Trullion: Alastor 2262

by Jack Vance

  “You seem excited.”

  “I’ve got enough money to pay off Casagave. We’ll do it before the hour is out.”

  Glay looked across the broad at Ambal Isle, which in the fresh light of morning had never looked lovelier. “Just as you say. But you had better telephone him first.”

  “Why?”

  “To give him warning.”

  “I don’t want to give him anything,” said Glinnes. Nevertheless he went to the telephone. Lute Casagave’s face appeared on the screen. He spoke in a metallic voice “What is your business?”

  “I have twelve thousand ozols for you,” said Glinnes. “I now wish to void the contract of sale. I’ll bring the money over at this moment, if it’s convenient.”

  “Send the money over with the owner,” said Casagave.

  “I am the owner.”

  “Shira Hulden is the owner. I suppose he can void that contract if he chooses.”

  “Today I’ll bring over an affadavit certifying the death of Shira.”

  “Indeed. And where will you get it?”

  “From Janno Akadie, an official mentor of the prefecture, who witnessed the confession of his murderer.”

  “Indeed,” said Casagave with a chuckle. The screen went blank. Glinnes spoke to Glay in a voice of puzzlement. “That isn’t quite the reaction I anticipated. He showed no concern whatsoever.”

  Glay shrugged. “Why should he? Akadie is in jail. They’ll put him on the prutanshyr if the lords have their way. Any certification of Akadie’s is meaningless.”

  Glinnes rolled his eyes back and drew his arms high in the air. “Was anyone ever so dogged by frustration?” he cried.

  Glay turned away without comment. Presently he went to his couch and fell asleep.

  Glinnes strode back and forth along the verandah, deep in thought. Then, venting an inarticulate curse, he jumped into his boat and set forth to the west.

  An hour later he arrived in Welgen, and only with difficulty found a mooring along the crowded dock. An unusual number of folk had chosen this day to visit Welgen. The square was the scene of intense activity. Folk of town and fen moved restlessly here and there, always with one eye turned upon the prutanshyr, where workmen adjusted the cogs of a ponderous mechanism, the functioning of which Glinnes found perplexing. He paused to make inquiry of an old man who stood leaning on a staff. “What goes on at the prutanshyr?”

  “Another of Filidece’s follies.” The old man spat contemptuously upon the cobbles. “He insists on these novel devices, which can hardly be coaxed to perform their function. Sixty-two pirates to be killed, and yesterday the thing managed to grind asunder only a single man. Today it must be repaired! Have you ever heard the like? In my day we were content with simpler devices.”

  Glinnes went on to the Office of the Constabulary, only to learn that Chief Constable Filidice was not on hand. Glinnes then requested five minutes with Janno Akadie, but was denied the privilege; today the jail might not be visited.

  Glinnes returned to the square and took a seat under the arbor of The Noble Saint Gambrinus, where so long ago (so it seemed) he had spoken with Junius Farfan. He ordered a half-gill of aquavit, which he drank at a gulp. How the fates conspired to thwart him! He had proved the fact of Shira’s death and then had lost his money. He had gained new funds, but now he could no longer prove Shira’s death. His witness Akadie was invalidated and his principal, Vang Drosset, was dead!

  So now: what to do? The thirty million ozols? A joke. He would throw the money to the merlings before turning it over the Chief Constable Filidice. Glinnes signaled the waiter for another half-gill of aquavit, then turned a lambent glance toward the abominable prutanshyr. To save Akadie it might be necessary to surrender the money—though for a fact the case against Akadie seemed extraordinarily thin…

  A shape darkened the entrance. Squinting up against the glare, Glinnes saw a person of middle height and unobtrusive demeanor, whom he thought to recognize. He looked more closely, then jumped to his feet with sudden energy. At his gesture the man approached. “If I am not mistaken,” said Glinnes, “you are Ryl Shermatz. I am Glinnes Hulden, a friend of the mentor Janno Akadie.”

  “Of course! I remember you well,” said Shermatz. “And how does our friend Akadie?”

  The waiter brought aquavit, which Glinnes placed in front of Shermatz. “You will require this before long… I take it you have not heard the news?”

  “I have only just returned from Morilla. Why do you ask?”

