[Jan Darzek 04] - Silence is Deadly

by Lloyd Biggle, Jr.

  The captain gestured indifferently. The Duke of OO has never loved the League. If the eruption set off by you and your daughter had not served as his excuse, he would have found another. But he moved against us impulsively, and it has cost him dearly.

  The League had closed the port of OO and assessed a colossal fine against the duke for his violation of agreements and his imprisonment of the captain and other sailors. The fine was increased daily. The duke defiantly refused to pay and demanded ransom for the release of the sailors he held. During this standoff, the economy of OO had disintegrated. The duke had to guard his borders—not against invasion, but against exodus. The artisans, in particular, were dependent on the export of their products, and they began to slip away surreptitiously with their families and set up their workshops in adjoining provinces.

  Finally the duke’s advisers prevailed upon him to make peace before his province was completely ruined. He paid his fines, for which he had to borrow funds from other dukes and his brother.

  But it’ll take the Province of OO years to recover, the captain said. The artisans who escaped won’t be returning soon. Those who remained will leave the moment they can do so safely. Customers for all of OO’s products and produce have had to find other sources, and they won’t be changing back at once. The duke professes not to care. He thinks that when he becomes king, he will close the Free Ports and bring the Sailor’s League into subservience.

  Ah! Then he’s convinced that he will be chosen king?

  Those who are close to him think he will, the captain said gloomily.

  And you think the king will he chosen by lot. Have you found out how this lottery will work?

  No, the captain said. It is thought that only the dukes know. And, of course, the Protector and his superior knights. He paused. So I really have nothing more of interest to tell you, except for an adventure of our friend Nijezor, the perfumer. And a message from our friend Bovranulz.

  Bovranulz? Darzek exclaimed. Is he still in OO?

  Indeed he is. But he sends you a message, thanks to Nijezor. The message is that he anticipates with joy the reunion you and he will have in Midpor.

  I regret that I cannot thank him in person, Darzek said. Of course I have no intention of going to Midpor.

  The captain smiled. Obviously some occasion for such a journey will arise, since Bovranulz says he will see you there. But let me tell you of the perfumer’s adventure.

  Nijezor had been arrested by black-capes as he attempted to leave the harbor the morning following Darzek’s departure from OO. But he had been treated with utmost consideration the moment he identified himself, and instead of being taken to the dungeon, he was taken to the presence of the duke himself, and the duke personally gave him a commission.

  The strangest I have ever undertaken, the perfumer told Captain Wanulzk afterward. The duke asked for as many varieties as I could contrive of the most unpleasant scents possible.

  Unpleasant? Darzek exclaimed.

  That was the duke’s very word, Captain Wanulzk said. He specified the usual requirements for quality scents—especially that they must he long-lasting and of persistent strength. He told Nijezor that a scent that diminished in power quickly would he of no use to him. Nijezor had no choice but to comply. He was required to move his factory to the castle and work there. He says he never suffered so much in his life. He was constantly watched by black-capes, and he was required to deliberately produce and then test a long series of olfactory catastrophes.

  Darzek expressed his sympathy. And was Nijezor able to please the duke? he asked.

  Only after arduous labor, the captain said.

  Nijezor had prepared fifteen scents of horrendous unpleasantness. The duke took the samples overnight, and then he returned with the one that pleased him the most—it was number twelve—and he asked Nijezor to prepare several different varieties of that scent. Nijezor did so. The duke returned with one of them—it was number forty-seven—and made the same request again. And again.

  Captain Wanulzk heaved a sigh of sympathy for his friend’s ordeal. It went on through three hundred and twenty-two samples, his hands announced awesomely. Number three hundred and twenty-two satisfied the duke completely, and Nijezor made a huge quantity of it—two full crock-measures. Enough scent to infuse the entire population of OO with ugliness. The duke rewarded him with enormous and unaccustomed generosity and ordered him to say nothing of his experiments to anyone. But why the duke requires such a stench Nijezor cannot say, and neither can I.

