Araminta Station (36 page)

Arles said with a shaky laugh: “After a financial shock like that, I truly need some catharsis. I will take part, despite the expense.”

“Include me,” said Cloyd. “What about you, Dauncy?”

“I don’t want to miss anything. I’ll come.”

“Include me as well,” declared Kiper.

“It’s disgusting,” said Uther Offaw. “I won’t have any part of it.”

“Nor I,” said Glawen.

Shugart also excluded himself from the event; Jardine at last decided to participate, “from sheer curiosity,” as he put it. Kirdy hesitated, his big rubicund face showing first one expression, then another. At last, feeling Glawen’s eyes upon him, he said, rather sulkily: “It’s not for me.”

While Fader collected the five-sol charges, Glawen chanced to notice the half-finished fish. He pointed. “May I see it?”

The old man handed him the object: a bit of wood eight inches long, with head and about half of the scales carved in exact and minute detail. On an impulse Glawen asked: “Would you sell this to me?”

“It is nothing: not even complete. When I am dead it will be thrown away. You may have it without charge.”

“Thank you,” said Glawen. From the corner of his eye he felt Fader’s observation fixed upon him. He told the old man: “At Yipton nothing is free. I will pay you this coin for the carving. Is that agreeable?”

“Yes, just as you like.”

Glawen paid over the coin and took the wooden half-fish. He noticed that Fader had turned away.

The Laddakees’ tour guide called out: “Time for the spectacle! On your feet, old man! You must pump and blow hard if you wish to enjoy the evening supper.”

Fader, with Kirdy, Uther, Shugart and Glawen, waited in the gallery. The others entered a room where a peculiar contrivance had been arranged: a pair of glass cylinders three feet in diameter and seven feet tall stood side by side, joined to each other by pipes. Into each of the cylinders an ancient gladiator was lowered, until he stood on the bottom; then lids were clamped over the top. Into the bottom of each cylinder water began to gush, rising ever higher. By working a lever arm, each old man could pump water from his own cylinder into that of his adversary. At first both men seemed apathetic, but as the water rose up around their waists, each essayed a few strokes of the pump and at last both began to pump in earnest. The old gladiator in one tube displayed more desperation and more stamina; at last he succeeded in pumping water over the head of the old man who had carved the fish, who thereupon ceased his exertions, clawed and kicked at the glass for a moment or two, then drowned, and the spectacle came to an end.

The Bold Lions who had been on hand returned to the gallery. Kirdy said: “Well?”

Jardine spoke in a hollow voice: “If that is catharsis, I have had enough.”

Fader said briskly: “Come, now; time is short. To the bazaar. Prices, incidentally, are fixed; do not haggle. Please stay together; it is easy to become lost.”

By way of trestles, galleries, passages and bridges, past many a glimpse of men at work: scraping sea grass, shelling and pounding molluscs, processing bamboo, weaving mats and panels of fronds, the Bold Lions arrived at the bazaar: a low ceilinged area of innumerable small booths, where Yips of both genders and all ages produced and sold articles of wood, metal, shell, glass, earthenware and knotted cord. Other booths displayed rugs, fabrics, dolls, grotesques of a hundred variants.

The Bold Lions lacked interest in making purchases. Sensing their mood, Fader said: “We will now visit the Hall of Music, where you are at liberty to bestow gifts as you so wish, at no extra charge.”

In the Hall of Music elderly men and women sitting in booths played instruments and sang melancholy songs, each with a small bamboo pot in front of him, containing coins presumably contributed by persons who had been affected by their music. Shugart Veder changed a sol into small coins, which he distributed into each pot without regard for the excellence of the music. Kirdy asked one of the musicians: “How do you spend all the money you collect?”

“There’s not much to spend. Tax takes more than half; the rest goes for gruel. I haven’t known the taste of fish in five years.”

“Pity.”

“Yes. They’ll have me in the Gladiators’ Gallery before long. That’s when the music stops.”

“Come along,” said Fader. “Time is up, unless you care for overtime charges.”

“Not at all likely.”

Once back at the hotel, Fader said: “Now, in the matter of my gratuity, ten percent is considered paltry and mean.”

Shugart said: “What is nothing at all considered, after you refused to take us to the rotunda and threw me in the canal?”

“Nothing at all is considered careless, and it involves wondering what you are eating when you take your meals.”

