by Jack Vance
Barquan Blasdel, containing his temper, explained carefully. “The matter is more complex than this. “Here is a group who have fled in order to avoid paying their just dues to King Kragen. If they are allowed to prosper, to profit of their defection, then other folk may be tempted to wonder, why do we not do likewise? If the sin of kragen-killing becomes vulgar recreation, where is reverence? Where is continuity? Where is obedience to High Authority?”
“That may be true,” stated Providence Dringle, Chief Hoodwink for the Populous Equity Float. “Nonetheless, in my opinion the cure is worse than the complaint. And to risk a heretical opinion, I must say the benefits we derive from High Authority no longer seem commensurate with the price we pay.”
Barquan Blasdel swung about in shock, as did the other intercessors. May I ask your meaning?” Blasdel inquired icily.
“I mean that King Kragen consumes from six to seven bushels of choice sponges daily. He maintains his rule in the water surrounding the floats, true, but what do we need fear from the lesser kragen? By your own testimony the dissidents have developed a method to kill the kragen with facility.”
Blasdel said with frigid menace, “I cannot overlook the fact that your remarks are identical to the preposterous ravings of the dissidents, who so rightly shall be obliterated.”
“Do not rely on my help,” said Providence Dringle.
“Nor mine,” said Emacho Feroxibus. “I must also make note of the fact that while heretofore each float maintained the establishment of one intercessor, now there are two, not even to mention this corps of uniformed ruffians you are training.”
“It is a distressing sight,” said Barquan Blasdel in a voice quietly sad, “to see a man once effective and orthodox decline so suddenly into verbose senility. Emacho Feroxibus, speak on! Be sure that we will listen to you with the respect your advanced age and long career of service deserve! Talk as you will!”
Emacho Feroxibus’s face was purple with rage. “You mealy-mouthed scoundrel! I’d teach you senility with my bare hands, were it not for my detestation of violence!”
The conclave shortly thereafter was adjourned. King Kragen’s Exemplary Corps was one thousand strong. Their barracks and training area was Tranque Float, which never had been restored to habitation. They wore a smart uniform, consisting of a gown somewhat like the intercessor’s formal robes, black in front and white in back, with an emblem representing King Kragen sewed on the chest. They wore helmets of pad-skin and rug-fish leather well-varnished, with the varnished dorsal fin of the gray-fish for a crest. For weapons they carried pikes of fine straight withe tipped with a blade of the hardest stem-wood, and daggers of similar quality. They lacked bows and arrows only because none of the materials found on the floats or in the sea, offered the necessary resilience. A dart thrower, on the order of an atlatl, was tested, but accuracy was so poor that it was discarded.
The Exemplary Corps, though it included men of every caste and guild, was mainly comprised of those whose careers were not proceeding with celerity or who disliked toil with unusual vehemence. The other folk of the floats regarded the Exemplars with mixed emotions. They imposed something of a strain upon the normal functioning of the economy, for they ate a great deal and produced none of their own food. Meanwhile King Kragen daily seemed to wax in size and appetite. The need for such a large corps—or any corps at all—was continually questioned. Few accepted the intercessors’ contention that the dissidents planned an attack on the Home Floats.
Nevertheless the corps made a brave, if somewhat sinister show, parading in platoons of twenty with lances aslant over their shoulders, or rowing their new twelve-man coracles at great speed across the ocean whenever King Kragen was not about. For the intercessors, dubious of King Kragen’s attitude, had kept from him the knowledge of the Exemplary Corps—though no one considered it likely that he would forbid the organization if he knew its aims.
Barquan Blasdel,was commandant of the corps and wore a uniform even more striking than that of the Exemplars: a split black and white gown, tied at the ankles, buttons of polished bindle-bane, purple epaulettes to represent kragen mandibles, a purple helmet with a crest simulating King Kragen’s maw, with palps and mandibles outspread: a fearsome sight.
