Tales of the Dying Earth (108 page)

"Rhialto, you have returned!" cried Osherl in a metallic voice. "Not a moment too soon! I have no taste for a life at sea."

"No more have I! As soon as we recover the Perciplex, our work is done."

Osherl gave a harsh melancholy cry, in the tones of a sea-bird. "Have I not explained that the Perciplex is lost in the depths? You must give up this obsession and accept the inevitable!"

"It is you who must accept the inevitable," said Rhialto. "Until the Perciplex is in my hands, you must remain here to mark and certify this spot."

Osherl tolled his warning bell in agitation. "Why not exercise your magic and move the sea aside? Then we may search in convenience!"

"I no longer command such magic; my best power was stolen by Hache-Moncour and others. Still, you have supplied me with the germ of an idea. . . . What is the name of this particular sea?"

"That is an irrelevant item of trivia!"

"Not at all! I am never irrelevant, nor yet trivial."

Osherl produced a heavy moaning curse. "During this epoch, it is an inland arm of the Accic Ocean: the Santune Sea. During the 17th Aeon, a land-bridge rises across the Straits of Garch; the sea slowly dries and becomes extinct. During the last epoch of the 17th Aeon the old sea-bed is known as the Tchaxmatar Steppe. In the second epoch of the 18th Aeon, Baltanque of the Tall Towers rises five miles to the north of our present station, and persists until its capture by Isil Skilte the archveult. Later in the 18th Aeon the sea returns. I hope that your sudden fascination with Middle-Earth geography has been satiated?"

"Quite so," said Rhialto. "I now issue the following orders, which must be implemented in most minute detail. Without stirring from your position, you will transfer me and my subaltern, Shalukhe the Swimmer, to a convenient moment during the latter 17th Aeon when the bed of the erstwhile Santune Sea is dry and ready to be searched for the Perciplex.

"Meanwhile you are explicitly ordered not to move from your present anchorage by so much as one inch, nor may you appoint substitute guardians, specifically and particularly Sarsem, to maintain the vigil while you deal with other business."

Osherl set up a weird moaning sound, which Rhialto ignored. "The Perciplex is under your foot at this moment; if it is not there when we return in the 17th Aeon, there can be only one party at fault: yourself. Therefore, guard well, with all obduracy. Allow neither Sarsem nor Hache-Moncour, nor any other, to hoodwink you and seduce you from your duty!

"We are now disposed to the transfer. Let there be no errors! The recovery of the true and original Perciplex, and its delivery to me, has become your responsibility! Many, many indenture points ride on the outcome of your work! So then: to the 17th Aeon!"

The pavilion now stood in the blaze of geranium-red sunlight. The sky was clear of clouds and overcast; the air felt warm, dry and carried a smoky-tart odor exhaled by a low-growing black bush. To the west the gleam of the retreating Santune Sea was yet visible, with a village of white cottages among low trees a half-mile away. In other directions the steppe spread away over the horizon.

At a distance of a hundred feet stood a small white cottage, with a massive black shairo tree rising high to each side. On the porch sat Osherl, in the guise of a low-caste vagabond, or lack-wit with blinking eyes, sandy hair and upper teeth hanging foolishly over a receding chin. Osherl wore a soiled grown of coarse white cloth and a low flap-brimmed hat.

Taking note of Rhialto, Osherl waved a limp-fingered hand. ' 'Ah Rhialto! After so long a vigil, even your face is welcome!"

Rhialto responded in a manner somewhat more cool. He surveyed the cottage. "You seem to have made yourself thoroughly comfortable. I hope that, in your ease, you have not neglected the security of the Perciplex?"

Osherl responded evenly: "My 'comfort,' as you put it, is primordial, and is basically designed to protect me from night-prowling beasts. I lack both silken couches and attentive subalterns."

"And the Perciplex?"

Osherl jerked his thumb toward a rusty iron post fifty yards away. "Directly under that post, at some unknown depth, lies the Perciplex."

Rhialto, surveying the area, noticed racks of empty flagons to the side of the cottage. "Mind you, I intend neither criticism nor scorn, but is it possible that you have taken to drink?"

"And if so, what then?" grumbled Osherl. "The vigil has been long. To vary the tedium, I compound tonics of various flavors which I sell to the villagers."