  Stimulated by circumstances and by the aquavit, Glinnes spoke with a measure of hyperbole. “Akadie as been flung into a dungeon. He is accused of grand larceny, and if the lords have their way, Akadie may well be inserted into the cogs of yonder mincing machine.”

  “Sad news indeed!” siad Shermatz. With a wry salute he raised the goblet to his mouth. “Akadie should never have aspired to chicanery; e lacks the cold decisiveness that distinguishes the successful criminal.”

  “You miss my point,” said Glinnes somewhat testily. “The charge is absolutely absurd.”

  “I am surprised to hear you speak so definitely,” said Shermatz.

  “If necessary, Akadie’s innocence could be demonstrated in a manner to convince anyone. But this is not the point. I wonder why Filidice, apparently from sheer suspicion, has imprisoned Akadie, while the guilty man goes free.”

  “An interesting speculation. Can you name the guilty man?”

  Glinnes shook his head. “I wish I could—especially if a certain man is the guilty party.”

  “And why do you confide in me?”

  “You observed Akadie transfer the money to the messenger. Your testimony will free him.”

  “I saw a black case change hands. It might have held almost anything.”

  Glinnes chose his words with care. “You probably wonder why I am so confident of Akadie’s innocence. The reason is simple. I know for a fact that he disposed of the money as he claimed. Bandolio was captured; his aide Lempel was murdered. The money was never claimed. In my opinion, the importunate lords deserve the money no more than Bandolio. I am disinclined to assist either side.”

  Shermatz made a grave sign of comprehension. “A nod is as good as a wink. If Akadie is in fact innocent, who is Bandolio’s real accomplice?”

  “I am surprised that Bandolio has not provided definite information, but Chief Constable Filidice won’t allow me a word with Akadie, much less Bandolio.”

  “I’m not so sure of that.” Shermatz rose to his feet. “A few words with Chief Constable Filidice might be worthwhile.”

  “Return to your seat,” said Glinnes. “He won’t see us.”

  “I think he will. I am something more than a roving journalist, as I hold the commission of Over-inspector in the Whelm. Chief Constable Filidice will see us with pleasure. Let us go at once to make the inquiry. Where is he to be found?”

  “Yonder is his headquarters,” said Glinnes. “The structure is dilipidated, but here in Welgen it represents the majesty of Trill law.”

  Glinnes and Ryl Shermatz waited in a foyer only briefly before Chief Constable Filidice came forth, his face expressing concern. “What is this again? Who are you, sir?”

  Shermatz placed a metal plate upon the counter. “Please assure yourself of my credentials.”

  Filidice glumly studied the plate. “I am of course at your service.”

  “I am here in connection with the starmenter Bandolio, said Shermatz. “You have questioned him?”

  “To some extent. There was no reason to undertake any exhaustive inquiry.”

  “Have you discovered his local accomplice?”

  Filidice gave a curt nod. “He was assisted by a certain, Janno Akadie, whom we have taken into custody.”

  “You are assured, then, of Akadie’s guilt?”

  “The evidence very clearly suggests as much.”

  “Has he confessed?”

  “No.”

  “Have you placed him under psychohallation?”


  “We lack such equipment here at Welgen.”

  “I would like to examine both Bandolio and Akadie; Akadie first, if you please.”

  Filidice turned to an under-constable and gave the necessary orders. To Shermatz and Glinnes: “Will you be good enough to step into my office?”

  Five minutes later Akadie was thrust complaining and expostulating into the office. At the sight of Glinnes and Shermatz he fell abruptly silent.

  Shermatz said courteously, “Good morning, Janno Akadie; it is a pleasure to see you again.”

  “Not under these circumstances! Would you believe it? They have me pent in a cell, like a criminal! I thought they were taking me to the prutanshyr! Have you ever heard the like?”

  “I hope that we will be able to clarify the matter.” Shermatz turned to Filidice. “What precisely are the charges against Akadie?”

  “That he conspired with Sagmondo Bandolio and that he has sequestered thirty million ozols which are not his property.”

  “Both charges are false!” cried Akadie. “Someone is plotting against me!”

  “We will certainly arrive at the truth of the matter,” said Shermatz. “Suppose we now hear what the starmenter Bandolio has to say?”

