by Jack Vance
“What is ‘schmeer’?”
Gontwitz replied gracelessly: “Schmeer is the adhesive which binds our rugs. It is indispensable.”
“Interesting! The carboys then contain schmeer?”
“Naturally not! The carboys contain a catalyst called kasic which is used to make schmeer.”
Moncrief gave his head a smiling shake. “You are an artist with words, so much is clear. However, you paint with too broad a brush. The pictorial scheme is striking, but the details are lost in a blur.”
Gontwitz screwed up his eyebrows. “I confess to bafflement! Please clarify your remarks.”
Moncrief considered. “Essentially, I am asking: what is ‘kasic’?”
Gontwitz glowered, then decided to humor this unlikely savant. “As I stated, kasic is a component of schmeer. When poured from the carboy, kasic is a dark brown liquid, semi-viscous, with a bad smell. For each forty gallons of schmeer, two gills of kasic are required.”
“And who does the formulation? A special caste of adepts, I assume?”
“Not so! The Ritters are a single race; there are no castes except, perhaps, for the Lallankers.”
“Then, who makes the schmeer?”
“Everyone. My daughter Treblinka is an expert.”
“And what is her method?”
“The recipe is standard. Into a forty-gallon vat she pours twenty gallons of green grass gum, adds ten gallons of barnacle slurry, ten pounds of mereng bladder-wax for unctuousness, three gallons of boiled red kelp, a jug of emalque extract, a gallon of fire oil for bite, and two gills of kasic. The vat is brought to a boil, simmered for two hours, strained and allowed to rest. After a week the schmeer is ready.”
“Most interesting!” Moncrief looked toward the Glicca, where the work of unloading was still underway. Moncrief told Gontwitz: “With so much kasic, you will be inundated in schmeer! How can it all be put to use?”
“Curb your wonder!” Gontwitz told him. “Thirty-two carboys of kasic is barely adequate. The rugmaker’s worst fear is that his pot will go dry.”
Moncrief asked plaintively: “But where is the need for so many rugs? It seems that the rugmakers are driven by obsession! Surely these rampant energies could be put to better use!”
“Indeed? What do you have in mind?”
Moncrief considered, tapping his chin with his forefinger. “First, a civilized town or two, with tourist hotels, cafés, and arcades where the best rugs could be put on display. This would seem a progressive program.”
Gontwitz studied Moncrief for a long moment. “Doubtless you are a deep-dyed scholar and a past master of poodle-de-doodle; also, you have read several books. Still, your knowledge of Star Home is a muddle and your theories are bunk.”
Moncrief blinked but maintained his sang-froid. “I will give your comments careful study! They may well illuminate the unusual quirks of local custom.”
“While you study, remember this,” said Gontwitz. “We Ritters are nomads, wandering the steppe as the mood takes us: by the white light of day, through the pale moonlight of night. The vistas are never the same; the grass undulates in long swells where it is moved by the wind. Sometimes rain sweeps down upon the trimbles* but the wumps amble on, taking no notice. At the rear of the trimbles are racks where the rugs are worked. It is a placid life, so long as kasic is available on a timely basis. If Lallankers intercept the shipment, then rug-makers with short pots of schmeer become anxious.”
*
Trimbles: small huts built upon the backs of wumps.
Moncrief put a delicate question: “What, then, is a ‘Lallanker’?”
Gontwitz spat on the ground. “The topic is tiresome. Still, it cannot be ignored. Sometimes a youth with doting parents becomes adolescent convinced of his own sublime importance. He daydreams, shirks his work and joins the girls at play, wearing a blue sash, and makes no effort to learn the creed of the Ritters. No one interferes; they are Ritters and each must pursue his own destiny. He has no friends, but consorts with others of his own sort. They think of themselves as gallant bravos, entitled to the sweetest fruits on the tree of life. Their favorite ploy is to preempt a shipment of kasic and make off with it across the steppe, where it is now their own property through the exigencies of the Ritter creed. They make for an important camp, such as Blackwater Marsh, and deal with the kasic. If there are six Lallankers, each takes for himself a carboy of kasic; he has no need for any more. The balance is then given over to a haphazard distribution, which is better than no distribution at all.
