by Jack Vance
"I worked fast enough when I was able to use one of the information screens be the workroom. You could have done the same, except that you preferred to make a great mystery in order to swindle me to the tune of twenty sols."
Lefaun, closing his eyes, reached up with both hands to pull the hat so far down over his head that it rested on his eyebrows and the tips of his ears. “Ay, ay, ay!” said Lefaun softly. “I am in disgrace, then.”
“Very much so."
“Alas! I have prepared a little supper at my flat; I have simmered rose petals in essence of duck; I have wiped the dust from my best bottle of wine. All for your delectation. And now, you will not come?"
"Even for ten bottles of your best wine I would not have come. I lack confidence in 'Running Wolves' and curators as well.”
"A pity! But here is Tadiew Skander, my partner in vice. Tadiew, over here! Did you get the information?” “I did — but it cost more than we had estimated, since I had to deal with Old High-trousers himself.”
Wayness laughed. "Well done, Tadiew! The timing was perfect; the delivery soft as silk, and the poor brainless fool of a girl will pay whatever you ask!”
Lefaun said to Wayness: “Write the information you have discovered on a piece of paper. We shall have a test, to determine whether or not Tadiew is tricking us. It is now twenty-two sols, Tadiew “
“Twenty-two sols!” cried Tadiew. "The final figure was twenty-four!”
“Now then, Tadiew you have noted your expensive information in writing?”
“So I have.”
“Please place it face down on the table. Now then, have you communicated this information to anyone?”
“Of course not. This is the first I have seen you since noon!”
“Correct.”
Wayness watched with curled lip. “I wonder what you are trying to prove.”
“Tadiew and I are admitted scoundrels; we admit to bribery and corruption of dignified officials. I want him to break down and admit that he is more vile and more scurrilous than I am.”
“I see. But the comparison is of no interest to me. ”Now, if you will excuse me.“
“One moment. I also want to place a fragment of information upon the table; an intuition I gained from looking into the cases. There it is done! Three pieces of paper lie before us. Now then, we need an expert arbitrator who is unaware of our discussion, and I see just the person yonder. Her name is Natalinya Harmin, and she is a senior curator at the museum.” He indicated a tall woman of imposing physique, keen of eye and massive of jaw, her blonde hair braided and tied in a rope around her head: not a person to trifle with, thought Wayness. Lefaun called out: “Madame Harmin! Be good enough to step over here for a moment."
Natalinya Harmin turned her head; observing Lefaun’s signal, she crossed the room to stand looking down at him. “I am here, Lefaun. Why, may I ask, are you glowering at me in that fashion?”
Lefaun spoke in surprise: “I was wearing what I intended for an agreeable expression.”
“Very well have seen it and you may relax. What do you want?”
“This is Wayness Tamm, a handsome little creature down from space, who is anxious to explore the marvels of Old Kiev. I must mention that she is headstrong, extremely naive, and suspects everyone of turpitude."
"Ha! That is not naiveté, but sound common sense. Above all, young lady, do not go running out on the steppe with Lefaun Zadoury. At the very least, you will suffer sore feet."
“Thank you,” said Wayness. “That is good advice."
"Is that all?” asked Natalinya Harmin. “If so —“
"Not quite," said Lefaun. “Tadiew and I are at odds and we want you to arbitrate the point at issue. Am I right, Tadiew?"
“Exactly! Madame Harmin is famous for her forthright candor."
“Candor, is it? Asking me for candor is like opening Pandora’s Box. You may learn more than you want to know.”
"We must take the chance. Are you ready?"
"I am ready. Speak.”
"We want you to identify these words fully and exactly."
He took the paper from in front of Wayness and handed it to Natalinya Harmin. She read it aloud: ‘Aeolus Benefice, at Croy’. Hmf."
"Are you acquainted with this institution?"
"Naturally, though it is an aspect of Museum policy that we normally do not publicize.”
Lefaun told Wayness: "Madame Harmin is telling us that when an anonymous bequest arrives at the museum we state its provenance to be ‘Aeolus Benefice of Croy’ in order to forestall inconvenience to ourselves. Am I right, Madame Harmin?"
