Rhialto the Marvellous

by Jack Vance

  Rising to his feet, Ildefonse held up his hand. “Halloa, Zanzel! It is I, Ildefonse! Where do you go in such haste? Who is that curious creature coursing so fleetly behind?”

  Zanzel brought the vehicle to a halt. “Ildefonse, and dear Rhialto: how good to see you both! I had quite forgotten that this old road passes by Falu, and I discover it now to my pleasure.”

  “It is our joint good fortune!” declared Ildefonse. “And your captive?”

  Zanzel glanced over his shoulder. “We have here an insidiator: that is my reasoned opinion. I am taking him to be executed where his ghost will bring me no bad luck. What of yonder meadow? It is safely clear of my domain.”

  “And hard on my own,” growled Rhialto. “You must find a spot convenient to us both.”

  “What of me?” cried the captive. “Have I nothing to say in the matter?”

  “Well then, convenient to the three of us.”

  “Just a moment, before you prosecute your duties,” said Ildefonse. “Tell me more of this creature.”

  “There is little to tell. I discovered him by chance when he opened an egg from the wrong end. If you notice, he has six toes, a crested scalp and tufts of feathers growing from his shoulders, all of which puts his origin in the 18th or even the late 17th Aeon. His name, so he avers, is Lehuster.”

  “Interesting!” declared Ildefonse. “He is, in a sense, a living fossil. Lehuster, are you aware of your distinction?”

  Zanzel permitted Lehuster no response. “Good day to you both! Rhialto, you appear somewhat peaked! You must dose yourself with a good posset and rest: that is my prescription.”

  “Thank you,” said Rhialto. “Come past again when your leisure allows and meanwhile remember that my domain extends to yonder ridge. You must execute Lehuster well beyond this point.”

  “One moment!” cried Lehuster. “Are there no reasonable minds in the 21st Aeon? Have you no interest why I have come forward to these dismal times? I hereby offer to trade my life for important information!”

  “Indeed!” said Ildefonse. “What sort of information?”

  “I will make my revelations only at a conclave of high magicians, where pledges are a matter of public record and must be honoured.”

  The short-tempered Zanzel jerked around in his seat. “What! Do you now blacken my reputation as well?”

  Ildefonse held up his hand. “Zanzel, I implore your patience! Who knows what this six-fingered rascal has to tell us? Lehuster, what is the thrust of your news?”

  “The Murthe is at large among you, with squalms and ensqualmations. I will say no more until my safety is assured.”

  “Bah!” snorted Zanzel. “You cannot fuddle us with such fol-de-rol. Gentlemen, I bid you good-day; I must be off about my business.”

  Ildefonse demurred. “This is an extraordinary case! Zanzel, you are well-meaning but unaware of certain facts. As Preceptor, I now must order you to bring Lehuster alive and well to an immediate conclave at Boumergarth, where we will explore all phases of this matter. Rhialto, I trust that you are well enough to be on hand?”

  “Absolutely and by all means! The topic is of importance.”

  “Very well then: all to Boumergarth, in haste!”

  Lehuster ventured an objection. “Must I run all the way? I will arrive too fatigued to testify.”

  Ildefonse said: “To regularize matters, I will assume custody of Lehuster. Zanzel, be good enough to loosen the chain.”

  “Folly and nonsense!” grumbled Zanzel. “This scoundrel should be executed before he confuses all of us!”

  Rhialto, somewhat surprised by Zanzel’s vehemence, spoke with decision: “Ildefonse is correct! We must learn what we can.”

  2

  The conclave at Boumergarth, assembled to hear the revelations of Lehuster, attracted only fifteen of the association’s membership, which at this time numbered approximately twenty-five. On hand today were Ildefonse, Rhialto, Zanzel, the diabolist Shrue, Hurtiancz, Byzant the Necrope, Teutch who directed the intricacies of a private infinity, Mune the Mage, the cool and clever Perdustin, Tchamast who claimed to know the source of all IOUN stones, Barbanikos, Haze of Wheary Water, Ao of the Opals, Panderleou, whose collection of ultra-world artifacts was envied by all, and Gilgad.

  Without ceremony Ildefonse called the conclave to order. “I am disappointed that our full roster has not appeared, since we must consider a matter of extraordinary importance.

