Araminta Station (31 page)

Dame Clytie waved away the proffered plate. “I lack patience for so much gnawing.”

Milo suggested: “Simply drink the brandy, if you’re of a mind.”

“Thank you, no. I am somewhat disturbed and brandy would only make me dizzy.”

Milo asked solicitously: “Would you like to lie down and rest for a while?”

“Certainly not!” snapped Dame Clytie. “My disturbance is purely mental. Not to put too fine a point on it, I am shocked and surprised at what I have heard over lunch.”

Warden Ballinder smiled coldly. “Unless I misread the signs, it appears that we are about to share Dame Clytie’s surprise, and perhaps participate in her distress.”

“I can’t understand why you are not already affected,” declared Dame Clytie. “You heard this gentleman, a Bureau B patrol officer, describe his work. Surely you noted his lack of self-consciousness - or could it be a moral vacuum? I find it unnerving in a person so young.”

Glawen tried to utter a word of remonstrance but his voice was overborne by that of Dame Clytie, who would not be diverted from her thesis: “And what do we learn of Bureau B? We discover indifference for human dignity and disregard for basic human rights. We learn of dire deeds done with a chilling finality. We find a swaggering arrogant autonomy, which the Conservator apparently does not dare to challenge. Clearly he has abdicated his responsibility, while agents of Bureau B range the continent capturing, killing, deporting and who knows what else? In short, I am appalled!”

Warden Ballinder turned to Egon Tamm. “There you have it, Conservator! How do you answer these extremely blunt charges?”

Egon Tamm gave his head a dour shake. “The Warden Vergence speaks with gusto! If her charges were accurate, they would be a serious indictment of me and my work. Luckily they are balderdash. The Warden Vergence is an estimable person, but she has a selective comprehension which notices only what fits her preconceptions. Contrary to her fears, I monitor the work of Bureau B with care. I find that the personnel faithfully administers Conservancy law, as defined by the Charter. It is as simple as that.”

Julian Bohost stirred himself. “But in the end it is not so simple, after all. The law you mention is clearly obsolete and very far from infallible.”

Warden Ballinder demanded: “You are referring to the Charter?”

Julian smiled. “Please! Let’s none of us be truculent, or irrational, or even hysterical! The Charter is not divine revelation, after all. It was designed to control a certain set of conditions, which have changed; the Charter remains: a stark moldering megalith, glooming over the past.”

Dame Clytie chuckled. “Julian’s metaphors are perhaps a bit exaggerated but he speaks to the right effect. The Charter, as of now, is moribund, and at the very least must be revised and brought into phase with contemporary thought.”

Again Glawen tried to speak, but Dame Clytie’s ideas seemed to have a momentum of their own. “We must come to an accommodation with the Yips; this is our great problem. We cannot continue our abuse of these submissive folk, killing them and sending them away from their homes. I see no harm in allowing them the Marmion Foreshore; there is still ample space for the wild animals.”

Milo spoke in wonder: “My dear Dame Clytie! Have you forgotten? The original franchise to the Naturalist Society established Cadwal as a Conservancy forever, and specifically prohibited human residency, except as specified by the Charter. You can’t contravene this state of affairs.”

“Not so! As a warden and a member of the LPF party I can and I will; the alternate course means war and bloodshed.”

She would have spoken on, but Wayness interrupted. “Glawen, have you something to say? What is your opinion of all this?”

Glawen looked at her sidewise; she was smiling quite openly. Something cold clamped at his brain. Had she brought him here only so that he might put on an amusing performance? He said stiffly: “I am, in a sense, an outsider; it would be presumptuous for me to enter your discussion.”

Egon Tamm looked from Glawen to Wayness and back to Glawen. “I for one do not consider you an outsider and I would like to hear your opinions.”

“Speak, Glawen!” called Warden Ballinder. “Everyone else has brayed his best; let’s hear your performance!”

Sunje said silkily: “If you fear that you might be chased from the house by an angry mob, why not make your farewells now, before you begin your speech?”

Glawen paid her no heed. “I am puzzled by a conspicuous ambiguity which the rest of you seem to ignore. Or perhaps I am ignorant of an accommodation, or a special convention, which everyone else takes for granted.”

