by Jack Vance
Hein Huss grunted. “Forward then. Why do you dally? We must do battle at Ballant Keep today.”
Two hundred yards further, Sam Salazar stopped short. “Go on, boy, go on!” grumbled Hein Huss.
“The savages threaten us. You can see them just inside the planting. They hold tubes which they point toward us.”
Hein Huss peered, then raised his head and called out in the sibilant language of the First Folk.
A moment or two passed, then one of the creatures came forth, a naked humanoid figure, ugly as a demon-mask. Foam-sacs bulged under its arms, orange-lipped foam-vents pointed forward. Its back was wrinkled and loose, the skin serving as a bellows to blow air through the foam-sacs. The fingers of the enormous hands ended in chisel-shaped blades, the head was sheathed in chitin. Billion-faceted eyes swelled from either side of the head, glowing like black opals, merging without definite limit into the chitin. This was a representative of the original inhabitants of the planet, who until the coming of man had inhabited the downs, burrowing in the moss, protecting themselves behind masses of foam exuded from the underarm sacs.
The creature wandered close, halted. “I speak for Lord Faide of Faide Keep,” said Huss. “Your planting bars his way. He wishes that you guide him through, so that his men do not damage the trees, or spring the traps you have set against your enemies.”
“Men are our enemies,” responded the autochthon. “You may spring as many traps as you care to; that is their purpose.” It backed away.
“One moment,” said Hein Huss sternly. “Lord Faide must pass. He goes to battle Lord Ballant. He does not wish to battle the First Folk. Therefore it is wise to guide him across the planting without hindrance.”
The creature considered a second or two. “I will guide him.” He stalked across the moss toward the war party.
Behind followed Hein Huss and Sam Salazar. The autochthon, legs articulated more flexibly than a man’s, seemed to weave and wander, occasionally pausing to study the ground ahead.
“I am puzzled,” Sam Salazar told Hein Huss. “I cannot understand the creature’s actions.”
“Small wonder,” grunted Hein Huss. “He is one of the First Folk, you are human. There is no basis for understanding.”
“I disagree,” said Sam Salazar seriously.
“Eh?” Hein Huss inspected the apprentice with vast disapproval. “You engage in contention with me, Head Jinxman Hein Huss?”
“Only in a limited sense,” said Sam Salazar. “I see a basis for understanding with the First Folk in our common ambition to survive.”
“A truism,” grumbled Hein Huss. “Granting this community of interests with the First Folk, what is your perplexity?”
“The fact that it first refused, then agreed to conduct us across the planting.”
Hein Huss nodded. “Evidently the information which intervened, that we go to fight at Ballant Keep, occasioned the change.”
“This is clear,” said Sam Salazar. “But think—”
“You exhort me to think?” roared Hein Huss.
“—here is one of the First Folk, apparently without distinction, who makes an important decision instantly. Is he one of their leaders? Do they live in anarchy?”
“It is easy to put questions,” Hein Huss said gruffly. “It is not as easy to answer them.”
“In short—”
“In short, I do not know. In any event, they are pleased to see us killing one another.”
Chapter III
The passage through the planting was made without incident. A mile to the east the autochthon stepped aside and without formality returned to the forest. The war party, which had been marching in single file, regrouped into its usual formation. Lord Faide called Hein Huss and made the unusual gesture of inviting him up into the seat beside him. The ancient car dipped and sagged; the power-mechanism whined and chattered. Lord Faide, in high good spirits, ignored the noise. “I feared that we might be forced into a time-consuming wrangle. What of Lord Ballant? Can you read his thoughts?”
Hein Huss cast his mind forth. “Not clearly. He knows of our passage. He is disturbed.”
Lord Faide laughed sardonically. “For excellent reason! Listen now, I will explain the plan of battle so that all may coordinate their efforts.”
“Very well.”
“We approach in a wide line. Ballant’s great weapon is of course Volcano. A decoy must wear my armor and ride in the lead. The yellow-haired apprentice is perhaps the most expendable member of the party. In this way we will learn the potentialities of Volcano. Like our own Hellmouth, it was built to repel vessels from space and cannot command the ground immediately under the keep. Therefore we will advance in dispersed formation, to regroup two hundred yards from the keep. At this point the jinxmen will impel Lord Ballant forth from the keep. You no doubt have made plans to this end.”
