Lurulu (10 page)

“That would be my conclusion; yes indeed!”

“And you do not recall any such event?”

Zangwill grimaced. “No; I fear not.”

“If anyone shows an interest in this hypothetical occasion, communicate with me immediately, and I will put matters right. I may say that your cooperation has established you in the good graces of the IPCC.”

Zangwill showed a wry smile. “That is good news.”

The screen went blank. Serle, frowning at some unwelcome thought, asked Maloof: “I assume that you learned the exact location of the
Maijaro
?”

Maloof responded without emphasis. “I took the coordinates from Zangwill’s map.” He recited numbers.

Serle brought out a map of the second continent and spread it upon his desk. Maloof repeated the numbers; Serle traced the coordinates and marked the intersection. “The
Maijaro
is here where the river passes close under the Sumberlin Ridge.” He studied the map. “Upstream about eight miles is a small village. Its name is ‘Pengelly’, being the term for a local crowlike bird; otherwise it seems of little importance.” He reached into a drawer, brought out a reference book, found relevant information and read: “Pengelly: a village of considerable antiquity on the Suametta River, with a population of about four hundred, occupied principally with fishing and agriculture. Pengelly figures to a small extent in historical lore and at one time was the lair of the bandit Rasselbane. The single structure of importance is the ‘Iron Crow Inn’.” Serle put the book aside. “And there you have it. The
Maijaro
lies at anchor on the Suametta, with your mother and Cavke drowsing away the hours. Cavke will not surrender gracefully. Apart from setting the houseboat on fire, how will you proceed?”

“There is no lack of options,” said Maloof. “We might dress as fishermen and try to sell Cavke some fish. We might present ourselves as river police looking for a stolen houseboat. During the night we could transfer the anchor line to a tree on the shore; the current would swing the houseboat up on the beach, then when Cavke waded ashore we could apprehend him. In any case, we will bring my mother back to Coro-Coro and return her to Morlock.” Maloof rose to his feet. “We will keep in touch with you.”

Serle also rose. “If you leave now, you will arrive at the Suametta by late afternoon. I suggest that you put down somewhere for the night and reconnoiter in the morning.”

“No doubt that is what we shall do.”

5

Returning to the
Glicca
, Maloof and Myron found no one aboard. They left a note on the galley table, then took the flitter aloft to cross once more the pleasant landscapes of Fluter, holding to a north-westerly course. Halfway through the morning they passed over a long line of cliffs and set out over the blue ocean beyond, reaching the white beach which fringed the second continent as the sun approached the noon meridian. They flew on, over forests, rolling hills, mountains, cultivated lands, tracts of wilderness.

Late in the day the flitter reached the River Suametta; turning upstream, Maloof and Myron found the houseboat
Maijaro
lying quietly at anchor.

In the failing light of afternoon the village Pengelly could be seen on the opposite shore, half-hidden under tall trees. The Iron Crow Inn was immediately noticeable: a massive two-story structure built of antique timber and stone under a crotchety slate roof, with ghost-chasers protecting the ridges. The single street of the village led away under the trees, past weathered stone houses. Tendrils of somnolent smoke rose from chimneys; Pengelly had succumbed to the torpor of age.

Maloof and Myron surveyed the village from above, then dropped to a landing upon a strip of wasteland beside the inn. Alighting, they stood watching and listening, but heard neither voices nor running footsteps; their arrival apparently had gone unnoticed.

They set off along a path which led to the front of the building. Over the entrance, an iron-framed sign of traditional style hung by chains from an overhead gallows: a black iron crow, four feet tall, in an attitude of intrepid defiance. Under the sign a pair of heavy doors opened into the inn.

Maloof and Myron pushed through the doors and entered a large high-ceilinged common room. Windows in the left wall overlooked the Suametta, admitting a tide of dim light. A glossy wooden bar occupied the front half of the right-hand wall, with a dining area to the rear. Alone in the room, at a table to the back, sat two children busily writing in exercise books. The boy was about eleven, the girl somewhat younger.

