Maske: Thaery (3 page)

“I refer of course to Ramus Ymph. He now comes to state his aspirations to the four surviving Servants; they are obliged to weigh his fortitude, zeal and vision.” The Nunciant paused in his declamation.

Stepping forward, he held up a solemn finger. “We rightly reserve infallibility to the Tendrils of the Ineffable Mist! A single act of urging therefore is sufficient to seat Ramus Ymph upon the seat of the Fifth Servant. Should the four Servants agree that Ramus Ymph somehow falls short, perhaps in trivial degree, then Ramus Ymph may not be seated, and the Four must urge another Ymph whom they deem more suitable.

“The Servants sit at their deliberations. At this very instant they weigh and ponder. Shall Ramus Ymph become the Fifth Servant? Or will they sadly insist upon another even more excellent? Approach, Ramus Ymph! Present yourself, make known your concepts and hear the decision!”

From the central adit under the boxes came three men in traditional vestments. They paced forward, using the interrupted
half-step step
,
half-step step
of immemorial custom. At the rostrum the gentlemen to right and left halted to stand in rigid postures of awe and respect. The third, Ramus Ymph, strode deliberately up on the rostrum. He turned and for a hushed minute gazed across the auditorium: a striking figure, tall, resolute, magnificently handsome. His garments were impeccable, tending perhaps toward fashion rather than tradition. Dark yellow pantaloons fitted without a crease into black boots encased in silver filigree.

To his plum red waistcoat was affixed the iron slange of the Ymphs; he wore no other culbrass. The black cutaway cape, tightly molded to his shoulders, flared loose at the hips. A tall black dath
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enhanced his already noble stature. Under the brim a fringe of dark curls framed a broad forehead; proud nostrils accented a high-bridged nose. The black eyes were wide and glossy; the full mouth drooped at the corners. He stood less than fifty feet from Jubal, who studied him in fascination. Remarkable circumstance!

The chamber was still; no sound, scuffle of foot, cough or murmur disturbed the silence. Jubal leaned back into the cushions of the couch. Mieltrude and Sune stared raptly at Ramus Ymph, though with different expressions. The Servants sat behind their desks blank as stones: eyes unfocused, emotions indeterminate.

Ramus Ymph turned to face the Servants. His two sponsors spoke in unison: “We are Ymph ilk; our caste is high. Here is Ramus Ymph, our first and best. We require that he be urged into Servantry.”

“The request is noted,” said Nai the Hever, now the Senior Servant. “Ramus Ymph, we recognize your presence!”

The sponsors spoke on in unison: “He will now state his doctrines. Let the examination proceed.” Turning smartly on their heels, they marched to places left and right of the podium.

Nai the Hever, slender and silver-haired with silver-gray eyes and a thin ironic mouth, spoke: “We thank the Ymph ilk for their sacrifices—first Rohad tragically dead, now the notable Ramus. Let it be known that our examination may not be easy or casual. The problems of Thaery weigh on our minds; they must be solved correctly. I therefore invite the nominee to submit his views.”

“Venerable Servants!” spoke Ramus Ymph. “I am anxious to apply my energies to these problems.

Admittedly they are real and urgent. I hereby dedicate myself to their dissolution! The weal of Thaery hangs in the balance!”

Ambish the Quorce, newest of the Servants, a large grave man, ponderous of jowl and abdomen, made the response. “We are Servants; we are likewise nobles of Wysrod and not figments of pedantic abstraction.

We are aware of each other; we know how each other’s lives have gone, what causes we have advocated, what deeds we have done. Certain folk have suggested bold and unprecedented methods—I might substitute the words ‘brash’ and ‘irresponsible’—to alter the conditions of today. What is your opinion of this?”

Mieltrude sighed and made a quick fluttering gesture. “What a hateful despot is Ambish! Always he reminds me of a shoad sitting on a glacier.”

Sune spoke more fervently: “Lynaica has described his personal habits: he is incredible! Each day follows an unalterable routine, to the second. He enforces impossible schedules upon Lynaica, all in the name of Regularity!”

“I doubt if he will endorse Ramus,” said Mieltrude in a wry voice.

“I find him altogether unpleasant,” Sune declared. “Still—what does it matter? Your father will endorse.”

“If he intends the marriage, and why should he not?”

Sune gave her mouth a queer crooked twist. “Listen: Ramus speaks!”