  “Let me first describe the recent experience of our colleague Rhialto. In barest outline, he was lured into Were Wood by the hint of an imaginary song. After wandering for a period, he met a woman who pushed him into a pool of extremely cold water … Gentlemen, please! I see no occasion for levity! This is a most important affair, and Rhialto’s misfortunes are not to be taken lightly! Indeed, for various reasons our speculations lead us to the Murthe.” Ildefonse looked from face to face. “Yes, you heard me correctly.”

  When the mutter of comment had dwindled away, Ildefonse continued his remarks. “In an apparently unrelated circumstance, Zanzel recently made the acquaintance of a certain Lehuster, a denizen of the 18th Aeon. Lehuster, who stands yonder, indicates that he has important news to bring us, and again he mentions the Murthe. He has kindly agreed to share his information with us, and I now call upon Lehuster to step forward and report those facts of which he is cognizant. Lehuster, if you will!”

  Lehuster made no move. “I must withhold my testimony until I am guaranteed fairly my life, a bargain which should cause no pain, since I have committed no crime.”

  Zanzel called out angrily: “You forget that I myself witnessed your conduct!”

  “Merely a solecism. Ildefonse, do you then promise to hold my life in security?”

  “You have my guaranty! Speak on!”

  Zanzel sprang to his feet. “This is preposterous! Must we welcome each scoundrel of time into our midst, to satiate himself on our good things, meanwhile perverting our customs?”

  The burly and irascible Hurtiancz spoke. “I endorse the progressive views of Zanzel! Lehuster may be only the first of a horde of deviates, morons, and incorrect thinkers sluiced into our placid region!”

  Ildefonse spoke in soothing tones. “If Lehuster’s news is truly valuable, we must reluctantly concede him his due. Lehuster, speak! We will overlook your flawed conduct as well as your offensive feathers. I, for one, am anxious to hear your news.”

  Lehuster advanced to the podium. “I must place my remarks in historical perspective. My personal time is the late First Epoch of the 18th Aeon, at a time well before Grand Motholam, but when the Master Magicians and the Great Witches rivalled each other in power: a case similar to the Eleventh Epoch of the 17th Aeon, when the magicians and the sorceresses each strove to outdo the other, and eventually precipitated the War of the Wizards and Witches.

  “The witches won this great war. Many of the wizards became archveults; many others were destroyed and the witches, led by the White Witch Llorio, dominated all.

  “For an epoch they lived in glory. Llorio became the Murthe and took up residence in a temple. There, as a living idol, comprised both of organic woman and abstract female force, she was joyfully worshipped by every woman of the human race.

  “Three magicians survived the war: Teus Treviolus, Schliman Shabat and Phunurus the Orfo. They joined in a cabal and after deeds of daring, craft and cunning to tax credibility, they seized the Murthe, compressed her to a poincture, and took her from the temple. The women became distraught; their power waned while that of the magicians revived. For epochs they lived in a taut accommodation; and these were adventurous times!

  “Finally the Murthe won free and rallied her witches. But Calanctus the Calm, under whom I served, rose to the challenge. He broke the witches and chased them north to the back of the Great Erm, where to this day a few still crouch in crevices dreading every sound lest it be the footfall of Calanctus.

  “As for the Murthe, Calanctus dealt nobly with her and allowed her exile
to a far star, then went into seclusion, after first charging me to keep the Murthe under surveillance.

  “His orders came too late; she arrived neither at Naos nor at Sadal Suud. I never abandoned the search and recently discovered a trail of time-light* leading to the 21st Aeon; in fact, the terminus is now.

  “I am therefore convinced that the Murthe is extant today, and so must be considered a danger of immediacy; indeed, she has already ensqualmed among this present group.

  “As for myself, Lehuster the Benefer, I am here for a single purpose: to marshal the magicians into a faithful cabal that they may control the resurgent female force and so maintain placidity. The urgency is great!”

  Lehuster went to the side and stood with arms folded: a posture which caused the red feathers growing along his shoulders to project like epaulettes.

  Ildefonse cleared his throat. “Lehuster has rendered us a circumstantial account. Zanzel, are you satisfied that Lehuster has fairly won his life and liberty, provided that he agrees to mend his ways?”

