Ecce and Old Earth tcc-2

by Jack Vance

  Ma Chilke frowned. “Adrian who?”

  “Moncurio. You've probably heard the name before, since he was a friend of both Grandpa Swaner and Melvish Keebles.”

  “I remember the name,” said Ma Chilke. “I haven’t heard it for years. He had something to do with the purple vases and the green jade buckles.”

  “That is one reason we are here,” said Glawen. “These purple vases are burial urns and they are valuable to collectors."

  Wayness said: “The same applies to the jade buckles. They are called tanglets. Before we go, I will put you in touch with someone who will help you sell them at a good price."

  '"That’s kind of you," said Ma Chilke. “The things really belong to Eustace, but I don’t suppose he'd mind if I sold a few of them. I can use the money, certainly.”

  “To start with, you should put them in a safe place, and don’t let the children play with them.”

  “Good advice!” Ma Chilke had become noticeably more amiable. “Perhaps you would like a cup of tea? Or a glass of cold lemonade?”

  “Lemonade would be wonderful,” said Wayness. “Can I help?"

  “No thanks, I'll only be a minute or two.”

  Glawen asked: "May we look at the ATLAS OF FAR WORLDS your father gave to Eustace?”

  Ma Chilke pointed. “There it is yonder: the big red book at the bottom of the stack.” She took herself into the kitchen.

  Glawen withdrew the book and brought it back to the couch. “First to Cadwal.” He looked at the index, then turned pages. The planet maps were for the most part Mercator projections, covering the whole of a double page. On the back of the maps was printed pertinent information: a historical synopsis, physical data, statistical tables; odd, unique or noteworthy facts. To many of these informational pages someone, perhaps the young Eustace, perhaps his grandfather, had clipped or otherwise attached additional material.

  Glawen opened the book to the 'Cadwal' map. On the back of the left-hand page a large buff envelope had been taped. Glawen looked up. Ma Chilke was still in the kitchen. He detached the envelope, opened the flap, looked within. He gave Wayness an inscrutable glance, tucked the envelope into the inside pocket of his jacket.

  Wayness asked in a whisper “Is it?”

  Glawen answered in a husky voice: “It is."

  Ma Chilke entered from the kitchen, carrying three tall glasses of lemonade on a tray. She extended the tray to Glawen and Wayness and, glancing down at the Atlas, asked: "What world is that?”

  “Cadwal,” said Glawen. “It’s far away.” He indicated a small red square on the eastern shore of the continent Deucas. “This is Araminta Station, which is our home, and where Eustace is living now. He has become an important person.”

  “Fancy that!" marveled Ma Chilke. “When he was growing up, nobody called him 'Eustace'; they called him ‘Useless'!

  For a fact, he was a moody child and when everyone else went north, Eustace went south. But he had a saving grace: he could always make me laugh! Even though I often wanted to whack him. But Grandpa always took up his cause, and the two were great friends. Strange how things turn out! Eustace being an important man, after so many years!”

  After a moments pleasant reflection Ma Chilke again looked to the map. “Where are the towns and roads and cities?”

  “You won't find any on Cadwal," said Wayness. “The first explorers considered it a world too beautiful and too full of natural wonder to be spoiled by human settlement, so they made Cadwal a Conservancy. Folk may come to visit and enjoy the natural conditions, but no one is allowed to alter the environment, or dig for volcanic Jewels or bother the native beasts, no matter how savage or repulsive they are.”

  “Keep your savage beasts and welcome to them!" declared Ma Chilke. "I have troubles enough with gophers."

  Wayness rose to her feet. “I will be sure to call Alvina, my friend in Trieste. She is a dealer in tanglets and will certainly get in touch with you. I think that she is honest; still it can't do any harm to mention my name.”

  "That is very kind of you.”

  “We are happy to be helpful."

  "Did you ever meet up with that other gentleman?"

  "Julian Bohost?” asked Glawen. “No. He sent out one of his friends, who was even worse.”

  Glawen and Wayness took their leave. The flitter raised from the ground; the Chilke farmstead receded into the afternoon haze.

  Glawen brought out the buff envelope and gave it to Wayness. “You verify. I'm afraid to look.”