“The Lallanker now looks to his own affairs. He decorates his trimble with red satin cushions and sluices down his wump with floral water. He stocks his pantry with delicacies, including flasks of brambleberry wine and rare confections from the synthesizer. He ties a blue sash around his waist and sets off to find his favorite among the pretty girls, and invites her up to his trimble. He seats her upon a cushion, then pours soft green wine into dainty cups of carved bamboo; presently he serves a banquet of unusual viands. The afternoon passes. At sunset he displays a jug of kasic and asks if he might offer such a gift to signalize his fervent regard. She responds with joy and gratitude. Meanwhile the wump ambles across the steppe through the gathering dusk, and so it goes.
“Elsewhere the rugmakers scrape the bottoms of their schmeer-pots. Across the steppe, at every sweetwater pond, along every strand, on every hillock where the wumps encircle a camp, the rug-makers sing the same song, and it is a sad song indeed.”
Moncrief asked, “Could not the system be altered so as to provide schmeer for these unfortunates whose pots have gone dry?”
Gontwitz was unmoved. “Thirty-two carboys of kasic yield a precise volume of schmeer. This is the basis for an orderly distribution of kasic.”
“Aha!” cried Moncrief, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. “You have cited a problem to which I have the answer!”
Gontwitz had lost interest in the topic and turned to address Maloof, but Moncrief was not to be denied. “My concept is simple but elegant! I commend it to your attention.”
Gontwitz heaved a patient sigh. “Very well! Explain this noble concept, if you will.”
“With pleasure! You merely ship twice as many rugs to Cax; they will send back twice as much kasic. This cargo must be discharged at a site secure from the Lallankers. That is the crux of the scheme. The kasic now is distributed with open-handed grandeur and the song of the rugmakers will be heard no more.” Moncrief stepped back in smiling anticipation of Gontwitz’s plaudits.
“Startling!” Gontwitz admitted. “Particularly in view of its implicit purport.”
“Oh?” Moncrief asked, nonplussed, his smile fading. “How can this be?”
Gontwitz said: “Your scheme imputes to the Ritters a bewildered foolishness from which they are rescued by the advice of a kindly off-world savant.”
“Ahem,” said Moncrief. “I fear that your meaning eludes me.”
Gontwitz paid no heed. “The advice is spurious for several reasons. First, a flood of mediocre rugs would choke the repository. Second, to double the amount of schmeer doubles the quantity of the other materials, which are tedious to collect. Third, even at this time, there are many who wish to limit the import of kasic to ten carboys. Fourth — but perhaps you have heard enough. In essence, your scheme cannot be recommended.”
Moncrief performed a stiff bow. “No further expatiation is necessary. And now, please excuse me; I have urgent business elsewhere.” He swung about and marched off toward the Glicca, where the discharge of cargo had now been effected. Gontwitz turned to Maloof. “What, may I ask, is your next destination?”
“We carry goods for Cax, which will be our next port of call.”
“In that case, I can offer you a parcel of freight for Monomarche at Cax, if you are interested.”
“I am interested, certainly.”
“The parcel consists of fourteen rugs, rolled into bundles about six feet long. They are now in the repository at Torqual Downs. I c
an order them out by wagon, which means a delay of two weeks, but there is a better way. Dockerl will arrive within three or four days, along with my assistant Zitzelman. As soon as Dockerl picks up the carboys of kasic, I suggest that we shift the Glicca to Torqual Downs, where the rugs can be loaded efficiently. The freight charges will be prepaid at the standard rate of one hundred and seventy-five sols. Do you have further questions?”
Maloof considered. “As a matter of curiosity, what value is placed upon a single rug?”
Gontwitz glanced at Maloof with a flicker of suspicion; still, he responded without hesitation. “There are several categories. The export grades command a price of three hundred sols. Occasionally, when we need a special item of machinery, such as a new food synthesizer, or the like, we include in the shipment an extra rug and the transaction is accomplished.”
“And you sell only to Monomarche?”
