Lurulu (18 page)

The same partiality for extravagance and exaggeration influence Hummer architecture, dictating along with the unusual, the bizarre, the rococo and the fantastic. From hillside foundations, Hummer mansions loft three stories high, each with its complement of cupolas, bays, balconies, private decks and pendant glass globes furnished for the convenience of those who choose to take tea and enjoy
petits fours
or frozen creams while swinging gently in the dim orange sunlight.

Far different are the palaces of the Shimerati which are low, irregular, deceptively simple, and built to the terms of an understated elegance, using porphyry, moonstone, jet, an occasional column of malachite.

2

From the pilot-house of the
Glicca
, the star Moulder first appeared as an orange spark on a background of far dim constellations. As the
Glicca
approached, the spark became an enormous orange disk, with a retinue of twenty-two planets.

Captain Maloof directed the
Glicca
toward the seventeenth of these worlds, which long ago the locator Abel Minger Blenkinsop had registered, using his own name.

The world Blenkinsop expanded below. Maloof made contact with the space-control office at Cax and received landing instructions. The
Glicca
dropped through overcast and down toward the early morning face of Cax. Maloof located the landing field and guided the
Glicca
to its allocated plot.

As soon as the exit port slid open and the gangway lowered, three uniformed officials left the port offices and hurried across the field to the
Glicca
. They conferred a moment, then climbed the gangway and entered the saloon. For half an hour they subjected the ship’s company and the ship itself to the standard entry formalities.

As soon as they issued clearances and departed, Myron, in his capacity as supercargo, followed them across the field to the long low terminal building where he expected to find the office of the port director. He climbed a ramp to the cargo dock. A few yards to the left, a corridor opened into the building. A sign with a pointing arrow read:

TO THE PORT DIRECTOR

Myron turned into the corridor and almost at once came upon a tall door, where another sign read:

RICO YAIL

DIRECTOR OF THE PORT

Come at will

The door slid open to Myron’s touch; he entered a large room, sparsely furnished with a large desk, a few chairs and a tall cabinet. The walls displayed a single decoration: a poster printed in tones of black, gray and mulberry, depicting twenty-five types of spaceship currently in operation. At the back of the desk a large man of indeterminate age, languidly handsome, sat at his ease. The desk bore neither documents, ledgers, nor files; the director, if this were he, seemed unoccupied, and rather more casual than Myron had expected. He spoke courteously: “Sir, please be seated and explain how I can help you.”

Myron seated himself in one of the chairs and laid his sheaf of documents upon the desk. “I am Myron Tany, supercargo of the
Glicca
, which has just arrived. We carry a mixed cargo, including ten bales of skins from the world Madlock, some miscellaneous parcels from Fluter and elsewhere, and from Star Home a consignment of fourteen rugs for Monomarche, which I take to be a local merchandiser.”

“In the broadest sense, you are correct,” said Yail. “In each city of Blenkinsop there are one or more great magazines similar to Monomarche, though on a lesser scale. These magazines purvey goods of every sort, both local and off-world. They deal with the ordinary Blenks and the upper castes, as well. Monomarche is the most prestigious of the group, and commands considerable influence. Excuse me a moment.” He spoke into his telephone, listened, then spoke to Myron: “What fees or other charges are outstanding on the rugs?”

“None. All charges were prepaid on Star Home.”

Yail returned to the telephone. He spoke a few words, listened, then dropped the instrument into its socket. “Everything is now arranged,” he told Myron. “They are sending a man for the rugs, you may put them from your mind. Also, I will send a crew to discharge the rest of the freight for Cax, and your responsibilities will be at an end.”

Myron was puzzled. He indicated the documents he had placed on the desk. “Here are the applicable manifests, invoices, certificates and a few forms which should be filled out immediately.” He started to pass them across the desk, but Yail raised his hand to forestall him. “A clerk is usually on hand to deal with such matters, but today he is away, so you may drop the papers into yonder trash basket, where they will do us no harm.”