Daily the corps drilled: running, jumping, thrusting lances into dummies, springing in and out of their boats. Daily they heard Barquan Blasdel discourse upon the infamy of the rebels and the vileness of their habits. Daily the corps performed a ritual expressing homage devotion to King Kragen and absolute obedience to those who interceded with him. Most of the float notables in private expressed disapprobation of the corps, and Emacho Feroxibus began to prepare an official sanction against the corps. Immediately King Kragen appeared at Quatrefoil Float, where Emacho Feroxibus was caste-elder, and remained four days, eating with great appetite. The Quatrefoil arbors were barren of sponges and finally the folk of the float in desperation prevailed upon Emacho Feroxibus to modify his stand. He vented a great curse upon Barquan Blasdel, another upon the Exemplars, and a final objurgation against King Kragen, to the awe of all. Then he turned, a feeble and embittered man, and walked slowly to his hut.
King Kragen departed Quatrefoil Float. Three days later the body of Emacho Feroxibus was found floating in the lagoon, an apparent suicide, though many refuted this notion and claimed that in his grief he must have wandered blindly into the water. A few hinted of circumstances even more grim, but made no public assertion of their beliefs, since, if they were right, the message was clear.
The day arrived when in Barquan Blasdel’s opinion King Kragen’s Exemplary Corps was ready to perform the duty for which it was intended. Across Tranque Float went the word: “A week from today!”
A week later the sun went down and Tranque Float was taut with expectation. Barquan Blasdel, resplendent in his uniform, addressed the massed corps by torchlight. “Brave members of the invincible Exemplary Corps! The time has come! The detestable vermin who live across the water pose a threat we can no longer tolerate. Along these beautiful floats of our own, voices are whispering an envious desire for the depraved east of the rebels! We must win them back to the right way, the orthodox way! By persuasion if possible, by force if necessary! All bodes well! King Kragen has graciously given us leave to trespass upon his ocean and now relaxes near Helicon. So now—load boats! Rack pikes! Embark all! We sail to the east!”
A great hoarse shout rose from the Exemplars. With a will the coracles were loaded; with rehearsed agility the Exemplars sprang aboard, thrust away from Tranque Float. Oars dug the water; with another great guttural call the coracles surged toward the east.
Dawn came; the water reflected the color of silver ash, then milled to the morning breeze. Big plum-blue square-sails were hoisted. They bellied; oars were shipped. The Exemplars rested. Ninety boats sailed the morning ocean, long low boats painted black and purple, with a white-and-black kragen blazoned on each straining sail. In each boat crouched 12 men in black-and-white gowns and black helmets with the spined crest.
Directly into the dazzle of the rising sun they sailed, and the glare served to conceal the boats that waited for them. When the breeze died and he sun had lifted, these boats were only a quarter-mile to the east: ten boats of strange design. They were twice as long as the twelve man coracles, and each carried about twenty men. They waited in a line across the course of the Exemplar boats. The center boat, propelled by 16 oars, advanced. In the bow stood Sklar Hast.
He hailed the leading boat of the Exemplars. “What boats are you, and where are you bound?”
Barquan Blasdel rose to his feet. “Sklar Hast! You dare bring your boats so close to the Home Floats?”
“We sailed forth to meet you.”
“‘Then you have sailed your last. We are bound to the new floats, to visit justice upon you.”
“Turn back,” said Sklar Hast. “Take warning! If you come farther, you are all dead men!”
Barquan Blasdel made a gesture to the other boats. “For
ward! Pikes to hand! Board, kill, capture!”
“Stand back!” roared Sklar Hast. “Take warning, you fools! Do you think we are helpless? Go back to the Home Floats and save your lives!”
The Exemplar coracles sped forward. That one in which Barquan Blasdel stood moved over to the side, to where he could command the battle. With only a hundred feet between, men in the waiting boats suddenly rose to their feet holding bows fashioned from kragen-turret splines. They aimed, discharged arrows with flaming globular tips. The arrows struck into the black coracles, broke to spread flaming oil.
In the first volley twenty of the black-and-purple boats were aflame. In the second volley, forty dared up. In the third volley sixty. The withe and varnished pad-skin burned like tinder; fear-crazed Exemplars leaped into the sea. The thirty boats yet whole backed water, turned aside. Barquan Blasdel’s boat already was out of range.