“You make a persuasive point. Very well. You shall have ten percent and think of us however you like. To be candid, I am as unconcerned with your good opinion as you are with mine.”

Fader could not be bothered with a comment. The gratuity was paid over; Fader accepted it with a cool nod. “You are going to Pussycat Palace?”

“Yes; later this evening.”

“You will need a guide.”

“Why? The way is clearly marked.”

“Let me warn you; footpads are rife! They spring at you from side corridors; you are hurled to the ground, and an instant later your money is gone. You are given a kick or two in the face for good measure, and they are gone, all inside half a minute. But they dare not attack if you are protected by a guide. My charges are nominal, and you will go to Pussycat Palace in dignity and assurance.”

“What, then, are the charges?”

“Nine persons: nine sols.”

“I will consult with my fellows at dinner.”

As Syrene sank low, the Bold Lions, who had gathered on the terrace, settled at a table overlooking the harbor directly above the
Faraz
, where it lay alongside the dock.

For a period the Bold Lions refreshed themselves with rum punches and ling-lang toddies, and congratulated themselves upon the romantic ambience of the situation.

“Naturally, we exclude the Big chife when we discuss the local delectations,” said Dauncy Diffin whimsically.

Kiper spoke bravely: “The Big Chife, bah! I’ve almost forgotten it. What’s a bit of stink, after all?”

“Speak for yourself,” said Uther. “I am not so tolerant.”

Kiper told him: “It’s all in your head! A person must have a brain well-stocked with all manner of vileness before he can identify a bad smell. My mind is noble and pure; hence I am unaffected.”

“We can learn much from Kiper,” said Shugart. “When I fell in that filthy canal, he advised me take a dispassionate view of the situation, and enjoy it along with everyone else.”

Jardine grinned. “As I recall, this was also Fader’s opinion.”

“I’m lucky he did not charge me for a bath,” growled Shugart.

“He thought of everything else, and now he wants another nine sols for taking us to Pussycat Palace. He claims it’s the only way to avoid attack by footpads, presumably led by himself.”

Uther, ordinarily casual, now became incensed. “That is extortion, plain and simple! I’m of a mind to report him to the Oomps!”

Kiper, grinning like a fox, pointed. “If you’re serious, there they stand: two of the elite.”

Uther jumped to his feet and strode off to confront the Oomps.

They listened politely as he explained his grievance, and made what appeared to be a sympathetic response. Uther turned on his heel and came back to the table.

“Well?” asked Kiper.

“They wanted to know how much Fader charged. I told them and they agreed that it wasn’t too much. I asked why they did not apprehend the footpads; they said that as soon as they started to patrol the corridors, the footpads went away and the Oomp arched back and forth to no purpose. I mentioned that the blue pamphlet said that experienced persons could visit Pussycat Palace alone in perfect safety. They told me the pamphlet was a bit outdated; that these ‘experienced visitors’ always tipped the tour clerk five or ten sols, which somehow seemed to mitigate the nuisance.”

“Ah well,” said Jardine. “Nine sols won’t break us. Let’s ignore the whole matter and have our supper.”

Syrene had dropped below the horizon, leaving a few long clouds glowing scarlet close above the ocean. Barefoot bare-chested boys brought tall lamps to the tables and the Bold Lion dined to lamplight as dusk fell over Yipton.

The courses were nicely presented, though lacking in zest, in the patterns of cosmopolitan cuisine, where the basic intent was not so much to please the discriminating palate as to offend no one. Portions were carefully metered and something short of lavish. The Bold Lions were not particularly pleased with the repast, but could find nothing definite to grumble about. They were served, first, a pale ambiguous broth, then molluscs fried in a light batter, with a salad of greens, salpiceta nubbins, and sea lettuce; then dishes of steamed eel on a bed of pilau, and finally a dessert of coconut meringue in clotted coconut cream, with tea and plum wine.

Cloyd sat back in his chair. “I have just consumed the rations an Ancient Gladiator.”

“That may be true for me as well,” said Jardine. “And I am not ready to fight Fader and his footpads.”

Uther looked around the panorama. “Let us be fair. Once we ignore the Chife, the place is fascinating, weird, charming in spots, odd everywhere else, distinctive in every way; we have traveled five thousand light-years from Araminta - but I think I’ve had enough. I’m going home tomorrow, and the chances are very good I’ll never be back!”

