by Jack Vance
“No doubt you’re right. It staggers me to think of the things Namour knows and keeps to himself.”
Chilke laughed. “Namour is a marvel. But I’m interested in what this Sibil lady looked like, other than that she was big, mean and tattooed.”
“You’ve covered the main points. She had a man’s shoulders, big heavy hips and a big belly, all muscle, but no bust to speak of: just two shrunken bags which she tried to ignore. She had a long jaw, sunken cheeks, a long low nose that might have been broken once upon a time in a fight. Her skin was white as chalk, and her mouth was just a gray mark. Her hair? It was sandy brown and stiff, like a scrub brush. All taken with all, I’d call her middling-ugly, and she smelled bad to boot.”
“That doesn’t sound much like Madame Zigonie, tattoo and big arse regardless. She had a round face with round cheeks and a fine bust, not to mention reddish-black curls.”
“The hair could have been a wig.”
“I don’t think so. I’m satisfied Sibil was someone else. You should try to find out where ladies wear that kind of tattoo.”
“That’s a good idea. We’ll call IPCC Information; we’re affiliates, as I guess you know.”
“That makes you a full-fledged IPCC agent. People take that rank seriously around the Reach.” Chilke came to a halt. “I’ve learned what I wanted, so I’ll get back to work.”
Glawen went on to the Old Arbor. Scharde had not yet arrived. He seated himself at a table to the side, in the dappled shade of the foliage. He ordered a dish of salted fish and a flask of the Diffin Soft Green Elixir, and settled himself to wait.
Time passed. Glawen ordered another flask of wine and, leaning forward, tilted the goblet back and forth, sending films of light swirling through the pale green liquid.
An expanse of russet satin obtruded across his vision. Slowly he raised his eyes, knowing full well what to expect: a black vest embroidered with purple birds in green vines, a thick white neck, a large face from which black eyes glittered like fire opals and, surmounting all, a great tumble of dark curls, constrained by some mysterious means in a quasi-cylindrical shape, although recently Spanchetta had taken to wearing roguish little curls down over each ear.
Spanchetta inspected Glawen with heavy jocosity, only partially masking dislike and disapproval. Glawen stared back like a bird hypnotized by a snake.
Spanchetta asked: “Is this how the Bureau B types toil away the hours? I see that I am attached to the wrong bureau. I too enjoy my rest.”
“You are making a mistake,” said Glawen politely. “I am here by order of my superiors. Despite appearances, I am hard at work.”
Spanchetta gave a curt nod. “Since you have nothing better to do, perhaps you will provide me some information.”
“I will do my best. Do you care to sit?”
Spanchetta settled into a chair across the table. “Explain, if you will, the secrecy which now pervades Bureau B. Everyone knows that something is in the air, but no one troubles to elucidate. Why, then, pray tell me, all this furtive activity?”
Glawen smilingly shook his head. “You put me at a disadvantage. I cannot properly answer you.”
“Certainly you can! Did you not hear my question? Have you lost the use of your tongue?”
“Assume,” said Glawen, “that these secrets existed. Assume that for some reason they had been confided to me. In such a case, I would not be allowed to reveal my knowledge to everyone who casually put a question to me. This is a hypothetical case, of course; still, if you wish to set your mind at ease, why not make your inquiries of Bodwyn Wook?”
Spanchetta made a contemptuous sound. “You are very verbose; uncharacteristically, I must say. It is more than noticeable. How much wine have you consumed, as you sit here working?”
“Not a great deal. May I order a flask for you?”
“Thank you, no. I must shortly return to my own work, and it would not do to stagger into my office singing and dancing, as seems perfectly acceptable at Bureau B.”
In order to change the subject, and for lack of a better topic, Glawen asked: “How goes it with Arles? Have you had news? Or are his activities also classified ‘secret’?”
Before Spanchetta could blurt a response, Scharde approached the table. He seated himself and looked quizzically at Spanchetta. “Are you just coming or just going? Or will you join us in a cup or two of wine?”
