Ecce and Old Earth tcc-2

by Jack Vance

  “Very much so.”

  Pirie Tamm gave her the material in an envelope. He spoke plaintively: “I wish I understood better what you have in mind. The Charter and Grant will never be found at Mirky Porod; that is certain."

  “Why do you say that?"

  “If these documents had come into the possession of Count Raul, he would certainly have turned them over to the Society.”

  “So it would seem. Still, there are any number of possibilities why that should not be so. For instance, suppose he were ill when he received the documents and never found time to check them over? Or that these items were mislaid while he was sorting things out? Perhaps Countess Ottilie recognized their value and put them aside? Or, worse, them into the fire?”

  “As you say, anything is possible. Still, Count Raul did not buy the material at Gohoons auction; there was a far larger volume of material, and if Countess Ottilie were giving away those relatively personal records, she surely must have included the other material. In other words, it was someone else who bought the Charter and Grant from Gohoon — which means that your searches are not leading you toward the Charter but away from it.”

  "Not so,” said Wayness. “Imagine the Charter as resting in the rung of a ladder. We can find it either by starting at the top and working down, or starting at the bottom and working up."

  “That is a fine analogy," said Pirie Tamm. “It’s only fault is unintelligibility.”

  "In that case, I will explain again, but without the analogy. Nisfit stole the goods; they passed through

  Mischap and Doorn to Gohoon, then to someone we must call A, Simonetta Clattuc learned the identity of A, but either she could not find him or he passed the material on to B, who might have given it to C, who sold it to D, who passed it on to E. Somewhere along this progression she has been brought to a halt. Let us say that the Funusti Museum is F and Count Raul de Flamanges E, then now we are looking for D. In other words, we must work backward along the line until we reach whoever has the Charter. Simonetta is starting from A, and seems to have met difficulties along the way. Then there is Julian, who is starting from X, which is to say, Aeolus Benefices at Croy. Where he goes from there I can't even guess. In any case, we have no time to delay, and Countess Ottilie may not choose to be helpful.”

  Pirie Tamm clenched his teeth. “If only I had my strength, how gladly I would take the load from your shoulders!””

  “You are already helping enormously,” said Wayness. “I could not function without you.”

  “It is nice of you to say so."

  By a variety of modes Wayness traveled from Fair Winds into the deep Moholc: by omnibus to Shillaway, by subterranean slideway to Anthelm and by feedertube to Passau, thence by airbus to Draczeny and by rickety omnibus into the far Moholc, under the loom of the Carnat Mountains.

  Late in the afternoon, with the wind blowing in gusts, Wayness arrived at the village Tzem, beside the River Sogor, with steep forested hills close to either side. Clouds raced across the sky; Wayness' skirt fluttered as she stepped down from the bus. She moved away a few steps, then glanced back, to verify that no one had followed her, nor was there any other vehicle approaching from the direction they had come.

  The bus had halted in front of the village inn: The Iron Pig, if the sign swinging above the doorway to be credited. The main street followed the course of the river, which was spanned by a stone bridge of three arches directly in front of the inn. At the center of the bridge, three old men wearing baggy blue pantaloons and high-cocked hunter's hats stood fishing. To fortify themselves, they took occasional swallows from large green bottles which were kept in tackle boxes at their feet, meanwhile calling back and forth from one to the other, exchanging advice, cursing the perversity of all fish, the impudence of the wind, and whatever else came to mind.

  Wayness secured lodging at The Iron Pig, then went out explore the village. Along the main street she discovered a bakery a green-grocer's market, a tool shop which also sold sausages, hair-dresser/insurance agent, a wine shop, a post office and a number of other enterprises of less note. Wayness stepped into a stationer’s shop, which was little more than a booth. The proprietress, a jovial woman of middle age, leaned on her counter, gossiping with a pair of cronies who sat on a bench opposite. Here was a sure font of information, thought Wayness. She bought a journal and stood pretending to read but with an ear tuned to the conversation, which presently she was allowed to join. She described herself as a student investigating antiquities of the region. The proprietress told her “You've come to the right place; there are three of us here, each more antique than the others."