Hein Huss gruffly admitted that such was the case. Like other jinxmen, he enjoyed the pose that his power sufficed for extemporaneous control of any situation.
Lord Faide was in no mood for niceties and pressed for further information. Grudging each word, Hein Huss disclosed his arrangements. “I have prepared certain influences to discomfit the Ballant defenders and drive them forth. Jinxman Enterlin will sit at his cabinet, ready to retaliate if Lord Ballant orders a spell against you. Anderson Grimes undoubtedly will cast a demon—probably Everid—into the Ballant warriors; in return, Jinxman Comandore will possess an equal or a greater number of Faide warriors with the demon Keyril, who is even more ghastly and horrifying.”
“Good. What more?”
“There is need for no more, if your men fight well.”
“Can you see the future? How does today end?”
“There are many futures. Certain jinxmen—Enterlin for instance—profess to see the thread which leads through the maze; they are seldom correct.”
“Call Enterlin here.”
Hein Huss rumbled his disapproval. “Unwise, if you desire victory over Ballant Keep.”
Lord Faide inspected the massive jinxman from under his black saturnine brows. “Why do you say this?”
“If Enterlin foretells defeat, you will be dispirited and fight poorly. If he predicts victory, you become overconfident and likewise fight poorly.”
Lord Faide made a petulant gesture. “The jinxmen are loud in their boasts until the test is made. Then they always find reasons to retract, to qualify.”
“Ha, ha!” barked Hein Huss. “You expect miracles, not honest jinxmanship. I spit—” He spat. “I predict that the spittle will strike the moss. The probabilities are high. But an insect might fly in the way. One of the First Folk might raise through the moss. The chances are slight. In the next instant there is only one future. A minute hence there are four futures. Five minutes hence, twenty futures. A billion futures could not express all the possibilities of tomorrow. Of these billion, certain are more probable than others. It is true that these probable futures sometimes send a delicate influence into the jinxman’s brain. But unless he is completely impersonal and disinterested, his own desires overwhelm this influence. Enterlin is a strange man. He hides himself, he has no appetites. Occasionally his auguries are exact. Nevertheless, I advise against consulting him. You do better to rely on the practical and real uses of jinxmanship.”
Lord Faide said nothing. The column had been marching along the bottom of a low swale; the car had been sliding easily downslope. Now they came to a rise, and the power-mechanism complained so vigorously that Lord Faide was compelled to stop the car. He considered. “Once over the crest we will be in view of Ballant Keep. Now we must disperse. Send the least valuable man in your troupe forward—the apprentice who tested out the moss. He must wear my helmet and corselet and ride in the car.”
Hein Huss alighted, returned to the wagons, and presently Sam Salazar came forward. Lord Faide eyed the round, florid face with distaste. “Come close,” he said crisply. Sam Salazar obeyed. “You will now ride in my place,” said Lord Fa
ide. “Notice carefully. This rod impels a forward motion. This arm steers—to right, to left. To stop, return the rod to its first position.”
Sam Salazar pointed to some of the other arms, toggles, switches and buttons. “What of these?”
“They are never used.”
“And these dials, what is their meaning?”
Lord Faide curled his lip, on the brink of one of his quick furies. “Since their use is unimportant to me, it is twenty times unimportant to you. Now. Put this cap on your head, and this helmet. See to it that you do not sweat.”
Sam Salazar gingerly settled the magnificent black and green crest of Faide on his head, with a cloth cap underneath.
“Now this corselet.”
The corselet was constructed of green and black metal sequins, with a pair of scarlet dragon-heads at either side of the breast.
“Now the cloak.” Lord Faide flung the black cloak over Sam Salazar’s shoulders. “Do not venture too close to Ballant Keep. Your purpose is to attract the fire of Volcano. Maintain a lateral motion around the keep, outside of dart range. If you are killed by a dart, the whole purpose of the deception is thwarted.”
“You prefer me to be killed by Volcano?” inquired Sam Salazar.