"Why did you not start an exploratory tunnel toward the Perciplex?"

"Need I explain? I feared that if I did so and found nothing, I would be forced to endure your reproaches, I decided to take no initiatives."

"What of, let us say, competing entities?"

"I have not been molested."

Rhialto's keen ear detected an almost imperceptible nicety of phrasing. He asked sharply: "Have either Sarsem or Hache-Moncour made their presence known?"

"To no significant degree, if any. They understand the importance of our work, and would not think to interfere."

"Just so. Might they have sunk a shaft at a distance, let us say, of ten miles, and driven a tunnel so that they came upon the Perciplex in a manner beyond your knowledge?"

"Impossible. I am not easily fooled. I arranged devices to signal all illicit incursions, either temporal, torsional, squalmaceous, or dimensional. The Perciplex is as before."

"Excellent. You may commence your excavation at once."

Osherl only made himself more comfortable in his chair. "First things first! This acreage is owned by a certain Um-Foad, resident at the village Az-Khaf, which you see yonder. He must be consulted before a single shovelful of dirt is turned. I suggest that you visit him at his home and make the arrangements. But first! Dress in garments like my own, to avoid ridicule."

Dressed in accordance with Osherl's recommendations, Rhialto and Shalukhe sauntered off to Az-Khaf.

They discovered a neat village of stark white houses in gardens of enormous red sun-flowers.

Rhialto made inquiries and the two were directed to a house with windows of blue glass and a roof of blue tile. Standing in the street Rhialto called across the garden, until Um-Foad at last came out upon his porch: a man small and white-haired with a shrewd darting gaze and a fine mustache with sharply upturned points. He called out sharply: "Who calls the name 4Um-Foad' and for what purpose? He may or may not be at home."

"I am Rhialto, a student of antiquities. This is my assistant Shalukhe the Swimmer. Will you come here, or shall we go there, so that we need not shout?"

"Shout as loud as you like. I am only here to listen."

Rhialto spoke in a quiet voice: "I wish to speak of money."

Um-Foad came bounding forward, mustache a-bristle. "Speak up, sir! Did you mention money?"

"Perhaps you mis-heard me. We want to dig a hole on your land."

"For what purpose, and how much will you pay?"

"More to the point: what will you pay us?" demanded Rhialto. "We are enhancing the value of your land."

Um-Foad laughed scornfully. "So that when I walk out by night, I fall in the hole and break my head? If you dig, you must pay! And you must pay once again for the refill! That is the first stipulation."

"And the second?"

Um-Foad chuckled wisely and tapped the side of his nose. "Do you take me for a fool? I know full well that valuable objects are buried on my land. If treasure is found, all belongs to me. If you dig, you acquire rights only in the hole."

"Unreasonable! Is there a third stipulation?"

"There is indeed! The excavation contract must be tendered to my brother Um-Zuic. I will personally act as project supervisor. Further, all payments must be made in gold zikkos of recent mintage."

Rhialto tried to argue, but Um-Foad proved to be a negotiator of great skill and in every important essential had his way with Rhialto.

As Rhialto and Shalukhe returned to the pavilion, she said: "You are most generous in your dealings, or so it seems to me. Um-Foad is obsessively avaricious."

Rhialto agreed. "In the presence of money, Um-Foad is like a hunger-maddened shark. Still, why not allow the fellow his hour of pleasure? It is as easy to promise two hundred gold zikkos as a hundred."

"Rhialto, you are a kindly man!" said Shalukhe.

Um-Foad and his brother Um-Zuic brought a gang of labourers to Osherl's hut and commenced to dig a hole fifty feet in diameter at the spot designated by Osherl. The dirt excavated was sifted through a screen before the attentive scrutiny of Osherl, Rhialto, and Um-Foad.

Inch by inch, foot by foot, the hole sank into the old seabed, but not at a rate to suit Rhialto. At last he complained to Um-Foad: "What is wrong with the work-force? They saunter here and there; they laugh and gossip at the water-barrel; they stare into space for long periods. That old gaffer yonder, he moves so seldom that twice I have feared for his life."

Um-Foad made an easy response: "Come now, Rhialto! Do not forever be carping and chiding! These men are being paid handsomely by the hour. They are in no hurry to see the end of so noble an enterprise. As for the old man, he is my uncle Yaa-Yimpe, who suffers severe back pains, and is also deaf. Must he be penalized on this account? Let him enjoy the same perquisites as the others!"