Spanchetta hesitated, then with great dignity acquiesced to the invitation. “I have been trying to learn the meaning of the muted whispers and furtive signals which are prevalent every time two or more Bureau B people get together. Glawen has found a clever means to evade questions; he proposes all sorts of hypotheses and conundrums, and while I am puzzling out the answers, he changes the subject. Perhaps you have a wider range of discretion.”
“I hope so. In sheer point of fact, there is much to preoccupy us nowadays, what with events on Stroma and Titus Pompo ever more of a nuisance. We are about to lose patience with him.”
Glawen said blandly: “Just as you came up, Spanchetta was about to report the latest news of Arles.”
“That is not quite accurate,” said Spanchetta with a sniff. “I have had no news.”
“Ah well, Arles is probably engrossed in his own affairs,” said Scharde. He poured a goblet for Spanchetta. “I still wonder that you encouraged him to marry a collateral, and a Laverty at that.”
Spanchetta replied in a plangent voice. “I did not encourage the match. Indeed, I was astounded that Arles should take such a step without consulting me. He suspected, perhaps, that Drusilla, with her ambiguous antecedents, would not have been my first choice.”
“The hay is in the barn now,” said Scharde.
“Precisely so.” Spanchetta drank half the contents of the goblet at a gulp. She set it back down with a thump. “In any event, you are a fine one to cavil, when I recall how you misled and mistreated poor Smonny, and drove her to distraction.”
“It was a tragic case,” said Scharde. “Still, I suspect that she ended up in good shape. She was a woman of great persistence. It’s odd that you never heard from her.”
“Not altogether. Simonetta was a sensitive and truly delightful girl.”
“Something of a hellion, so I recall. Spanny and Smonny: the two of you made quite a pair.”
Spanchetta disdained comment. She drained the goblet and rose to her feet. “Not being employed in Bureau B, I find that I must go to work, none the wiser - naturally enough - for all my questions.”
Spanchetta marched away and departed the Old Arbor. Scharde brought out a notebook. “I have been to the ferry terminal, which made me a few minutes late. But no matter; I noted down a most informative list. These are just names, but we can match them against the spaceport list and the hotel list and discover the home worlds.”
“Something occurred to me while I was at the hotel. A new shipload of tourists arrived this morning. Some of them might be carrying Perfection of Joy vouchers.”
“True,” said Scharde. “I’ll mention the matter to Bodwyn Wook; maybe he’ll want to look into the possibility. For now, let’s compare our lists.”
* * *
Chapter VI, Part 6
Upon leaving the old Arbor Glawen went directly to the Bureau B offices, where he was intercepted by Hilda, the thin and astringent secretary. Hilda distrusted all Clattucs for what she felt to be their “fleering and domineering” habits; she regarded Glawen with particular suspicion, since to the typical Clattuc qualities he added another dimension of crafty and almost sinister politeness which could only be contrived. No question about it! Glawen was a master of intrigue; how else had he progressed so far and so fast in the good opinion of the supervisor? Therefore, to Glawen’s request that he be immediately allowed access to Bodwyn Wook, Hilda stated that Bodwyn Wook did not wish to be disturbed, and had issued orders to this effect - which, in a certain sense, was the case.
After Glawen had cooled his heels for an hour, Bodwyn Wook looked into the
outer office and saw Glawen sitting in a chair. Bodwyn Wook jerked to a halt. “Glawen! why are you sitting so placidly? Have you nothing better to do?”
“I have indeed, sir, but your secretary prefers that I sit here in this chair.”
Bodwyn Wook raked Hilda with a cold stare. “What foolishness is this? Surely you must know that Glawen is to be sent in the moment he shows himself?”
“Your orders were explicit.”
“No matter! Interpret them with a more flexible intelligence henceforth! You have wasted everyone’s time! Come, Glawen.”
Bodwyn Wook led the way into his office and dropped into his great black chair. “What have you learned?”
Glawen placed three sheets of paper on the desk. “My father and I sorted through records at the spaceport, the hotel and the ferry. These are the names which match up with the three excursions.”
