Throy (7 page)

Kathcar went to the door, where he paused and looked back. “You are returning to the inn?”

“That is correct,” said Bodwyn Wook. “I am hungry despite all, and I intend to dine like a gentleman.”

Kathcar showed him a wolfish grin. “I recommend the baked rock-rack and greenfish, and the soup is always worthwhile. I will meet you at the inn within the hour.”

Kathcar opened the door, peered right, then left along the way, which was now indistinct in the starlight. Reassured, he stepped out into the gloom and was gone.

Bodwyn Wook rose to his feet. “The brain works best when it is not distracted by hunger. Let us return to the inn; there, with our noses over the soup, we can settle this matter, one way or another.”

Chapter 1, Part VII

The group took seats at a table in the dining room of the inn. A few moments later the massive form of Warden Ballinder loomed in the doorway. His heavy round face, never gladsome, by reason of coarse black hair, black beard and unruly black eyebrows, now seemed actively morose. He crossed the room, seated himself at the table and addressed Egon Tamm: “If your announcement was intended to resolve all doubts, it has failed. There are more worries now than ever. Everyone wants to know how soon they must leave Stroma, whether a fine mansion awaits them or a tent out among the wild animals. Everyone wonders how they are expected to transport themselves and their possessions so far and so soon.”

“Our plans are not yet exact,” said Egon Tamm. “All householders should place their names on a list; they will then be moved in order, first into temporary quarters, then into permanent dwellings, which they may choose for themselves. It will be a simple uncomplicated change, unless the LPFers drag their heels, which will make the transfer more troublesome.”

Warden Ballinder scowled dubiously. “It might go fast - or it might go slow. I estimate a hundred to a hundred and fifty households, five or six hundred people on the first list. These represent the Chartists. There are about as many devout LPFers and a like number of fence-straddlers who will wait until they have no other choice, and we shall have to deal with them separately.”

Kathcar entered the room. Looking neither right nor left he went on long loping strides to a table beside the wall. Here he sat, summoned a waiter and ordered a bowl of fish soup. When he was served, he took up a spoon, hunched over the bowl and ate with avidity.

“Kathcar is now present,” said Scharde. “Perhaps it is time to begin our deliberations.”

“Bah,” muttered Bodwyn Wook. “Does the lily need so much gilt?”

Egon Tamm said: “When the question is reduced to its essentials, it becomes: can we afford to take such critical chances? The money seems of secondary concern.”

Warden Ballinder asked: “Am I supposed to understand what is happening, or not?”

Egon Tamm said: “You must keep this confidential. Kathcar wants to sell important information for twenty thousand sols. He is also a very frightened man.”

“Hm.” Warden Ballinder reflected. “One thing to remember is that Kathcar is secretary, or aide, to Sir Denzel Attabus, from whom the Peefers have been extracting large sums of money, if my information can be believed.”

Scharde said slowly: “The idea that Kathcar knows something we don’t know is beginning to seem ominous - especially when he values the information at twenty thousand sols.”

Bodwyn Wook scowled, but said nothing.

Across the room a young man stocky and plump, almost squat, with a fleshy round face, thick black hair, a stern black mustache and fine clear grey eyes, had joined Kathcar at his table. Kathcar, staring up from his soup, was clearly displeased by the intrusion. The young man, however, spoke with earnest emphasis, and presently Kathcar’s eyebrows rose. He put down his spoon and sat back, his black eyes glittering.

Scharde inquired of Warden Ballinder the identity of Kathcar’s companion. “That is Roby Mavil, one of the career Peefers,” said the warden. “He is an official and sits on what they call their directorate. Julian Bohost outranks him, but not by much.”

“He doesn’t seem a fanatic.”

Ballinder grunted. “Mavil is a conniver. He likes plotting and intrigue for their own sake. He’s not at all to be trusted. He’ll be over here next, to make himself charming.”

But warden Ballinder was wrong and Roby Mavil, jumping up from Kathcar’s table, left the room.

Glawen spoke to Bodwyn Wook. “What about Kathcar? Do you intend to meet his terms?”

