by Jack Vance
“Ah well,” said Jardine. “Nine sols won’t break us. Let’s ignore the whole matter and have our supper.”
Syrene had dropped below the horizon, leaving a few long clouds glowing scarlet close above the ocean. Barefoot bare-chested boys brought tall lamps to the tables and the Bold Lion dined to lamplight as dusk fell over Yipton.
The courses were nicely presented, though lacking in zest, in the patterns of cosmopolitan cuisine, where the basic intent was not so much to please the discriminating palate as to offend no one. Portions were carefully metered and something short of lavish. The Bold Lions were not particularly pleased with the repast, but could find nothing definite to grumble about. They were served, first, a pale ambiguous broth, then molluscs fried in a light batter, with a salad of greens, salpiceta nubbins, and sea lettuce; then dishes of steamed eel on a bed of pilau, and finally a dessert of coconut meringue in clotted coconut cream, with tea and plum wine.
Cloyd sat back in his chair. “I have just consumed the rations an Ancient Gladiator.”
“That may be true for me as well,” said Jardine. “And I am not ready to fight Fader and his footpads.”
Uther looked around the panorama. “Let us be fair. Once we ignore the Chife, the place is fascinating, weird, charming in spots, odd everywhere else, distinctive in every way; we have traveled five thousand light-years from Araminta - but I think I’ve had enough. I’m going home tomorrow, and the chances are very good I’ll never be back!”
“What!” cried Kiper. “Do I hear correctly? When we haven’t even visited Pussycat Palace yet!”
Uther spoke somewhat primly: “I am sure that a single occasion will suffice.”
“Poof!” said Kiper loftily. “You can’t hope to be a true connoisseur of pit-a-pat by dashing in and dashing out like a frightened bird! Take Cloyd or Arles, for example. Do they take shortcuts or scamp the job? Never! ‘Only too much is enough! That’s the slogan they march under.”
“They can march as they like, and take Tours 100 through 200 inclusive, and live in the basement of Pussycat Palace, where the girls wash their stockings. It’s far too rich for my blood.”
Shugart as usual was judicious. “I’m half inclined to agree – but only half. Let’s wait and see how we feel in the morning.”
“In full candor,” said Arles, “I’m also about half ready to leave. Even a bit more: say about two-thirds ready. The Chife is not at all to my taste.”
Cloyd shook his head in wonder. “It sounds as if the festivities might be breaking up early. Dauncy, what of you?”
“I’m with Shugart. Let’s see how we feel in the morning. But I suspect that anything more than today might be anticlimax.”
“Kirdy, what’s your feeling on this?”
Kirdy turned a dubious glance toward Glawen. “I suppose we could profitably stay on a day or so, just relaxing out here on the terrace.”
Jardine said: “Let’s drop the matter for now. We all may have new ideas in the morning.”
“Good enough!” declared Kiper. “Tonight it’s the grand foray on Pussycat Palace.”
Kirdy put down his teacup and straightened in his chair. “Pussycat Palace - not for me. It’s just too much for one day. I’m giving it a miss.”
Shugart surveyed him in wonder. “I have known a hundred marvels at Yipton, but this is the greatest sensation of all!”
“Enjoy it for free,” said Kirdy with a humorless grin.
“But why? Answer me that!”
“There’s no mystery. I’m just not in the mood.”
Kiper spoke aggrievedly: “I thought that was why we were making the trip!”
“Perhaps tomorrow.”
“But we might be leaving tomorrow!”
“Tomorrow morning, then. Tonight I want to rest and gather my wits.”
Arles said thoughtfully: “I know exactly how you feel. I’m staying behind too.”
Shugart jerked back thunderstruck. “I can’t believe that I’m hearing correctly! Listen to these prodigies of nature! Can they be the same slavering rip-roaring tried-and-true Bold Lions of yore?”
Arles laughed weakly. “I’m just a bit off my feed. Don’t let that deter you others.”