Bodwyn Wook studied the lists. “The first party would be this group from Natrice: Sir Mathor Borph and Sir Lonas Medlyn from Halcyon City; also SS. Guntil, SS. Foum, SS. Nobile, SS. Koldach, SS. Rolp and SS. Buler from Lanklands. SS.? These honorifics mystify me. What does ‘SS.’ indicate?”
“I don’t know.”
Bodwyn Wook put the Natrice sheet aside. “The second party: six folk from Tassadero, which I believe to be a planet of Zonk’s Star. Zonk, of course, was Zab Zonk the Pirate, infamous up and down the Wisp. Hmm. I see no reference to Sibil.”
“We think that she might be ‘S. Devella of Pogan’s Point.’”
“These other men derive from Lutwiler Country. What signifies this word in parentheses: ‘Zubenites’?”
“I looked up Tassadero in the reference guide. Fexelburg is the spaceport: a ‘modern, progressive city,’ according to the guide. Lutwiler Country is out on the Eastern Steppe, and is populated by members of the Zubenite sect.”
Bodwyn Wook looked at the third list. “These are the gentlemen from Soum, whom we have in custody. There seem to be no surprises here.” Bodwyn Wook put the lists aside and leaned back in his chair. “We seem to make some small progress. Let me explain my thinking. The excursions depend upon three elements: Titus Pompo, the customers and the organizer, sometimes known as Ogmo Enterprises. He is now the only unknown element in the case, but we cannot let it rest there. He is possibly the worst scoundrel of the lot; also, he may well be someone already known to us. I will not, at this time, hazard any guesses or put forward any names, not even in idle speculation. Suffice to say, he must be tracked down, identified and taken into custody. What do you say to that?”
“Nothing, sir. I agree.”
“Quite so.” Bodwyn Wook raised his eyes to the ceiling. “I will point out that, in order to conduct an investigation, one needs investigators. Your name has been mentioned in such a connection. You would be required to travel off-world, to Natrice, Tassadero and Soum, and on each of these worlds make appropriate inquiries. Does the program interest you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“This person - for lack of a better name I shall call him Ogmo - has certainly left traces. He has dealt with travel agencies and issued a brochure. Money must have been paid to the travel agencies, then transferred to Ogmo. Such transactions must have left further traces: all of which, if properly followed, should lead to Ogmo. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Aside from these general points, I can offer no further guidelines. You and your colleague must use your notable ingenuities and develop your own lines of inquiry. Now, then: do you have questions?”
“Yes, sir, I surely do. You used the word ‘colleague.’ I have already had one bitter experience of working with a colleague, namely Kirdy, and I don’t want to repeat the mistake. All in all, I am sure that I can work to better effect alone.”
Bodwyn Wook frowned and cleared his throat. “I fear that, in this case, we must regretfully give second priority to your personal preferences. For various reasons, all of considerable importance, I think it best that you work with an associate.”
Glawen sought for words, framing and discarding a number of remarks, while Bodwyn Wook watched him with owllike imperturbability. Finally Glawen asked: “And whom do you have in mind as this associate?”
“Working with an associate is not the end of the world,” said Bodwyn Wook bluffly. “Perhaps your previous experience with Kirdy was not fully successful, but we must learn from our mistakes. You will definitely be in charge, and I’m sure that extra eyes, extra hands and the extra force of a keen Wook mind will often prove of value. And - as I indicated - there are other reasons why the arrangement is important.”
“You mean that I must work with Kirdy - again?”
“Responsible work is essential to Kirdy’s recovery. He must bring his mind down from the clouds and focus it on reality.” Bodwyn Wook spoke into his communicator. “Is Kirdy on hand?”
Kirdy entered the office. His eyes fell upon Glawen, and instantly seemed to become round and glassy.
“Here you are, the two of you: back together again!” So called out Bodwyn Wook in fulsome tones. “Since that Yipton dustup Kirdy has been a bit off his feed, but now he’s as right as rain, and ready for action. What he needs is stimulation and good hard work, to exercise the talents which are his Wook birthright. This investigation is exactly the proper prescription and an opportunity which we can’t neglect! Especially since the two of you have worked together before.”
Kirdy smiled: a slow cool twisting of the mouth. “So we have.”