Sklar Hast steeled his heart, signaled. Another volley of flaming arrows set another ten boats aflame, and an almost miraculous swiftness the proud black fleet of King Kragen’s Exemplary Corps was destroyed.
“Forward!” Sklar Hast ordered. “One more volley. We must make a total end to this business!”
Reluctantly—for further action now seemed sheer slaughter—the archers lobbed a final volley of fire-arrows, but now, whether because the range was great or because the archers had no more will to attack, only eight boats were struck.
The water seethed with swimming shapes. As coracles burned and collapsed, cases of stores floated loose, and the Exemplars clung to these.
Sklar Hast gave an order; the boats from New Floats backed away from the scene of the battle. Cautiously those coracles still afloat returned. Stores and weapons were thrown overboard to lighten ship; swimming Exemplars were taken aboard to the limits of capacity and ropes were thrown out to those yet floating.
Sluggishly, towing the men still in the water, the loaded coracles returned across the sea toward Tranque Float.
Of the ninety proud black-and-purple boats which set forth, twenty still floated.
Of a thousand Exemplars, five hundred survived.
Sklar Hast listened to the underwater horn and could detect nothing to indicate the proximity of King Kragen. He gave an order to his oarsmen, and the New Float boats followed the wallowing Exemplar fleet back to Tranque. To complete Barquan Blasdel’s utter humiliation, when the black boats were a hundred yards from Tranque, the New Float boats moved in close, discharged two final volleys of fire-arrows, to destroy all the Exemplar coracles. All, Barquan Blasdel included, were forced to swim the last hundred yards to Tranque Float.
The following day a convocation was called on Apprise Float. There were none of the usual rambling introductory remarks. Morse Swin, the Apprise Arbiter, Phyral Berwick’s one-time assistant, a big blond slow-spoken man, went to the rostrum. “Yesterday occurred a great tragedy, a futile useless tragedy, and all our wisdom is needed to resolve the situation. One thing is certain: reproaches are futile. The folly of attempting to attack the New Float has been made utterly evident, and it is high time that these so-called Exemplars put aside their pretensions or ideals or vanities—whatever one wishes to call them; I have heard each word used, as well as others. In any event, it is time that these idle men doff their uniforms and return to work.”
Barquan Blasdel jumped to his feet. “Do I hear aright?” he called in a voice glacially cold.
Morse Swin looked at him in surprise. “Intercessor, if you please, I am speaking from the rostrum. When I am finished, you may have your turn.”
“But I will not permit you to spout arrant nonsense. I thought to hear an impassioned urge for all men to rededicate themselves to what now must be our single concentrated goal—the absolute destruction of the rebels!”
“Intercessor, if you will restrain yourself, I wish to continue my remarks. I definitely take a less vehement view of the situation. We have our problems to solve; let us leave the folk of New Float to theirs.”
Blasdel would not be quelled. “And what if they attack us?”
“They have shown no disposition to do so. They defended themselves and defeated you. If they planned an attack, they would never have allowed you to return to Tranque with your survivors. You should give thanks for your life and adjust yourself to the realities of the situation. I for one will hear of no further such ventures.; the Exemplars must be disbanded and return to earning their living. This is my feeling, and I ask the approval of the convocation. Who agrees?”
There was vigorous assent.
“Who disagrees?”
In response came a sound of much lesser volume but much greater emotion. It issued from the throats of the intercessors and from the Exemplars themselves, who, wearing their uniforms and helmets, stood in carefully ordered groups.
Morse Swin nodded his big, heavy head. “The verdict of the convocation seems definite; still, anyone who wishes is entitled to speak.”
Barquan Blasdel came to the rostrum. He put his hands on the rail, turned his dark brooding gaze over the convocation. “You people who assented to the view of Morse Swin did so after only the most superficial attention. Shortly I will ask you to vote again.
“I wish to make three points.