  Wayness accepted a cup of tea and was introduced to the company. The proprietress was Madame Katrin; her friends were Madame Esme and Madame Stasia.

  After a few moments Wayness mentioned Mirky Porod, and, as she had anticipated, tapped an instant freshet of information.

  Madame Katrin gave an exclamation of regret. “It is not now as it was in the old days! Then Mirky Porod commanded our attention, that I'll tell you, what with banquets and balls, and all manner of goings-on! Now it is as dull as ditchwater."

  “That was when Count Raul was alive," Madame Esme told Wayness.

  “True He was a man of importance, and there was never any lack of famous folk at Mirky Porod! And not always on their best behavior, that is, if all the stories one heard could be believed.”

  “Ha ha!" declared Madame Stasia. “I believe them well enough, human nature being what it is!"

  “And the famous folk, along with their rank and their wealth, always seem to have more of this “human nature' than anyone else," observed Madame Katrin.

  "Just so,” said Madame Esme sagely. “And if it were not so rich and juicy, there would be no scandal"

  Wayness asked: "What of the Countess Ottilie? How did she deal with the scandals?”

  “My dear!” exclaimed Madame Stasia. “It was she who created them!”

  “The Countess and her dogs!” sniffed Madame Katrin.

  “Between them they drove poor Count Raul to his death!”

  “How so?” asked Wayness.

  “Of course nothing is certain, but it is said that the Count, in one last futile effort, forbade Countess Ottilie to bring her beasts into the dining room. Soon after, he committed suicide by jumping from a window in the North Tower. Countess Ottilie said that he had been driven by remorse for his cruelty to her and her little friends.”

  The three ladles chuckled. Madame Katrin said: “And now all is quiet at Mirky Porod. Each Saturday afternoon the Countess entertains her friends. They play at piquet for small stakes, and if the Countess loses more than a few pence, she flies into a rage.”

  Wayness asked: “If I were to call on the Countess, would she receive me?"

  Madame Stasia Said: “As to that, much depends on her mood.”

  “For example,” said Madame Esme, “do not go on a Sunday after she has lost a sol or two at her game.”

  “Also, and most important!” said Madame Katrin. “Do not go out accompanied by a dog! Last year her grandnephew Baron Parter went to call on her, along with his mastiff. As soon as the dogs saw each other it was instant warfare, with yowling and snapping and yelping such as was never heard before! Some of the Countess’ dearest little friends were discomfited, and young Baron Parter was sent away faster than he had come, along with his mastiff.”

  “Those are two good hints,” said Wayness. “What else?"

  Madame Esme said: “There is no harm in telling the truth! The Countess is a dragon, and not sympathetic."

  Madame Katrin flung her arms into the air. “And stingy? Ah, there has never been the like! She buys my journals, but only after they are a month old, when I sell them at half-price. For this reason, she is always a month behind in her life.”

  “It is ridiculous” said Madame Stasia. “If the world came to an end, Countess Ottilie would not know until a month had passed."

  “Time to close up shop,” said
Madame Katrin. “Now I must see about a bite of supper for Leppold. He has been fishing all day and caught not so much as a sparrow. I’ll open a packet of mackerel, which will give him something to think about.”

  Wayness left her new friends and returned to the inn. There was no telephone in her room and she was obliged to use a booth in the corner of the lounge. She called Fair Winds; Pirie Tamm's image appeared on the screen.

  Wayness told of her discoveries to date. “Countess Ottilie seems even more of a termagant than I had expected, and I doubt if she will be helpful."

  “Let me think this over,” said Pirie Tamm. “I will call you back shortly.”

  “Very well. Still, I wish — " Wayness looked over her shoulder as someone came into the lounge. She checked her speech and at Fair Winds her face left the screen. Pirie Tamm raised his voice. “Wayness? Are you there?" Wayness' face returned to the screen. “I'm here. For a moment I was — “ She hesitated.

  "You were what?" Pirie Tamm demanded sharply.

  "Nervous. Wayness looked over her shoulder once again. “I think that when I left Fair Winds I was followed — at least for a time."