  Filidice spoke to his underling and presently Sagmondo Bandolio entered the room—a tall black-bearded man, bald, with a black tonsure, lucent blue eyes, and a placid expression. Here was a man who had commanded five dire ships and four hundred men, who had dispensed tragedy ten thousand times for purposes he alone could define.

  Shermatz signaled him forward. “Sagmondo Bandolio, out of sheer curiosity, do you regret the life you have lived?”

  Bandolio smiled politely. “I regret the last two weeks, certainly. As to the period prior, the subject is complex, and in any event I would not know how to answer your question accurately; hindsight is the least useful of our intellectual capabilities.”

  “We are making an inquiry into the foray upon Welgen. Can you identify your local accomplice more definitely?”

  Bandolio pulled at his beard. “I have not identified him at all, unless my recollection is at fault.”

  Chief Constable Filidice said, “He was subjected to mind searching. He has retained no clandestine information.”

  “What information has he given to you?”

  “The initiative came from Trullion. Bandolio feceived a proposal through secret starmenter channels; he sent down a subaltern by the name of Lempel to make a preliminary inspection. Lempel rendered an optimistic report and Bandolio himself came down to Trullion. On a beach near Welgen, he met the Trill whom became his accomplice. The meeting occurred at midnight. The Trill wore a hussade mask and spoke in a cultivated voice Bandolio says he could not identify. They made their arrangements, and Bandolio never saw the man again. He assigned Lempel to the project; Lempel is now dead. Bandolio professes no other information and psy-chohallation corroborates his claim.”

  Shermatz turned to Bandolio. “Is this an accurate summation?”

  “It is indeed, except for a suspicion that my local confederate persuaded Lempel to give information to the Whelm, so that the two might divide the whole of the ransom. After the Whelm was notified, Lempel’s life came to an end.”

  “So then you have no reason to conceal the identity of your accomplice?”

  “To the contrary. My dearest wish is to see him dance to music of the prutanshyr.”

  “Before you stands Janno Akadie.

  Is he known to you?”

  “No.”

  “Is it possible that Akadie was your confederate?”

  “No. The man was as tall as myself.”

  Shermatz looked at Filidice. “And there you have it: a grievous error which luckily was not consummated upon the prutanshyr.”

  Filidice’s pale countenance showed a few of perspiration. “I assure you, I was exposed to intolerable pressure! The Order of Aristocrats insisted that I act; they authorized Lord Gensifer, the secretary, to demand definite activity. I could not locate the money, so then…” Filidice paused and licked his lips.

  “To appease the Order of Aristocrats you imprisoned Janno Akadie.”

  “It seemed an obvious course of action.”

  Glinnes asked Bandolio, “You met your confederate by starlight?”

  “So I did.” Bandolio seemed almost jovial.

  “What were his garments?”

  “The Trill paray and the Trill cape, with wide padding, or epaulettes, or wings; only a Trill would know their function. His silhouette, as he stood on the shore in his hussade mask, was that of a great black bird.”

  “So you came to stand close to him.”

  “A distance of six feet separated us.”

  “What mask did he wear?”

  Bandolio laughed. “How should I know your local masks? Horns protruded at the temple; the mouth showed fangs and a tongue lolled loose. Indeed, I felt I faced a monster there on the beach.”

  “What of his voice?”

  “A hoarse mutter; he wanted no recognition.”

  “His gestures, mannerisms, quirks of stance?”

  “None. He made no movement”

  “His boat?”

  “An ordinary runabout.”

  “And what was the date of this occasion?”

  “The fourth day of Lyssum.”

  Glinnes considered a moment “You received all further signals from Lempel?”

  “True.”

  “You had no other contact with the man in the hussade mask?”

  “None.”

  “What was his precise function?”

  “He undertook to seat the three hundred richest men of the prefecture in section D of the stadium, and so he did to perfection.”

  Filidice interposed a remark. “The seats were bought anonymously and sent out by messenger. They offer no clue.”

  Ryl Shermatz considered Filidice for a long thoughtful moment, upon which Filidice became uneasy. Shermatz said, “I am puzzled as to why you imprisoned Janno Akadie on evidence which even at first glance seems ambiguous.”

