Throy (20 page)

          Glawen decided that he was not as surprised to see Flitz as he might have been. He spoke. “I am Commander Glawen Clattuc, and this is Commander Eustace Chilke. May we speak with Lewyn Barduys?”

Flitz shook her head. “He has gone off to look over a construction site.” Her voice was cool but civil.

“When will he be back?”

“Later in the day. This was not a scheduled trip, so I can be sure of nothing.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Flitz made a small gesture, which might have been interpreted as a twitch of impatience, though her face and voice remained cool. “He went up to meet our foundations engineer; there was some sort of problem at the site.”

“What kind of construction is underway?” asked Chilke.

Flitz surveyed him dispassionately. “Nothing is underway at this time. Several projects are being considered.” She turned back to Glawen. “If you care to explain your business, I may be able to help you.”

“Perhaps so. Is there an omnigraph on the premises?”

“Yes - in the manager’s office.”

“May we see it?”

Flitz wordlessly led the way down a long dim hall to a room in the north wing furnished with office equipment. She pointed toward a desk. “There is the omnigraph.”

“Have you used it recently?”

“I have not used it at all.”

“What about Mr. Barduys?”

“I don’t think so. This is Mr. Alhaurin’s office.”

Glawen went to the machine. He verified that the station identification number was ‘97 .’ He activated the automatic recording device, which indicated that the last message had been dispatched four days previously, to the Port Mona Post Office. Glawen read the record. “‘Line check N.”‘

Flitz said: “That is an odd message.”

“So it is,” said Glawen. “Where is Alhaurin now?”

          Flitz showed little interest in the subject. “I think he went into Port Twang.”

“You don’t know where to find him?”

Flitz merely jerked her shoulders and stared moodily off across the room.

“Are you acquainted with Namour Clattuc?”

“I know who he is: yes.”

“This is a message from the manager Alhaurin to Namour. Can you get in touch with Mr. Barduys?”

“I can call his flitter, but if he and Mr. Bagnoli are out on the site, he would not respond.”

“It might be a good idea to try.”

Flitz went to a telephone, entered a code and waited. There was no response. “He is out on the site,” said Flitz. “You will have to wait until he returns.” She led the way back to the sitting room. “It will be at least an hour or perhaps two; that is my best guess. Nesta will bring you refreshments.” She turned to leave.

“Just a minute. Perhaps you will answer some questions.”

Flitz used her cool clear monotone. “Later, perhaps. Not at the moment.” She went to the doorway, turned a glance back over her shoulder, as if to make sure that the visitors were not already up to mischief, then left the room. Glawen gave a grunt of dissatisfaction and went to look out the window. Chilke wandered to the side of the room, where shelves displayed artifacts of virtue and cunning craftsmanship. Glawen turned away from the window and went to sit on the couch. “All taken with all, it has not gone too badly. If nothing else, we have located Barduys and we know why he came to Rosalia.”

Chilke joined Glawen on the couch. “You are referring to the construction projects?”

“Correct. Namour is involved - somewhere, somehow. Flitz probably could clarify everything if she were in the mood. But she prefers to snub us, and make sure that we are properly cowed.”

          “Strange that she is not more curious about us!” mused Chilke. “I suppose it is all part of the inscrutability package.”

“More likely it’s just what it seems to be: indifference or some weird sort of hostility, towards the human race.”

“Her hormones would seem to be in good running order. I say this on the basis of a casual glance.”

Glawen leaned back in the couch. “It’s too complicated for me. So far as I’m concerned, the mystery of Flitz must remain just that.”

Chilke smilingly shook his head. “There is no real mystery.”

Glawen sighed. “Tell me about it.”

After a moment’s reflection, Chilke said: “Look at it this way. If you were asked to describe that old yew out yonder, your first statement would be: ‘It is a tree.’ In the same way, when asked to describe Flitz, first you would say: ‘This creature is a woman.’”

          “Is there more?”

“It is only the starting point. I won’t go so far as to say that all women are alike; that is a popular misconception. Still, basic principles never change.”

“You have left me behind. How does the apply to Flitz?”

“At first glance she might seem mysterious and inscrutable. Why? Could it be that she is actually shy and demure, and emotionally immature?”

“Marvelous!” declared Glawen. “How do you divine all this, so quickly?”

“I have had experience with these hoity-toity types,” said Chilke modestly. “There is a trick for dealing with them.”