  "Explain, if you please."

  “There isn’t much to explain, maybe nothing. When I left Fair Winds a vehicle followed my cab to Tierens, and I glimpsed a face with a black mustache. At Shillaway I doubled back and saw him distinctly: a stocky little man, rather meek-looking, with a black mustache. Afterwards, I did not see him again.”

  "Ha!” said Pirie Tamm in a dispirited voice. “I can only advise vigilance.”

  “That is the same advice I have been giving myself," said Wayness. “After Shillaway no one seemed to be following me but I was not at all happy. I remember reading of tags and spy-cells and other such intricate devices, and I began to wonder. At Draczeny I took time to examine my cloak, and for a fact I found something suspicious: a little black shell half the size of a ladybug. I took it into the station restaurant and when I hung up my cloak, I tucked the shell under the collar of a tourists long coat. I took the omnibus to Tzem and the tourist flew off to Zagreb or some such place."

  “Well done! Though I cannot imagine who would be following you.”

  “Julian, if he were dissatisfied with what he found at Croy.”

  Pirie Tamm made a dubious sound. “Whatever the case, you seem to have slipped them off handily. I too have been busy, and I think you will approve of my arrangements. You may or may not be aware that Count Raul was a horticulturist of note; indeed, it was for this reason that he became such an ardent Society member. To make a long story short I have ranged far and wide among the few connections I have left, with good result. Tonight Baron Stam, who is Countess Ottilie’s cousin, will make an appointment for you. I will have full details later this evening, but, as it stands now, you will be identified as a student of botany, who wishes to look through Count Raul's papers on the subject. If you are able to ingratiate yourself with Countess Ottilie, no doubt you will have an opportunity to put other apparently casual questions to her."

  “That sounds reasonable," said Wayness. "When do I present myself?"

  “Tomorrow, since he will telephone Mirky Porod this evening."

  “And my name is still Wayness Tamm?"

  "'We saw no good reason for a false identity. However, do not stress your connection with the Naturalist Society.”

  "I understand.”

  III.

  Halfway through the morning Wayness climbed aboard the rickety old conveyance which connected Tzerm with a few even more remote villages to the east. After a ride of three miles up and down hills, through a dark deep forest, for a space beside the River Sogor, Wayness was discharged in front of a massive iron portal which guarded the avenue leading to Mirky Porod. The gates were open and the gatekeeper's lodge was deserted; Wayness set off up the avenue, which after two hundred yards swung around a copse of firs and hemlock to reveal the facade of Mirky Porod.

  Wayness had often noticed in old buildings a quality which transcended character to become something close to sentience. She had wondered about this trait: was it real? Had the structure absorbed vitality over the years, perhaps from its occupants? Or was the condition imaginary: a projection of the human mind?

  Mirky Porod, basking in the morning sunlight, seemed to demonstrate such a sentience: a reflective and tragic grandeur, enlivened by a certain frivolous insouciance, as if it felt neglected and tired but was too proud to complain.

  The architecture — so it appeared to Wayness — neither obeyed nor defied convention, but, rather, seemed innocently oblivious to aesthetic norms. Exaggerations and excesses of mass were countered by playful elongations of form; subtle surprises were everywhere. The towers, north and south, were too squat and too heavy, with roofs too tall and too steep. The roof of the main structure showed three gables, each with its balcony. While the gardens were not impressive, a vast lawn extended from the terrace to a far line of sentinel cypress trees. It was as if someone of a romantic temperament had made a quick sketch on a scrap of paper and had ordained a structure with proportions exactly as sketched, or perhaps the inspiration had been a picture in a child’s book of fairy tales.

  Wayness pulled at the bell chain. The door was presently opened by a plump young maid, not much older than herself. She wore a black uniform with a white lace cap to confine her blonde hair Wayness thought that she seemed a trifle surly and out of sorts, though she addressed Wayness politely enough. “Yes, miss?”

  "My name is Wayness Tamm. I have an appointment with Countess Ottilie for eleven o'clock.”

