Planet of Adventure Omnibus (35 page)

Reith left
the room. The Lord’s sibilant murmur reached his ears: “You are an uncouth
fellow.”

In the hall
waited the majordomo, who greeted Reith with the faintest of smiles. He
indicated a rather dim passageway painted red and blue. “This way, sir.”

Reith paid
him no heed. Crossing into the grand foyer, he left the way he had come.

REITH WALKED
BACK toward the Oval, pondering the city Settra and the curious temperament of
its people. He was forced to admit that the scheme to build a small spaceboat,
which in far-off Pera had appeared at least feasible, now seemed impractical.
He had expected gratitude and friendship from the Blue Jade Lord; he had
encountered hostility. As to the technical abilities of the Yao, he was
inclined to pessimism, and he fell to appraising the vehicles which passed
along the street. They appeared to function satisfactorily, though giving the
impression that flair and elegance, rather than efficiency, had been first in
the minds of the designers. Energy derived from the ubiquitious power cells
produced by the Dirdir; the coupling was not altogether quiet: an indication,
so Reith considered, of careless or incompetent engineering. No two were alike;
each seemed an individual construction.

Almost
certainly, reflected Reith, the Yao technology was inadequate to his purposes.
Without access to standard components, maxima-minima sets, integrated circuit
blocks, structural forms, computers, Fourier analyzers, macro-gauss generators,
a thousand other instruments, tools, gauges, standards, not to mention clever
and dedicated technical personnel, the construction of even the crudest
spaceboat became a stupendous task, impossible in a single lifetime ... He came
to a small circular park, shadowed under tall psillas with shaggy black bark
and leaves of russet paper. At the center rose a massive monument. A dozen male
figures, each carrying an instrument or tool, danced in a dreadful ritual grace
around a female form, who stood with arms raised high, upturned face twisted in
some overpowering emotion. Reith could not identify her expression. Exultation?
Agony? Grief? Beatification? Whatever the case, the monument was disturbing,
and rasped at a dark corner of his mind like a mouse in the woodwork. The
monument seemed very old, thousands of years? Reith could not be sure. A small
girl and a somewhat younger boy came past. They paused first to study Reith;
then gave fascinated attention to the gliding figures and their macabre
instruments. Reith, in a somber mood, continued on his way and presently came
to the Travelers’ Inn. Neither Traz nor the Dirdirman were on the premises.
They had, however, hired accommodations: a suite of four rooms overlooking the
Oval.

Reith bathed,
changed his linen. When he went down to the foyer, twilight had come to the
Oval, which was now lit by a ring of great luminous globes in a variety of
pastel colors. Traz and Anacho appeared on the other side of the Oval. Reith
watched them with a wry grin. They were basically alien, like cat and dog; yet,
when circumstances threw them together, they conducted themselves with cautious
good-fellowship.

Anacho and Traz,
so it developed, had chanced upon an area known as “the Mall,” where cavaliers
settled affairs of honor. In the course of the afternoon the two had watched
three bouts: near-bloodless affairs, Traz reported with a sniff of scorn. “The
ceremonies exhaust their energy,” said Anacho. “After the addresses and the
punctilio there is little time for fighting.”

“The Yao, if
anything, are more peculiar than the Dirdirman,” said Reith.

“Ha ha! I
dispute that! You know a single Dirdirman. I can show you a thousand and
confuse you totally. But come; the refectory is around the corner. If nothing
else, the Yao cuisine is satisfactory.”

The three
dined in a wide room hung with tapestries. As usual Reith could not identify
what he ate, and did not care to learn. There was yellow broth, faintly sweet,
with floating flakes of pickled bark; slices of pale meat layered with flower
petals; a celery-like vegetable crusted with crumbs of a fiery-hot spice; cakes
flavored with musk and resin; black berries with a flavor of the swamp; clear
white wine which tingled the mouth.