  “Bah!” muttered Zanzel. “He has produced only hearsay and old scandal. I am not so easily hoodwinked.”

  Ildefonse frowned and pulled at his yellow beard. He turned to Lehuster. “You have heard Zanzel’s comment. Can you sustain your remarks?”

  “Ensqualmation will prove me out, as you will see, but by then it will be too late.”

  Vermoulian the Dream-walker chose to address the group. Rising to his feet, he spoke with transparent sincerity. “As I go about my work, I walk through dreams of many sorts. Recently — indeed, only two nights since — I came upon a dream of the type we call the ‘intractive’ or ‘inoptative’, in which the walker exerts little control, and even may encounter danger. Oddly enough, the Murthe was a participant in this dream, and so it may well be relevant to the present discussion.”

  Hurtiancz jumped to his feet and made a gesture of annoyance. “We came here at great inconvenience, to sentence and execute this archveult Lehuster; we do not care to ramble through one of your interminable dreams.”

  “Hurtiancz, be silent!” snapped Vermoulian with peevish vigor. “I now have the floor, and I shall regale everyone with my account, including as many particulars as I deem necessary.”

  “I call upon the Preceptor for a ruling!” cried Hurtiancz.

  Ildefonse said: “Vermoulian, if your dream is truly germane to the issues, continue, but please speak to the point.”

  “That goes without saying!” said Vermoulian with dignity. “For the sake of brevity, I will merely state that in attempting to walk that dream identified as AXR-11 GG7, Volume Seven of the Index, I entered a hitherto unclassified dream of the inoptative series. I found myself in a landscape of great charm, where I encountered a group of men, all cultured, artistic and exquisitely refined of manner. Some wore soft silky beards of a chestnut color, while others dressed their hair in tasteful curls, and all were most cordial.

  “I will allude only to the salient points of what they told me. All possessions are in common, and greed is unknown. In order that time should be adequate for the enrichment of the personality, toil is kept to a minimum, and shared equally among all. ‘Peace’ is the watchword; blows are never struck, nor are voices raised in strident anger, nor to call out chiding criticism. Weapons? The concept is a cause for shuddering and shock.

  “One of the men became my special friend, and told me much. ‘We dine upon nutritious nuts and seeds and ripe juicy fruit; we drink only the purest and most natural water from the springs. At night we sit around the campfire and sing merry little ballads. On special occasions we make a punch called opo, from pure fruits, natural honey, and sweet sessamy, and everyone is allowed a good sip.

  “‘Still, we too know moments of melancholy. Look! Yonder sits noble young Pulmer, who leaps and dances with wonderful grace. Yesterday he tried to leap the brook but fell short into the water; we all rushed to console him, and soon he was happy once more.’

  “I asked: ‘And the women: where do they keep themselves?’

  “‘Ah, the women, whom we revere for their kindness, strength, wisdom and patience, as well as for the delicacy of their judgments! Sometimes they even join us at the campfire and then we have some fine romps and games. The women always make sure that no one becomes outrageously foolish, and propriety is never exceeded.’

  “‘A gracious life! And how do you procreate?’

  “‘Oh ho ho! We have discovered that if we make ourselves very agreeable, the women sometimes allow us little indulgences … Ah! Now! Be at your best! Here is the Great Lady herself!’

  “Across the meadow came Llorio the Murthe: a woman pure and strong; and all the men jumped to their feet and waved their hands and smiled their greetings. She spoke to me: ‘Vermoulian, have you come to help us? Splendid! Skills like yours will be needed in our effort! I welcome you into our group!’

  “Entranced by her stately grace, I stepped forward to embrace her, in friendship and joy, but as I extended my arms she blew a bubble into my face. Before I could question her, I awoke, anxious and bewildered.”

  Lehuster said: “I can resolve your bewilderment. You were ensqualmed.”

  “During a dream?” demanded Vermoulian. “I cannot credit such nonsense.”

  Ildefonse spoke in a troubled voice: “Lehuster, be good enough to instruct us as to the signs by which ensqualmation may be recognized?”

  “Gladly. In the final stages the evidence is obvious: the victim becomes a woman. An early mannerism is the habit of darting the tongue rapidly in and out of the mouth. Have you not noticed this signal among your comrades?”

