Maske: Thaery (18 page)

“The ‘inns’ would accommodate, at most, a dozen persons?”

“More or less.”

“Certainly not as many as eighteen?”

“I have fixed upon no formal designs. Certainly it is better to plan large than small.”

“You would agree that eighteen is an upper limit?”

“Not necessarily,” said Ramus Ymph testily. “I would prefer to retain flexibility.”

“You might conceivably wish to accommodate more than eighteen?”

“Conceivably.”

“As many as fifty.”

Ramus Ymph smiled. “Now you are simply plucking figures out of the air.”

“I am interested in the extent of your plans. The terms of your proposal allow a great deal of latitude.”

Ramus Ymph considered a moment. “I can tell you this. I am an indefatigable optimist and I think in generous terms.”

“Still, you do not intend to construct needlessly.”

“Of course not. But sometimes an expansive vision is wisest in the end.”

“In any event, your inns will house a maximum of how many?”

“I can’t specify an exact figure.”

“As many as fifty?”

“Perhaps.”

“A hundred? Two hundred?”

“These are large numbers,” said Ramus Ymph cautiously. “My prime concern is to create the basic fact of the depots.”

“But you do not rule out ‘inns’ housing as many as two hundred visitors?”

“I repeat: I am an optimist and a visionary. I rule out nothing.”

“But consider: not three travelers a month visit Wellas. How can even an optimist plan to erect a chain of six or eight large hotels where no need exists?”

“Travelers are unpredictable; they go anywhere if suitable accommodations and scenic attractions beckon them. And never forget: travelers exude a golden effluent!”

“Where would they originate? Certainly not Dohobay, nor Djanad, nor even Thaery.”

Ramus Ymph’s patience was wearing thin. “Are we not straying far from our topic?”

“It must be a matter to which you have given careful consideration. If you prefer to withhold this information—”

“This is not the case. I prefer not to waste time with irrelevances.”

“We have ample time; no one here is impatient, and all of us are interested in the details of your scheme.

For instance, how will so many travelers arrive and depart? By National feluccas?”

Ramus Ymph smiled wearily. “Since we are speculating—obviously not.”

“Since we are speculating—who then would perform this service?”

“Why not a fleet of luxurious modern vessels specifically designed for such a service?”

“Why not?” replied Jubal. “But what of the Nationals? Surely they would forbid the use of their ocean?”

Ramus Ymph smiled scornfully. “It is quite preposterous that a handful of backward mariners should control the world’s ocean. The Association would not allow it.”

“You have organized the Association?”

“True. I have powerful friends.”

“They are interested in your planned developments?”

“Very much so. They will provide all necessary capital.”

“Who are the other members of this syndicate?”

“Their names would mean nothing to you.” Ramus Ymph, either uneasy or self-conscious, tugged at his mustache. “We comprise an earnest and energetic group. I give you my assurance of this!”

“I would like to learn more about your syndicate. It is based at Wysrod?”

“This is really confidential information!”

Jubal smilingly shook his head. “Under the circumstances no pertinent information can be considered confidential.”

From the Minie’s still face came an utterance: “You must disclose all information.”

Ramus Ymph recovered his poise. “I have nothing to hide. My associates are based at Kyash, on the planet Eiselbar; they are competent and highly experienced; you need have no fears on this score. Every year millions of tourists visit Eiselbar, where they are efficiently housed, transported and entertained.”

“This information provides a new perspective upon your proposal,” said Jubal.

“Not really,” said Ramus Ymph. “We are interested in profit. The Eisel techniques are demonstrably profitable.”

“Evidently you will not confine your operations to Wellas?”

“Quite correct. Dohobay is an interesting region, and the Happy Isles are well adapted to our program.”

“Despite the opposition of the Nationals, and doubtless the Thariots?”

Ramus Ymph gave a disinterested shrug. “What can they do? With modern weaponry, we can coerce the Nationals and intimidate the Thariots.”

“By ‘we’ do you mean your Association, or the Pan-Djan, or—perhaps—someone else?”

Ramus Ymph stared at Jubal in consternation.

Jubal asked: “What are the motives of your allies? Do you know?”

Ramus Ymph blurted: “You are no Wael! Where have I met you before?”

“On the High Trail. In the Parloury chambers. At Droad House.”

The Minie, standing almost against the trunk of the Old Tree, said, “The discussion need proceed no further.” He faced Jubal, who involuntarily drew back. “Return to Erdstone Pool; go back to Thaery and do what you must do there.”

Jubal indicated Ramus Ymph. “What of him?”