Upon entering the chamber, Maloof and Myron came forward, then stopped short, staring in fascination at the length of wall behind the bar, where an artist of long ago had painted a remarkable mural. With absolute preciosity the artist had simulated a long mirror reflecting the images of the patrons, who sat studying their images in the mirror. A representative group of villagers were present on that long-past occasion: young, old, men and women, wearing clothes of archaic style; a few laughing, others grave, each concerned with the exigencies of their now forgotten lives. The bar was untenanted, except perhaps for the ghosts of those who sat reflected in the mirror.

The children had become aware of the newcomers. Both were clean, alert, self-assured. The boy jumped to his feet, ran to a door in the back wall, called through a message, then trotted back to his place at the table. In the doorway a grizzled old man showed himself. He was small, bony, dour, wearing a white apron. Muttering an objurgation, he sidled down behind the bar to where Maloof and Myron waited. Halting, he subjected them to a brief inspection, then spoke. “Gentlemen, what are your needs?”

“They are quite ordinary,” said Maloof. “We want lodging for the night, supper and breakfast in the morning.”

The bartender reflected at length, nodding in slow cogitation, until Maloof became impatient. “Surely this is the Iron Crow Inn? Am I addressing the proper official? If not, please direct us to someone in authority.”

The bartender surveyed Maloof with disapproval. He responded carefully, using precise diction, so as not to confuse Maloof. “Be calm! You have certainly arrived at the historic Iron Crow Inn. I am Ugo Teybald, the proprietor. I am obliged to notify you that our clientele is select and we cannot indulge the habits of off-worlders, except at premium rates.”

Maloof smiled grimly. “Your preconceptions are wrong. We are savants touring Fluter like vagabonds and we are accustomed to the hospitality of Fluter inns. Nothing surprises us; we will make do with your standard accommodation, but put away all thought of premium rates, since we have agreed to report all instances of over-charging to the District Control.”

“Bah!” muttered Teybald. “Our rates are graven in stone. If the goddess Hyrcania came up from her cave and wanted lodging, she would find that our rates were immutable.”

“Very well then; we shall be content with the best you can offer, at the immutable rate.”

Teybald deliberated, then said gruffly: “The season is slack; we can allow you a first-class chamber which includes fine furniture and a splendid view of the river. An adjacent lavatory is offered as an extra.”

“Oh? How much extra? And what will be the immutable total?”

The two eventually agreed upon an all-inclusive rate for room, lavatory, supper, breakfast, service and view, for a rate which Maloof found acceptable.

Teybald looked here and there. “And where is your luggage?”

“Still aboard the flitter.”

Teybald slapped his hand upon the bar and cried out: “Berard! Sonssi! Be quick! These rich off-worlders want service! Smartly now, if you hope for a noble gratuity!”

Almost before he had finished speaking, the children had dashed from the inn and around the building to the flitter. Myron hurried after them, and reached the flitter in time to extricate the luggage before Berard and Sonssi swarmed aboard to do the work themselves. Myron passed out the luggage; the children seized the cases and carried them triumphantly back to the inn, up the stairs and into the room which had been assigned to the spacemen.

Maloof and Myron followed more sedately, and were ushered by the children into a large room smelling of wax and old wood. The room lacked ornament, but was furnished with massive pieces clearly of great age. Maloof went to look from the window which, as advertised, commanded a view of the river. A path led from the inn, down to a dock, where several boats bobbed at their moorings.

Maloof signalled Sonssi, who sprang forward, quivering with eagerness. Maloof said: “I notice boats at the dock yonder. Are they to be used by guests of the inn?”

“Indeed they are, sir, and they provide truly fine sport, or — if you prefer — calm and gentle rest. You are assured of a pleasant evening on the water.”

“Not tonight,” said Maloof. “Perhaps tomorrow morning.”

“Still, you should reserve now. In the morning the fishermen come early and take out the best boats, and nothing remains but the scow.” Berard stepped forward. “May I ask, what sort of boat do you require?”

Maloof considered. “Something not too large, but it should move well through the water and be very quiet.”

“Perhaps you should come down to the dock while the light still holds and make your own selection.”

“A good idea,” said Maloof. “We will come down in five minutes.”

“We will be ready.”