“The future is an enigma,” said Ramus Ymph. “The road across the future is strewn with obstacles; there are many dangerous detours. How shall we avoid them? We must use the best techniques at hand. Let me explain myself in this manner: if a person is coping with Problem A, and he finds that Solution B produces no effect, then he must consider Solutions C, D and E.”

“What if Solutions C, D and E, in dissolving Problem A, produce Problems F, G and H, to an even sharper detriment?” asked Ambish.

“It becomes our duty,” said Ramus Ymph, “to consider possibilities and to calculate their risks.”

“I will be blunt,” said Ambish the Quorce. “You are not considered a patient man. The next Servant must not be automatically attracted by unconventional concepts simply because of their novelty. Our foremost problem, as I see it, is the continuity of tradition. Suppose we accept into our group a man who favors transformation and quick change? He has great power. He can be expected to survive the rest of us. With his power of single endorsement he might change the philosophical posture of the Five. For this reason I prefer a man older than yourself, of demonstrable discretion. I cannot urge your service, though you must not construe this as personal antipathy.”

Ramus Ymph bowed rigidly. Mieltrude said with a faint smile: “For a fact Ramus has a volatile temperament. Ambish is not citing imaginary bugbears.”

Sune said breathlessly: “Now, if ever, he must be calm. Oh Ramus, behave yourself!”

Ramus Ymph was calmness personified. “I regret that you fail to discern in me that prudence to which you attach so much weight. Naturally, I disagree with your assessment.”

Mieltrude chuckled. “He won’t win endorsement by claiming prudence; who will believe him?”

Sune leaned back into the couch. “Ramus is sometimes not altogether realistic.”

Ramus Ymph, turning away from Ambish the Quorce, addressed himself to the remaining three Servants.

“I had hoped for unanimous urging; I am sorry that this is not to be. The fact remains that these are strange times. We all know that change is on the way: the pressure hangs in the air and dampens our spirits, the more so because everyone resolutely ignores the matter. I say, let us bring the subject into the open, where it can be discussed and reckoned with. Is the prospect really so frightening? Not when sensitive, judicious, and high-caste men accept responsibility. I am willing to dedicate my abilities, such as they are—” Ramus Ymph made a gesture of deprecation “—to the weal.”

“He is wrong to talk like that,” Mieltrude observed. “He is really tactless and brash. Aren’t those the words Ambish used?”

“Bombastic old Ambish! The others are not so obdurate.”

Jubal at last felt impelled to speak. “Ramus Ymph will never be a Servant. I can assure you of this.”

The two girls glanced at him, dark brown curls and smooth blonde silk swinging around in unison. Sune could not restrain a scornful snort; Mieltrude smiled stonily and turned her gaze back to the rostrum. She made a gesture of dismissal. “Expect no urging of an Ymph by a Mneiodes. They are good haters.”

Myrus the Mneiodes, an old man, thin and small, withered and sallow, was third in precedence. He spoke in a husky voice. “The idea of ‘change’ has occurred to many people; therefore we must be ready to accept ‘change’ as an accomplished fact. This seems to be your position: sheer nonsense, of course. Lust and envy obsess many of us; do we therefore legitimize these impulses? Our ancient creed is correct.

Rather than submitting to change we must divert the influences which conduce in such a direction.”

Ramus Ymph listened with patient good humor. “The remarks of the sagacious Servant are persuasive, even though they fail to correspond with reality. The change to which I refer is not merely a whim or a fad, and its causes are not fanciful. I refer to our excessive population. The countryside is overworked; its beauty is becoming spoiled and stale. Change is upon us; who knows where it will take us if not controlled? Here is the key-word: ‘control’! We must ride ‘change’ rough-shod and control it to our own advantage.”

The sallow complexion of Myrus the Mneiodes had become darker as Ramus Ymph spoke, and eventually achieved the color of damp clay. “We must control ‘change’, to be sure! We must curb the indecent fecundity of the lower orders. What is intrinsically glorious about change? Nothing. You ask us to veer from our dear old avenues to go bumping and lurching across the wilderness. Why? Your purposes are over-intricate and too subtle for my comprehension. I will not compel you to Service.”

Sune leaned toward Mieltrude. “Myrus is a cynical old harpy. Why won’t he simply admit that the Mneiodes want to demean the Ymphs?”

Mieltrude shrugged. “Nothing anyone says can be taken at face value. Not excepting the remarks of Ramus Ymph.”