Natalinya Harmin gave a crisp nod. “In essence, this is correct."
"So that when one looks in the files and finds that a bequest is attributed to Aeolus Benefices,” he will understand that the entry is totally meaningless?"
“Exactly. It is our way of writing ‘Anonymous Bequest',” said Natalinya Harmin. "What else do you want to know, Lefaun? You are not getting a raise in pay this quarter if that is the question you are preparing to ask.”
Wayness had slumped back into her chair, almost weak with joy. Julian Bohost, whatever the reason for his presence at Fair Winds, had been baited along a false trail, and in a most convincing manner.
“One more question,” said Lefaun. “For the sake of argument, if someone wanted to find the source of an anonymous bequest, how would he go about it?”
"He would be turned away, politely but briskly and no one would listen to his complaints. That information is considered a sacred trust, and is inaccessible even to me. Is there anything else?"
“No, thank you,” said Lefaun. “You have provided us full and exact information.”
Natalinya Harmin returned to her own party. “Now then,” said Lefaun. “To the next step. I have noted several words upon my paper. There is no mystery about these words. They were formed in my mind by simple processes. This morning, when I first looked into the three cases, I noted that the genealogical studies in the second case traced the lineage of the Counts de Flamanges, with emphasis upon those associated with the Naturalist Society. Among the biographies in the first case the only volume showing signs of use was that concerning the Count de Flamanges. The third case included much material regarding the Count de Flamanges and his offer of three hundred acres to the Naturalist Society. In short, the cases apparently had been donated by someone connected with the de Flamanges.” Lefaun turned over his paper. “Therefore ‘Count de Flamanges, of Castle Mirky Porod near Draczeny, in the Moholc.’ There are the words you will read here.”
Lefaun tilted his beer mug finding it empty he set it down with a thud. “I seem to be empty. Tadiew, lend me five tickets."
"Never. You already owe me eleven.”
Wayness hastily pushed a number of tickets toward Lefaun. “Take these; I won’t need so many.”
"Thank you.” Lefaun rose to his feet. Tadiew called out: “In that case, bring me another quart!”
Lefaun went to the dispenser and returned with two large mugs brimming with foam. “I take no pride in my deduction; the facts seem to cry out for attention. Now then, Tadiew, what more can you tell us?"
“First, that I am out of pocket fourteen sols and that I have used every trick in my repertory to penetrate the inner files.”
Lefaun told Wayness: “It helps a great deal when one has a warm relationship with the secretary to one of our high bashaws."
"Do not deprecate my efforts!" snapped Tadiew. “I went on tenterhooks, I can assure you, and for a time hid behind a desk."
"In the main, it was well done, Tadiew! I personally lack your subtle skills. You may now produce the lightning bolts of surprising information that your work has achieved."
“Don’t crow!" With a fretful motion Tadiew turned over his paper, to reveal a name: “‘Countess Ottilie de Flamanges’. The bequest was made about twenty years ago, upon the death of the Count. She still lives in her castle, alone except for servants and dogs. She is said to be som
ewhat eccentric."
Wayness brought out money. “Here are thirty sols. I understand nothing of your financial arrangements, nor who paid what to whom. You must straighten such matters out between yourselves. And now — ” Wayness rose to her feet ” — I, must return to the hotel.”
“What?” cried Lefaun. “We have not yet visited Mopo's nor the Black Eagle!”
Wayness smiled. “Still, I must go.”
"Nor have you seen my dinosaur's tooth, nor tasted my spiced saffronella, nor even listened to the chirping of my pet cricket!"
“I regret these omissions but they are unavoidable."
Lefaun gave a dismal groan and rose to his feet. "Tadiew guard my chair; I will be back shortly."
V.
All the way back to the Mazeppa Hotel Wayness was kept busy negating Lefaun’s proposals and refuting his arguments, which were both urgent and inventive:
“… only a few yards to my flat: the stroll of a quarter-hour through the most picturesque part of Kiev!"
