by Jack Vance
Yipton had long been a tourist attraction in its own right. Ferries from Araminta Station conveyed tourists to Yipton, where they were housed in the Arkady Inn: a ramshackle structure five stories high built entirely of bamboo poles and palm fronds. On the terrace Yip girls served gin slings, sundowners, coconut toddy: all formulated, brewed or distilled at Yipton from materials whose nature no one cared to learn. Tours were conducted around the noisome yet strangely charming canals at Yipton and to other places of interest, such as the Caglioro, the Woman’s Baths, the Handicraft shops. Services of an intimate nature were provided both men and women at the Pussycat Palace, five minutes’ walk from the Arkady Inn along creaking bamboo corridors. At the Pussycat Palace the attendants were mild and obliging, though the services lacked spontaneity and were performed with a careful, if somewhat absentminded, methodicity. Nothing was free at Yipton, if one requested an after-lunch toothpick; he found the reckoning on his bill.
Along with profits derived from tourism, the current Oomphaw[3] of the Yips, one Titus Pompo, earned money though the off-world indenture of labor gangs. The Oomphaw Titus Pompo was assisted in this particular enterprise, and others more disreputable, by Namour co-Clattuc.
VII. STROMA
In the first few years of the conservancy, when society members visited Cadwal, they presented themselves, as a matter of course, to Riverview House, in the expectation hospitality. At times the conservator was forced to entertain as many as two dozen guests at the same time, and some of these extended their stays indefinitely, that they might pursue their researches or simply enjoy the novel environment of Cadwal.
One of the conservators at last rebelled, and insisted that visiting Naturalists live in tents along the beach, and cook their meals over campfires.
At the society's annual conclave, a number of plans were put forward to deal with the problem. Most of the programs met the opposition of strict Conservationists, who complained that the Charter was being gnawed to shreds by first one trick, then another. Others replied: “Well and good, but when we visit Cadwal to conduct our legitimate researches, must we live in squalor? After all, we are members of the Society.”
In the end the conclave adopted a crafty plan put forward by one of the most extreme Conservationists. The plan authorized a small new settlement at a specific location, where it could not impinge in any way upon the environment. The location turned out to be the side of a cliff overlooking Stroma Fjord on Throy: an almost comically unsuitable site for habitation, and an obvious ploy to discourage proponents of the plan from taking action.
The challenge, however, was accepted. Stroma came into being: a town of tall narrow houses, crabbed and quaint, black or dark umber, with doors and window trim painted white, blue and red. Seen from across the Fjord, the houses of Stroma seemed to cling to the side of the cliff like barnacles.
Many members of the Society, after a temporary stay at Stroma, found the quality of life appealing, and on the pretext of performing lengthy research, became the nucleus of a permanent population which at times numbered as many as twelve hundred persons.
On Earth the Naturalist Society fell prey to weak leadership, the peculation of a larcenous secretary and a general lack of purpose. At a final conclave the records and documents were consigned to the Library of Archives, and the presiding officer struck the gong of adjournment for the last time.
On Cadwal the Naturalists of Stroma took no official notice of the event, though now the sole income of Stroma was the yield from private off-world investment. The Charter remained as always the basic law of Cadwal and Araminta Station continued its work as usual.
VIII. PERSONS OF NOTE, RESIDENT AT ARMINTA STATION, STROMA AND ELSEWHERE
At Clattuc House, Spanchetta and Simonetta Clattuc were sisters, more alike than otherwise, through Spanchetta was the more earthy and Simonetta-'Smonny', as she was known — the more imaginative and restless. Both grew to be large, big-breasted young women with profuse heaps of curling hair, small glinting heavy-lidded eyes. Both were passionate, haughty, domineering and vain; both were uninhibited and possessed of boundless energies. During their youth, both Spanny and Smonny became obsessively fixated upon the person of Scharde Clattuc and each shamelessly sought to seduce him or marry him or by any other means to possess him for their own. Unfortunately for their hopes Scharde found Spanny and Smonny equally distasteful, if not repugnant, and sidestepped the advances of each as courteously as possible, and on several occasions with a desperate absence of courtesy.
