Lurulu
Authors: Jack Vance
Lurulu
Jack Vance
Copyright 2004, 2012 by Jack Vance
Cover art by Koen Vyverman
Published by
Spatterlight Press
ISBN 978-1-61947-063-7
2012-09-01
Visit
jackvance.com
for more
Spatterlight Press releases
This title was created from the digital archive of the Vance Integral Edition, a series of 44 books produced under the aegis of the author by a worldwide group of his readers. The VIE project gratefully acknowledges the editorial guidance of Norma Vance, as well as the cooperation of the Department of Special Collections at Boston University, whose John Holbrook Vance collection has been an important source of textual evidence. Special thanks to R.C. Lacovara, Patrick Dusoulier, Koen Vyverman, Paul Rhoads, Chuck King, Gregory Hansen, Suan Yong, and Josh Geller for their invaluable assistance preparing final versions of the source files.
Format
: John A. Schwab,
Tech Proof
: Patrick Dusoulier,
Text Integrity
: Rob Friefeld, Alun Hughes, Paul Rhoads, Steve Sherman, John Vance,
Implement
: Hans van der Veeke,
Compose
: Paul Rhoads,
Update Verify
: Rob Friefeld,
Proofread
: Erik Arendse, Patrick Dusoulier, Andrew Edlin, Rob Friefeld, Joe Keyser, Frans Langelaan, Till Noever, David Reitsema, Joel Riedesel, Jeffrey Ruszczyk, Mike Schilling
Ebook Creation
: Arjen Broeze, Christopher Wood,
Artwork (maps based on original drawings by Jack and Norma Vance)
: Paul Rhoads, Christopher Wood,
Proofing
: Arjen Broeze, Evert Jan de Groot, Gregory Hansen, Menno van der Leden, Koen Vyverman,
Management
: John Vance, Koen Vyverman,
Web
: Menno van der Leden
THE COMPLETE WORKS
of
Jack Vance
Lurulu
THE VANCE DIGITAL EDITION
Oakland
2012
Contents
Introduction,
or more accurately, a precis of the first book: Ports of Call.
Myron’s great-aunt, Dame Hester Lajoie, had won a judgment of slander against Gower Hatchkey. In satisfaction of the judgment she had accepted the space-yacht
Glodwyn
. Initially Dame Hester thought of the
Glodwyn
only as proof that whoever chose to call her ‘a bald old harridan in a red fright-wig’ must pay well for the privilege.
“Truly, I have no inclination to go hurtling through space in an oversize coffin,” she told Myron. “That is sheer lunacy and a mortification of both body and spirit. I shall probably put the vessel up for sale.”
Myron groaned and clutched at his sleek blond hair, but was too shocked to protest.
Dame Hester watched him closely, parrot-eyes snapping. “I see that you are perplexed; you think me timid and orthodox! That is incorrect! I pay no heed to convention, and why is this? Because my youthful spirit defies the years! So you dismiss me as an eccentric madcap! What then? It is the price I pay for retaining the verve of youth, and it is the secret of my vivid beauty!”
“Ah yes, of course,” said Myron. He added thoughtfully: “Still, it is sad waste of a beautiful ship.”
The remark irritated Dame Hester. “Myron, be practical! Why should I gad about empty space, or trudge through dirty back alleys in search of strange smells? Preposterous!”
Myron numbly went off to read
Transcendent Lives: The Locators and their Model 11-B Scudders
.
During a rare moment of repose, Dame Hester chanced upon an article written by a certain ‘Serena’, telling of her experiences on the world Kodaira, where she had undertaken a rejuvenation program which she had found amazingly effective.
Dame Hester was inspired by the article. After making inquiries, she altered her views regarding space travel, and resolved to visit Kodaira aboard the
Glodwyn
.
With Dame Hester, to think was to act. She summoned Myron and ordered him to learn the exact location of Kodaira. She appointed her dear and intimate friend Dauncy Covarth Captain of the
Glodwyn
, but he disgraced himself; and Myron, by default, was tendered the position.
The
Glodwyn
departed the Salou Sain spaceport, and Myron set a course for Naharius, the real name of Kodaira. For a time the voyage proceeded smoothly. Dame Hester luxuriated in the tranquility, the absence of stress, the total lack of demands upon her time. She slept late, dawdled over her meals and read several books. The voyage, she told Myron, was a rejuvenation in itself.