Myron’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

“Of course! A clerk will be here tomorrow; he can sort through the trash, if he likes. That is his prerogative. But now we have more important business at hand.”

Without further demur, Myron obeyed the instructions.

“Good!” said Yail, leaning back in his chair. “Now then: what are your next ports of call?”

“The schedule, so far as I know, is not yet definite,” said Myron. “We have no outstanding commitments; in fact, we are at liberty to accept such cargoes as you might wish to move.”

“Excellent! We can offer cargoes to a variety of ports, mostly, I must say, off the standard shipping routes — not necessarily a disadvantage, since non-conventional itineraries are often profitable. Furthermore, all fees and freight charges are prepaid, to the great convenience of the supercargo, who sometimes finds collection of charges in strange ports to be an adventure in itself. Also, to compensate for exceptionally distant ports, a twenty percent adjustment in freight rates is often possible.”

“That might well be an inducement,” said Myron. “If you will let me have a list of these cargoes and their destinations, and the projected freight charges, I will take it to Captain Maloof and tonight we will try to work out some practical routings.”

Yail turned to his information machine. He touched buttons; the screen glowed pink, with lines of bright blue-green text. Yail scanned the display, made a few changes, pressed a button, and a sheet of paper issued from a slot. Yail gave the paper to Myron, who tucked it into his pocket. “We will work on this tonight. If we have any success, I will let you know as soon as possible.”

Myron prepared to leave, but hesitated. Yail looked inquiringly across the desk.

Myron spoke, half-apologetically: “If you have a minute or two to spare, I would be grateful for your advice.”

“As of now, nothing presses,” said Yail. “State your problem, then I can tell you whether my advice might be useful.”

Myron arranged his thoughts. “The situation is this; on Star Home we shifted the
Glicca
from Port Palactus to the rug repository at Torqual Downs, where we would take aboard the rugs for Monomarche. At the repository we noticed hundreds of rugs, the best of the best, in storage. A few days before, thieves had stolen thirty-two carboys of kasic from Port Palactus! We chased down the thieves and took back the carboys. Gontwitz, the port director, was anxious to recover the carboys and so we traded forty-six rugs from the Torqual repository in exchange for the kasic. These rugs are now in our aft cargo bay, and we want to dispose of them to best advantage, but we do not know how to proceed.”

Yail nodded thoughtfully. “You have correctly perceived the difficulties. As soon as you made a move, you would be wrapped up like a cocoon in red tape. But do not let me alarm you; proper tactics can circumvent these obstacles. After all, the authorities cannot tax or regulate what is unknown to them. This is a universal law which is especially pervasive on Blenkinsop. Monomarche has achieved a virtual monopoly on the Star Home rugs, which it sells to the Shimerati, no doubt at a handsome profit. The other magazines would like to break this monopoly, and perhaps they could be discreetly approached.” He hitched himself forward. “What sort of price are you contemplating? For instance, would you accept three hundred sols per rug?”

“Hm,” Myron mused. “300 times 46 equals 13,800, which is an impressive sum. But I must consult my colleagues before making a commitment.”

Yail turned to look out the window, frowning in deep cogitation. At last he turned back to Myron. “The figure I mentioned is, of course, tentative. If you attempted to handle the business yourself, I imagine that the best offer you would hear might be a grudging two hundred sols. With my guidance, the price would be somewhat higher; however, I would expect a reasonable fee. I suggest that this might be twenty percent of any excess over three hundred sols per rug. For instance, if I sold a rug at four hundred sols, my fee would be twenty percent of one hundred sols, or twenty sols. You would be selling the rug for 380 sols. Would you accept such an arrangement?”

“It sounds better than 200 sols per rug,” said Myron. “Still, I can agree to nothing definite at this moment.”

3

Myron returned to the
Glicca
, where he found Captain Maloof in the galley along with Wingo and Schwatzendale. Myron described his meeting with Yail. “He is a surprise — not the Blenk we have been led to expect. He is relaxed and easy; if he suffers nervous tensions, I saw no symptoms.”