Scharde was sent off-world to an IPCC[4] training mission on at Sarsenopolls on Alphecca Nine. Here he met Marya Atene, a dark-haired young woman of grace, charm, dignity and intelligence with whom he became enamored, and she with him. The two were married at Sarsenopolis and in due course returned to Araminta Station.
Spanchetta and Smonny were deeply outraged and grim. Scharde's conduct represented personal rejection and also, at a deeper level, defiance and a lack of submissiveness. They were able to rationalize their rage when Smonny failed to matriculate from the Lyceum and, on becoming a collateral, was forced to move out from Clattuc house, coincidentally at about the same time Marya arrived, so that the blame could easily be transferred to Marya and Scharde.
Heavy with bitterness, Smonny departed Araminta Station. For a time she ranged far and wide across the Reach, engaging in a variety of activities. Eventually she married Titus Zigonie, who owned Shadow Valley Ranch, comprising twenty-two thousand square miles on the world Rosalla, as well as a Clayhacker space yacht.
For the labor necessary to work his ranch, Titus Zigonie, at Smonny’s suggestion began to employ gangs of indentured Yips, brought to Rosalia by none other than Namour, who shared the proceeds of the business with Calyactus, Oomphaw of Yipton.
At Namour's urging Calyactus paid a visit to the Shadow Valley Ranch on Rosalla, where he was murdered by either Smonny or Namour, or perhaps both working in tandem. Titus Zigonie, an inoffensive little man became 'Titus Pompo, the Oomphaw’ though Smonny wielded all authority. Never had she relaxed her hatred of Araminta Station in general and Scharde Clattuc in particular, and her dearest wish was to perform some destructive atrocity upon them both.
Meanwhile, Namour, with utmost sang-froid, once again took up his duties as paramour to both Spanchetta and Smonny.
Marya meanwhile had borne Scharde a son, Glawen. When Glawen was two years old, Maryra drowned in a boating accident under peculiar circumstances. A pair of Yips, Selious and Catterline, were witnesses to the drowning. Both declared themselves unable to swim and therefore helpless to aid Marya, and in any event it was none of their affair. So went most of the joy from Scharde’s life. He questioned Selious and Catterline at length, but both became stolid and uncommunicative, and at last Scharde, in disgust, sent them back to Yipton.
Glawen passed through childhood, adolescence and at the age of twenty-one reached his majority. Like his father Scharde he cast his lot with Bureau B. Glawen took after his father in other ways too. Both were spare of physique, narrow of hip, square of shoulder, sinewy and quick rather than massive of muscle. Glawen’s features, like those of Scharde, were hard and blunt in a rather gaunt flat-cheeked face; his hair was dark, thick and cut short; his skin, though tanned, was not nearly so weather-beaten and brown as that of Scharde. Both men were economical of motion; both at first glance seemed somewhat sardonic and skeptical, but the dispositions of both were far less grim and austere than their first impression suggested. Indeed, when Glawen thought of Scharde, he thought of someone who was kindly, tolerant, absolutely honorable and totally brave. When Scharde considered Glawen, he found it hard to contain his pride and affection.
From Stroma the current Conservator, Egon Tamm, had come to Riverview House with his spouse Cora, their son Milo and daughter Wayness. A dozen young men of the Station, including Glawen, immediately fell in love with Wayness, who was slim, dark-haired, with dark gray eyes in a face alive with poetic intelligence.
A suitor of lo
nger standing was Julian Bohost, also from Stroma: an earnest, highly articulate member of the LPF. Wayness’ mother Cora approved of Julian, his fine voice and exquisite manners. It was an article of faith among her friends that Julian was a young man with an important political future. On this basis, she had encouraged Julian to consider himself betrothed to Wayness, though Wayness had carefully explained that her own thinking went in a different direction. Julian smilingly refused to listen, and continued to make plans for their joint future.