Bodwyn Wook had been put out of sorts by Kathcar’s epithets and by the nagging sense of opportunities slipping irretrievably from his grasp. He growled: “If Kathcar freely and at no charge told me of Holy Jasmial’s Third Coming I’d still find the news too dear, even if it were true.”

Glawen said nothing. Bodwyn Wook studied his expression for a moment. “You would pay the money?”

“He is not stupid. He knows the value of what he can tell us.”

“You’d let him be the sole judge of this value?”

“We have no choice. I would guarantee his terms, I would listen to him and hand over the money. Then, if the material was trivial or if I felt cheated, I would find some way to get the money back.”

“Hmm.” Bodwyn Wook nodded. “That is a concept which does both you and Bureau B, and the Bureau B Superintendent credit. Egon Tamm, what is your opinion?”

“I vote yes.”

“Scharde?”

“Yes.”

Bodwyn Wook turned to Glawen. “You may apprise him of our decision.”

Glawen rose to his feet, then halted in his tracks. “He is gone!”

“That is unacceptable conduct!” stormed Bodwyn Wook. “He makes us a proposal, then attempts insolent tricks! I consider him a man without honor!” He made an angry gesture. “Find this man; explain that we cannot allow him to void his contract! Hurry; catch him up! He will not have gone far!”

Glawen went out into the road and looked to right and left. The cliff loomed high to one side; to the other opened dark space, sighing to far currents of air.

Glawen walked a hundred yards up the way but came upon no one. Above and below dim yellow lights spangled the sides of the cliff.

The quest for Kathcar was clearly hopeless. Glawen turned and went back to the inn. In the taproom he noticed Warden Ballinder in earnest conference with a red-bearded young man - the same who had confronted them earlier along edge of the cliff. The young man was speaking with passionate vehemence; Warden Ballinder stood with head bent forward.

Glawen turned away and went into the dining room, to resume his place at the table.

Bodwyn Wook asked sharply: “What of Kathcar?”

“I saw no sign of him, or anyone else.”

Bodwyn Wook grunted. “He will be back in a few moments, cringing and grinning, his price considerably lower. You’ll see that I was right! I never submit to extortion!”

Glawen had nothing to say. Wayness jumped to her feet. “I will telephone his home.”

A moment later she returned. “No one answers. I left an urgent message.”

 Warden Ballinder returned from the taproom, accompanied by the young man with the red beard. Warden Ballinder said: “This is Yigal Fitch. He is a legal practitioner. An hour ago Sir Denzel summoned him, apparently to institute some sort of legal action. Fitch approached Sir Denzel’s house and arrived in time to see Sir Denzel falling from his deck and tumbling out into space. Fitch was horrified. He tried to look up, to see who had launched Sir Denzel. He saw no one, but he was afraid to investigate and ran back here. I telephoned Sir Denzel’s house. The maid knew nothing, except that Sir Denzel was no longer on the premises. Unless Sir Denzel ‘has learned to fly,’ as the saying goes, he is dead.”

Chapter 2

Chapter 2, Part I

In the morning, shortly before his return to Araminta Station, Egon Tamm spoke a second time to the folk of Stroma. In this decision he had been influenced by the comments of his daughter Wayness. She had told him: “Your statements were clear and distinct, but you were too formal and not at all friendly.”

“What?” Egon Tamm was surprised and a bit nettled. “I spoke as Conservator, of whom dignity is expected. Should I tell jokes and dance a jig?”

“Of course not! Still, you need not have looked so menacing. Some of the old ladies think you are planning to march them off to a penal camp.”

“That is absurd! I was dealing with a serious subject; I tried to approach it in a suitably serious manner.”

Wayness shrugged. “I’m sure that you know best. Still, it might be nice if you were to talk to everyone again and explain that Araminta Station is far more comfortable and pleasant than Stroma.”

Egon Tamm reflected. “It’s not altogether a bad idea - especially since there are one or two points I would like to bring up again.”

For this second address to the folk of Stroma, Egon Tamm tried to convey the impression that his ordinary temperament was genial and tolerant - as indeed it was. He wore casual clothes and spoke from Warden Ballinder’s untidy office, half-leaning half-sitting on the table in a manner he hoped would seem informal and even jaunty. His features, which were regular, austere and somewhat saturnine, were more of a problem, but as best he could he assumed a kindly and cordial expression and began his address.