  The maid’s blue eyes widened in mild surprise. “Do you now we haven’t had too many visitors of late. The Countess thinks that everyone is out to steal her, or sell her fake jewels, or steal her things. In the main, of course, she is right. That is my view of it, at least.”

  Wayness laughed. “I've nothing to sell and I'm too timid to steal."

  The maid smiled wanly. "Very well, I'll take you to the old creature, for all the good it will do you. Just mind your manners and praise her dogs. What was your name again?”

  "Wayness Tamm.”

  “This way, then. She's taking her elevenses out on the lawn."

  Wayness followed the maid across the terrace and down to the lawn. Fifty yards away, solitary as an island in a green ocean, the Countess sat at a white table, in the shade of a green and blue parasol. She was surrounded by a band of small fat dogs, all sprawled in attitudes of repose. Countess Ottilie herself was tall and gaunt, with a long sharp face, haggard cheeks, a long crooked nose with large nostrils, and a long jaw. Her white hair, parted in the middle, had been drawn to the nape of her neck and tied into a knot. She wore an ankle-length blue gown of filmy stuff and a pink jacket.

  At the sight of Wayness and the maid the Countess cried out: “Sophie! Here at once!”

  Sophie made no reply. The Countess silently watched I them approach.

  Sophie spoke in a sullen voice: “This is Miss Wayness Tamm, Your Ladyship. She says that she has an appointment with you.”

  Countess Ottilie ignored Wayness. “Where have you been? I called you, to no avail!”

  '"I was answering the door."

  "Indeed! You took your time about it! Where is Lenk, who should look after such things? “

  “Madame Lenk’s back was taken bad this morning. Mr. Lenk is applying a salve."

  "That is all pooh-bah! Madame Lenk always chooses to suffer at the most inconvenient times! Meanwhile I am not attended! I might as well be a bird on the fence, or the painting in a picture!”

  "Sorry, Your Ladyship.”

  "The tea was thin and barely warm! What of that?"

  Sophle's round face became sullener than ever. "I did not brew the tea; I only brought it out!"

  “Take the pot away, and bring out a fresh pot on the instant!"

  “It won’t be on the instant," said Sophie grimly. "You'll have to wait, like anyone else, while it steeps."

  Countess Ottilie face
became mottled and she prodded the lawn with her cane. Sophie took the tray with the cup and teapot. In so doing, she trod on the tail of one of the dogs, which uttered a shrill cry. Sophie also cried out, jerked backwards and dropped the tray; pot and cup fell to the lawn, with a few drops splashing on Countess Ottilie’s hand, which caused her to bellow a hoarse curse. "You have scalded me!” She swung her cane but Sophie already had jumped back and trusted her pelvis to the side, so that the cane struck only empty air. “I thought you said the tea was cold!" Sophie called. Countess Ottilie had sprained her wrist, and was more vexed than ever. “Ah, you slut, to stamp poor Mikki, and then feign innocence! It is monstrous! Come here at once!"

  '"So you can beat me? Never!"

  The Countess struggled to her feet and swung the cane again, but Sophie, dancing back a safe distance, stuck her tongue out at Countess Ottilie. “That is what I think of you, stupid old crow that you are!"

  Countess Ottilie panted, “As of this instant you are discharged! Leave at once!”

  Sophie marched off two paces, then, bending, flung up her skirts to show Countess Ottilie the expanse of her buttocks, then strolled triumphantly away.

  Wayness stood to the side, shocked, worried and amused. She came cautiously forward, picked up tray, pot and cup and set them on the table. The Countess glared at her. "Go! I have no need for you either.”

  “If you wish, but I had an appointment to see you at this time."

  "Hmf." Countess Ottilie settled back into her chair. "Naturally you want something of me, like all the rest!"

  Wayness saw that she had not made an auspicious beginning. “It is a pity that you have been disturbed. Should I come back when you have had time to rest?”

  "Rest? It is not I who needs rest; it is poor little Mikki with his sore tall. Mikki? Where are you?"

  Wayness peered underneath the chair. “He seems to be doing quite nicely.”