“It is essential that he leaves Wellas. He may not grow here. You must in no way impede his going.”

Jubal turned away and walked heavy-footed across the glade. Where the trail passed through the crags he turned to look back. The Minie stood beside the Old Tree, contemplating Ramus Ymph, who moved his lips in speech without producing sound, like a man under water; and again the sensation of unreality came to bemuse Jubal’s brain. True fact or hallucination? The dozen somber folk who had stood watching from the shade: where were they? Nowhere to be seen… Below the Old Tree stood the Minie. Jubal looked from the high gnarled bulge which somehow resembled a human countenance down to the face of the Minie. Slowly Jubal turned away and without clear perception found his way down the path… He stopped short. What was that? A hoarse exclamation… Jubal listened. The sound was not repeated.

Aband of pre-dawn violet circled the horizon. Skay was a huge black disk on the foreglow, like the negative image of a sun. The scape slid down a dark valley, fragrant with dew and damp leaves, and arrived at Erdstone Pool just as Mora lifted into the sky.

Folk were up and about at Tanglefoot Tavern. Jubal walked stiffly into the common-room and was served hot pepper-broth in a tall bowl. Through the windows he noted that Erdstone Pool was at low tide. Water trickled across the mud-flats and only a languid current passed through the Ballows. The
Clanche
idled at her moorings. The
Farwerl
was nowhere to be seen.

Jubal tilted up the bowl and finished the broth. Departing the tavern, he walked down the dock to the
Clanche
and jumped aboard.

He went directly to the galley, brewed tea and heated a dish of stew, which he took out on deck and devoured with great appetite. Shrack came aft from the forecastle. He poured himself a mug of tea and joined Jubal on the hatch. “So you’re back.”

“Where’s Torquasso?”

“He left yesterday.”

“That’s bad news,” said Jubal in a dismal voice. “When can we sail?”

“The tide is just starting. Not until noon, at the earliest.”

Mieltrude appeared from the great cabin, sleepy and disheveled. She studied Jubal a moment. “Where is Ramus Ymph?”

“Over the hills.”

Mieltrude came to sit on the hatch.

“What happened?”

“It’s a long story. And it’s not over yet.” Jubal poured himself another mug of tea and told of events at Durruree .

In a hushed voice Mieltrude asked: “What will they do to him?”

“Nothing nice, I suspect.”

The three sat silent.

“I want to leave here,” said Mieltrude. “This is a frightening place.”

“I want to leave too,” said Jubal. “Before anything else happens.”

“What could happen?”

“I don’t know.”

“At noon when the tide turns we’ll sail,” said Shrack.

For a period the three sat watching the water surge through the Ballows. The pier, groaning and creaking, rose to the flood; the
Clanche
tugged against the mooring lines.

Jubal, looking toward the shore, gave a croak of frustration. “Noon is too late.”

Four men walked slowly from Erdstone Town: the Erdstone Factor, Ramus Ymph and a pair of somber Waels. They turned out along the pier. Ramus Ymph, dazed and uncertain, walked on limp legs.

The four men halted beside the
Clanche
. Jubal ran to the rail, waving his arms in remonstration. “He is not our passenger! Stand back!”

“He is Thariot and you are Thariot. Take him to Wysrod.” The Waels thrust Ramus Ymph across to the deck of the
Clanche
, where he stood glaring blankly first in one direction then another.

“He is not our responsibility!” declared Jubal. “Take him back!”

“He must not grow on Wellas.”

“We did not bring him here; we don’t want him aboard!”

The Factor studied Jubal a moment, then appraised the
Clanche
. “Your vessel was built here at Erdstone, and fixed with our good
mais
.”

“True,” said Shrack, suddenly glum.

“Do you wish it to convey you safely across the ocean?”

“Yes indeed; no question about that.”

“Then you will take Ramus Ymph to Wysrod.”

“We will be happy to oblige you,” said Shrack.

“Bind him well and constrict his motion. When he buds, he will become excitable.”

The Waels returned to Erdstone Town. Ramus Ymph stood as before, glaring at no one in particular.

Shrack finally stirred himself. From the forepeak he brought a pliable metal cable which he shackled in a double bond around Ramus Ymph’s neck and waist, then secured the other end to the mast.

At noon the tide reached its height. The
Clanche
sailed out the Ballows and southward across the Long Ocean.