Milo called out: “Speak, Glawen! Your misgivings are of no interest; you have us hanging in midair! Break the suspense!”

Glawen said with dignity: “I was trying to introduce a ticklish subject with a certain degree of tact.”

“Never mind the tact; get to the point! Do you want a gilded invitation?”

“We are ready for the worst,” declared Egon Tamm. “I ask only that you do not question the chastity of my wife, who is not here to defend herself.”

“I could go call her,” said Wayness, “if that is what Glawen has in mind.”

“Don’t bother,” said Glawen. “My remarks concern Dame Clytie. I notice that she has been elected to an office which derives directly from the Charter, with duties and responsibilities defined by the Charter, including unqualified defense of the Conservancy against all enemies and interlopers. If Dame Clytie demeans or diminishes or in any way seeks to invalidate the Charter, or despoil the Conservancy, she has instantly removed herself from office. She cannot have it both ways. Either she defends the Charter in whole and in part or she is instantly expelled from office. Unless I misunderstand her, she has already made her choice, and is now no more Warden than I am.”

The room was silent. Julian’s mouth had sagged open to show a pink gap. Wayness’ grin had faded to a shadow. Egon Tamm pensively stirred a bit of hard-cake into his brandy. Warden Ballinder stared at Glawen under lowering eyebrows. Sunje said in a husky whisper: “If you are going to make a run for it, the coast is clear.”

Glawen spoke: “Have I gone too far? It seemed to me that this question needed clarification. If I have been rude, I apologize.”

Warden Ballinder said dryly: “Your remarks have been sufficiently polite. Still, you have said to Dame Clytie’s face something which no one has cared previously to point out, even from an appreciable distance. You have gained my respect.”

Julian said carefully: “As you yourself surmised, there are complications and subtleties here which you, as an outsider, could not be expected to perceive. The paradox you cite is only apparent; Dame Clytie was duly elected Warden and is as secure in office as any other, despite her progressive philosophy.”

Dame Clytie drew a deep breath and addressed Glawen: “You question my right to office. But I claim my franchise, not from the Charter, but from the votes of my constituency. What do you say to that?”

Egon Tamm said: “Allow me to answer that question. Cadwal is a Conservancy, administered by the Conservator through Araminta Station. It is not in any sense a democracy. Governing power is drawn from the original grant to the Naturalist Society. That power flows to the Conservator through legitimate Wardens and may only be used in the interests of the Conservancy. This is my reading of the situation. In short, the Charter may not be invalidated by the votes of a few disgruntled residents.”

“Do you call a hundred thousand Yips a few?” snapped Dame Clytie.

“I call the Yips a very grave problem which we surely cannot solve at this moment.”

Glawen rose to his feet. “I think that I must take my departure. It has been a pleasure to make the acquaintance of you all.” And to Egon Tamm: “Please convey my thanks to Dame Cora.” And to Wayness: “Don’t get up; I’ll find my own way out.”

Wayness nevertheless accompanied him to the door. Glawen said: “Thank you for the invitation. I enjoyed meeting your friends, and I’m sorry if I caused a disturbance.”

Glawen bowed, turned, started up the path. He felt the pressure of Wayness’ eyes on his back, but she did not call after him and he did not look back.

Chapter IV, Part 5

Syrene had dropped behind the hills; night had come to Araminta Station; stars blazed across the sky. Sitting by the open window Glawen could see, almost overhead, that strangely regular constellation known as the Pentagram, and off to the south the twisting progress of the Great Eel.

The day’s events had receded in perspective; Glawen felt drained and quietly depressed. All was finished; nothing could make any difference now. Conceivably events had turned out for the best - still how vastly preferable if he had never gone to Riverview House that day! Or perhaps ever.

Brooding was futile. The episodes of today, or something equivalent, had been inevitable from the beginning. Wayness had known as much. More or less tactfully she had tried to tell him, but, stubborn and proud as any other Clattuc, he had refused to listen.

 In regard to the events of the day, a mystery lingered. Why had Wayness brought him out to Riverview, where, one way or another, he was sure to make a spectacle of himself! He might never know the answer, and, in the course of time, he might not even care.