“And your own?” murmured Sune.

“Sometimes I don’t know myself.”

Ramus Ymph had performed a gracious salute toward Myrus the Mneiodes. “I am sorry not to have persuaded the noble Myrus of my Regularity. The misunderstanding, I hope, does not originate in me.”

Myrus the Mneiodes deigned no reply.

Mieltrude muttered to Sune: “My father discounted Quorce and Mneiodes. Angeluke is the uncertain vote.”

“And if Angeluke won’t urge?”

“I don’t know my father’s intent. He is not predictable.”

“Not even to his daughter?”

“I never trouble to speculate; I obey without question.”

Ramus Ymph again addressed the Servants. “I used the word ‘misunderstanding’ with design. After all, ‘change’ is not necessarily equivalent to unwholesome innovation. Subtleties are the curse of our old civilization. If change there must be, I would wish a renascence of simplicity, a re-dedication to Regularity.”

Mieltrude shook her head in admiration and disparagement together. “Have I heard right? He who is most devious of all!”

“Poor Ramus has gone too far; he is fantasizing. Look at that odious Ambish; how he gloats!”

“Forget Ambish; he has already declared. Save your concern for Neuptras the Angeluke.”

Neuptras the Angeluke, a man tall and fair, with eyes never fixing directly on their object, had listened to the proceedings with a moony smile of bewilderment. He spoke with careful attention to pitch and accent, as if intoning a strophe. “The third opinion is of course the most crucial. However, my quite definite ideas are not realized either by endorsement or rejection… Hm. It is necessary that I reflect and reflect again, deeply… I tend to feel that we, as Guardians Mandator of our delightful realm, must be all things at once.

Each of us must, so to speak, play a dozen instruments together, in this magnificent concert which is our contemporary life… So that, while preparing for all eventualities with flexible vision, we also stand, like doughty warriors, ready to repugn the enemy… I admire and applaud the style of Ramus Ymph! The Ymph ilk has given of its best! But—” A pensive pause.

Mieltrude gave a quiet scornful laugh; Sune slumped desolately back in her seat. “He means ‘no’,” said Mieltrude.

“I will not attend his masque,” declared Sune.

“—in so responsible a post, I wonder if a dynamic man is not at a definite disadvantage? Here is where intricacy and long slow deliberation, with ideas drifting, forming, dissolving, is most essential. Ramus Ymph is, naturally, anxious to serve Thaery. Perhaps he can serve us best where his magnificent abilities find their fullest scope: not here in this swirling pool of ambiguities and abstractions, but—let us say—as an important Equalizer
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… I hasten to remark that I do not deplore intricacy or elaboration as evils in themselves; to the contrary. Are not these qualities our first line of defense against low-caste parvenus?

With my effusive compliments and most glorious best wishes to Ramus Ymph, I will somewhat indecisively refrain from calling him to Service.”

Ramus Ymph lowered his head and seemed to be studying the rug. He looked up, but before he could speak a gong sounded and the Nunciant called out: “It is the time of recess. The nominee chooses to retire to his chamber and the Four Servants must continue their reflections.”

Ramus Ymph turned on his heel and strode to the waiting room followed by his two somber sponsors.

Ambish the Quorce and Myrus the Mneiodes rose to their feet and spoke to each other quietly. Neuptras the Angeluke went to pay his respects to a group of magnates in a box to the left of the rostrum. Nai the Hever remained in his chair.

Mieltrude mused in bitter amusement: “Our delicate Neuptras passes the bouquet to Father.”

“He is loathsome! But now; what of your father?”

“He will urge Ramus; how can he do otherwise? After all, he has created my predicament.”

“Not truly a predicament!”

“I am unconvinced.”

Jubal again stated his opinions. “Ramus Ymph falls far short. He is first of all a flamboyant bluff, and secondly a scoundrel.”

Sune gave vent to a peal of laughter. “How perceptive! But these are the qualities which endear him to us!”

Mieltrude smiled grimly. “I’d forgotten you. One moment, I’ll summon Nai the Hever and you may deliver your message.”

Jubal scowled. “Don’t trouble now. The message can wait until after—” But Mieltrude had called to her father, who rose to his feet and approached the box, a slender man of imperturbable dignity, with silver hair and bright silver-gray eyes. He touched fingertips with Mieltrude and Sune and glanced speculatively toward Jubal. “Are you enjoying the spectacle of Ymph discomfiture?”