Glawen said anxiously: “For this reason alone, Kirdy might not be comfortable working as my subordinate. It might be better if -”
“Nonsense!” declared Bodwyn Wook. “By this time you two know each other’s foibles and fancies, and you should be able to cooperate in full harmony.”
Kirdy nodded ponderously. “I find this truly a wonderful opportunity.”
“Then it is settled,” said Bodwyn Wook. He spoke into the communicator: “Hilda, if you please!”
Hilda entered the office. Bodwyn Wook said: “Prepare travel credentials for Glawen and Kirdy. I now promote them both to the rank of sergeant; use that designation.”
“Wait!” cried Glawen. “If I am required to deal with off-world police, I would prefer higher credentials, if only for this particular assignment; I suggest the rank of captain, at the very least.”
“The point is well-taken! Hilda, that shall be the way of it!”
Hilda sniffed and cast a sour glance toward Glawen. “What of Kirdy? Is he only to be a sergeant? He might also have to deal with policemen.
Bodwyn Wook made an expansive gesture. “Just so! Both, during this assignment, are to be captains of the Cadwal Police! Probably the youngest captains in the history of Bureau B!”
Hilda said: “Glawen doesn’t even command full Agency status, and the way things look, he never will. Isn’t this something of an extravagance, making him a captain?”
“Not at all,” said Bodwyn Wook. “Neither law nor common sense debars a collateral from whatever rank he is able to earn.”
Again Hilda sniffed. “I’ve heard it said that for three diseases - pride, pomp and Clattuc birth - a strong dose of humility is the best medicine.”
“Aha!” cried Bodwyn Wook. “These trifles of folk wisdom often conceal nuggets of pure truth! . . . What is that you are saying, Glawen?”
“I cited another nugget of folk wisdom. It’s just as well that it went unheard.”
Kirdy spoke in a flat voice: “He said: ‘A cow that has never been bred yields very sour milk, if any.’”
Bodwyn Wook rubbed his chin. “Quaint, yes; relevant, no. Hilda, you are going?”
“I have work to do.”
“Call the travel office and discover the next departure for Soumjiana on Soum.”
“I can tell you at this moment,” said Glawen. The Sagittarian Ray departs at noon tomorrow.”
“Very good. Captain Clattuc and Captain Wook, go at once to the travel bureau and procure passage v
ouchers, then pack for the voyage. I urge that you make do with one small valise apiece. Tomorrow morning come here for your credentials, money and final advisements.”
Glawen and Kirdy departed the office. In silence they descended the stairs. on the ground floor Glawen said: “Let us sit a moment in the rotunda.”
“Why?”
“I have something to say to you.”
Kirdy turned aside and followed Glawen to a bench near the central fountain. Glawen seated himself and indicated that Kirdy should also be seated.
Kirdy stiffly refused. “I will stand. What do you want of me?”
Glawen spoke in a neutral voice. “We must resolve the issues that lie between us, here and now. They can wait no longer.”
Kirdy laughed: a husky grating sound. “I am in no hurry. I can wait - until the proper time.”
“The proper time is now.”
“Really?” Kirdy chuckled. “Is it for you to call the tune to which I must dance?”
“It is for me to ensure that this mission goes smoothly. Under present conditions, it is not possible.”
“That is a fair statement. What, then, must we settle?”
“Your antagonism. It is not justified.”
Kirdy frowned in puzzlement. “You are not talking sensibly. After all, it is my antagonism, not yours. How can you know on what basis it is founded?”
“Your sufferings at Yipton were severe. I did not share them, and for this reason you are resentful. Am I correct?”
“In some degree.”
“Your own blunders and bad judgment brought on your troubles. It is not rational to blame me. It is the work of your subconscious mind, which does not want to admit a fault. You must bring yourself under control.”
Kirdy laughed once more. “Spare me your platitudes. I will use the mental processes I find most convenient.”
Glawen studied Kirdy’s face. The large blunt features, once so easy, pink and mild, now seemed to be formed from rigid cartilage. Glawen asked uneasily: “Why not use your ordinary old conscious mind? That seems a good plan to me.”