“First, the setback of yesterday was unimportant. We shall win. Of that there is no doubt. Do we not have King Kragen on our side? We withdrew after sustaining losses, it is true. Do you know why this was made necessary? Because upon these floats, perhaps here at the convocation at this very moment, there are spies. Furtive, skulking creatures of the most perverted and amoral attitudes imaginable! We expected no serious opposition when we set sail but the spies had sent word ahead! They prepared a dastardly and cruel ambush. What fiends these rebels are, to hurl fire at defenseless boats! Our drowned comrades will not go unavenged, I assure you! Do I speak truth, comrade Exemplars?”
From the uniformed groups came an impassioned “Truth!”
Barquan Blasdel looked slowly around the convocation. “Morse Swin spoke of realities. He is the man who is not realistic. King Kragen is benevolent, but he is now wrathful. His is the might, his is the force! We cannot deny him! He has ordained that his Exemplars act, he has given them sharp weapons fashioned from the hardest stem, he has given them his endorsement! The Exemplars act in King Kragen’s behalf. They are men of true faith; they are forbearing and benevolent, as is King Kragen, but like King Kragen, they are terrible in their wrath. King Kragen’s Exemplary Corps must not be contravened! They know the path of rectitude, which is derived from the will of King Kragen; they will not be denied! When an Exemplar speaks, he speaks with the voice and the will of King Kragen! Do not oppose or contradict or fail to obey! Because first to be feared are the sharp weapons, the daggers and pikes, and second, the source of all awe and majesty, King Kragen himself. I, his Intercessor, and Chief Exemplar, assure you of the ‘reality’ of this situation. Who should know better?
“We now enter a time of emergency! All must look as if with a single gaze to the east, toward the float of the rebels. All must harden their minds, put aside the soft ways of ease, until the rebels are destroyed and the emergency is ended.
“During this emergency we require a strong authority, a central coordinating mind to ensure that all proceeds with efficiency. I have attempted to withdraw myself from a post of such responsibility, but all insist that I take this terrible burden upon myself. I can only, with humility, profess my readiness to make this personal sacrifice, and now so proclaim this emergency and this assumption of absolute authority. I will be pleased to hear a unanimous hearty endorsement.”
From the Exemplars and the intercessors came a great call. Elsewhere were frozen faces and indignant mutters.
“Thank you,” said Barquan Blasdel. “The unanimity of the endorsement will be duly noted in the records. The convocation is now adjourned. When circumstances warrant, when the emergency is at an end, I will announce the fact and call another convocation. All may now return to your home
floats. Instructions as to how you best serve King Kragen will be forthcoming.”
Sputtering with anger, Morse Swin jumped to his feet. “One moment! Are you insane? This is not traditional procedure! You did not call for adverse voices!”
Barquan Blasdel made a small, quiet signal to a nearby group of Exemplars. Ten of these stalked forward, seized Morse Swin by the elbows, hustled him away. He struggled and kicked; one of the Exemplars struck him on the back of the head with the haft of his dagger.
Barquan Blasdel nodded placidly. “I did not call for adverse voices because there was obvious unanimity. The convocation is adjourned.”
Chapter 16
Henry Bastaff described the convocation to a silent conclave of notables on New Home Float. “There was no core of opposition, no firmness. Old Emacho Feroxibus was dead, Morse Swin had been dragged off. The folk were stunned. The situation was too fantastic to be credible. No one knew whether to laugh or scream or tear the Exemplars apart with their bare hands. They did nothing. They dispersed and went back to their huts.”
“And now Barquan Blasdel rules the floats,” said Phyral Berwick.
“With the most exacting vigor.”
“So then we must expect another attack.”
Henry Bastaff agreed. “Without any doubt whatever.”
“But how? Surely they won’t attempt another raid!”
“As to this, I can’t say. They might build boats with shields to divert fire-arrows, or evolve a system to throw fire-arrows of their own.”
“Fire-arrows we can tolerate,” said Sklar Hast. “We can build our boats with kragen-hide rather than pad-skin; this is no great threat … I can’t imagine how Blasdel hopes to attack us. Yet undoubtedly he does so intend.”
“We must continue our surveillance,” said Phyral Berwick. “So much is evident.” He looked at Henry Bastaff. “Are you willing to return?”