  “Only in Zanzel himself, but he is one of our most reputable associates. The concept is unthinkable.”

  “When one deals with the Murthe, the unthinkable becomes the ordinary, and Zanzel’s repute carries no more weight than last year’s mouse-dropping — if that much.”

  Zanzel pounded the table. “I am infuriated by the allegation! May I not so much as moisten my lips without incurring a storm of recrimination?”

  Again Ildefonse spoke sternly to Lehuster: “It must be said that Zanzel’s complaints carry weight. You must either utter an unequivocal accusation, presenting documents and proofs, or else hold your tongue.”

  Lehuster performed a polite bow. “I will make a terse statement. In essence, the Murthe must be thwarted if we are not to witness the final triumph of the female race. We must form a strong and defiant cabal! The Murthe is not invincible; it is three aeons since she was defeated by Calanctus, and the past is barred to her.”

  Ildefonse said ponderously: “If your analysis is correct, we must undertake to secure the future against this pangynic nightmare.”

  “Most urgent is the present! Already the Murthe has been at work!”

  “Balderdash, flagrant and wild!” cried Zanzel. “Has Lehuster no conscience whatever?”

  “I admit to puzzlement,” said Ildefonse. “Why should the Murthe select this time and place for her operations?”

  Lehuster said: “Here and now her opposition is negligible. I look around this room; I see fifteen seals dozing on a rock. Pedants like Tchamast; mystics like Ao; buffoons like Hurtiancz and Zanzel. Vermoulian explores unregistered dreams with notepad, calipers and specimen-bottles. Teutch arranges the details of his private infinity. Rhialto exerts his marvels only in the pursuit of pubescent maidens. Still, by ensqualming this group, the Murthe creates a useful company of witches, and so she must be thwarted.”

  Ildefonse asked: “Lehuster, is this your concept of a ‘terse statement’ in response to my question? First rumor, then speculation, then scandal and bias?”

  “For the sake of clarity perhaps I overshot the mark,” said Lehuster. “Also — in all candour — I have forgotten your question.”

  “You were asked to supply proof in the matter of a certain ensqualmation.”

  Lehuster looked from face to face. Everywhere tongues darted in and out of mouths. “Alas,” said Lehuster. “I fea
r that I must wait for another occasion to finish my statement.”

  The room exploded into a confusion of bursting lights and howling sound. When quiet returned, Lehuster was gone.

  3

  Black night had come to both High and Low Meadows. In the work-room at Falu Ildefonse accepted a half-gill of aquavit from Rhialto, and settled into a slung-leather chair.

  For a space the two magicians warily inspected each other; then Ildefonse heaved a deep sigh. “A sad case when old comrades must prove themselves before they sit at ease!”

  “First things first,” said Rhialto. “I will fling a web around the room, that no one knows our doings … It is done. Now then! I have avoided the squalm; it only remains to prove that you are a whole man.”

  “Not so fast!” said Ildefonse. “Both must undergo the test; otherwise credibility walks on one leg.”

  Rhialto gave a sour shrug. “As you wish, though the test lacks dignity.”

  “No matter; it must be done.”

  The tests were accomplished; mutual reassurance was achieved. Ildefonse said: “Truth to tell, I felt little concern when I noticed Calanctus: His Dogma and Dicta out upon the table.”

  Rhialto spoke in a confidential manner: “When I met Llorio in the forest, she tried most earnestly to beguile me with her beauty. Gallantry forbids my recitation of details. But I recognized her at once and even the vanity of a Rhialto could not credit her in the role of a heart-sick amourette, and only by thrusting me into the pond and distracting my attention was she able to apply her squalm. I returned to Falu and followed the full therapy as prescribed by Calanctus and the squalm was broken.”

  Raising his goblet, Ildefonse swallowed the contents at a gulp. “She also appeared before me, though on an elevated level. I encountered her in a waking dream on a wide plain, marked out in a gridwork of distorted and abstract perspectives. She stood at an apparent distance of fifty yards, truly effulgent in her silver-pale beauty, arranged obviously for my benefit. She seemed tall in stature, and towered over me as if I were a child. A psychological ploy, of course, which caused me to smile.