtrys friend to an Earther? Well, I suppose stranger things have happened. Did you save his life?"
Paddy made an absent-minded answer, lay back thinking. Any entrance to Suite 10 must be made very soon, because after one performance there would be no further opportunity. He pictured himself dodging food scraps, ejected from the hotel with curses and insults.
He rose to his feet, set off down the hall. He turned into a corridor with stone walls like a dungeon, lit by a light tube along the top. He came to an open archway, looked through, saw a counter, a wicket, stores of material and behind them a Canope clerk.
Paddy advanced with a swagger and said, "I'm the new porter. The Chief Steward told me to get my outfit here."
The Canope clerk wheezed, rose to his feet, reached into a bin, tossed a white jumper on the counter, opened a drawer, pulled out white gloves and a mask-like inhaler. "They don't like the air we breath, Earther. Wear the mask over your mouth and nose at all times. Here's your cap, your sandals, your cleaning kit. Good luck and step lively."
"Indeed I will and I'm forever grateful to you. Where may Suite Ten be found?"
"Suite Ten? The steward assigns you to Suite Ten on your first day? Strange. That's the Son's private library and very hoity-toity too. Go out the door there, turn to the right along the corridor with the rose quartz floor and so on till you come to a statue of the Badau Langtry.
"If there's anyone within, do no enter, because they're mighty secret and irascible at this time and they don't like Earthers. For some reason they're merciless to the Earthers."
I could tell you why, thought Paddy. He hastily donned the porter's garments, set off down the corridor.
A narrow door took him from dingy stone into a world of exquisite delicacy and sparkle. The Badaus were clever craftsmen with a love of intricate design, and the great hall was walled with a mosaic of rare minerals—jade, lapis sparkling yellow wulfenite, red chert, jasper, carnelian. The floor was slabbed with bands of rose quartz and an oily black obsidian.
He passed a line of arches opening into a high lobby swimming in a greenish-yellow light. Sitting among clump of vegetation were groups of the Badaus, conversing, sipping wine or inhaling stimulating confections from tubes.
Paddy moved along with as little ostentation as possible and the gravity helped provide him with a servile crouch Ahead he saw a statue, a Badau in an heroic posture.
"Ha," said Paddy angrily, "they don't even admit anymore that Sam Langtry was an Earther. Now look at Sam Langtry's own son, as true an Earther as Paddy Blackthorne himself, and look how they show him, a scrounched-up wart of a Badau."
Beside the statue was a high door of carved rosewood. Paddy glanced quickly up and down the hall—no one was close. He put his ear to the door—no sound. He stretched out his hand to the latch-button. Behind came a scrape and the door snapped back. Paddy bowed, sidled to one side, stooped, pretended to be picking up a spot of dust.
The Badau stepped out, paused, turned a long glance down at Paddy. Another followed him out of the room.
"Spies, spies everywhere," said the first in a bitter voice. "A man can hardly go for a sail on the lake without some Earther pushing his head up from the water." He turned away. Paddy sighed, watched the broad muscular back with a limp feeling in his knees.
The Badau's voice came back to him. "They're like rodents. Everywhere. Indefatigable. To think that one of them. ... If there were only means to apprehend—" His voice became an indistinct mutter.
Paddy grimaced, eased the muscles at the corner of his mouth, pushed open the door. The first chamber of Suite 10 was empty. It was a large library, with shelves of books running up the walls. A great oval table occupied the center of the room and at the end stood a small screen and file for microfilm. An arch opened into chambers beyond but here was his destination.
He glanced around the walls. Books, books, books—thousands of them, with a subtle air of disuse. He could not inspect each one separately. Where was the catalogue? There, a small case beside the microfilm viewer. He pulled it open, fumbled through his mind for the Badaic alphabet.
The Foolish Man's Inclination. There it was. Block Five, Shelf Twelve.
Paddy looked along the shelves, found Block Five in a far corner. Shelf Twelve was at the top.
How to get up? He spied a ladder running on a bronze track across the room, and pushed it around to Block Five. He climbed up to Shelf Twelve, ran his eye down the titles.
The complete Philosophy of Kobame Biankul ... Archaeological Studies at Zabmir ... Relation of Planetary Environment to Housing Modes ... A Scientist Looks at Aquilan Disk-worms ... Neophasm ... Botanical Dictionary ... The Foolish Man's Inclination.
Paddy drew it from its place, tucked it in the pouch which held his cleaning equipment. A voice from below said, "Porter. Come down here."
The words were like chisels. Paddy nearly fell from the ladder, bumped his head on the shelf as he looked down. The same two Badaus that had surprised him at the door stood looking up. He noticed on the chest of the foremost the medallion of a Councillor to the Son.
"Porter. Come down here."
Paddy descended the ladder. "Yes indeed, your Lordship." The small yellow eyes bored into his. "What were you doing up there?"
"Dusting the books, your lordship."
"There's no dust here. These books are sacred, forbidden to your touch."