“Hm,” said Glawen. “Can you divulge a few details?”

“Of course! But keep in mind that patience is involved. You sit off by yourself, pretending disinterest, and watching the sky or a bird, as if your mind was fixed on  something spiritual, and they can’t stand it. Pretty soon they come walking past, twitching just a bit, and finally they ask your advice about something, or wonder if they can buy you a drink. After that, it is simply a matter of docking the boat.”

          The maid Nesta appeared, bearing a tray of sandwiches, a teapot and cups, which she placed upon a table, then departed. Flitz strolled into the room. She glanced at the tray as she moved to the window and looked around the sky. Then she turned and surveyed her visitors. She nodded toward the tray. “Help yourselves.”

“We were waiting for you to pour the tea, since you are the hostess,” said Chilke. “In our business we try to be as polite as possible.”

“You may pour,” said Flitz. “It is not impolite to pour tea.”

Chilke poured out three cups of tea, one of which he tendered to Flitz. She shook her head. “Why are you here?”

Glawen hesitated. “It is a complex business.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Are you aware of conditions on Cadwal?”

“To some extent.”

“Cadwal is now governed by a new Charter, which is much like the old, except that it is stronger and more definite. At Stroma the LPF group is defying the new law. So is Simonetta Zigonie who controls the Yips. Smonny and Titus Zigonie also own Shadow Valley Ranch, as you probably know.”

          “Yes. I know.”

“At Araminta station we are in trouble. Both the LPF and Smonny intend to move Yips to the mainland of Deucas, and so destroy the Conservancy. These people outnumber us, and in the end they would win. We are fighting for both the Conservancy and our lives. So far, they are deterred by three factors: first, our patrol craft still have an edge in firepower. Second, they need transport to move the Yips ashore. They hope Lewyn Barduys will supply such transport. Third, the LPF and Smonny can’t agree on priorities - much less eventualities. If you find this confusing, I won’t be surprised.”

“I am confused only as to your reasons for coming here.”

“We hope to intercede with Mr. Barduys, so that he will not help either Smonny or the LPF.”

“You need not concern yourselves. Both Dame Clytie and Smonny have applied to Mr. Barduys, but he has no intention of helping either.”

“That’s good news.”

Chilke said: “We are also hoping to locate Namour. Apparently you came to Rosalia with the same purpose in mind.”

Flitz looked at him with a blank expression. “Why do you say that?”

“We heard something to this effect on Rhea.”

Once more Flitz went to the window and looked around the sky. She said, without emphasis: “You were misled - to a large extent, at least.”

Glawen asked politely: “Would you care to explain?”

“We had other reasons for coming to Rosalia. Mr. Barduys hoped, in passing, that he might find Namour here.”

“Namour was waiting for you,” said Glawen. “As soon as you arrived, Alhaurin notified him at Shadow Valley Ranch.”

“So it seems. Mr. Barduys will discover what is going on and deal with Alhaurin accordingly.”

“Evidently you are not on good terms with Namour?”

Flitz became haughty. “The matter is surely beyond the scope of your authority.”

“Not so! Anything concerning Namour concerns me.”

Flitz shrugged. “The business is simple enough. Mr. Barduys had supplied Namour an expensive piece of equipment. Namour wanted to alter the terms of payment.”

Chilke inquired: “Then L-B Construction has brought you here, and not Namour?”

“That is approximately correct.”

“Can you tell us what is being constructed?”

“It is no secret. When we were last on Cadwal, we visited the wilderness lodges. Both Mr. Barduys and I were favorably impressed. He has long been interested in hostelries and country inns, from a philosophical viewpoint. After visiting the Cadwal lodges he decided that he wanted to create something of the same sort.”

“And what of you?”

          “The lodges are pleasant to visit. I’m not particularly interested otherwise.”

Chilke asked: “Why did Mr. Barduys fix upon Rosalia as a site for his constructions?”

Flitz shrugged. “Rosalia has a good climate. The scenery is dramatic. Tourists are fascinated by the waifs and the big trees. He is acquainted with Stronsi Ranch and he has several sites in mind which he considers favorable. So he organized a project team and set the work in motion.”

“What of the owner? Does he approve of the scheme?”

Flitz showed the trace of a grim smile. “The owner made no difficulties.”

A chime sounded. Flitz went to the telephone. She spoke and was answered by a burst of staccato statements, as if from a release of pent irritation.