“Correct. It is a long-standing arrangement.”
3
Back aboard the Glicca, Captain Maloof told the ship’s company of the altered schedule. “We will be delayed here at Port Palactus for several days, until Director Gontwitz has cleared away his carboys; then we move to Torqual Downs to take on freight for Cax. You may think of it as a three-day vacation! But one warning: do not wander into the grass, for any reason whatever. According to Gontwitz, the merengs are dangerous, and will bite at your legs in order to bring you down into the grass.”
Moncrief smiled tolerantly. “Gontwitz’s opinions are often extravagant. However, in this case, I endorse his views!” Addressing the members of his troupe, he spoke emphatically. “Attempt no exploration of the steppe! Do not tease or befriend the merengs; they make poor companions.
“Now then!” He slapped the table for emphasis and rose to his feet. “As for the layover mentioned by Captain Maloof, it comes at an opportune time. I am sorry to say that it will not be a vacation. I have worked up several new routines for the Mouse-riders which I hope will play well at Cax. They differ from our usual entertainment, and must be presented carefully since the audiences at Cax are somewhat special.” Moncrief displayed a sheaf of papers. “These are my notes. I propose that we run through them now, and perhaps we will hold a scratch rehearsal later in the day. This way, if you please.” Moncrief set off across the saloon, with Flook, Pook and Snook dancing and skittering at his heels.
The Klutes sat watching silently with sardonic expressions. For a moment they muttered together, then lurched to their feet and sauntered across the saloon after the others. The girls, winsome and demure as always, settled upon a couch; the Klutes leaned contemptuously against the wall.
Moncrief placed his papers upon the table. “You might like to know that at Cax we will be performing at the Trevanian, which is a very large theater. The Trevanian is popular with ordinary Blenks and the upper classes as well. The audiences are boisterous; the Blenks come to relax and have a good time; if they like the performance, the artists are rewarded; if the audience is bored or displeased, the performers quickly learn of the fact and even then must be gracious. The Trevanian will be an interesting experience for all of us. Now then: to work.” He gathered the sheaf of papers from the table. “These sequences are unlike our usual material, in view of the responsive audience. The first sequence is a tropical extravaganza. The girls wear costumes of green feathers and bird masks. They perch in the foliage of a lush jungle and produce fluting melodies based upon bird-calls. Suddenly they mime terror and become silent. From off-stage comes a low rumbling mutter, a sound felt rather than heard. The bird-girls hide in the foliage as best they can. The rumble becomes heavy and the slave-takers appear: massive creatures wearing the iron armor of Bugasky warriors. They discover the bird-girls and set about their craft. The bird-girls are clever and use all manner of tricks to evade capture. In the end the slave-takers are caught in their own snares and hoisted high to hang by their heels. The green-feathered bird-girls cavort and dance gleefully. At last the slave-takers escape and chase the bird-girls into the jungle. From far away comes a horrid sound. Lavender murk slowly falls over the scene, and that is the first sequence.” Moncrief looked from face to face, hoping for enthusiasm.
Hunzel muttered: “It sounds complicated. I don’t like hanging by my heels.”
“It will please the audiences,” said Moncrief cheerfully.
“For the second sequence, I plan to use the old Zagazig routine, modified a bit, possibly. I wonder if we could lure enough daredevils from the audience. Hm. Perhaps not; the Blenks are somewhat self-conscious. In any case, for the third sequence I am inclined to try a truly innovative scheme which is simple but which still should amuse the Blenks, who are always ready for a frolic.” He chuckled. “They will remember the Mouse-riders to the end of their days!” He picked up his papers. “But now and most urgently: the jungle sequence!” He tendered papers to Flook, Pook and Snook, but when he turned to the Klutes, they thrust the papers aside and stood with arms folded. “You may perform a private act with your papers,” Hunzel told him.
Siglaf was no less definite. “The sequences are irrelevant. We are here to collect our money, no other reason.” Hunzel added: “We want no evasions! Chuckles and winks will no longer suffice; the money must be paid in full.”