“No. I wish to preserve the car and the crest. These are relics of great value. Evade destruction by all means possible. The ruse probably will deceive no one; but if it does, and if it draws the fire of Volcano, I must sacrifice the Faide car. Now—sit in my place.”
Sam Salazar climbed into the car, settled himself on the seat.
“Sit straight,” roared Lord Faide. “Hold your head up! You are simulating Lord Faide! You must not appear to slink!”
Sam Salazar heaved himself erect in the seat. “To simulate Lord Faide most effectively, I should walk among the warriors, with someone else riding in the car.”
Lord Faide glared, then grinned sourly. “No matter. Do as I have commanded.”
Chapter IV
Sixteen hundred years before, with war raging through space, a group of space captains, their home-bases destroyed, had taken refuge on Pangborn. To protect themselves against vengeful enemies, they built great forts armed with weapons from the dismantled spaceships.
The wars receded, Pangborn was forgotten. The newcomers drove the First Folk into the forests, planted and harvested the river valleys. Ballant Keep, like Faide Keep, Castle Cloud, Boghoten and the rest, overlooked one of these valleys. Four squat towers of a dense black substance supported an enormous parasol roof, and were joined by walls two-thirds as high as the towers. At the peak of the roof a cupola housed Volcano, the weapon corresponding to Faide’s Hellmouth.
The Faide war party advancing over the rise found the great gates already secure, the parapets between the towers thronged with bowmen. According to Lord Faide’s strategy, the war party advanced on a broad front. At the center rode Sam Salazar, resplendent in Lord Faide’s armor. He made, however, small effort to simulate Lord Faide. Rather than sitting proudly erect, he crouched at the side of the seat, the crest canted at an angle. Lord Faide watched with disgust. Apprentice Salazar’s reluctance to be demolished was understandable; if his impersonation failed to convince Lord Ballant, at least the Faide ancestral car might be spared. For a certainty Volcano was being manned; the Ballant gun-tender could be seen in the cupola, and the snout protruded at a menacing angle.
Apparently the tactic of dispersal, offering no single tempting target, was effective. The Faide war party advanced quickly to a point two hundred yards from the keep, below Volcano’s effective field, without drawing fire; first the knights, then the foot soldiers, then the rumbling wagons of the magicians. The slow-moving Faide car was far outdistanced; any doubt as to the nature of the ruse must now be extinguished.
Apprentice Salazar, disliking the isolation, and hoping to increase the speed of the car, twisted one of the other switches, then another. From under the floor came a thin screeching sound; the car quivered and began to rise. Sam Salazar peered over the side, threw out a leg to jump. Lord Faide ran forward, gesturing and shouting. Sam Salazar hastily drew back his leg, returned the switches to their previous condition. The car dropped like a rock. He snapped the switches up again, cushioning the fall.
“Get out of that car!” roared Lord Faide. He snatched away the helmet, dealt Sam Salazar a buffet which toppled him head over heels. “Out of the armor; back to your duties!”
Sam Salazar hurried to the jinxmen’s wagons where he helped erect Isak Comandore’s black tent. Inside the tent a black carpet with red and yellow patterns was laid; Comandore’s cabinet, his chair and his chest were carried in, and incense set burning in a censer. Directly in front of the main gate Hein Huss superintended the assembly of a rolling stage, forty feet tall and sixty feet long, the surface concealed from Ballant Keep by a tarpaulin.
Meanwhile, Lord Faide had dispatched an emissary, enjoining Lord Ballant to surrender. Lord Ballant delayed his response, hoping to delay the attack as long as possible. If he could maintain himself a day and a half, reinforcements from Gisborne Keep and Castle Cloud might force Lord Faide to retreat.
Lord Faide waited only until the jinxmen had completed their preparations, then sent another messenger, offering two more minutes in which to surrender.
One minute passed, two minutes. The envoys turned on their heels, marched back to the camp.
Lord Faide spoke to Hein Huss. “You are prepared?”
“I am prepared,” rumbled Hein Huss.
“Drive them forth.”
Huss raised his arm; the tarpaulin dropped from the face of his great display, to reveal a painted representation of Ballant Keep.