Shugart threw his arms in the air. “As you like. I will say no more.”
Jardine said: “I’ve picked up some information around the lobby. It seems that they’ll try to charge ten sols but will take five.
Ignore all extras; they are frosting on the cake, so to speak, and quite redundant. Gratuities also are unnecessary; the entire take goes directly to Titus Pompo, who doesn’t so much as lift a finger to earn it.”
The group removed to the lobby. Kirdy took Glawen aside. “It looks as if the excursion is breaking up early.”
Glawen assented. “So it does.”
“If the group goes, it takes our cover with it.” Kirdy spoke in a terse staccato voice, as if he suspected Glawen of insubordinate tendencies. “We’re left out in the open: two obvious Bureau B types. All of which means that we’ve got to accelerate our program and do what we can tonight.”
“I suppose that’s the way of it.”
Kirdy looked off across the lobby. “Frankly, as of now, I don’t see that there’s much we can accomplish in safety.”
Glawen glanced skeptically sidewise. What was Kirdy trying to tell him, without enunciating the specific words? Glawen said deliberately: “That’s what we’ll have to decide after reconnaissance.”
Kirdy cleared his throat. “We can’t go too far too fast, and safety must be the first consideration. Do you agree?”
“More or less. But -”
“Never mind the buts. This is my plan. While the rest of you are at Pussycat Palace, I’ll cast about in an unobtrusive manner and discover what’s within range of the possible. Then, when you get back, if anything seems feasible, we’ll get on with the job.”
Glawen sat silent.
“Well?” demanded Kirdy.
“I still don’t want to go to Pussycat Palace.”
“Go anyway!” snapped Kirdy. “No one must suspect that we’re associated except as Bold Lions. We probably shouldn’t be talking now. You’d better go join the others.”
Kirdy arose and went off to examine the grotesques. Glawen sighed and joined the Bold Lions.
A few minutes later Fader appeared. “Is everyone on hand?”
Shugart said: “Two of the group aren’t up to it. There’ll be just seven.”
“I still must charge nine sols, since that was the quoted price, and I turned down another job in order to keep faith with you.”
“Seven persons: seven sols, gratuity included. That is all you will get from us,” said Shugart. Take it or leave it.
Fader shook his bronze curls in pain. “You Araminta workers are both hard and crooked; I pity the poor girls at the Palace if your erections are of similar quality. Very well, I yield to your avarice. Give me the seven sols.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” laughed Shugart. “You shall be paid upon our return. Are you ready?”
“Yes; let’s be on our way.”
“The Bold Lions are on the prowl!” Kiper called out. “Girls, beware!”
“Kiper, if you please!” said Jardine. “We do not need to advertise our indiscretions. This is by tradition a furtive activity.”
“Exactly so,” said Uther. “If you insist on calling out slogans, at least identify us as the Theosophical Society, or the Temperance Union.”
Arles suddenly bestirred himself. “I’m not altogether well, but I think I’ll go along just for the company.”
Fader said: “You must pay the requisite fee of one sol.”
“Yes, by all means! Let’s go.”
“Follow me, then! Do not stray!”
Fader led the group along the passages of Yipton and finally brought them to an arched-portico faced with lavender tiles. A sign indited in blue symbols read:
PALACE OF HAPPY PLAY
Fader ushered the Bold Lions through the a
rch and into a reception room furnished with cushioned benches.
“I will wait for you here,” said Fader. “The routine is simple. Buy a ticket for ten sols at yonder wicket. This ticket includes amusing extras, for what is called an around-the-world voyage.”
“No extras are needed!” said Uther. “We opt for the five-sol ticket.”
“That buys what is known as a coastwise trip,” said Fader. “In addition, for those who are so inclined, there is a selection of exhibitions, pantomimes, farces and pastiches, priced at various rates. The ticket agent will supply full information.”
“That sounds interesting!” declared Arles. “Just what I need for a spruce-up, and perhaps I’ll feel my old self in the morning.”