“Last night I spoke to you without advance indication as to what I was about to say. Perhaps I was too emphatic, so that my message came to you as a shock. Still, I believe that you deserve to have the clear uncompromising facts at your disposal. Now everyone understands the force of the Charter and continuity of the Conservancy. There must be no mistake or misunderstanding or self-deception.

“We do not minimize the inconvenience which you must suffer, but the compensations are significant. Each family or household will be allowed a residence situated in one of four communities, or a tract of arable land in the back country, if this is preferred. The first community will parallel the beach south of Riverview House. The second will be situated in the hills west of the station. The third will surround a chain of four circular lakes west and north of Riverview House. The fourth will be adjacent to Araminta Station itself, just south of Wansey Way, on the other side of the River Wann. Each house will be situated on at least two acres. The family may design the house to suit their own needs, within reasonable limits. We are anxious to avoid uniformity. If anyone wants a more elaborate establishment, he must pay for the construction himself, with our blessings. We have no ambition to stratify our society along levels of prestige, wealth or intellectual attainment, but we will not enforce egalitarianism upon persons whose instincts prompt them in a different direction.

“Sign your name to the list as soon as possible - if only because the information helps us with our planning. Remember, Araminta Station will not function as an inter-planetary retirement community. Everyone who is able works for the Conservancy, one way or another.

“In general, this is what you can expect. The first to put their names on the list will have the first selection of site - though I think that everyone, early and late alike, will be pleased with their new circumstances.”

Egon Tamm slid off the desk, faced the camera and smiled. “I hope that I have relieved some of the anxiety you might have felt after hearing me last night. Remember only that you must obey the law, which is to say, the Charter. If you choose otherwise, you will incur the usual penalties for illegal behavior. This cannot come as a surprise to anyone.”

From the office, Egon Tamm and his party ascended to the air terminal, accompanied by a miscellaneity of town’s folk. Rufo Kathcar was not present, nor did he appear before the group departed for Araminta Station.

Chapter 2, Part II

Three days later, Glawen was summoned to Bureau B headquarters, on the second floor of the New Agency, at the end of Wansey Way. He reported to Hilda, the crusty old virago who for uncounted years had guarded Bodwyn Wook against visitors and other intruders. She grudgingly acknowledged Glawen’s presence and indicated the bench where he would wait a proper forty minutes or so, “- to let some gas out of his bloated Clattuc ego.”

Glawen said politely: “I think the Supervisor wants to see me at once; that is my impression.”

Hilda gave her head a stubborn shake. “Your name is not on the list and he is very busy at the moment. He may be able to spare you a few minutes later in the day. While you are waiting, prepare your material so that you can be logical and succinct. Bodwyn Wook gives short shrift to juniors who stammer and burble and waste his time.”

“All else to the side, you had better let him know that I am here. Otherwise –”

“Whatever, whatever! ‘Patience’ was never a word in the Clattuc speech!” Hilda touched a button. “Glawen Clattuc is here, stamping back and forth in an outrage. Do you want to see him when he is acting so wild?”

Bodwyn Wook’s responsive remarks rattled the speaker. Hilda listened a moment, raised her eyebrows, then turned to Glawen. “You are to go in at once. He is annoyed by the lethargic way in which you have responded to his summons.”

This had been a relatively easy encounter. Glawen slipped past Hilda and pushed through the door into the inner office. Bodwyn Wook swiveled around in his tall-backed leather chair, which emphasized his lack of stature.
¹
He greeted Glawen with a brisk wave of the hand and indicated a chair. “Sit.”

Glawen silently took a seat.

Bodwyn Wook, leaning back, clasped his fingers across his small round belly. So far there had been no sign that he harbored any lingering traces of resentment in connection with Glawen’s recalcitrance in the inn at Stroma. Still, Bodwyn Wook was devious and his memory was notoriously long. For a moment or two he surveyed Glawen through heavy-lidded yellow eyes. Glawen waited passively. Bodwyn Wook, so he knew, liked to surprise his subordinates, on the theory that such small startlements kept them on the alert. Nonetheless Bodwyn Wook’s initial remark caught Glawen off guard.