  Wayness opened the envelope and withdrew three documents. “This is the Charter," she said. “The original Charter!”

  “Good news, so far.”

  "This is the Grant-in-Perpetuity. It appears to be authentic." She glanced down the page. “It is simple enough — a deed to property described as the planet Cadwal, with its autographical coordinates. Title is vested in the Naturalist Society, contingent upon the payment of timely fees. Transfer of title can be effected quite easily, or so it seems; but neither Frons Nisfit nor anyone else has transferred title.”

  “Very good news, again!”

  “True — with qualifications, which we will discuss. The third document is a letter addressed to Eustace Chilke and signed by Floyd Swaner. It reads:

  '' ‘Dear Eustace:’

  ‘To my intense surprise I came upon these papers mixed among a random lot I picked up at auction for practically nothing. The documents, however, are of incalculable value. In fact, they convey title to the planet Cadwal.’

  ‘The nominal owner is the Naturalist Society and if it were an active responsible entity I would instantly return the papers to what must be considered their rightful owner. However, I have made inquiries and I discover that this would be a most unwise course of action. The Society is moribund; its membership is senile and its officers, with one or two exceptions, are dilettantes. In short, the Naturalist Society is dying if not dead, but not yet aware of the fact.’

  ‘The Cadwal Conservancy is an institution of which I approve. However, as I write, death is approaching me no less definitely than it is overtaking the Naturalist Society. Therefore, I am appointing you the custodian of these documents, until they can be transferred into the secure keeping of a new and revitalized Naturalist Society, or its successor — always toward the goal of ensuring the integrity and permanency of the Cadwal Conservancy.’

  'My only specific instructions are these: do not allow well-meaning but impractical theoreticians to exert any control over you; make sure that your associates are competent experienced and tolerant folk, without ideological axes to grind.’

  ‘If you feel that the task I have imposed upon you is beyond your capability, carefully select some mature person whose dedication to the ideals of conservancy is beyond question, and turn the task over to him, or her.’

  ‘Essentially, you must fly this one by the seat of your pants — as I know you will do in any case, no matter how solemn my instructions and how earnest my warnings.’

  'I take this means for transferring the documents to you for several reasons, one being that when I die and you are not at hand, any property I bequeath to you will cheerfully be expropriated by your brothers and cousins, aunts, uncles, mother and father. Or it will be stored in the barn along with the stuffed animals. I have written you letters at several of your addresses instructing you to look in a place whereof you know for something of value; one of the letters should reach you and, so I believe, will lead you to these documents. Goodbye, or so I fear Eustace. I am not afraid of death; I just don’t think I will like it very much.’

  ‘Floyd Swaner' “

  Wayness looked at Glawen. “That is the lot.”

  “Grandpa Swaner’s ideas are much like our own, which means that we are spared the need for ignoring them.”

  “Which makes things easier for everyone,” said Wayness, “including Chilke, since we can quite justifiably take his cooperation for granted, and assume that he would instantly transfer the documents to
us.”

  “Chilke will be happy that his duties have been discharged so easily. Still, it would be nice to name something after him: a swamp, a bird, a mountain, or even the new labor camp at Cape Journal: the 'Eustace B. Chilke Memorial Penitentiary'.“

  “Chilke might like it better without the ‘Memorial’.“

  “Probably so.”

  At Largo the two took lodging at the Old River Inn overlooking the wide Sippewissa River. Wayness immediately telephoned Pirie Tamm at Fair Winds.

  “Wayness!” cried Pirie Tamm. “This is a surprise indeed! Where are you?” “On the way back from Bangalore. My studies have gone well; I have learned seven new vibrations.”

  Pirie Tamm said cautiously: “I'm sure it will all be very helpful.”

  “The Pandit is pleased with my progress. He feels that my feet are pointed in the right direction, at the very least."

  “Knowing the Pandit, I consider that high praise," said Pirie Tamm dryly. “You are on your way to Fair Winds?"

  “Yes, with a friend. I thought I should forewarn you. Will it be convenient?"

  “Of course. Who is the friend?"

  “It’s a long story and it will keep until we see you. What has been happening at Fair Winds?”