Moncrief sighed. “At the moment Mouse-rider finances are not robust, nor, for a fact, can I guess the extent of your demands. Can you draw up a detailed invoice?”
“That is unnecessary,” said Hunzel. “We can calculate the total in this fashion: for Siglaf and myself: ten sols per day each. For the girls: seven sols per day. In all, the amount is forty sols per day, or in fair estimate: two hundred sols per week. We have served you for three years, which indicates a total of about thirty thousand sols.”
Moncrief’s eyebrows rose high in shock. He started to speak, but Hunzel continued. “From this figure we deduct a reasonable sum for layover times, moneys advanced to us and miscellaneous items and arrive at a reasonable figure of twenty thousand sols. That is our just demand.”
Moncrief heaved a deep sigh. “This is astounding! You have plucked an inordinate figure out of the air and pretend that it is a logical demand! I dispute the accuracy of this figure, from one end to the other! If you want me to take you seriously, you must present a carefully detailed account; that will be the basis for negotiations.”
“We want no negotiation,” stormed Siglaf. “We want money! Do you intend to pay?”
“Your demands are preposterous! Prepare a careful invoice and I will give it my attention, at the very least. As I have indicated, the Mouse-rider reserves are currently scant.”
“That is not what we wanted to hear! We are listening for the crackle of financial certificates and the chink of sols!”
Moncrief tried to soothe the ruffled feelings. “Let us all be reasonable! We cannot allow a little tiff to spoil the game! I hope for great success at Cax, and you must be ready to share the acclaim!”
Siglaf produced a harsh grunt of what might have been laughter. “There will be no ‘acclaim’ if there are no Mouse-riders! Unless we are paid, we leave the ship at Cax.”
Moncrief chided her: “That is sorry talk! If you leave the ship without funds, you will end up begging in the streets.”
“Do not worry on our behalf!” Hunzel told him, leering. “We and the girls will quickly set up a profitable enterprise. We shall not lack funds.”
Moncrief’s jaw dropped as the implications of the program became clear to him. He spoke in a hushed voice: “You cannot be serious! The idea is unthinkable!”
“Not really,” said Siglaf. “If you do not pay us our money, then we must rely upon what assets are under our control. You must accept the inevitable.”
Moncrief had found his voice. “I accept nothing! The girls shall not leave the Glicca.”
Siglaf produced her harsh laugh. “You are a foolish old man. You refuse to pay us our money, then you squeal at the consequences.”
“The girls will go ashore with us at
Cax,” said Hunzel. “They have no choice! They are bound to us until their indentures are dissolved. The law will support our case.”
Moncrief turned to the girls. “Do you want to leave the Glicca at Cax, and go off with the Klutes?”
Flook reflected a moment, then said: “So far as I am concerned, I would rather not.”
Pook said: “I prefer to stay with the troupe.”
“We shall not leave the Glicca,” said Snook. “That other sort of work does not seem nice.”
Hunzel spoke sharply: “That is for us to decide! Your indentures are four hundred sols each, and you must do as we say until the indentures are paid off! That is the law!”
Moncrief put on his most winning smile. “Truly, this talk is neither helpful nor progressive!” He glanced across the saloon. “There is Captain Maloof; perhaps he can help us resolve our problem.”
“Let him be,” growled Siglaf. “This is none of his affair.”
“Everything aboard the Glicca is his affair,” Moncrief told her. He signaled to Maloof, who sauntered across the saloon.
Maloof looked from face to face. “No one seems happy; are there difficulties?”
“Yes,” said Moncrief. “We have reached an impasse. Your advice might be helpful.”
“My opinions may please none of you. However, I will take the risk, if you will do the same.”
Moncrief described the dispute, using as few words as possible, and trying for objectivity. Siglaf and Hunzel made several more or less acerb comments, then the three girls stated their points of view.
Maloof looked down at the table. “What papers are these?”
“Just my notes on Mouse-rider sequences,” said Moncrief.
Maloof looked around. “Can any of you show documents to verify his or her demands?”
“We need no documents,” growled Hunzel. “We base our claims on mathematical truths.”
Maloof looked at Moncrief. “And what of you?”