As time passed, Dame Hester’s enthusiasm began to wane. She became ever more restless, and finally she summoned Myron.
“Yes, Aunt Hester?”
“How far have we come to date?”
“About halfway, I should guess.”
“So little? I feel as if we have been traveling forever!”
“Naharius is a long way out for a fact,” Myron admitted. “Still, there is much to enjoy along the way: untroubled rest, calm and deep meditation, the sheer joy of easing effortlessly past the stars.”
“Bah!” snapped Dame Hester.
Myron pointed to the observation port. “Observe the stars drifting past. It is the most romantic spectacle of all!”
“My wish would be to stop by a pleasant way-station where we could breathe new air and enjoy the glamour of strange landscapes and quaint villages, where the folk still abide by their ancient customs.”
“All very well,” said Myron. “No doubt these picturesque places exist, but if we deviate from our planned course we may not so easily return anywhere near our destination, which is Naharius.”
Dame Hester seemed not to hear. “I have read of native markets where unique goods can be had: fetishes and masks, emblems of fertility, exotic fabrics. There are true bargains to be found if one is prepared to haggle a bit.”
“Yes, yes, of course! Nevertheless, such worlds are not to be found everywhere.”
Dame Hester lurched up from her position on the sofa. “Please! Myron! I have stated my needs! Be good enough to implement them.”
Myron spoke with harried patience. “My dear Aunt Hester, if I could produce a world of such gorgeous romance for your pleasure, I would do so on the instant. I would be performing a miracle!”
Dame Hester spoke icily: “In that case, perform the miracle. Are you finally aware of my mood?”
“Yes,” said Myron. “It is clear.”
“Good!” Dame Hester resumed her supine posture on the sofa.
Myron bowed, and went off to consult his references.
Presently he returned to the saloon. “I have studied
Handbook to the Planets
at length,” he told Dame Hester. “The most accessible world is Dimmick, in orbit around the white dwarf Maudwell’s Star. It would seem queer enough and odd enough even to gratify the most avid taste.
“The references are somewhat ambiguous, but none seriously emphasize the world’s allure. Let me read from the Handbook: ‘Dimmick is not a world of halcyon charm, although the topography often displays a rugged grandeur. The surface is for the most part covered under harsh stony mountains and glaciers. A number of small circular plains depressed below the surface are in fact meteor craters. In these parts, the air temperature is modified by ground heat to the threshold of livability. The town Flajaret and the spaceport are located in one of the craters.’
“‘Dimmick and its people, to say the least, are unusual, though sensitive visitors may not be captivated. The efflux of hot springs creates tunnels through the glaciers, providing shelter for a debased caste of dog-breeders known as ‘spockows’. The upper castes keep dogs in their homes, and dress them in fancy suits. There is an undercurrent of hostility between the castes, since one eats the creatures, while the other pampers the animals in their homes and feeds them tidbits from their tables.’
“‘The principal sport is dog-fighting, which is important since it sets the tone for the society. Gambling is obsessive. Even small children crawl to the arena, to bet coins upon their favorite beast. Another vehicle for gambling is the penal system. Near Flajaret is a large lake crusted over with mats of dried algae. On this precarious surface the penal exercises are conducted, to the great interest of the public at large.’
“‘Dimmick is not known for its gracious cuisine, since few if any natural foods are consumed. Ordinary victual consists of synthetic gruel, enlivened by artificial flavoring, then fried, baked, boiled or shirred, to much the same effect.’”
Myron paused. “Shall I go on? The Handbook provides several recipes for boiled dog which may interest you.”
“Thank you, no.”
Myron looked sidewise at Dame Hester, trying to gauge her mood. Often she could be perverse, simply to inject drama into a situation. He risked an opinion: “I suggest that we bypass Dimmick. We are approaching Port Tanjee on Taubry, which will surely be far more entertaining.”
Dame Hester spoke decisively: “We shall land at Flajaret, and briefly explore this benighted world. Then we shall also halt at Port Tanjee. In this way we will be able to compare the good with the bad.”