  Pirie Tamm was silent a moment, and seemed to calculate his response. He spoke in a careful voice: “My health is good, and my hip is definitely on the mend. The rhododendrons are putting on a spectacular show; Challis is green with envy, since she considers hers supreme in the field. I have seen nothing of Julian Bohost, which is just as well. The man is a pest and insufferable as well. What else has been going on? Let me see. For some strange reason the Society is enjoying quite an upsurge of interest; during the last month I have enrolled over twenty new members.”

  Wayness studied Pirie Tamm's face. She spoke enthusiastically. “That is really good news, Uncle Pirie!

  We can only hope that the trend continues!"

  “Just so,” said Pirie Tamm. “It is all quite extraordinary! And I must consult the by-laws to assure myself on one or two small points. When will you be arriving at Fair Winds?"

  “Just a moment,” Uncle Pirie “let me consult my friend. We may have some business to transact along the way.” Wayness moved off the screen. Pirie Tamm heard muffled voices. He waited. Wayness returned. “Uncle Pirie, we have decided to stop over for a day or two at Shillaway and we urgently want you to join us there.”

  “That is no problem,” said Pirie Tamm. “I shall enjoy the excursion. Where shall we meet, and when?”

  “We travel tomorrow, so it will be the morning after. We will stop at your favorite hotel; I forget the name at the moment, but no matter it will come to me in a moment. Until the morning of the day after tomorrow, then!”

  “Until then! I am anxious to hear your news!”

  III.

  Glawen and Wayness arrived at Shillaway during the small hours of the night. They went directly to the Sheldon Hotel and slept until nine o'clock, when they received a call from Pirie Tamm. “Perhaps this is early, perhaps not, since I do not know what you have in mind. In any case, I prefer to err on the side of promptitude."

  “Quite right, Uncle Pirie!” said Wayness. “We have much to talk about and many things to do. But for now you might like to know that we have been successful in our quest. We have everything we set out to look for.”

  “That is very good news! But who is the ‘we’?”

  “Glawen Clattuc is with me.”

  “Aha! So that is how the wind blows! Well, I am not at all surprised. In any case, I will be happy to see him again."

  “Meet us in the lobby; we'll be down in five minutes."

  The three breakfasted and spoke together at length.

  Glawen and Wayness reported upon their adventures; Pirie Tamm spoke of his own fears and speculations.

  “It is clear that Julian is up to mischief," said Wayness.

  “We still can't relax."

  “Especially since Julian is working with Smonny."

  Wayness' mouth drooped. “But that’s not certain, or is it?”

  “Either Namour or Smonny sent Benjamie to Araminta Station. Here on Earth Julian was directed to the Shoup Art Supply by Ma Chilke, but Benjamie was the one who romanced Miss Shoup and then went out to Nion. That indicates a connection between Julian and Smonny. It's probably only temporary, since Smonny and the LPF are ultimately pulling in different directions. But for now I imagine that each wants to make use of the other.”

  Wayness jumped up. “Why are we delaying here? Let’s get this thing over as quickly as possible, before someone tries to interfere."

  "You are making me nervous." Glawen rose to his feet. "The sooner we accomplish our business the better."

  “Very well," said Pirie Tamm. “Today we witness the end of an era."

  IV.

  Pirie Tamm, Wayness and Glawen returned to Fair Winds, arriving late in the afternoon.

  “It is too late to arrange a full-scale banquet," said Pirie Tamm. “The occasion, of course, demands nothing less, but we shall content ourselves with a festive dinner."

  “Just as well,” said Wayness. “I could not work up the proper jubilation. Also, Glawen would not be permitted to sit at the table, since he has nothing to wear except the clothes he is standing in.”

  Pirie Tamm summoned Agnes. “This is Glawen Clattuc,” he said. “Do we have any decent clothes in the spare wardrobe to fit him?”

  “I'm sure we do, sir. If the gentleman will come will: me, we'll have a look.”

  “Also, tell Cook to expect three for dinner. Perhaps she will roast some plump ducklings with plum sauce, or a nice joint of beef. Nothing elaborate, you understand.”

  “Very good, sir. I will give her the message.”