Julian’s aunt was Dame Clytie Vergence, a Warden of Stroma and an LPF bellwether. Dame Clytie was a large assertive and single-minded, and determined that manifest rightness of LPF philosophy should win the day despite all opposition and especially despite any reference to the edicts of 'that crabbed old trifle of pettifoggery', referring to the Charter. "It has long outlived its usefulness. I intend to blow away this obfuscation and bring new thinking to bear.”
To date, the LPF had been unable to implement any of their reforms, since the Charter was still the law of the land which the LPF could not legally transgress.
At an LPF conference, a subtle ploy was evolved. Near Mad Mountain Lodge, migrating banjee hordes regularly engaged in terrible battles, which the LPFers decided to stop. Here was a cause, thought the LPF theoreticians, which every right-minded person must support, even though the principles of Conservancy were compromised.
Acting as Dame Clytie's official representative, Julian Bohost set off to visit Mad Mountain, that he inspect the environment before making specific recommendations. He invited Milo and Wayness along for company; Wayness arranged that Glawen should fly the aircraft, much to Julian’s disgust, since he had learned to dislike Glawen.
The excursion ended in disaster. Wayness finally made her disinterest clear to Julian. The next day Milo was killed in an accident arranged by three Yips, possibly after incitement by Julian, though the circumstances remained unclear.
Back at Araminta Station Wayness informed Glawen of her imminent departure for Old Earth, where she will reside for a time with her uncle Pirie Tamm, one of the few surviving members of the Naturalist Society. Milo would have accompanied her, but now Milo was dead, and she must share with Glawen a secret of enormous importance, in the event that she were to die on Earth.
During a previous visit to Earth, by chance she discovered that the original Charter, together with the Certificate of Registration, in effect the deed of ownership to Cadwal, had become lost. She now intended to search for the lost documents, before someone else found them and there were indications that other persons unknown engaged in just such a search.
With Milo dead, Wayness must now go off alone. Glawen would happily have accompanied her but for Bureau B constraints and lack of funds. He assured Wayness that he would join her as soon as possible; for the moment he could only urge caution on her.
At Araminta Station Floreste co-Laverty, a person of Flamboyant style and great aesthetic creativity, had long managed the Mummers, a troupe recruited from among the young folk of Araminta Station. Floreste trained the Mummers well and infused them with his own enthusiasm, so that they toured the worlds of Mircea’s Wisp and beyond, with great success.
Floreste's great dream was the construction of a magnificent new Orpheum, to replace the creaking old auditorium now used for performances. All moneys earned by the Mummers went into a construction fund, for which he also solicited contributions.
A series of horrid crimes was discovered at Thurben Island, in the eastern ocean south and east of Lutwen Atoll. The crimes had their origins off-world and Glawen was sent to investigate. He returned with proof that Floreste, acting in concert with Namour and Smonny, was responsible. Namour quietly took his leave of Araminta Station before the crimes could be brought home to him; Smonny was at least temporarily inaccessible at Yipton but Floreste was sentenced to death.
During Glawen's absence off-world, his father Scharde had flown out on a routine patrol, but had never returned. No distress calls had been heard; no wreckage had been found. Glawen could not believe that Scharde was dead, and Floreste hinted that his suspicions were correct. He undertook to tell Glawen all he knew if Glawen, in return, would guarantee that Floreste's money would go to the use for which Floreste intended: the construction of a new Orpheum; to this contract, Glawen agreed, and Floreste drew up a will, bequeathing all he owned to Glawen.
Floreste's funds were on deposit at the Bank of Mircea, in the city of Soumjiana on the nearby world Soum. Smonny, for the sake of convenience and fluidity, kept her own funds in the same account. The arrangement was temporary, but Smonny delayed too long; the entire account came into Glawen’s possession upon Floreste's death.
Floreste's final act was the composition of a letter, in which he told all he knew in regard to Scharde.
Glawen has only just opened the letter to learn Scharde Clattuc, to the best of Floreste's knowledge is alive. Where? Glawen will not know until he reads the in its entirety.
CHAPTER I
I.
The sun had set. Glawen Clattuc, wet and shivering, turned away from the ocean and ran up Wansey Way through the twilight. Arriving at Clattuc House, he pushed through the front portal and into the reception hall. Here, to his annoyance, he discovered Spanchetta Clattuc, at the foot of the grand staircase.
