Throy (31 page)

“So here you are, and here you will spend your days,” said Bodwyn Wook. “Expect no visitors nor succor nor tidings of any kind. In short, you must take care of yourselves.”

“You may or may not wish advice,” said Glawen. “I will give it to you anyway. You will notice that a stockade surrounds the summit. It is broken in spots and your first concern should be to repair the holes; otherwise you will be attacked by visitors from the jungle. We are leaving a dozen cases of provisions; there may be more in the old cook shed.”

In a woeful voice Spanchetta cried out: “And when these are gone, we shall surely starve!”

“Not if you work,” said Scharde. “Smonny knows the routine. Outside the prisoners raised crops; you should have no difficulty doing the same, and we are leaving you gardening tools and seeds. There are also nuts, pods, berries and tubers in the jungle, but it is a dangerous place. Still, you will soon learn the tricks of survival. Smonny’s prisoners built nests in the trees, with ladders which they raised at night. Perhaps some of these will still be useful. All in all, you will find life at Shattorak an interesting challenge.”

“It is a dreadful prospect!” cried Spanchetta. “Is it right that I, Spanchetta Clattuc, must now climb trees that I may sleep in security?”

“It is a unique prison,” said Scharde. “You can escape any time you like. The gates to the stockade are always unlocked, so you need make no furtive plots. If and when the mood comes on you to escape, simply step through the stockade, walk down the slope and make for the coast.”

“Your advice is inspiring,” said Namour. “We shall start making plans at once.”

Chilke spoke to Smonny: “It is really too bad, Madame Zigonie, that this is how it had to end. We have had good times and bad times together; you once bought me a fine dinner, but on the other hand you put me into that doghole yonder. We can go to look at it now, if you like. I still wake up screaming from the nightmares. Also, you never paid me my six-months salary. I don’t suppose you are in a position to settle up?”

          Smonny merely glared.

“No matter,” said Chilke. “I hold no grudges, despite my time in the doghole.”

Chilke climbed into the omnibus; the others followed. The three prisoners stood in a group, watching as the omnibus lifted into the sky, dwindled away to the east and was gone.

Chapter 9

Chapter 9, Part I

The Yips were gone from the Marmion Foreshore; the fourteen camps were as if they had never existed. To the east the ocean lay blue and tranquil save for a few low swells. Surf slid up the beach, gurgling and foaming, to slide back without haste. Wind blew through the palm trees, though now there was no one to listen. The Yips had come and the Yips had gone, leaving not so much as a charred ember to mark their stay. One and all, they had been transported to the Mystic Isles of Muran Bay, on the world Rosalia.

Chapter 9, Part II

Glawen and Wayness were wed at Riverview House. Cora Tamm had yearned for a traditional ceremony, complete with candles, music and the ancient rite of the golden hoops, and so it had been. Now, in a temporary cabin on their grant of land at the foot of the Bolo Hills, Glawen and Wayness planned their new home. They would build on a low slope beside a quiet river, using walls of rammed earth and timber posts. At the back of the site stood two gnarled flame-apple trees, with a pair of sylvanic elms to either side. While they waited for the equipment which would dig their foundations and form their walls, they planted vines on the hillside and an orchard of fruit trees on a nearby meadow.

Chapter 9, Part III

Lewyn Barduys revisited the wilderness lodges operated by the Conservancy and was relieved to find that his old enthusiasms were not misplaced. On this occasion his mood was analytical and he took careful notes. The charm of the inns, so he discovered, derived not from mysticism or the expectations of the visitors, but from practical and consistent techniques.

The first thesis governing every inn was definite: it must be an integral part of the landscape, with no interference from elsewhere in the form of color contrasts, discordant shape, music or other entertainment. Comfort, quiet and good food were essential, since the visitors would be distracted in their absence. Similarly, the staff should wear an unobtrusive uniform and be trained to conduct themselves in a formal and impersonal manner, devoid of familiarity and over-affability.

Barduys visited each of the inns in turn, spending two and sometimes three days at each. On this occasion he travelled alone; Flitz’ interests were now directed elsewhere.

Barduys presently returned from his inspection of the wilderness lodges. His business at Araminta Station was complete. He had secured for the Mystic Isles a population which precisely fitted his purposes. These ex-Yips were easy, pliable, of great physical charm, with an aptitude for the environment of music, flowers and festivals he intended to encourage. There would also be schools and ample opportunity for social mobility, should anyone choose to wrench himself or herself away from the Mystic Isles. Further, Namour and Smonny had disappeared from human ken. Barduys, despite his previous emotion, now could not contemplate their joint fates without a shudder. He put them from his mind and resolved never to think of them again.