Huss retired to his tent, pulled the flaps together. Braziers burnt fiercely, illuminating the faces of Adam McAdam, eight cabalmen and six of the most advanced spellbinders. Each worked at a bench supporting several dozen dolls and a small glowing brazier. The cabalmen and spellbinders worked with dolls representing Ballant men-at-arms; Huss and Adam McAdam employed simulacra of the Ballant knights. Lord Ballant would not be hoodooed unless he ordered a jinx against Lord Faide—a courtesy the keep-lords extended each other.
Huss called out: “Sebastian!”
Sebastian, one of Huss’ spellbinders, waiting at the flap to the tent, replied, “Ready, sir.”
“Begin the display.”
Sebastian ran to the stage, struck fire to a fuse. Watchers inside Ballant Keep saw the depicted keep take fire. Flame erupted from the windows, the roof glowed and crumbled. Inside the tent the two jinxmen, the cabalmen and the spellbinders methodically took dolls, dipped them into the heat of the braziers, concentrating, reaching out for the mind of the man whose doll they burnt. Within the keep men became uneasy. Many began to imagine burning sensations, which became more severe as their minds grew more sensitive to the idea of fire. Lord Ballant noted the uneasiness. He signaled to his chief jinxman Anderson Grimes. “Begin the counterspell.”
Down the front of the keep unrolled a display even larger than Hein Huss’, depicting a hideous beast. It stood on four legs and was shown picking up two men in a pair of hands, biting off their heads. Grimes’ cabalmen meanwhile took up dolls representing the Faide warriors, inserted them into models of the depicted beast, closed the hinged jaws, all the while projecting ideas of fear and disgust. And the Faide warriors, staring at the depicted monster, felt a sense of horror and weakness.
Inside Huss’ tent the braziers reeked and dolls smoked. Eyes stared, brows glistened. From time to time one of the workers gasped—signaling the entry of his projection into an enemy mind. Within the keep warriors began to mutter, to slap at burning skin, to eye each other fearfully, noting each other’s symptoms. Finally one cried out, and tore at his armor. “I burn! The cursed witches burn me!” His pain aggravated the discomfort of the others; there was a growing sound throughout the keep.
Lord Ballant’s oldest son, his mind penetrated by Hein Huss himself, struck his shield with his mailed fist. “T
hey burn me! They burn us all! Better to fight than burn!”
“Fight! Fight!” came the voices of the tormented men.
Lord Ballant looked around at the twisted faces, some displaying blisters, scaldmarks. “Our own spell terrifies them; wait yet a moment!” he pleaded.
His brother called hoarsely, “It is not your belly that Hein Huss toasts in the flames, it is mine! We cannot win a battle of hoodoos; we must win a battle of arms!”
Lord Ballant cried desperately, “Wait, our own effects are working! They will flee in terror; wait, wait!”
His cousin tore off his corselet. “It’s Hein Huss! I feel him! My leg’s in the fire, the devil laughs at me. Next my head, he says. Fight, or I go forth to fight alone!”
“Very well,” said Lord Ballant in a fateful voice. “We go forth to fight. First—the beast goes forth. Then we follow and smite them in their terror.”
The gates to the keep swung suddenly wide. Out sprang what appeared to be the depicted monster: legs moving, arms waving, eyes rolling, issuing evil sounds. Normally the Faide warriors would have seen the monster for what it was: a model carried on the backs of three horses. But their minds had been influenced; they had been infected with horror; they drew back with arms hanging flaccid. From behind the monster the Ballant knights galloped, followed by the Ballant foot soldiers. The charge gathered momentum, tore into the Faide center. Lord Faide bellowed orders; discipline asserted itself. The Faide knights disengaged, divided into three platoons, engulfed the Ballant charge, while the foot soldiers poured darts into the advancing ranks.
There was the clatter and surge of battle; Lord Ballant, seeing that his sally had failed to overwhelm the Faide forces, and thinking to conserve his own forces, ordered a retreat. In good order the Ballant warriors began to back up toward the keep. The Faide knights held close contact, hoping to win to the courtyard. Close behind came a heavily loaded wagon pushed by armored horses, to be wedged against the gate.