The Bold Lions filed past the wicket, bought their tickets, then stepped through a curtain of beaded glass strings into a long hall.
At intervals doorways opened off the hall; girls stood in the doorways watching the passing traffic. All were young and well-formed; all wore simple knee-length white frocks.
Glawen chose one of the girls, and went into her chamber. She closed the door, took the ticket, and slipped out of her garment.
Then she stood silent, waiting while Glawen awkwardly removed his tunic. Glawen paused, looked into the girl’s face, then turned away. He winced, sighed, then donned his tunic once again.
In a worried voice the girl asked: “What is wrong? Have I done something to offend you?”
“Not at all,” said Glawen. “It seems that I’m not in the mood for this sort of pit-a-pat.”
The girl shrugged and pulled the frock back over her head. She said: “I serve tea and cakes as an extra. The charge is one sol.”
“Very well,” said Glawen. “If you will share them with me.”
Without comment the girl brought a pot of tea and a platter of small pastries. She poured a single cup. Glawen said: “Please, pour for yourself as well.”
“As you like.” She poured another cup of tea and sat watching Glawen without interest, a situation which at last prompted Glawen to ask: “What is your name?”
“Sujulor Yerlsvan Alasia. It is a North Wind name.”
“My name is Glawen, from the House of Clattuc.”
“That is an odd name.”
“It seems ordinary enough to me. Are you interested in where I come from? Or anything about me?”
“Not really. I must take events as they come.”
“So I am an ‘event.’“
“Yes, that is so.”
“Do all the girls at Yipton come to work here? Or just the prettiest?”
“Almost all work here for a time.”
“Do you like the work?”
“It is easy. I don’t like some of the men and I am pleased to be done with them.”
“Do you have a lover?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Some young man who loves you and whom you love.”
“No; nothing like that. What an odd idea!”
“Would you like to travel, and visit other worlds?”
“I have not thought too much about it. I wonder why everyone asks me that question.”
“I’m sorry if I’m boring you,” said Glawen.
The girl ignored him. “It is time that you should go, or pay a surcharge. You may leave your gratuity on the table.”
“I think not, since it all goes to the Oomphaw.”
“As you please.”
Glawen returned to the sitting room. Presently, all the Bold Lions were on hand, Kiper arriving last, and it developed that Kiper had been the only Bold Lion to undertake an “around-the-world voyage.”
Fader inquired if anyone cared to commission a special pageant; receiving a negative response from Shugart, he conducted the group back to the hotel. “Will you be requiring my services tomorrow?” he asked.
“Most probably not,” said Shugart. “Beyond doubt you have made today memorable, and I, for one, will never forget you.”
“That is good to hear,” said Fader. “Your praise has sweetened an otherwise trying day for me.” He bowed and departed.
Shugart turned to the other Bold Lions. “Well, what now? The night is still young!”
“I think I will settle myself to another of those excellent rum punches,” said Kiper.
Cloyd declared: “For once in his life, Kiper has had a rational thought. As we drink he can describe to us the scenery encountered on his around-the-world voyage.”
Glawen, meanwhile, found Kirdy sitting in a quiet corner of the lobby, turning the pages of an old magazine. Glawen slid into a seat beside him.
Kirdy tossed the magazine aside. “How did it go at Pussycat Palace?”
“About what I expected.”
“You don’t seem all that enthusiastic.”
“It’s not an enthusiastic environment. The girls are polite enough - ‘dutiful’ is probably a better word - but still, in the end I just drank tea.”
“Most fastidious of you.”
Not for the first time it occurred to Glawen that Kirdy did not like him very much. “It wasn’t that at all.”
“The girl smelled bad?”
Glawen shook his head. “This may sound peculiar, but do you remember the old man who gave me the fish?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I went with the girl into her room. She took off her clothes and stood waiting. Her expression was like that of the old man. I could not bring myself to touch her.”