And: "We should never reject what Life decides to offer us! Existence is like a plum pie; the more plums one can find the better!”
And: "I marvel, I stand in awe, I am baffled when I try to calculate the probabilities of our meeting — you, the denizen of a world at the back of nowhere; I, a gentleman of Old Earth!”
"It seems an act of Predestination that we ignore, to our sure regret! No matter how one implores the Fates, our neglected opportunities can never be repaired!"
To which Wayness made the following rejoinders: “Up hill and down dale, hopping culverts and drains, stumbling over cobbles, scuttling through the back alleys like rats: is that it? No, thank you; tonight your cricket must chirp alone."
And: “I don’t feel at all like a plum. Think of me, rather, as a green persimmon, or a dead starfish, or a dish of old tripe."
And: "I agree that the odds against our meeting were enormous. It seems that Destiny is trying to tell you something — namely, that your chances of success elsewhere, say with Natalinya Harmin, are far better than with me."
At last Lefaun gave up and let her enter the hotel with no more than a muttered: 'Goodnight’.”
“Goodnight, Lefaun.”
Wayness ran across the lobby and went directly up to her room. For a few moments she sat thinking, then telephoned Fair Winds.
Pirie Tamm's bleak face appeared on the screen. “Fair Winds."
"Wayness here. Are you alone?”
“Quite alone.”
“Are you sure? Where is Julian?"
“Presumably in Ybarra. He used the telephone this afternoon and immediately told me that though he was sorry to leave Fair Winds so abruptly, he must visit an old friend who was departing Ybarra spaceport in two days, and inside the half-hour he was gone. Not a chap I particularly liked. What is your news?"
“It is tolerably good news,” said Wayness. “In effect, we have sent Julian off on a wild goose chase. He has gone to Croy, of course.”
“A wild goose chase, you say!"
Wayness explained. "I'm calling now, because I did not want you to worry all night long.”
“Thank you, Wayness. I shall sleep better, be assured. And what are your plans?"
“I am not sure yet. I must do some thinking. Perhaps I will go directly to not far from here…"
CHAPTER VI
I.
In her room at the Mazeppa Hotel Wayness studied a map. The town Draczeny in the Moholc was no vast distance from Kiev as the crow flew but connections were anything but direct. The castle Mirky Porod was evidently located in a region of great natural charm, to the side of the usual tourist routes and commercial depots, though it was not indicated on the map.
Wayness pondered her options. Julian had been discomfited, at least temporarily. The chances were slight that he would return to Fair Winds. In the morning, therefore, Wayness flew directly to Shillaway, to arrive at Fair Winds during the middle afternoon.
Pirie Tamm was clearly happy to see her. "It seems as if you have been gone for weeks."
"I feel much the same. But I can't relax just yet. Julian has a bad temper and he hates to be thwarted."
"What can he do? Very little, or so I suppose."
"If he learns that Aeolus Benefices' is another way of saying 'Funusti Museum' he can do a great deal. I spent thirty sols for information; Julian might spend forty, but to the same effect. So I dare not delay."
“What, then, are your plans?"
“At this particular moment I want to learn something of the Counts de Flamanges, so that when I present myself at Mirky Porod, I will not be arriving in a state of total ignorance.”
“Most wise,” said Pirie Tamm. “If you like, while you are changing for dinner, I will check the references and see what information is available."
“That would be very helpful.”
At dinner Pirie Tamm announced that he had assembled a considerable body of information; “Probably as much as you will need, However, I suggest that we postpone the report until after dinner, since I have a tendency toward discursiveness. Notice this tureen! We have been served a truly noble dish: stewed duck with dumplings and leeks."
“Just as you like, Uncle Pirie.”
"I will say this much: over the centuries the family has been neither staid nor stolid, but has produced its share of adventurers and eccentrics, as well as several renowned scholars. Naturally there are hints of a scandal or two. At the moment, this particular quantity seems to have gone into abeyance. It is an aged woman, the Countess Ottilie, with whom you must deal."
Wayness mulled over the information in silence. A thought occurred to her. “You mentioned that Julian used the telephone before he left?”