The time had come for his departure. A good deal of L-B Construction business awaited him at Zaster, on Yaphet by Gilbert’s Green Star. He must undertake a comprehensive overview of his far-flung enterprises. There would be consultations, feasibility studies of new projects, and a flurry of executive decisions. Then, unless emergency called him elsewhere, he would continue across space to Rosalia and the work which had become his preoccupation.

Egon and Cora Tamm had arranged a farewell party for Lewyn Barduys at Riverview House. After lunch the guests went to sit on the terrace. Autumn had come to Araminta Station; the air carried a faint reek of wood smoke and old leaves. Spatters of sunlight sifted through the trees; the river flowed placidly to the side, almost directly under the terrace. A mood of gentle melancholy pervaded sky, air and all the landscape.

On the terrace conversation was languid and voices were muted. Among the company were folk originally from Stroma: ex-Warden Algin Ballinder, his wife Etrune and his daughter Sunje; another ex-Warden, Wilder Fergus and his spouse Dame Larica; several of Wayness’ old friends: Tancred Sahuz and Alyx-Marie Swarn. Also on hand were Dame Lamy Offaw and her son Uther, the one-time Bold Lion, Scharde Clattuc, Claude Laverty and his spouse Walda. Bodwyn Wook sat somewhat apart, a loose-crowned black cap pulled low over his forehead. Glawen thought that he seemed out of sorts; certainly none of his jaunty mannerisms were on display.

For a time the company discussed the unprecedented amount of home construction now in progress across the Araminta enclave, which made for many delays. Dame Lamy declared that blunders, obfuscation and inefficiency at Bureau D was responsible for the inconveniences. She suggested that Lewyn Barduys call in L-B Construction and put an end to the muddle. Barduys was inclined to agree with her assessment of Bureau D, but he politely rejected the proposal. Now then, if Dame Lamy had asked him to build a dozen more wilderness lodges, he would be only too happy to oblige. There were sites on Throy which cried out for quiet little inns: for instance, on Throop’s Heath, where the andorils played their odd version of bowls; also, among the rocks above Cape Wale, where the great southerly storms dashed waves against the cliffs.

The proposals were interesting, said Dame Lamy tartly, but if Lewyn Barduys had his way, there would be hostelries at two-mile intervals everywhere across Deucas and Throy, and why forget Ecce? Were the tourists not interested in horrid monsters?

          Barduys conceded that, without a doubt, Dame Lamy knew best, and that he would be guided by her views.

For a time the group sat quietly, lulled by the tranquility of the afternoon. Egon Tamm sighed and roused himself. “The bad times are gone; there is nothing left to smite and destroy save Bureau D.”

“Bower Diffin does not deserve execution,” said Glawen, referring to the Bureau D supervisor, “even though it will be two months before we can have our excavations.”

“True,” sniffed Larica Fergus. “But a good horse-whipping would smarten him up a bit.”

Uther Offaw, who was in training as an academician in the field of historical philosophy, said grandly: “The present is now! The past is gone and already seems unreal! We have entered an age of blandness; it is safe to become outraged over small nuisances.”

          Larica Fergus said tartly: “I have known enough sensation; I am happy with blandness.”

Uther Offaw frowned up at the sky. “And when does blandness become lethargy; when does lethargy lapse into sloth? Where then are the higher virtues? Where is romance? Achievement? Adventure? Glory? Heroism?”

“I am too old for such exploits,” said Dame Larica. “I fell down yesterday and hurt my knee.”

          “It is all beside the boards,” snapped Dame Lamy Offaw. “We have had a surfeit of tragedy. Even the mention of your sore leg is in poor taste.”

Ex-Warden Ballinder pulled thoughtfully at his black pirate’s beard. “Recent events have been awesome, but perhaps they may serve as a salutary catharsis, especially if our descendants learn from our travail.”

Sunje Ballinder told her father: “I am your descendant. What is it again that I am supposed to learn?”

“Remain honest, steadfast and true! Adopt no weird philosophies. Avoid exotic cults and intellectual miasma.”

“You should have told me sooner,” said Sunje. “The hay is in the barn.”