  Filidice spoke with dignity. “I received confidential information from an irreproachable source. Under the conditions of emergency and public agitation, I decided to act with decision.”

  “The information is confidential, you say?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “And who is the irreproachable source?”

  Filidice hesitated, then made a weary gesture. “The secretary of the Order of Lords convinced me that Akadie knew the whereabouts of the ransom money. He recommended that Akadie be imprisoned and threatened with the prutanshyr until he agreed to relinquish the money.”

  “The Secretary of the Order of Lords… That would be Lord Gensifer.”

  “Precisely so,” said Filidice.

  “That ingrate!” hissed Akadie. “I will have a word with him.”

  “It might be interesting to learn the rationale behind his accusation,” mused Shermatz. “I suggest that we undertake a visit to Lord Gensifer.” Filidice held up his hand. “Today would be most inopportune for Lord Gensifer. The gentry of the region are at Gensifer Manse to celebrate Lord Gensifer’s wedding.”

  “I am concerned for Lord Gensifer’s convenience,” declared Akadie, “to the exact extent that he is concerned with mine. We will visit him at this moment.”

  “I quite agree with Janno Akadie,” said Glinnes. “Especially as we will be able to identify the true criminal and take him into custody.”

  Ryl Shermatz spoke in a quizzical voice. “You speak with peculiar assurance.”

  “Conceivably I am mistaken,” said Glinnes. “For this reason I feel that we should take Sagmondo Bandolio with us.”

  Filidice, with affairs slipping beyond his control, became correspondingly assertive. “This is not a sensible idea. In the first place, Bandolio is most supple and elusive; he must not cheat the prutanshyr. Secondly, he has declared himself unable to render any identification; the criminal’s features were c
oncealed by a mask. Thirdly, I find questionable, to say the least, the theory that we will find the guilty person at Lord Gensifer’s wedding ceremony. I do not wish to create a tomfoolery and make myself a laughingstock.”

  Shermatz said, “A conscientious man is never diminished by doing his duty. I suggest that we pursue our investigation without regard for side issues.”

  Filidice gave a despondent acquiescence. “Very well, let us proceed to Gensifer Manse. Constable, confine the prisoner! Let the shackles be doubly locked and a trip-wire fastened around his neck.”

  The black and gray official boat drove across Fleharish Broad toward the Five Islands. Half a hundred boats clustered against the dock, and the walk was decorated with festoons of silk ribbon, scarlet, yellow and pink. Through the gardens strolled lords and ladies in the splendid archaic garments worn only at the most formal occasions, and which ordinary folk were never privileged to glimpse.

  The official party walked up the path, aware of their own incongruity. Chief Constable Filidice in particular struggled between pent fury and embarrassment, Ryl Hermatz was placid enough, and Sagmondo Bandolio seemed actively to enjoy the situation; he held his head high and turned his gaze cheerfully this way and that. An old steward saw them and hastened forward in consternation. Filidice gave a muttered explanation; the steward’s face drooped in displeasure. “Certainly you cannot intrude upon the ceremonies; the rites are shortly to take place. This is a most outrageous proceeding!”

  Chief Constable Filidice’s self-control quivered. He spoke in a vibrant voice. “Silence! This is official business! Be off with you—no, wait! We may have instructions for you.” He looked sourly at Shermatz. “What are your wishes?”

  Shermatz turned to Glinnes. “What is your suggestion?”

  “One moment,” said Glinnes. He looked across the garden, seeking among the two hundred folk present. Never had he seen such a gorgeous array of costumes—the velvet capes of the lords; with heraldic blazons on the back; the gowns of the ladies, belted and fringed with black coral beads, or crystallized merling scales, or rectangular tourmalines, with tiaras to match. Glinnes looked from face to face. Lute Casagave—Lord Ambal, as he chose to call himself—would necessarily be on hand. He saw Duissane, in a simple white gown and a wisp of a white turban. Feeling his gaze, she turned and saw him. Glinnes felt an emotion to which he could put no name—the sense of something precious departing, something leaving, to be lost forever. Lord Gensifer stood nearby. He became aware of the new arrivals and frowned in surprise and displeasure.