Lurulu (15 page)

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?”

“I can show only miscellaneous notes, a few receipts, perhaps a production ledger or two, also indexes and a few outlines for future Mouse-rider productions. They may cast a glimmer of light upon this miserable affair, or so I hope.”

Siglaf snapped: “We want more than a glimmer of light; we want our money!”

Maloof rose to his feet. “My advice is this: each party should assemble all available documents, memoranda, contracts, notes and anything else relevant, then prepare a careful schedule of claims, as detailed as possible. Then we can return to the negotiations whenever it becomes convenient.”

Siglaf and Hunzel grimaced in dissatisfaction and stalked off to their quarters.

Moncrief said glumly: “I am a trained impresario, gifted with both creativity and wit; I have organized Mouse-rider pageants and much else, but I am not a man for trifling detail.”

“You must search your records with care,” said Maloof. “One number is worth a dozen suppositions!”

Despite Maloof’s instructions, the deliberations he had envisaged were forestalled by an unexpected event. During the night, unknown entities came in from the steppe, furtive as ghosts. They halted behind the far warehouse and worked with silent efficiency. When they departed, the thirty-two carboys of kasic were in their possession.

4

Wingo, arising early, had gone for a morning stroll with his camera, hoping to surprise a mereng at one of its interesting activities. As he passed behind the far warehouse, he noticed evidence of the depredation as well as confused tracks in the grass, and a pair of ruts leading off into the northeast.

Wingo reported his findings to Maloof, who sent Myron to notify Director Gontwitz. Myron found Gontwitz making a breakfast of porridge and tea. Neither tact nor delicacy was practical; Myron said: “Bad news, sir! The kasic has been stolen.”

Gontwitz stared at him impassively, jaws moving as he ingested the last of his porridge. Then he turned to his radio. Myron, standing by, heard Dockerl’s cheerful call issuing from the mesh: “Dockerl here!”

Gontwitz’s voice cracked with emotion. “You have not yet made the instant departure for Port Palactus as was instructed.”

Dockerl made haste to explain. “Always we move at speed. We prepared to depart while dealing with a dozen emergencies! They are now defeated and our departure is imminent!”

“Do not trouble yourself unduly,” Gontwitz told him drily. “The Lallankers have preceded you; the kasic is gone. Allow me, if you will, to criticize your torpid activity. I ask only that you compare it with the Ritter’s code of duty.”

When Dockerl finally was able to interpose a remark, he cried out: “Instead of taxing me for something which was nothing, you should compliment my sagacity for avoiding a fruitless mad dash across the steppe. I avoided an exercise in futility and saved you a howling embarrassment! Have you no gratitude?”

Myron returned to the
Glicca
, to find Captain Maloof conferring with Wingo and Schwatzendale. He joined the group and listened with interest to the discussion.

“There should be no great risk and the advantages are obvious,” said Maloof. “Are there contrary opinions?”

“None at all,” said Schwatzendale. “The scheme is sound.”

“That is my personal feeling,” said Maloof. “Make your arrangements and be on your way.”

Schwatzendale, Wingo and Myron lowered the ship’s flitter to the turf. They boarded the craft and took it aloft. Below the steppe expanded far and wide, uniform but for the tracks of the Lallanker wagons leading northeast and slow waves where the wind touched grass.

Flying at an altitude of a thousand feet, the flitter followed the wagon trail and after half an hour the quarry came into view: a column of five wumps, each carrying on its broad back a trimble, with a front and back deck. The high-pitched roofs were artfully concave, with quaint upturned eaves. The decks of the trimbles were vacant, the Lallankers apparently resting within after the night’s work and subsequent carousing. A long rope trailed from the last wump in the column, pulling a wagon loaded with carboys.

Aboard the flitter, Schwatzendale, Wingo and Myron took counsel, and agreed upon a strategy which seemed simple and direct. Schwatzendale brought the flitter down until it barely skimmed the grass and approached the column from the rear, until the flitter almost nosed the wagon.

Myron jumped into one of the ruts where the grass had been smashed flat and ran to the front of the wagon. With a sharp knife he cut the rope, which fell slack and trailed away through the grass after the receding wump. Myron returned around the wagon to the flitter before a mereng might emerge from the grass and seize his leg. The column of wumps continued into the northeast, the Lallankers oblivious to the loss of their booty.