Rhialto shrugged. "As you wish. Our contract encompasses situations of this sort."

"Eh? How so?"

"I refer to the section: 'Rhialto at his option may pay all charges on the basis of cubic footage removed from the hole. The amount of said payment shall be determined by the speed at which Rhialto, standing beside a pile of soft dirt with a stout shovel, can transfer ten cubic feet of said dirt to a new pile immediately adjacent.' "

Um-Foad cried out in consternation, and consulted the contract. "I do not remember including any such provision!"

"I added it as an afterthought," said Rhialto. "Perhaps you failed to notice."

Um-Foad darted away to exhort the workers. Grudgingly they bent to their shovels, and even old Yaa-Yimpe shifted his position from time to time.

As the hole grew deeper, the soil began to yield articles lost into the ancient sea from passing ships. Each of these items Um-Foad seized upon with quick fingers, then tried to sell them to Rhialto.

 

"Look now, Rhialto! We have here a true treasure, this earthenware mug, despite its broken handle! It represents the culmination of a free and unself-conscious art no longer practiced in the crass world of today."

Rhialto agreed. "A fine piece! It will grace the mantlepiece of your home and bring you hours of pleasure."

Um-Foad clicked his tongue in vexation. "Then this is not the object you are seeking?"

"Definitely not. Still, put it with the other articles you have salvaged and perhaps someday I will take the lot off your hands."

"Please, then, define for me exactly what you are seeking!" demanded Um-Foad. "If we knew, we could use a keener eye at the sifting table."

"And you could also put an exorbitant value upon this object if and when it comes to light."

Um-Foad showed Rhialto an unpleasantly avaricious grin. "My recourse is clear. I shall set large values on everything discovered."

Rhialto reflected a moment. "In that case, I too must alter my tactics."

During the noon-time rest-period, Rhialto addressed the workers. "I am pleased to see that the hole is sinking apace. The object I seek must now be near at hand. I will now describe it, so that all may work alertly, inasmuch as the man who finds this object will earn a bonus of ten golden zikkos in addition to his pay."

Um-Foad interjected a quick remark. "These gold zikkos, needless to say, are to be paid by Rhialto."

"Just so," said Rhialto. "Listen then! Are all attentive?" He glanced around the group and even deaf old Yaa-Yimpe seemed to sense the importance of the occasion. "We are seeking the Sacred Lantern which at one time graced the bow of the Cloud-king's Pleasure-barge. During a terrible storm, it was dislodged by a dart of blue lightning-ice, and toppled into the sea. So then: to whomever finds the lantern, ten golden zikkos! To whomever finds a fragment, a shatter, or even so much as a small prism of the blue lightning-ice I will pay a bonus of one gold zikko, in true coin; such a fragment will indicate to me that the Sacred Lantern is close at hand. Such a fragment, or shard, or prism, is recognizable by its blue lightning-like colour, and must instantly be brought to me for inspection. So now, to work, and with utmost vigilance for the blue lightning-ice, as this will lead us to our goal!"

Um-Foad gave the signal to return to work. "All hands to the shovels; let the work go at double-quick time! Heed well the words of Rhialto!"

A moment later Um-Foad took Rhialto aside. "Since the subject has come up, you may now pay me an instalment of ten gold zikkos against my costs to date, along with another five zikkos in settlement of licensing fees. Let us say twenty gold zikkos in all."

"Five must suffice."

Um-Foad at last accepted the coins. "I am puzzled by one of your phrases. You spoke to the workmen of 'one gold zikko, in true coin.' What, precisely, do you imply by use of the word 'true'?"

Rhialto made a negligent gesture. "Merely a mode of speaking—a touch of hyperbole, if you will—to express our reverence for such a gold coin."

"An interesting usage." said Um-Foad. "Nevertheless, quite clear and commendable. . . . Now then! Who is this odd fellow, who comes sauntering across my property like Pululias, Friend of the Oak Trees?"

Rhialto looked around to where a tall handsome man with chestnut curls and graceful mannerisms stood casually inspecting the excavation. Rhialto said shortly: "I know the gentleman slightly; he has probably come to pay his respects. Hache-Moncour! Are you not far from your usual haunts?"