“Yes; so he did.”
“You have no idea whom he called?”
“None whatever.”
“Odd. Julian has never mentioned friends on Earth and it is just what he would most likely talk about."
“For a fact, he is quite a talker.” Pirie Tamm grinned sourly. “He is dissatisfied with Ararninta Station and its social and environmental works.”
“There is room for criticism; everyone agrees to that,” said Wayness. “If the staff had done a better job over the years, there would be no Yips at Yipton, and no problem now."
“Hmm. Julian spoke at length of the ‘democratic solution’."
“What he meant is entirely different from what you understood. The Conservationists want to resettle the Yips on another world, and maintain the Conservancy. The LPFers — they hate being called ‘Peefers’, though it is much easier, want to let the Yips loose on the mainland, where they would live, so it is claimed, in rustic simplicity, singing and dancing, and celebrating the passage of the seasons with quaint rites.”
“That is more or less what Julian implied.”
“Meanwhile the Peefers will annex vast estates of choice land for themselves, and become the new landed gentry. When they talk about this, they speak of 'public service' and 'duty' and 'administrative necessities.' But I've seen Julian's plans for the country house he hopes to build someday — using cheap Yip labor, of course."
"He used the word 'democracy' several times."
"He used the Peefer definition. Each Yip has one vote and each Conservationist has one vote. Ah well, enough of Julian. At least, I hope so.”
After dinner, the two went to the drawing room and settled themselves in front of the fire. "Now," said Pirie Tamm, “I will tell you something about the Counts de Flamanges. The family is very old — three or four thousand years, at least. Mirky Porod was built on the site of a medieval castle and for a time functioned as a hunting lodge. The place has a colorful history: the usual tumult of duels by moonlight, intrigues and betrayals, romantic escapades by the hundreds. Nor has there been any lack of the macabre. Prince Pust over a period of thirty years kidnapped maidens and did horrid deeds upon them; his victims numbered over two thousand and his imagination never flagged. Count Bodor one of the early Flamanges, condu
cted demoniac rituals, which ultimately became frenzies of the most fantastic sort. I derive this information from a book called UNUSUAL TALES FROM THE MOHOLC. The author tells us that the ghosts at Mirky Porod are therefore of dubious origin, and might derive either from the time of Prince Pust, or of Count Bodor, or possibly other circumstances now forgotten to history."
Wayness asked: "How long ago was this book written?"
"It seems to have been a relatively recent work. I could find it if you became interested in one or another of the cases."
“No. Don’t bother."
Pirie Tamm nodded placidly and went on with his remarks.
“In general, the Counts de Flamanges seem to have been of good character, save for the occasional bad hat like Count Bodor. A thousand years ago Count Sarbert was a founder of the Naturalist Society; the family has traditionally been associated with conservationist causes. Count Lesmund offered to donate a large tract of land to the Naturalist Society as a site for a new headquarters, but unfortunately: the plan came to naught. Count Raul was a member and strong supporter of the Society until his death some twenty years ago. Hus widow, the Countess Ottilie, now lives at Mirky Porod alone. She is childless, and the heir is Count Raul's nephew, Baron Trembath, whose estate is beside Lake Fon, and who operates an equestrian school.”
“Countess Ottilie, as I mentioned, lives in seclusion, seeing no one but doctors for herself and veterinaries for her dogs. She is said to be extremely avaricious, though she commands great wealth. There is a hint or two that she is, let us say, eccentric. When one of her dogs died, she beat the attending veterinary with her walking stick and drove him away. The veterinary seems to have been of philosophical disposition. When the journalists asked if he intended to sue, he merely shrugged and said that both beating and biting were accepted hazards of his profession, and there the matter rested.”
“Count Raul had been a generous contributor to Society a fact which the Countess bitterly resented.”
“Mirky Porod itself occupies a splendid site, at the head of a valley, with Lake Jerest only a few yards away. There are wild hills and dense forests at the back and forests to both right and left. It is not uncomfortably large; in fact, I made copies of photographs and the floor plan, if you are interested.”