On the second day awareness returned to Ramus Ymph. In dead silence he took stock of his surroundings, noting his constriction with puzzlement and dismay. He looked at Jubal in slow recognition which became a flush of rage; when Mieltrude emerged from the aft cabin he watched in slack-jawed amazement as she climbed to the quarterdeck. But he made no statement, uttered no words, as if he had become quite dumb. He tested his bonds, carefully studied the wrap of the cable around the mast, then looked bleakly off across the ocean. Shrack brought him food and drink, which he consumed without words. Overcome by revulsion, Jubal remained on the quarterdeck. Mieltrude, ignoring everyone, sat glooming on the taffrail bench.

On the morning of the sixth day Ramus Ymph became restive. He walked stiff-legged back and forth across the hatch to the extent of his tether, pausing from time to time to rub his legs and chest. On the eighth day he had torn away his shirt, in order to examine the stipple of dark spots which had appeared on his skin.

The
Clanche
drove south, the great driver-kites taut to the thrust of the trade wind. Mieltrude secluded herself in the after cabin or huddled on the taffrail bench. She spoke as little as possible to Shrack and not at all to Jubal. Only when descending the companion-way, when she could not do otherwise, did she turn her eyes upon Ramus Ymph. Jubal kept her under inconspicuous observation. He had never been able to divine her moods, now even less than ever.

On the tenth day Ramus Ymph became excitable. He swung his arms, beat his fists against his bare stomach, clawed at his legs, where the black spots had become nodules, like dark wens. Shrack dissolved analgesic tablets in wine and served the potion to Ramus Ymph with his midday meal, and for a few hours Ramus Ymph became relatively calm. However, at the midnight rising of Skay he began to hiss through his teeth; looking down from the quarterdeck, Jubal and Shrack saw him brandishing his arms toward the monstrous globe in a frenzy of supplication.

On the day following, he tore away all of his garments. Nodules thronged upon his skin, showing a gunmetal-green luster. Shrack tried to administer another dose of analgesic but Ramus Ymph ignored both food and drink, and stood naked on the hatch. The hot sunlight played on his skin and he became rigid, eyes staring glassily, without apparent focus.

His calmness persisted throughout the night, but at dawn he set up a baleful rasping of the throat.

Mora rose into the sky. Mieltrude came out upon deck. Ramus Ymph lunged like a ferocious animal. The cable jerked him backward and threw him to the deck. He bounded erect, apparently without hurt or pain.

Mieltrude scurried up the companion-way, then forced herself to look back at Ramus Ymph. He had become a disturbing sight. The hair was falling from his scalp; his skin had dulled to an ashen green-gray color; the nodules were like black-green acorns. Mieltrude’s composure collapsed. Her mouth sagged; tears ran down her cheeks. She turned and ran to the taffrail, where she sat with her hands gripping her hair and her eyes squeezed shut.

Jubal and Shrack muttered together in undertones. Jubal said: “It is no more than an act of mercy to drop him over the side.”

“For him, but not for us. Did not the Factor say ‘Take him to Wysrod’?”

“The Factor is far away.”

“What of the Minie and your journey by night?”

“How could they dissolve your glue from so great a distance?”

“If I knew,” said Shrack, “I would rule the Nation.”

Jubal said heavily, “Wysrod it is. How long?”

“Two more days and two more nights.”

They looked from the corners of their eyes toward Ramus Ymph. Jubal asked hollowly: “Do you believe it?”

“Oh yes,” said Shrack. “I make no trouble of that.”

On the following morning Ramus Ymph stood stiff on the hatch. His hair was totally gone; his bald pate showed a coarse and wrinkled texture. Other changes were evident. His nose had splayed and flattened; his eyes had retreated behind wads of coarse tissue. Some of the nodules had broken, to show fibrous green cores.

The day passed. Mora settled into the sea between a sad procession of clouds; purple evening became night. Ramus Ymph’s stertorous gasps began to produce odd secondary sounds: squeaks and a throttled fluting tone.

Mieltrude suddenly burst from the cabin and ran wide-eyed up to the quarterdeck, where Jubal and Shrack sat together. The stern-light shone into her face, accentuating hollow cheeks and strained mouth. She cried out: “You must not let him suffer so! It is horrible! The sounds madden me!”

“Control yourself a few hours more,” growled Shrack. “Tomorrow we arrive at Wysrod.”

“What effect is this? He is no longer Ramus Ymph; he is a creature in torment! No one deserves so much!”

Jubal asked in a dreary voice: “What can we do except kill him?”

“Give him drugs to ease the pain!”

“I have dosed both his food and drink,” said Shrack. “He takes neither.”

“Then—kill him!”

Jubal shook his head. “We agreed to take him to Wysrod. I am afraid of the Minie.”

“You are afraid when the Minie is so far?”

“Yes, very much so.”

“What can he do at such a distance?”