A chime summoned him to the telephone. The last person he had expected to see looked at him from the screen. “Glawen? What are you doing?”

“Nothing much. What about you?”

“I decided that I’d had enough society and I’m now supposed to be in bed with a headache.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I don’t really have a headache; I just wanted to be alone.”

“In that case, you need not heed my condolences.”

“I’ll pack them away in fine linen and use them another time. Why did you run from me as if I had a loathsome disease?”

The question took Glawen by surprise. He stammered: “It seemed like a good time to be leaving.”

Wayness shook her head. “Not quite. You left because you were furious with me. Why? I’ve been staring into the dark it seems forever, and I’m tired of being mystified.”

Glawen groped for an answer which would leave him a few shreds of dignity. He muttered: “I was more furious with myself than anyone else.”

“I’m still baffled,” said Wayness. “Why should you be angry with either one of us?”

“Because I did what I did not want to do! I had planned to be suave and polished, to charm everyone with my tact, and to avoid all controversy. Instead I blurted out all my opinions, caused a grand uproar and confirmed your mother’s worst apprehensions.”

“Come, now,” said Wayness. “It wasn’t all that bad; in fact, not bad at all. You could have done far worse.”

“No doubt, if I’d really put my mind to it. I could have become drunk and punched Julian in the nose, and called Dame Etrune a silly old blatherskite, and on my way out stopped to urinate in one of the potted plants.”

“Everyone would have thought it simple Clattuc high spirits. The main question remains, and you’ve made no attempt to answer it: why were you, or are you, furious with me? Tell me, so I won’t do it again.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. As we both know, it doesn’t make a particle of difference anymore.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“You’ve made it clear to me how impossible it is to have any close relationship between us. I tried not to believe it but now I know that you are right.”

“And that’s how you want it?”

“What an odd thing to say! My inclinations have never been considered at any time. Why are they under investigation now?”

Wayness laughed. “Through an oversight I neglected to notify you that I’ve been reassessing the situation.”

A sardonic chuckle rose in Glawen’s throat, which he wisely held back. “When will we know the results?”

“A few of them are in now.”

“Would you like to meet me down on the beach and tell me about them?”

“I don’t dare.” Wayness looked over her shoulder. “About the time I was climbing out the window, Mother and Sunje and Dame Clytie would come peeping in to see if I was resting nicely.”

“My best ideas turn out to be impractical.”

“Now, then: tell me what I did to infuriate you.”

Glawen said: “I’m just a bit puzzled why you invited me to Riverview House in the first place.”

“Poof!” – a flippant feckless sound. “Could it be that I wanted to show you off to Sunje and Julian?”

“Really?”

“Really. Is that all?”

“Well - no. I can’t understand why you’re so mysterious about your trip to Earth.”

“It’s simple. I can’t trust you not to tell someone else.”

“Hmmf,” said Glawen. “That’s not a nice thing to say.”

“You asked, and I told you.”

“I didn’t expect to hear anything quite so honest.”

“It’s more a matter of realism. Think, now. Suppose you swore silence by everything you held sacred, which induced me to tell you what I know and what I want to do. After thinking it over, you might decide that your higher duty lay in breaking faith with me and notifying your father. For the same high motives, your father might then inform Bodwyn Wook, and then who knows how far the information might travel? If it reached the wrong ears, very serious consequences might be the result. I avoid this worry by telling no one. Now I hope you understand and are no longer angry with me, at least on that account.”

Glawen thought for a moment, then said: “If I understand you correctly, you are involved, or plan to involve yourself, in a matter of importance.”

“That’s true.”

“Are you sure that you can take care of the business alone?”

“I’m not sure of anything except that I must do what needs to be done without attracting attention. It’s a real dilemma for me; I want and I may need help, but only on my own terms. Milo is the best compromise and he is coming with me, for which I’m grateful. Now, then: have I made everything clear?”

“I understand what you’ve told me, yes. But suppose you and Milo are killed: what happens to your information?”

“I’ve already made arrangements.”

“I think you should consult your father.”