"Well, I thought I'd better make sure. I didn't want your lordships sneezing for my neglect."
"What book did you take from the shelf?"
"Book, sir?"
"Give it to me."
Paddy twitched, leaned forward, leaned back. Two Badaus —short but burly, hardened to the gravity of the planet, while he was under the strain of the added weight. They could handle him as easily as he might best a six-year-old child.
"Oh, the book! Well, your lordships, it was just a bit of reading for my spare time. Thanking you for your attention, but I'd better be about my duties or the steward will be calling me to account."
Paddy started to sidle away. Two arms seized him, the book was taken from
his pouch.
The Badau glanced at the title. " 'The Foolish Man's Inclination'—well selected, I must say. Hmm." He looked back at Paddy. "Strange interests for a porter. And you can read Badaic?"
"It was a whim of the moment, sir and I but meant to look at the pictures."
The second Badau said, "Better call Intelligence, have them put the man through investigation."
The Councillor hesitated. "They're occupied with that off-planet business, all working for the reward." He grunted. "Now it's a million marks a year for life, amnesty for all crimes past and future. If it gets much better I'll be out looking for the fellow myself."
He released Paddy. "I suppose an Earther stealing a book is no world-shaking event."
The Councillor shoved Paddy roughly toward the door. "See that you mind your duties."
Paddy said, "Please may I have the book, your lordship?"
The Badau's face became rigid with sudden rage, Paddy ran off as nimbly as the gravity would permit. As he left the room he caught a glimpse of the Badau glancing at the book curiously.
In fury, fear, frustration, Paddy returned to servants' quarters. He doffed the porter's garb, found his way to the barracks. The Chief Steward was standing by his sleep-tub.
"So there you are! This way, hurry! There's been an opening and I'll put you on now. Get your equipment."
"Just a deck of cards," said Paddy wearily. How would he tell Fay? She, who depended on his resource and cleverness. ... They must leave. If the Councillor came to page 10 he'd call for the Chief Steward, and inquire about the strangely literate porter.
Paddy said to the Steward, "I think I'd better see my wife a moment."
"Get in there!" screeched the Steward. "Before I cudgel you! You'll see your wife at the proper time."
The exit was barred. Paddy dispiritedly followed the steward. Any minute now the furor would ring out. Ah well, shrugged Paddy, death came to all men. Perhaps the Councillor had merely replaced the book.
More hopefully he followed the Steward up a ramp into an antechamber off the performance platform. The Steward turned him over to a Badau in a red and green tunic. "Here he is—the magician. I've had to search the entire building for him."
The Badau in uniform inspected Paddy sharply, "Where's your equipment?"
"Just let me have a deck of cards," said Paddy. "That's all I need for now."
"On that shelf then. Now attend carefully. You're on after the present act. Step up on the stage, bow to the diners. See that your humor, if you make use of such, is of a refined nature—the Lords are at their eating. Bow when you leave the stage. Conduct yourself with the utmost respect. This is not some greasy tavern on Earth."
Paddy nodded, went to stand by the entrance to the stage, where an Earther woman was performing an exotic dance.
Music came from a band of mesh around the stage, the music of a climate as warm and enchanting as the dance.
The Badau audience was attentive, watchful. Damned satyres, thought Paddy, and turned his own attention to the dance, a writhing, posturing slow gyration. The girl wore a gilded G-string over hips slender but ripe, a shoulder blouse of gauze, a high pagoda-like headdress. She was sinuous as running water. Her movements were pulse-stirring promises of Joy.
The music waxed, waned, became melodious, piquant, soft, increased in beat toward a climax. The dancer followed like shadows after a cloud. Twine of arms, heave of smooth lithe torso, twist of round legs, collapse in a curtsy and off the stage.
"Phew!" said Paddy, eyes glittering. "There'd be a good shipmate for me and I'd even forget the Maeve women."
"The Magician Black unveils the ancient arcana and the mysteries of Earth," said a voice to the audience.
"Go on," said the stage manager. "Perform. Make it good."
Paddy halted, backed up like a skittish horse. The time had come. This was reality. There was a room full of Badau lords to be entertained. They were dull, unsympathetic, hostile. Of course he could jolly them a bit, get them in a good humor.
The stage manager jostled him forward. "Go on, get out there," he said, "and don't forget my instructions."
Paddy felt naked on the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, now you're to see marvels such as you've never suspected. So sit tight. I have here a deck of fifty-two cards—the oldest playing device known to man, other than the chess-board. And I'm proud to say there's none that's more a master of the pack than me, Harry Black, the Miracle Magician of the Age."
Behind his back he covertly split the deck. "Now I'll read you the cards in a way you'll talk about for years to come." He held the cards before his face. "This first one doesn't count. I only want to show you the deck." Behind his back, out again. "Now this is the jack of spades—trey of clubs— five of diamonds—" The audience seemed apathetic. He heard a muffled hiss.