Spanchetta stopped short to take critical note of his condition. Tonight she had draped her own majestic torso in a dramatic gown of striped scarlet and black taffeta, with a black vest and silver slippers. A rope of black pearls wound round and round her great turban of dark curls; black pearls depended from her ears. Spanchetta paused only an instant to look Glawen up and down, then with averted eyes and curled lip she swept off toward the refectory.
Glawen proceeded to the chambers he shared with his father Scharde Clattuc. He immediately stepped from his dank garments, bathed under a hot shower and started to dress in dry clothes but was interrupted by the chime of the telephone. Glawen called out: “Speak!"
The face of Bodwyn Wook appeared on the screen. In a sour voice he said: “The sun has long since set. Surely you have read Floreste's letter. I expected your call."
Glawen gave a hollow laugh. “I have seen only two sentences of the letter. Apparently my father is alive.”
That is good news. Why were you delayed?"
“There was trouble on the beach, which ended up in the surf. I survived. Kirdy drowned.”
Bodwyn Wook clapped his hands to his forehead. “Tell me no more the news is disturbing! He was a Wook."
“In any event, I was just about to call you.”
Bodwyn Wook heaved a sigh. “We will report an accidental drowning and forget the whole slackening affair. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir."
"I am not altogether easy with your conduct. You should have expected such an attack.”
“So I did, sir, which is why I went to the beach. Kirdy hated the ocean and I thought that he would stand clear. In the end, he died the death he dreaded most."
"Hmf,”said Bodwyn Wook. "You have a callous nature. Suppose he shot you from ambush, and destroyed Floreste's letter: what then?"
“That would not be Kirdy's way. He wanted me to look into his face while he killed me."
"And if Kirdy altered his custom, for this particular occasion?”
Glawen considered, then gave a small shrug. “Your reprimand, in that case, would be well deserved."
“Hmf,” said Bodwyn Wook with a grimace. “I am severe, certainly, but I have never gone so far as to reprimand a corpse." He leaned back in his chair. “We need take the matter no further. Bring the letter to my office and we will read it together.”
“Very well, sir.”
Glawen started to leave the chambers, but stopped short with his hand on the doorknob. He reflected a moment, then turned back and went to the side-room which served as utility room and office. Here he made a copy of Floreste's letter. The copy he folded and placed in a drawer; the original he tucked in
to his pocket, then departed.
Ten minutes later Glawen arrived at the Bureau B offices on the second floor of the New Agency, and was immediately admitted into Bodwyn Wook's private chambers. As usual, Bodwyn Wook sat in his massive leather upholstered chair. He held out his hand. “If you please.” Glawen gave him the letter. Bodwyn Wook waved his hand toward a chair. “Sit.”
Glawen obeyed the instruction. Bodwyn Wook extracted the letter from its envelope, and began to read aloud using a nasal drone not at all in accord with the extravagances and felicities of Floreste’s language.
The letter was discursive and sometimes rambled off into an explication of Floreste’s philosophy. He expressed pro forma contrition for his deeds, but the words lacked conviction and Floreste seemed to intend the letter as a justification for his activities. “There is no question, and I state this positively,” wrote Floreste. “I am one of the few persons who may properly profess the designation ‘Overman’; there are few indeed like me! In any case, ordinary strictures of common morality should not apply, least they interfere with my supreme creativity. Alas! I still am like a fish in a tank, swimming with other fish, and I must obey their procedures or they will nip my fins!”
Floreste agreed that his dedication to ‘ART’ had persuaded him to irregularities. “I have taken shortcuts on the long and tedious route to my goals; I have been trapped and now my fins are nipped.”
“Had I to do it all over again.” mused Floreste, “I surely would have been more careful! Of course it is often possible to gain the accolades of Society even while one is arrogantly flouting and demeaning the most sacred dogmas which are in its very soul! In this respect Society is like a great cringing animal, the more you abuse it, the more it lavishes upon you. Ah well, too late now to worry about these niceties of conduct.