Berard and Sonssi marched to the door where they turned to stand in postures of formal decorum. Maloof and Myron paid them no heed, and began to arrange their belongings.

Berard spoke. “Sirs, we have done our best to serve you. If we have failed, then we deserve no gratuity.”

“Aha!” said Maloof. “All is now clear.” He gave five dinkets to each, which the children accepted politely but without enthusiasm and departed.

Ten minutes later Maloof and Myron walked down to the dock, with Berard and Sonssi running ahead. Four boats were moored to the dock. In the end they selected the
Lulio
, an unpretentious work-boat about twenty feet long, with a small cuddy.

Sonssi endorsed the choice. “All are good boats; they float without hesitation and the engine propels them in a direction of your choice. The
Lulio
has a small cabin which will deflect the rain, should this occur.”

Berard demonstrated the controls and certified that the boat was capable of at least adequate speed. Sonssi told them confidently: “Naturally you will need a skillful pilot, and here I am superior to Berard who is somewhat reckless and likes to try sidewise swashes. He is also absent-minded and is apt to run you aground. If you trust Berard, you are likely to come back bedraggled and wet. As for me, I know all the secret places of the river and the fine streams.”

Berard said scornfully: “Pay no heed to Sonssi; she is a bit of a braggart. I am by far the superior pilot! I take it for granted that you will hire me in this capacity.”

Maloof explained that no pilot whatever would be needed, while the two listened glumly. The four returned up the path. Berard and Sonssi raced ahead and stationed themselves by the door to the inn.

Maloof looked from one to the other. “So what is it now?”

“Nothing of consequence, sir,” said Berard. “We were waiting in case other services might be needed.”

Sonssi added: “Also, if you planned gratuities, we wanted to be ready at hand, to cause you the least inconvenience.”

Maloof gave a rueful laugh and distributed five-dinket coins to each, then he and Myron entered the inn. They went to sit at the bar, where four villagers were already present, drinking beer from tall tankards. They darted sidelong glances toward Maloof and Myron, then turned back to their beer, to mutter in undertones.

Teybald, now wearing a white smock and a small white cap, approached. “What, sirs, is your pleasure?”

“You may serve us a bitter ale, if it is readily available,” said Maloof.

Without comment Teybald produced two tankards of foaming ale.

“Further,” said Maloof, “we want to cruise the river for a few hours tomorrow. For preference we will use the
Lulio
. I expect that this is a service that you offer to guests at the inn without charge?”

“Wrong! We rent the
Lulio
out at a rate of seven sols per day.”

Maloof raised his eyebrows in shock. “That is a large sum! We can swim the river free of charge.”

“True, and you will lose your private parts to the glass-fish within the minute. Swimming is a poor economy.”

In the end Maloof secured the
Lulio
for five sols, payment to be made in advance. Maloof agreed to the provision and paid on the spot.

The two were presently called to supper, which consisted of a dish of sharp greens, fried fish with sour fritters, goulash with seasoned barley, a compote of fresh fruit and a pot of tea.

Berard and Sonssi, wearing white aprons, served them deftly and again received gratuities.

After supper Maloof and Myron resisted a second visit to the bar and went upstairs to their beds. The evening was quiet; there were no sounds from the village. After half an hour of desultory conversation, the two slept.

6

Maloof and Myron arose early, descended to the common room and were served a substantial breakfast of porridge, griddlecakes with marmalade and fried sausages. In the pre-dawn stillness, they walked down to the dock.

The day was clear and crisp, without so much as a breeze to ruffle the face of the river. The two boarded the
Lulio
, loosed the mooring and set off downstream, with the first glimmer of dawn light reflecting on the water.

The
Lulio
moved quietly at ten miles per hour, according to the meter on the console.

Maloof kept the boat close to the right-hand shore, where, in Maloof’s opinion, they should be less conspicuous to anyone watching from the
Maijaro
, although it seemed unlikely that either Cavke or Lady Maloof would be vigilant at this early hour. Under different conditions the two men would have enjoyed the peace of the river and the idyllic scenery along the shores, which, appearing ahead, drew abreast, then receded astern.