Flitz asked a question and was answered. She spoke again, giving instructions, then broke the connection. Slowly she turned back to Glawen and Chilke. She spoke in a flat voice: “That was Bagnoli.”

“The engineer?”

Flitz nodded. “He is still at Port Twang. A message directed him to meet Lewyn at Abel’s store, south of town. He went to this place and waited a long time, then returned to the original rendezvous. Lewyn had come and gone. Bagnoli thinks that Alhaurin was responsible for the false message.”

“Alhaurin or Namour.”

“So now Lewyn has gone to the site alone, and I am afraid.”

“Tell us how to find this site.”

“I will take you there.”

Chapter 6

Chapter 6, Part I

The Fortunatus flew north over a landscape that became ever more bleak. Below passed a line of stone peaks, naked as shark’s teeth; a forest of gnarled witchtrees, a plain where nothing grew but yellow-gray sedge. By degrees the ground sagged and became a morass split by a river of dark stagnant water. “The river is low,” said Flitz. “We are just coming into the season of storms.” She pointed to heavy black and purple clouds banked above the eastern horizon. “Bad weather is already on the way.”

Glawen looked over the landscape ahead, to a line of distant mountains. “How far now to the site?”

“Not far. The slutes are just beyond the mountains, and also the ruins of Bainsey Castle. It is a terrible place - but it is where Lewyn Barduys wants to build the first of his lodges.”

The Fortunatus flew on: over a dismal waste marked by patches of black and brown lichen. To the east appeared the leaden glint of open water: the Maenadic Ocean. Hills rose below, then mountains. Across the ridge the land dropped away sharply; and to the north, as far as the eye could reach, spread the slutes: a peneplain of black rock, stark, bare, flat as a table except for shallow basins where water reflected the sky. At the edge of the slutes, near a low crag, were the tumbled ruins of Bainsey Castle. The area seemed deserted; there was no sign either of Barduys or the vehicle in which he might have arrived.

The Fortunatus landed beside the crag, a hundred yards from the ruins. The three jumped to the ground, and immediately felt the force of the fresh wind. The scene, thought Glawen, was both awesome and eerily beautiful, unlike any he had seen or even imagined. Black clouds rolled across the sky: precursors to a storm. Wind propelled waves from the sea upon the slutes; water surged and hissed in sheets over the flat black stone. Out upon the waste water-waifs danced and cavorted like demons. It was an ideal site for a wilderness lodge, a new Bainsey Castle so strong and massive that the impact of green waves could be ignored, where visitors could look out over the unreal panorama in comfort and security.

Glawen turned to Flitz. “He’s not here!”

“He must be here! This is where he said he was coming!”

Glawen looked all around the rocky flat. “I don’t see his flitter.”

“He came up in the Flecanpraun.”

Glawen made no comment. Flitz set off down the slope toward the ruins. Glawen and Chilke followed, weapons ready for surprise.

Flitz stopped short and pointed. Glawen and Chilke, looking down toward a tumble of boulders, saw a flitter which had landed on a narrow flat close beside a jut of rock, as if for concealment. Flitz raised her voice to be heard over the rush of the wind. “That is the ranch flitter!”

Chilke scrambled down to the flitter. Almost at once he called back. His words reached Glawen and Flitz blown by the wind. “There is a body down here! It is not Barduys!”

          Flitz joined him. “It is Alhaurin.” She searched around the area, then finding nothing more she picked her way over the rocks to where she could look across the ruins of Castle Bainsey. “Lewyn!” she called out: “Lewyn! Where are you?”

Her voice was carried away on the wind. The three listened, but heard only the hiss of flowing water and the moaning wind.

The water-waifs had noticed the intruders. Dancing and jerking, they approached by sidling darts and retreats: black figures about man-size, seemingly all arms and legs, so fluid and quick in their movements that the eye was never able to focus upon them, nor determine the exact nature of their being. Flitz paid them no heed. She jumped down into the ruins, calling out and peering into crannies and crevices. Suddenly she gave a cry of startlement and jerked back, so abruptly that she almost fell. From nearby shadows darted four water-waifs brandishing pointed poles. They scurried pell-mell out upon the slutes as if in a hysteria of fear or glee, or whatever might be their emotion; at a distance of fifty yards they halted and skittered about, bounding, sliding, waving their poles.