In an
adjacent tavern the three took after-dinner liquors. The clientele included
many non-Yao folk, who seemed to use the place as a rendezvous. One of these, a
tall old man in a leather bonnet, somewhat the worse for drink, peered into
Reith’s face. “But I’m wrong, for a fact. I thought you a Vect of Holangar;
then I asked myself, where are his tongs? And I said, no, it is just another of
the anomes who creep into Travelers’ Inn for a sight of their own kind.”

“I’d like a
sight of my own kind,” said Reith. “Nothing would please me more.”

“Yes, isn’t
this the case? What sort are you, then? I can’t put a name to your face.”

“A wanderer
from far lands.”

“No farther
than mine, which is the far coast of Vord, where Cape Dread holds back the
Schanizade. I have seen sights, I tell you! Raids on Arkady! Battles with
sea-folk! I remember an occasion when we drove into the mountains and destroyed
the bandits ... I was a young man then and a great soldier; now I toil for the
ease of the Yao, and earn my own ease thereby, and it is not so hard a life.”

“I should
suppose not. You are a technician?”

“Nothing so
grand. I inspect wheels at the car yard.”

“Many foreign
technicians are at work in Settra?”

“True. Cath
is comfortable enough, if you can overlook the vagaries of the Yao.”

“What about
Wankhmen? Are there any such in Settra?”

“At work?
Never. When I sojourned at Ao Zalil, to the east of Lake Falas, I saw how it
went. The Wankhmen will not even work for the Wankh; they have sufficient
exertion pronouncing the Wankh chimes. Though usually they play the chords on
remarkable little instruments.”

“Who works in
the Wankh shops? Blacks and Purples?”

“Bah! One
might be forced to handle an article the other had touched. Back-country
Lokhars for the most part work in the shops. For ten or twenty years, or
longer, they toil, then they return to their villages rich men. Wankhmen at
work in the shops? What a joke! They are as proud as Dirdirman Immaculates! I
see a Dirdirman beside you tonight.”

“Yes, he is
my comrade.”

“Odd to find
a Dirdirman so common!” marveled the old man. “I have seen only three
previously and all treated me like dirt.” He drained his goblet, set it down
with a rap. “Now I must leave; I bid all good evening, Dirdirman as well.”

The old man
departed. With almost the same swing of the door a pale black-haired young man
dressed unobtrusively in dark blue broadcloth entered the tavern. Somewhere,
thought Reith, he had seen this young man, and recently.. . Where? The man
walked slowly, almost absentmindedly, along the passage beside the wall. He
went to the serving counter, was poured a goblet of sharp syrup. As he turned
away his gaze met that of Reith’s. He nodded politely and after a moment’s
hesitation approached. Reith now recognized him for Cizante’s pallid young
aide.

“Good
evening,” said the young man. “Perhaps you recognize me? I am Helsse of Isan, a
Blue jade connection. I believe that we met today.”

“I had a few
words with your master, true enough.”

Helsse sipped
from his goblet, made a fastidious grimace, placed the goblet on the bar. “Let’s
move to a more secluded place, where we can talk.”

Reith spoke
to Traz and Anacho, then turned back to Helsse. “Lead the way.”

Helsse
glanced casually toward the front entrance but chose to leave through the
restaurant. As they departed Reith glimpsed a man thrusting into the tavern, to
glare wildly around the room: Dordolio.

Helsse
appeared not to notice. “Nearby is a little cabaret, not overly genteel, but as
good as anywhere else for our talk.”

The cabaret
was a low-ceilinged room, lit by red and blue lamps with blue-painted booths
around the periphery. A number of musicians sat on a platform, two of whom
played small gongs and drum, while a male dancer strode sinuously this way and
that. Helsse selected a booth near the door, as far as possible from the
musicians; the two seated themselves on blue cushions. Helsse ordered two drams
of “Wildwood Tincture” which were presently brought to the table.

The dancer
departed, the musicians undertook a new selection, with instruments similar to
oboe, flute, cello, and a kettledrum. Reith listened for a moment, puzzled by
the plaintive scraping, the thumps of the kettledrum, the sudden excited trills
of the flute.

Helsse leaned
solicitously forward. “You are unfamiliar with Yao music? I thought as much.
This is one of the traditional forms: a lament.”

