F Paul Wilson - LaNague 02 (7 page)

           
Junior’s
gaze roamed the street for the robe of a Vanek. He spotted one hurrying up the
boardwalk toward him so he advanced to meet him. It was Rmrl.

           
“At last we
have found you, bendreth,” the young Vanek said breathlessly. He scrutinized
Junior’s face closely. “I see you already know what we have come to tell you.”

           
Junior gave
a confirming nod. “I know. But what I want to know is why? Did the elders go
back on their word?”

           
“No. They
kept their word. They told the villagers not to buy from Jeffers but they
complained far into the night. The elders held firm for a while but finally had
to yield to the pressure.”

           
“I don’t
understand.”

           
“Our
people… they want to buy from Jeffers. They do not want to deprive him of their
business.”

           
“Why not?”

           
“Wheels
within wheels, bendreth.”

           
“Doesn’t
what happens to them in that store matter to them?” Junior was totally baffled.

           
Rmrl
shrugged and Junior thought he noticed a trace of resentment in the gesture.

           
“And you,
Rmrl? How do you feel about it all?”

           
“Wheels
within wheels,” he repeated and walked away.

           
Junior was
about to go after him but a voice made him turn.

           
“Bit off a
little more than you could chew, Mr. Finch?”

           
It was
Heber.

           
“What’s
that supposed to mean?” he asked the older man, who was leaning in the doorway
of his office as he watched the offworlder.

           
“It means
that I happened to overhear your conversation with Rmrl. I suppose I could have
closed the door, but knowing what’s going on in this town is part of my job.”
For a few fleeting seconds his eyes locked with Junior’s, then: “Come inside a
minute, Mr. Finch – please.”

           
“Why?”
Frustration and bafflement were edging him into a hostile and suspicious mood.

           
“Well, for
one thing, I think I may be able to explain to you why your little plan failed.
At least I’ll be able to give you something more than ‘wheels within wheels.’”

           
Interested,
Junior grudgingly complied.

           
Heber’s
office was small and tight-fitting, most of the room taken up by filing
cabinets and a huge desk handmade from local wood. A Vanek carving,
unmistakable in its style, of a Jebinose species of fowl in a natural woodland
setting was prominently displayed on a corner shelf.

           
“I thought
you said there were no Vanek carvings left around here,” Junior remarked as he
caught sight of the object.

           
“I meant
there were none for sale. That one’s a personal gift from one of the elders.”

           
Junior
showed his surprise. “A gift?”

           
“Sure. I
have pretty good relations with the Vanek myself. I rather like them. They’re
quiet, peaceful, and they mind their own business: an all-too-rare quality
these days.”

           
“I get the
point.”

           
Heber
smiled. “There’s an ancient saying about ‘if the shoe fits… ’ But I wasn’t
necessarily referring to you, Mr. Finch. In fact, I have no objections
whatsoever to your scheme against Jeffers – except, perhaps, to its overall
ineptness.”

           
Again
Junior’s face registered surprise.

           
“Since our
little chat yesterday, you’ve been convinced that I’m some sort of a bigot, eh?
You’ve probably got this whole town pegged as being full of bigots, too. It’s
not, I assure you. We have our share, but let me warn you: overgeneralization
can be a serious error on the part of someone trying to institute a few
changes.”

           
Junior
mulled this over. “Could be I owe you an apology–”

           
“But you’re
not ready to say so for sure yet. Just as well. I wouldn’t want to hear it
anyway.” He ran his fingers through a shock of graying hair and indicated a
rickety chair. “Let me tell you why your attempt at a boycott failed.”

           
“I’m
waiting,” Junior said after seating himself.

           
Sunlight
was pouring through the dirty front window and illuminating the cloud of dust
motes swirling in the air before him. There was a timeless air about the tiny
office, as if it had always been there and always would. Junior found his
suspicions and hostilities beginning to fade.

           
Heber
cleared his throat as he took his place behind the desk. “Seems to me you
overlooked one major fact: Bill Jeffers owns the only general store within
thirty kilometers. His closest competitor is old Vince Peck over in Zarico. So
to put it simply: if the Vanek don’t get their supplies at Jeffers’ place, they
don’t get any supplies. And if they can’t get any supplies, they don’t eat.”

           
“I find
that hard to believe,” Junior said. “The Vanek were here long before Bill
Jeffers arrived with his store. How did they eat then?”

           
“They lived
off the land. They combined farming and nomadism instead of rotating crops,
they rotated the tribe from one field to the next every year. It wasn’t easy,
but they managed.”

           
“That’s
what I figured. And if they managed before, they can manage again.”

           
Heber gazed
at him. “Have you any idea what it’s like to farm this soil?

           
Terran
technology has been strained to the limit to bring in a good crop every year. I
don’t know how the Vanek ever got by. But the point is this: with the arrival
of Jeffers and his store, and the discovery that the income from their statues
will buy them all the food they can eat, the Vanek gave up farming. And I don’t
blame them for not wanting to go back to it. It was a full-time, back-breaking
job to get their fields to produce. Now they can fill their bellies by doing what
they used to do for recreation: carve little statues.”

           
“They could
still go back to it if they had to.”

           
“I suppose
they could, but not immediately. The fields are all overgrown now and… and
there’s the very nature of the race. They’re a quiet, introverted,
contemplative folk. The excess of spare time they enjoy now is perfectly suited
to them. They cherish it.”