Algin Ballinder gave his head a sad shake. “I wonder what you will tell your own children.”

“Sunje is rather secretive,” said Alyx-Marie. “She may well hide their shoes to keep them home of nights and out of mischief.”

Sunje stretched her long legs languorously. “I am not at all secretive; quite the reverse. No one asks my opinion because I make such embarrassing disclosures. At the moment I can’t help but feel that the world is a less amusing place with Dame Clytie gone. I mourn for the old she-buffalo.”

Dame Lamy Offaw showed a prim smile. “There is still Bodwyn Wook and his picturesque antics. Enjoy them while he is still with us; once he goes you will not soon find his like again.”

Bodwyn Wook jerked himself forward and struck the table with his fist. “Your words are a catalyst! As of this instant, I resign my position as Superintendent of Bureau B! The decision is irrevocable! When now you insult me you insult a liberated man, so beware!”

The statement stimulated a spate of excited outcries.

“Impossible! Bureau B will be a hollow shell; who will chide the criminals? Who will scold the Bureau B constables?”

Wayness called out “We will need a new Superintendent. I nominate Rufo Kathcar!”

          Cora Tamm said gently: “Bodwyn Wook is just joking. He wants to dissolve our ennui.”

“I distrust the old rascal,” grumbled Dame Lamy Offaw, an ancient adversary of Bodwyn Wook at Garden Society meetings. “He is a master at getting everyone’s hopes up.”

Bodwyn Wook roared: “I am doing one thing only. I am trying to slip quietly away into oblivion, and even this causes an uproar!”

Egon Tamm asked Barduys: “Where is Flitz, by the way? She was invited, and so was Eustace Chilke; neither are on hand.”

          Barduys smiled. “Flitz and Eustace Chilke, like Bodwyn Wook, have resigned their positions. Chilke now commands a Fortunatus space yacht. He made this fact known to Flitz; they conferred at length and in the end decided to become vagabonds and wander among the planets.”

Sunje was startled. “Chilke? Flitz?”

“Yes. They have more in common than one might think. I expect that one of these days they will drop by Araminta Station and bring you news of distant places.”

Later, when most of the guests had departed. Barduys joined Glawen and Wayness at the side of the terrace. “Chilke holds title to the Fortunatus we left at Ballyloo. Neither Egon Tamm nor Bodwyn Wook will protest, in view of certain concessions I have made to them, including the Clayhacker space yacht. I also advised them in regard to the holdings of Titus and Simonetta Zigonie. The Conservator is entitled to sue the pair for damages, which the two caused to be inflicted on Stroma and the surrounding cliff. This is real property owned by the Conservancy. After securing a judgment, the Conservator could sell Shadow Valley Ranch for a large sum, which could be added to the ‘Floreste’ fund. I indicated that L-B construction would build the New Orpheum on favorable terms. For these reasons Bodwyn Wook failed to so much as whimper when I suggested turning over the Fortunatus to Chilke and Flitz.”

“That is very generous of you,” said Wayness.

          Barduys merely waved his hand. “Now then: to another detail, namely my wedding present to the two of you. It is another Fortunatus, identical to the first. It is waiting for you at the space terminal, here at the Station. I wish you the enjoyment of it, and of all your years together. The keys and codebox are at the dispatcher’s office.”

Glawen stammered: “This is a most wonderful gift! I don’t know what to say.”

Barduys, not ordinarily demonstrative, touched Glawen’s shoulder. ”I have a great deal of money, but few friends. I count you, and now Wayness, among them. And I need not mention the deep cold hole at Bainsey Castle which we shared.” After a pause he continued. “I must go, before I become sentimental. One last word: please come to Rosalia in your Fortunatus and visit me at the Bainsey-Castle Lodge, when it opens for business. Flitz and Chilke have promised to be on hand.”

“Then we will be there too.”

A few minutes later Egon Tamm took Bodwyn Wook aside. “I cannot believe that you have definitely resigned your position. What will you do with yourself? You will be like a fish out of water.”

Bodwyn Wook made an expansive gesture. “This talk of vagabonds and wandering here and there has made me nervous. I have never been anywhere save a week’s excursion to Soum, which took me to ten breweries and four temples. Everyone has something to say of Old Earth; some praise it mightily: others tell me that they put out their shoes to be cleaned, only to have them stolen. I must see for myself. When I come home, I will be chairman for the New Orpheum project. Floreste will have his great dream after all.”