“It could
never be mistaken for a cheerful composition.”

“A question
of degree.” Helsse went on to list a series of musical forms, of decreasing
optimism. “I do not mean to imply that the Yao are a dour folk; you need only
attend one of the season balls to appreciate this.”

“I doubt if I
will be invited,” said Reith.

The orchestra
embarked upon another selection, a series of passionate phrases, taken up by
each instrument at varying instants, to terminate in a wild sustained quaver.
By some cross sensoral stimulus, Reith thought of the monument in the circular
park. “The music bears some connection with your ritual of expiation?”

Helsse smiled
distantly. “I have heard it said that the spirit of Pathetic Communion
permeates the Yao psyche.”

“Interesting.”
Reith waited. Helsse had not brought him here to discuss music.

“I trust that
the events of this afternoon caused you no inconvenience?” asked Helsse.

“None
whatever, other than irritation.”

“You did not
expect the boon?”

“I knew
nothing of it. I expected ordinary courtesy, certainly. My reception by Lord
Cizante, in retrospect, seems remarkable.”

Helsse nodded
sagely. “He is a remarkable man. But now he finds himself in an awkward
position. Immediately upon your departure the cavalier Dordolio presented
himself to denounce you as an interloper, and to demand the boon for himself.
To be quite candid, such a proceeding, on Dordolio’s terms, would embarrass
Lord Cizante, when one takes all into consideration. You perhaps would not be
aware that Blue Jade and Gold-Carnelian are rival houses. Lord Cizante suspects
that Dordolio would use the boon to humiliate Blue Jade, with what consequences
no one can foresee.”

Reith asked: “Exactly
what was the boon promised by Cizante?”

“Emotion
overcame his reserve,” said Helsse. “He declared: ‘Whoever returns me my
daughter or so much as brings me news, let him ask and I will fulfill as best I
can.’ Strong language, as you see, uttered only for the ears of Blue Jade, but
the news circulated.”

“It appears,”
said Reith, “that I do Cizante a favor by accepting his bounty.”

“This is what
we wish to ascertain,” said Helsse carefully. “Dordolio has made a number of
scurrilous statements in regard to you. He declares you a superstitious
barbarian intent on reviving the ‘cult.’ If you demanded that Lord Cizante
convert his palace into a temple and himself join the ‘cult,’ he might well
prefer Dordolio’s terms.”

“Even though
I appeared first on the scene?”

“Dordolio
claims trickery, and is violently angry. But all this to the side, what might
you demand of Lord Cizante, in light of the circumstances?”

Reith
considered. Unfortunately, he could not afford the prideful luxury of refusal. “I’m
not sure. I could use some unprejudiced advice, but I don’t know where to find
it.”

“Try me,”
suggested Helsse.

“You are
hardly unprejudiced.”

“Much more
than you might think.”

Reith studied
the pale handsome face, the still black eyes. A puzzling man was Helsse, the
more so for his impersonality, neither cordial nor cold. He spoke with
ostensible candor but permitted no inadvertent or unconscious signals to
advertise the state of his inner self.

The orchestra
had dispersed. To the platform came a somewhat obese man in a long maroon robe.
Behind him sat a woman with long black hair plucking a lute. The man produced
an ululating wail: half-words which Reith was unable to comprehend. “Another
traditional melody?” he inquired.

Helsse shrugged.
“A special mode of singing. It is not altogether without value. If everyone
belabored themselves thusly, there would be far less
awaile
.’

Reith
listened. “Judge me harshly, all,” moaned the singer. “I have performed a
terrible crime; it is because of my despair.”

“Offhand,”
said Reith, “it seems absurd to discuss my best advantage over Lord Cizante
with Cizante’s aide.”

“Ah, but your
best advantage is not necessarily Lord Cizante’s disadvantage,” said Helsse. “With
Dordolio the case is different.”

“Lord Cizante
showed me no great courtesy,” mused Reith. “I am not anxious to do him a favor.
On the other hand, I do not care to assist Dordolio, who calls me a
superstitious barbarian.”