"Enough of that, you say? Very well then, 'twas only a warm-up. Now here's the jumping aces. Just a minute, I'll turn my back on you to count the cards. Now, see there, that's the ace of clubs, the ace of spades and in the middle the ace of diamonds. You can tell by the point.
"Now see—I put one on top, one in the middle, one on the bottom. I cut the cards. That's mixing them thoroughly. Now we look through the deck and there! What do we see! They're all together again!"
Ssss ... ssss ...!
"And now," said Paddy genially, "if some kind gentleman would come forward, take a card. ... Please, someone? ... Someone to draw a card? ... All a little bashful, eh? ... Very well, then, I'll draw one myself but it's you that'll see it and not Harry Black.
"Ah, and this little item it is—can you all see it now?— and I put it on the bottom and now I'll cut the cards, thus burying the card inextricably in the deck. And now here we go. Harry Black, with his trained glance, looks along the faces and with his eyesight keen as the fox of the Wicklows he spots the card and whisht! It's the nine of hearts! And isn't that a marvel now?"
Paddy ducked. It was the rind of a fruit buzzing past his ears. Paddy bowed. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, that'll be all for now."
He backed off the stage. "Cold audience," he remarked to the silent stage manager. "Ah, where's my wife?"
The manager said in a crisp voice, "If it weren't for her I'd have you thrown out of the hotel."
Paddy said stupidly, "And how do you mean if it weren't for her?"
The stage manager said contemptuously, "You saw her dance. The Lords seemed to like her. I advise you to stay in your bed tonight."
A great light burnt into Paddy's brain. "Dance? You mean that she was. ... You mean...." He beat at his brows. "And that was.... Ah well, never mind. Where is the little deceiver?"
"She's in the dressing room, waiting for the next series."
"I've got to see her." Paddy ran down the ramp, bumped into Fay coming around the corner.
"We've got to leave," whispered Paddy. "They'll be after us at any time."
"Why the rush?" asked Fay, coolly.
"I went to Suite Ten to get the book. I just had it in my grasp when the hardest-looking Councillor of them all walks in and takes it clean away from me. As soon as he sees what's in it and decides what it is he'll have the hounds out after us, all of them. The sooner we're off, the better." Paddy paused for breath while Fay looked on with a slight smile.
Paddy heaved a great sigh, rumpled his black hair. "No, no—it's no good. You go off, wait for me in the ship. I'm going now to find that hulking Badau and I'll take that book away from him. I'll get it, and no mistake.
"But you be off, so they won't catch both of us. Besides," and he looked narrowly toward the stage manager, "I don't think they're planning anything good for you this night."
"Paddy," said Fay, "we'll both go. And the Badau will find nothing in the book. I got there first and I got the Son's memorandum. It's in my shoe right now. The sooner we're back on our ship the better."
CHAPTER XIV
Paddy awoke from deep sleep to find the ship floating free. He peered out a bull's-eye. Space surr
ounded them like a vast pool of clear water. Astern glittered Scheat, to one side hung yellow Alpheratz, and ahead down a foreshortened line ran the stars of Andromeda's body—Adhil the train, Mirach the loins, Almach the shoulder.
Paddy unzipped the elastic sheet, clambered out, stepped into the shower, stripped, turned on the mist. The foam searched his pores, slushed out oil, dust, perspiration. A blast of warm air dried him.
He dressed, stepped up to the bridge deck, where he found Fay bending over the chart table, her dark hair tousled, the line of her profile as clean and delicate as a mathematical curve.
Paddy scowled. Fay was wearing her white blouse, dark green slacks and sandals and seemed very calm and matter-of-fact. To his mind's eye came the picture of the near-naked dancer in the fantastic gilt headdress. He saw the motion of her cream-colored body, the clench of muscles, the abandoned tilt of her head. And this was the same girl.
Fay looked up into his eyes and, as if divining his thoughts, smiled faintly, maddeningly.
Paddy maintained an injured silence, as if somehow Fay had cheated him. Fay, for motives of her own, did nothing to soothe him but turned back to the sheet of metal she had taken from the Badau book. After a minute she leaned back, handed it to Paddy.
It was minutely engraved in the Badaic block. The first paragraph described the space-drive tube, giving optimum dimensions, composition, the tri-axial equations for its inner and outer surfaces.
The second paragraph specified the type of field-coils found to be most efficient. Then followed two columns of five-digit numbers, three to a column, which Paddy—remembering the secret room at Akhabats he had broken into—knew to be field-strength settings.
Fay said, "I opened the Pherasic can, looked into it also. It had a metal sheet something like that one—describing the tube—but instead of detailing the coils it prescribed their spacing."
Paddy nodded. "Duplication of information."
"We've got two of these things," said Fay seriously, "and it's uncomfortable carrying them around with us."
"I've been thinking the same thing," said Paddy. "And since we can't get in to Earth—Well, let's see. Delta Trianguli is pretty handy and there's an uninhabited planet."
Vance, Jack Page 7