“What!” cried Kiper. “Do I hear correctly? When we haven’t even visited Pussycat Palace yet!”

Uther spoke somewhat primly: “I am sure that a single occasion will suffice.”

“Poof!” said Kiper loftily. “You can’t hope to be a true connoisseur of pit-a-pat by dashing in and dashing out like a frightened bird! Take Cloyd or Arles, for example. Do they take shortcuts or scamp the job? Never! ‘Only too much is enough! That’s the slogan they march under.”

“They can march as they like, and take Tours 100 through 200 inclusive, and live in the basement of Pussycat Palace, where the girls wash their stockings. It’s far too rich for my blood.”

Shugart as usual was judicious. “I’m half inclined to agree – but only half. Let’s wait and see how we feel in the morning.”

“In full candor,” said Arles, “I’m also about half ready to leave. Even a bit more: say about two-thirds ready. The Chife is not at all to my taste.”

Cloyd shook his head in wonder. “It sounds as if the festivities might be breaking up early. Dauncy, what of you?”

“I’m with Shugart. Let’s see how we feel in the morning. But I suspect that anything more than today might be anticlimax.”

“Kirdy, what’s your feeling on this?”

Kirdy turned a dubious glance toward Glawen. “I suppose we could profitably stay on a day or so, just relaxing out here on the terrace.”

Jardine said: “Let’s drop the matter for now. We all may have new ideas in the morning.”

“Good enough!” declared Kiper. “Tonight it’s the grand foray on Pussycat Palace.”

Kirdy put down his teacup and straightened in his chair. “Pussycat Palace - not for me. It’s just too much for one day. I’m giving it a miss.”

Shugart surveyed him in wonder. “I have known a hundred marvels at Yipton, but this is the greatest sensation of all!”

“Enjoy it for free,” said Kirdy with a humorless grin.

“But why? Answer me that!”

“There’s no mystery. I’m just not in the mood.”

Kiper spoke aggrievedly: “I thought that was why we were making the trip!”

“Perhaps tomorrow.”

“But we might be leaving tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow morning, then. Tonight I want to rest and gather my wits.”

Arles said thoughtfully: “I know exactly how you feel. I’m staying behind too.”

Shugart jerked back thunderstruck. “I can’t believe that I’m hearing correctly! Listen to these prodigies of nature! Can they be the same slavering rip-roaring tried-and-true Bold Lions of yore?”

Arles laughed weakly. “I’m just a bit off my feed. Don’t let that deter you others.”

Shugart threw his arms in the air. “As you like. I will say no more.”

Jardine said: “I’ve picked up some information around the lobby. It seems that they’ll try to charge ten sols but will take five.

Ignore all extras; they are frosting on the cake, so to speak, and quite redundant. Gratuities also are unnecessary; the entire take goes directly to Titus Pompo, who doesn’t so much as lift a finger to earn it.”

The group removed to the lobby. Kirdy took Glawen aside. “It looks as if the excursion is breaking up early.”

Glawen assented. “So it does.”

“If the group goes, it takes our cover with it.” Kirdy spoke in a terse staccato voice, as if he suspected Glawen of insubordinate tendencies. “We’re left out in the open: two obvious Bureau B types. All of which means that we’ve got to accelerate our program and do what we can tonight.”

“I suppose that’s the way of it.”

Kirdy looked off across the lobby. “Frankly, as of now, I don’t see that there’s much we can accomplish in safety.”

Glawen glanced skeptically sidewise. What was Kirdy trying to tell him, without enunciating the specific words? Glawen said deliberately: “That’s what we’ll have to decide after reconnaissance.”

Kirdy cleared his throat. “We can’t go too far too fast, and safety must be the first consideration. Do you agree?”

“More or less. But -”

“Never mind the buts. This is my plan. While the rest of you are at Pussycat Palace, I’ll cast about in an unobtrusive manner and discover what’s within range of the possible. Then, when you get back, if anything seems feasible, we’ll get on with the job.”

Glawen sat silent.

“Well?” demanded Kirdy.

“I still don’t want to go to Pussycat Palace.”

“Go anyway!” snapped Kirdy. “No one must suspect that we’re associated  except as Bold Lions. We probably shouldn’t be talking now. You’d better go join the others.”

Kirdy arose and went off to examine the grotesques. Glawen sighed and joined the Bold Lions.