“That’s a bit fanciful, isn’t it?”
“I had a nice cup of tea, and she told me her name, which I’ve forgotten, and the time went easily enough.”
“Expensive tea,” grunted Kirdy. He turned away and picked up his magazine.
Glawen asked: “How did things go with you.”
Kirdy composed his face. “Not bad. But, well, not really good. Our plans, if any, need careful thought.”
“What happened?”
“I went out to reconnoiter. The section we are interested in lies just around the harbor from the hotel. I went down to the dock and strolled along the harbor road to the breakwater, like any other innocent tourist exploring the precincts of Yipton.”
“Once past the hotel a wall of bamboo poles skirts the road, about fifty yards long. A single door opens into this wall. It seemed to be securely locked; still, to make sure, I tried to open it. The door was definitely locked and I continued along the road to the end of the wall, at the eastern seafront. By craning my neck around the wall I could see a dock. I turned around to find an Oomp standing about five feet away: a large fellow in a white cap. He asked me: ‘What are you looking for?’
“I said: ‘Nothing in particular. Just looking.’
“He gave me a rather peculiar smile, then said: ‘You tried that door down the wall. Why?’
“I said: ‘Casual curiosity, I suppose. I wondered what might be on the other side. Someone told me that this was where glass was melted and blown.’
“He said: ‘That is not so. It is all warehouse area. Do you still want to look inside?’
“I tried to act ingenuous and full of childlike innocence. I said ‘If you think there’s anything to interest me - why not?’
“He put on a rather sinister leer, and asked: ‘What are you interested in?’
“‘I’m an anthropologist by trade,’ I told him. ‘I’m fascinated by Yip ingenuity in creating a habitat in the empty ocean! Yip glassblowing and ceramics are especially interesting.’
“‘There’s nothing around here like that,’ he told me. The tourist attractions are elsewhere.’ So I came back to the hotel.”
“Did he ask for your name?”
“The subject never came up.”
Glawen ruminated a moment. “It’s odd that he failed to ask your name.”
“I suppose it is a bit unusual, but it doesn’t concern us now. I can find no safe access to that section; we have no choice but to back away.”
“You’ve totally ruled out the roof?�
��
“Of course! The roof is made of fronds. A person need only put his foot down to fall through.”
“Not if he keeps to the rafters and the ridge beams. I can see the roof from the window of my room, but there’s a canal just below. What about your room?”
“It is no better. There’s a drop of fifteen feet to the roof. The only way down would be by ladder, which we don’t have.”
“Or a rope.”
“We have no rope either.”
“I know. Maybe we can improvise.”
The muscles of Kirdy’s face contorted. “I’m not going out on that roof! It gives me vertigo just to think of it!”
“Let’s go look over the situation,” said Glawen. “If it seems feasible, I’ll give it a try. That’s what we’ve come to do, and here’s the one opportunity.”
“Very well,” said Kirdy grudgingly. “So long as it’s understood that I’m not going out on that roof.”
The other Bold Lions sat at a table to the side of the terrace, drinking rum punches to the light of Lorca, Sing and an array of flickering lamps. Their voices rose and fell across the night, as they allowed the other tourists to notice what fine fellows they were.
Kirdy and Glawen went quietly upstairs to the fourth floor. Glawen asked: “Do you know which is Arles’ room?”
“He’s second down the hall. Why?”
“Let’s look out your window.”
Kirdy’s room was dark except for the glimmer from a small hooded night-light. Crossing to the window, the two looked out over the roof: a clutter of hips, jogs, gables and ridges, black and pink in the eerie light of Lorca and Sing.
Kirdy pointed. “That would be the proper area: just about there. But, as you can see, it’s quite inaccessible, and this is how we must describe it to Bodwyn Wook, without inconsistency in our reports.”
“But I don’t agree with you. I think we should give it a try.”
“How will you get down to the roof? It’s fifteen feet or better.”