  Did Nijezor retain a sample? Darzek asked.

  He retained the formula. He can make as much of it as you require. In fact, he made a full crock-measure for you, just in case you might be able to think of a use for it. This will show you what it’s like.

  The captain removed a small vial from a pocket in his cloak, unstoppered it, and offered it to Darzek.

  Darzek took one whiff and reeled backward, choking. Preposterous! he exclaimed, when he was able to breathe again.

  It is, the captain agreed happily. It is almost as bad as your own scent, though of course completely different and with a far greater pungency. I have the crock-measure aboard my ship. Do you want it?

  Of course. And I appreciate your thoughtfulness, and that of Nijezor. I haven’t the faintest notion of what the duke could use it for, but if we can find out, perhaps we can use it in the same way.

  Excellent. Nijezor sends profuse regrets that he could not make progress with your problem, but the duke held him virtually in prison until the duke’s commission was finished. But— The captain sniffed thoughtfully. The scent you now wear almost disguises your odor.

  Unfortunately, it gives me only very temporary immunity. How is Bovranulz?

  As far as we know, well. Did I tell you that he is a prisoner of the duke?

  Darzek rose to his feet. No!

  Nijezor had encountered Bovranulz quite by accident in the duke’s castle. Bovranulz was left unguarded and his door ajar for a few minutes, and he was able to speak to Nijezor briefly. It was then that he had sent Darzek the message about Midpor.

  Why would the duke do such a horrible thing to the Old Blind One? the captain demanded.

  That’s easy to answer, Darzek said. The duke asked Bovranulz who would win the lottery and become king. Bovranulz refused to tell him. The duke intends to know, so he can take action to prevent another duke from winning. If imprisonment doesn’t succeed, the duke may try torture. Couldn’t the Sailor’s League intervene in our friend’s behalf?

  I will speak to the duke myself, the captain said grimly.

  He took his leave, and Darzek sent Sjelk with him to bring back the crock-measure of the Duke of OO’s special scent. When it arrived, Darzek scooped out a small measure of it, and he sat at the kitchen table contemplating it perplexedly. Sajjo and Hadkez entered, saw what he was doing, and leaned over to sample the scent. A single whiff made both of them retreat to the most remote corner of the room.

  What is that? Hadkez demanded.

  The Duke of OO’s favorite perfume, Darzek answered shortly.

  They sensed that he was in no mood for conversation, and they quietly withdrew. Darzek continued to contemplate the scent, and now and then he leaned forward and took a small sniff of it.

  The smell was hideous, but it could not be dismissed simply as a ducal perversion. The Duke of OO had a highly specific use for it. Otherwise, why would he pursue its precise shading through more than three hundred samples?

  It had to do with one of two things, Darzek thought: The duke’s maneuvers to make himself king, or his attempts to detect alien agents. Darzek could not imagine how such a potent stench could possibly relate to the kingship. Neither could he imagine what relationship it could have to alien agents, but it made sense to him that the agents of Arrn and Zruan would have the same difficulties he did with his natural body odor. This scent could in some way be involved in covering up the odor of the aliens the duke favored—though Darzek, taking another
whiff, found that difficult to believe. More likely this was the odor of the alien agents from Zruan, those who opposed the Duke of OO, and the duke intended to circulate the scent like a wanted poster: One hundred coins reward for anyone who smells like this, dead or alive.

  But even that seemed scarcely credible. Darzek sniffed the scent again and shook his head. “An alien who smelled like that wouldn’t be able to acquire any allies,” he told himself.

  And yet—the captain had considered the scent almost as bad as Darzek’s. No wonder Darzek was sitting alone in a room in Northpor, making no progress whatsoever.

  CHAPTER 16

  He had the feeling of conducting a multifront war and losing on all of them. Every discovery seemed to take him into another blind alley. The Duke Lonorlk’s electrical generator had led nowhere. His identification of the Duke of OO’s companion as an alien should have solved the pazul problem; instead, it proved that the pazul originated on Kamm. He had learned that the dukes would soon be meeting to select a king, but he had no idea when, or where, or how that royal lottery would function.