“I don’t care to learn.”

“This is really incredible!”

“Not so,” said Shrack. “If he chooses, he can dissolve the glue.” He indicated the dark sea. “And all of us would be floundering out there in the wet, kicking at grinders and slaverfish. The Minie must be obeyed.”

“True.” A plangent vibration at the edge of audibility. The three looked startled at each other: who had spoken? A stay thrummed in the wind; perhaps here had been the source of the sound.

After a pause Mieltrude spoke in a subdued voice: “And when we reach Wysrod, then what?”

“That is for your father to decide,” said Jubal. “I have telephoned Wysrod. He will be on hand when we arrive.”

“Does he know I am returning?”

“I expect so. I did not think to inform him.”

Mieltrude scowled through the dark. “Am I so negligible, of such trifling concern to everyone, that no one troubles to mention my name?”

“You are in my custody; he knows you are safe.”

“I do not intend to heed this ridiculous formality!”

“Do as you like,” said Jubal gloomily. “I am bored with it myself. I don’t want your custody any longer.”

Mieltrude struggled for words, and finding none, sat silent. For some paradoxical reason a pulse of warm emotion came over her: sympathy, affection, gratitude; she was urged to touch Jubal and made a sudden uncharacteristic move, which, equally abruptly, she restrained. Turning away, she sat wondering at the secret currents of her subconscious.

The sounds from the main deck, muffled by wind and the flow of water, were barely perceptible.

Mieltrude hunched her shoulders. “What time will we arrive?”

“Middle morning.”

Mieltrude sat a few indecisive moments, then went below to the cabin, averting her eyes from the stiff shape on the hatch.

Dawn illuminated the sky. Across the southern horizon extended a dark smudge: Thaery; by the presence of land the emptiness of sea and sky was emphasized. Mora rose, and the shore was revealed in detail.

Due south the Cham reached a tree-shadowed arm around Duskerl Bay; beyond spread the gray texture of Wysrod. The
Clanche
, with all kites drawing, drove onward with ponderous and fateful motion. On the afterdeck Jubal, Shrack, and Mieltrude gazed shoreward, each in greater or lesser degree oppressed and silent. As for the half-vegetative entity on the hatch, his eyes were already glazed over with a dim green crust. He had lost the flexible use of his muscles; he no longer uttered sounds. Small green sheafs protruded from the nodes; these, stimulated by the sunlight, began to burgeon.

The
Clanche
passed through the tide-locks into Duskerl Bay, and presently, with folded kites, drew alongside the main jetty, where stood Nai the Hever with Eyvant Dasduke and a number of other folk.

Jubal threw ashore mooring lines; the
Clanche
came to rest. Mieltrude jumped ashore and ran to her father.

With a trembling finger she pointed to Ramus Ymph, now completely shrouded under blue-green leaves.

Jubal spoke to the stiff shape. “Ramus Ymph! Do you hear me?”

The figure evinced no comprehension. The eyes, dull as cusps of green marble, were barely visible behind the leaves. Shrack stepped up on the hatch, loosed the shackle and threw off the cable.

Ramus Ymph jerked his legs. On swift small steps he tottered to the gap in the rail, leaves rustling as he moved. He lurched ashore in desperate haste; onlookers drew aside. He stumbled to the park beside the esplanade, stepped into a bed of loose soil, twisted his feet until they were covered with moist dirt to the ankles. With an agonized effort he raised his arms on high, groaning and creaking, contorting his body, and in this position he became immobile. The leaves, fully extended to the sunlight, covered his face.

Someone exhaled: a shuddering suspiration. Eyvant Dasduke muttered a soft curse. Nai the Hever turned his head toward Jubal, and the pale eyes, sometimes so mild-seeming, showed the luster of steel. “No doubt that you have a great deal to tell me,” said Nai the Hever.

“I have no reason to tell you anything.”

“If you please,” said Nai the Hever, “let us avoid a tiresome dispute, which can only cause an inconvenience and delay.”

“Just as you like,” said Jubal. “But if you recall—”

“Yes, yes! Your status, your precious stipend.” Nai the Hever spoke in an even voice, without acerbity.

He glanced toward the blue-green tree. “I suggest that we conduct our business elsewhere. The Ymphs will shortly be arriving in force. At the very least they will be impelled to extravagant rhetoric. Let us continue the discussion at Hever House where we will not be disturbed.”

“Am I then to understand—”

“Yes, yes; whatever you like! At Hever House!”

Jubal gave a grim nod. “Very well. I need five minutes to make arrangements with my friend Shrack and I will meet you there.”