           
Heber
paused and shook his head. “I’m sure they’d like to sit at one of Jeffers’
tables and eat their meal inside just like the Terrans, but the price you’re
asking them to pay is too great.”

           
Junior
leaned back and stared at nothing in particular. It was very probable that
Heber was right about the Vanek.

           
“Then I may
just have to feed them out of my own pocket until Jeffers softens up,” he said
suddenly.

           
“That would
take a pile of money,” Heber said with narrowed eyes. “You’d have to ship the
food in from someplace else. You got that kind of money, Mr. Finch?”

           
“I’ve got
it.”

           
There was
something in Junior’s offhanded affirmation that convinced Heber that the
younger man had more than a nodding acquaintance with large sums of money.

           
“Well, if
you’re that rich, why don’t you start your own general store at the other end
of town. You could operate at a loss. Or better still, why not buy Jeffers out?
Hell! Just go out and buy the whole town of
Danzer
!”

           
Heber
straightened some papers on his desk as he let this sink in, then, “Somehow, I
don’t think you’d find that very satisfying, Mr. Finch. Because I sense that
there’s more to your actions than a desire to put a stop to a little
discrimination at the general store.”

           
Junior
tried to hide his discomfort with a shrug. His prior suspicions had been
confirmed – under Marvin Heber’s slow, rough-cut exterior was an acutely
perceptive mind.

           
“And I
wouldn’t find that very satisfying, either,” Heber continued.

           
“Certain
ends of my own would be served by seeing you win this one, but not with a big
bankroll. If a victory here in Danzer is going to mean anything to you, to me,
or to the Vanek, it must be won with the raw materials at hand. Do you see what
I mean?”

           
Junior
nodded slowly. It was obvious what winning this would mean to the Vanek and he
was well aware of what it would mean to him. As to Marvin Heber’s stake in the
affair – he had a vague idea of where he fit in but still couldn’t pin the man
down. Yet that was of tertiary importance at the moment. His task now was to
devise a way to let the Vanek boycott Jeffers’ store without making them
sacrifice all the conveniences to which they’d become so attached. His brow
furrowed, then he jerked upright in his seat.

           
“Of course!
The Vanek have their own income… why couldn’t they use it to start a general
store of their own? A temporary co-op of some sort that they could operate
themselves until Jeffers comes around?”

           
Heber
laughed. “The Vanek as shopkeepers? Ridiculous! A Vanek co-op would fall apart
in a week. Their minds just aren’t geared to inventories, balance sheets, and
so on. And besides, it’s not on the Great Wheel. You’d just be wasting your
time. And remember, you haven’t got much of that.”

           
“Why not?”

           
“That
government anti-discrimination bill – it comes up for a vote in less than two
months. Some people who’re supposed to know what they’re talking about say it
will pass, too. So you’d better think of something that’ll get the job done
your way, or the butt-ins from the capital will come in and do it their way.”
He punctuated the remark by spitting in the corner.

           
Junior
stood up. “I’ll come up with something.” He was now sure he knew the reason for
Heber’s support. He started out but turned as he reached the door. “Thanks, Mr.
Heber.”

           
“It’s
Marvin,” he said as he rested his feet on the desk. “And we’ll see who thanks
who when this thing’s over.”

           
The skim
milk sky of pre-dawn found Junior on the road west out of Danzer. A small flock
of black-feathered birds darted above him like a sprinkle of iron filings on
its way to a magnet as he stopped for a rest at the halfway point to Zarico. It
was a long trip to make on foot but he had no other means of transportation,
and the general store there offered him the only possible hope of a solution.

           
The sun was
high when he first caught sight of Zarico and his initial feelings of déjà vu
were heightened as he entered the town. It was as if he had traveled in a
tremendous circle and wound up back in Danzer. Peck’s general store was of the
same design as Jeffers’ and it too offered a hot lunch.

           
“Are you
busy at the moment, Mr. Peck?” Junior asked as the grizzled old man laid a
steaming plateful of stew before him. The store was deserted, and now was as
good a time as any to sound him out.

           
“Not at the
moment,” Peck replied amiably. “Why?”

           
“Like to
discuss something with you.”

           
“Business?”

           
“Maybe.”

           
“Find
yourself a table and I’ll join you in a minute.” He disappeared into the back.
When he returned, he was carrying an earthen jug and two glasses. Seating
himself across from Junior, he filled both glasses about halfway and pushed one
across the table. “Nothing like a glass of wine at
midday
, I always say. Go ahead – try it. It’s my own.”

           
Junior did
so. The crystal clear fluid was light, dry, surprisingly good. “Very nice. My
name’s Finch, by the way.” Peck nodded and they clinked glasses.

           
“Well,
now,” Peck said after a long swallow. “What can I do for you, Mr. Finch?”

           
“I’d like
to talk to you about the Vanek.”

           
“Vanek? We
don’t have any Vaneks around here. Oh, one or two may pass through now and
again, but if you want to know about Vaneks, you’d best go to Danzer.”

           
“I know all
I want to know about them,” Junior said – which wasn’t true. “What I want to
know right now is how you feel about them.”

           
Peck
finished his glass and refilled it, this time to the brim. “They’re all right,
I guess. I’m not crazy about their spooky looks but I don’t see enough of them
to care much one way or the other.” He noticed Junior’s empty glass so he
poured him some more, then drained and refilled his own glass once again.

           
“Would you
mind very much if they bought their supplies here?”

           
“Hell, no!
I’ll sell to anyone who’s got the money to buy!”