  Most serious of all, he had found no trace of Rok Wllon or any of the other missing agents, and he did not even know where to look for them.

  There remained nothing for him to do but stay in Northpor and play games with Sajjo. These were serious games, involving elaborate stratagems for eavesdropping on newly arrived strangers, and Sajjo played them superbly well. In a short time she discovered that all of the dukes—except for the elderly Duke Borkioz, who already had moved to Midpor—all of the dukes were furiously occupied with preparations for something. No one knew what.

  Bovranulz had said he would enjoy the reunion with Darzek in Midpor, but Bovranulz was still a prisoner of the Duke of OO. Darzek was tempted to go to Midpor anyway—but what could he accomplish if he went?

  He returned to his glum contemplation of the Duke of OO’s hideous scent.

  Fourteen more days passed just as futilely, and then Captain Wanulzk returned. This time he brought a companion, a burly man clothed as a fellow sailor. When he uncapped on entering, a head of flaming red hair came to view. Darzek knew him instantly. This was the Duke Dunjinz, one of the captain’s two favored candidates for the kingship.

  The captain made no attempt at concealment. He introduced his companion as the duke, and he introduced Darzek as a visitor to the world of Kamm and a friend of its people.

  The duke exchanged a sailor’s greetings with Darzek. The captain has told me about you. I have great admiration for one who braves the impossible.

  One must brave the impossible and succeed in order to receive admiration, sire, Darzek said with a grin. There is little that is admirable about one who foolishly braves the impossible and fails.

  The duke responded with a grin of his own. I think there is, if the cause is just. How may I serve you?

  Darzek looked questioningly at the captain; but Captain Wanulzk, having arranged this tableau, was intent on its running its course with no interference from him. He ignored Darzek’s look.

  I should like to serve you, Darzek told the duke, by making you the King of Storoz.

  The duke’s fingers flashed crisply. Impossible.

  You would not admire me for braving this particular impossibility?

  The duke burst into laughter. Darzek waited until he had quieted, and then his fingers spoke firmly. Tell me how the king is chosen, and I will make you king.

  Impossible. Only the dukes, the Protector, and the highest knights of the Winged Beast know how the choice is made, or have ever known. Each of us has sworn his oath. The Duke Dunjinz does not break an oath. I cannot tell anyone.

  Do all of the dukes have an equal chance? Darzek asked.

  The duke hesitated. I rely on the Protector’s integrity, he said slowly. Some think he will favor his brother, the Duke of OO, if the chance for a favor arises, but I know that he will not. He knows his own brother well, and he knows his brother would quickly betray his religion or anything else if it could be done profitably. No, the Protector will not favor the Duke of OO or any other duke. The principles of the old religion mean much to him. But most of the dukes are capable of turning the odds in their own favor if the opportunity is given to them. I don’t know what schemes they may be contriving, but I do know that several are maneuvering for what they think will be an advantage. So I don’t know whether all dukes have an equal chance.

  If you can’t tell me about the lottery, what can you tell me? Darzek asked.

  I can tell you that all of the dukes will meet in Midpor on the day of the third conjunction. They will travel together, each with his own party of knights and retainers and servants, to Surjolanz, which is the border town of the province of the Duke Tonorj. From there they will enter the Central Province, the Realm of the Holy Beast, and proceed to a small village called Veznol. There the knights, retainers, and servants will encamp, and the dukes will continue alone, each attended by his personal servants and superior knights, under the guidance of the Protector, who will lead them to the place where the lottery is to take place. There the king will be selected; and then all will return to Veznol and the waiting followers, and the entire party will return to Midpor. That much I can tell you. It is secret, but we were only sworn not to tell anyone who does not need to know, and I consider that one who attempts the impossible needs to know.