  Glawen and Wayness bathed and dressed in fresh garments. They descended to find Pirie Tamm waiting for them in the drawing room. “It is a bit brisk out on the verandah, and sunset is a good half-hour past. Therefore, we will take our sherry indoors this evening. Wayness, as I recall, you are partial to the Fino.”

  “It’s all good, Uncle Pirie."

  “That is my opinion as well. Glawen, do you like sherry, or would you prefer something else?”

  “Sherry will do nicely, thank you.”

  The three seated themselves. Pirie Tamm held aloft his glass. “It seems fitting that we should take this occasion to salute the noble Naturalist Society, which functioned such long centuries with grace and dignity, and commanded the genius of so many extraordinary men!” Pirie Tamm paused to reflect. “It is perhaps a rather lugubrious toast, but I offer it nevertheless, in the same reverent spirit which the ancient druithines sang their paeans of catharsis.”

  “Let us know when we can drink,” said Wayness.

  “Now!” said Pirie Tamm. “To the Naturalist Society!”

  Glawen proposed a second toast. "To the intrepid and incomparable Wayness!”

  “It may not be in the best taste, but I'll drink anyway,” said Wayness. “To myself!”

  Pirie Tamm refilled the glasses. Wayness proposed a toast: “To Glawen and Uncle Pirie, both of whom I love dearly, and also to Xantief, Grandpa Swaner, Myron and Lydia, the Countess and her dogs, and many others!"

  "Let me specifically include Miss Shoup and Melvish Keebles,” said Glawen. “For no particular reason."

  Pirie Tamm once again raised his glass: “We have celebrated the past, its grandeurs and gallantries, but there are new challenges to face, new deeds to do, new mysteries to solve, and, yes, new enemies to conquer! The future confronts us with — ”

  Wayness protested. “Please, Uncle Pirie! I'm still limp from the past! So far as I am concerned, the future can wait until we have used up some of this very agreeable, very relaxing present.”

  Pirie Tamm became contrite. “Of course! So it shall be! I fear that I was carried away by the flow of my own rhetoric. We shall attend to the future when it becomes convenient."

  Agnes entered the room.
“Dinner is served.”

  In the morning the three made a leisurely breakfast. Glawen asked Pirie Tamm: “Are you certain that we are not an inconvenience? If so — "

  “Do not so much as think of it. When you go I will be alone again. You must stay as long as you can.”

  “There is work for us to do,” said Wayness. “It’s urgent that we draft a temporary Charter and by-laws to protect the new Conservancy until the work can be done properly.”

  “It is a sound idea,” said Pirie Tamm. “At this moment, I can see how the Conservancy could be snatched away from you, and without any great difficulty although it would be necessary to mitigate or even cancel your testimony by killing you."

  “If Benjamie were alive, I'd feel more vulnerable,” said Wayness. “He killed with no qualms whatever. I don’t think Julian has killed anyone yet.”

  “The prospect of working here is pleasant,” said Glawen. “Still, I am concerned about Cadwal and what might be going on. I'm sure that it can't be good.”

  The telephone rang. Pirie Tamm went to the screen. “Yes?”

  “Julian Bohost here," said a voice.

  “Well, Julian, what do you want?”

  “I would like to call at Fair Winds, to discuss a matter of some importance. What time would be convenient for you?"

  “One time is as good as another.”

  “I will be there in half an hour, with my associates."

  Half an hour later Julian Bohost arrived at Fair Winds, with an entourage of two men and two women. Julian wore a suit of pale blue and white stripes, a white shirt with a teal blue cravat and a white broad-brimmed hat. The other four persons were about Julian’s age or a few years older, and were without notable distinction.

  Pirie Tamm ushered the group into the drawing room. Wayness and Glawen were seated on the couch. Julian pretended surprise but his efforts were unconvincing. He introduced his companions: “Mr. and Mrs. Spangard, Mr. Fath, Miss Trefethyn. Over here is Mr. Pirie Tamm; then Wayness Tamm and Glawen Clattuc, from Cadwal."

  Pirie Tamm asked: “Can, I offer you coffee? Or tea?”

  “No thank you,” said Julian. "We are here not on a social occasion, but on serious business.”