  Thank you, Darzek said. He turned to the captain. Is that the information you wanted me to have?

  The captain raised a shoulder affirmatively. That—and I also wanted you to know the Duke Dunjinz and I wanted him to know you. I sense my friend, that you intend to be present at the lottery. The duke says you will die if you attempt it and accomplish nothing at all, and there would be no way he could assist you. Still, even though he has no authority in the province of the Protector, he might be able to aid you in secret if he knows who you are.

  In a time of need, Darzek said, any helping hand is welcome. I will attempt to conduct myself so that no aid is necessary.

  He removed the lid of the perfumer’s crock, which still stood in center of the table where Darzek could contemplate it frequently. Does that scent mean anything to you? he asked the duke.

  The duke took only a small sniff before backing away. It means only that something has died! he exclaimed.

  You’ve never smelled it before?

  No. And I would not willingly smell it again.

  Thank you. Darzek turned to the captain. Have you any news concerning our friend Bovranulz?

  I spoke to the Duke of OO concerning him. The duke says my conclusions are entirely mistaken. Bovranulz remains at the castle an honored guest, reporting his visions as the duke requests. Whenever wishes to leave he will be free to do so, and when he leaves he will be handsomely rewarded for his services. But as yet he has not exhausted the visions the duke has requested. The captain gestured scorn We know the duke lies, but there’s little that we can do about it.

  Did you ask to see Bovranulz?

  Of course. But he had just finished a trying work session and was resting—or so the duke said. The duke professes deep concern about the health of the Old Blind One, and he will not permit his rest to be interrupted. The Sailor’s Council will discuss the matter at its next meeting, but by then the duke will have left for Midpor. Before we can take effective action, the king will be chosen and Bovranulz will have his liberty again.

  I’ll tell both of you this, Darzek said, working his fingers slowly and emphatically. The Duke of OO means to be chosen king, and he knows how to arrange it. He has arranged it. I can’t stop him without knowing how the lottery works.

  He looked at the Duke Dunjinz, who met his gaze firmly, a small smile on his face. His only other response was a negative gesture. He had pledged his word, and he meant to keep the pledge. He would, Darzek thought, make a good king. Perhaps too good—a sense of honor was a noble attribute, but one should be able to temporize when disaster threatened, and the Duke of OO as King of Storoz represented
the ultimate disaster.

  Darzek wondered if more than an oath was involved. The religion of the Winged Beast was ancient and harsh, and—Darzek remembered Rok Wllon’s poetry—it was a Death Religion. The duke’s oath might be reinforced by ceremonies no decent Kammian would be willing to confess.

  Do you approve of giving the lives of your fellow citizens to the Winged Beast? he asked bluntly.

  The duke paled. How did you learn that?

  There are many ways in which one may brave the impossible, Darzek returned.

  No, the duke answered, I don’t approve. It is a sickening thing. But I cannot change it unless I do become king. If that happens, there will be many changes.

  Do you know of the two kinds of outsiders that are guests of the Duke Merzkion and the Duke of OO?

  Both kinds called on me. They promised much. I ordered them out of my province.

  Darzek turned to the captain. Water passage is the best way to reach Midpor, isn’t it?

  It’s the only way, if you want to arrive there in time.

  When do you leave Northpor?

  At the half night.

  I need to reflect on all of this, Darzek said. I may see you on your ship before you sail.

  * * * *

  After they left, Darzek spent some time studying a map of Storoz. Then he doused himself with the special perfume Hadkez had prepared for him, told Wesru he wasn’t to be disturbed under any circumstances, and descended to the basement.

  And to the subbasement, from which he went to Midpor by transmitter.

  The house used for a Synthesis headquarters had an air of musty dampness and desertion about it. Darzek first looked for a note from Riklo; but if she had successfully got this far north in her tour of the dukes’ castles, she had been traveling far inland. The house’s yard was a blight on an otherwise tidy neighborhood. Something would have to be done about that, but Darzek had more urgent matters to contend with.