Maloof asked: “Does he have onward cargo for us?”

Myron produced the list which he had received from Yail and handed it to Maloof. “There seem to be a number of parcels to ports somewhat off the usual shipping routes. I told him that we would look over the list and try to work out a practical itinerary.”

Maloof studied the list with eyebrows raised. “I have never heard of most of these ports. And I suspect these so-called ‘parcels of cargo’ are a collection of odd lots which no other carrier would accept; they have been languishing in corners of Yail’s warehouses like lost waifs, waiting and hoping for a miracle!”

Maloof finally put the list down on the table. “Still, they seem to make up a proper cargo, which might turn us a profit if we can find a routing which will not ruin us. Especially if we collect the twenty percent surcharge on the most inconvenient legs.” He picked up the list and studied it again. “Even so, it is not good policy to travel a hundred light-years to deliver a sack of birdseed.”

“We might pick up a lot or two of cargo along the way,” Myron theorized.

“That is always a possibility.”

Maloof scanned the list. “Hmf. These places are truly obscure. But I suppose they must exist, since Yail is sending them freight! Tonight we will use the Index to locate them on our charts, and sort out a route.”

“That will indeed be a challenge,” Myron mused.

“Yes, but perhaps by exercising our joint ingenuity, and by throwing in a few zigzags, we may still produce a workable itinerary.”

After a moment, Myron said: “There is another matter which I took up with Yail. I mentioned the rugs and asked how we could sell them to the best advantage. Yail warned me against trying to sell the rugs ourselves, for fear of bureaucratic complications. He asked what price we had put on the rugs; I told him that our thinking had not gone so far. He asked if we would be satisfied with 300 sols per rug, or 13,800 sols for the lot; I said that 300 sols per rug seemed adequate, but that I would confer with my shipmates and get back to him as soon as possible.

“He went on to say that if we so chose, he would act as our agent. His commission would be twenty percent of the difference between 300 and the final selling price. As an example, he proposed a hypothetical sale of 400 sols, from which he would earn twenty sols, while we would get 380 sols. The proposal seemed fair, and I gave him a conditional acceptance, subject to the approval of the crew.”

Schwatzendale wrote figures on a sheet of paper. “If we sold 46 rugs, we would take 17,480 sols, and Yail 920.”

“That seems fair enough,” said Maloof, “provided we are paid in cash at the time the rugs are delivered.”

Myron returned to the office of the port director. As before, Yail sat relaxed behind the desk; he signaled Myron to a chair. “Do you have instructions for me?”

“I do. Your proposal is accepted, as long as payment is made, in cash, at the time that the rugs are delivered.”

“The terms are accepted,” said Yail. “Now, to work.

“There are eleven magazines large enough to consider a transaction of this magnitude, including Monomarche. The trade is profitable, since the Shimerati control so much wealth that they ignore price and pay whatever is asked. Monomarche has no need to be avaricious and so far as I can gather, the rugs are priced at about 500 sols.

“Now I will test the market. If you come back later, I may have news for you.”

4

During the early afternoon the rain of the morning abated to a fine drizzle, then halted altogether and the orange disk of Moulder appeared behind the overcast. Moncrief dressed himself with care, then set off to find the Trevanian, where he hoped to secure favorable bookings for the Mouse-riders.

An hour or two previously, the Klutes had wandered away from the
Glicca
, planning to explore the city on their own account. The circumstances were dismal; a light rain was falling and the streets exhaled a sour odor.

The Klutes marched along the narrow streets, rain-hoods pulled over their heads. At intervals, small narrow-fronted shops, dark within, overlooked the street, sometimes with the pale face of the proprietor half-seen peering through the grimy front panes.

The Klutes saw little to interest them. After a time, grim and dissatisfied, they returned to the spaceport, striding through the rain and stamping through puddles, to finally reach the
Glicca
.

They changed into dry clothes and went to the galley where Wingo served them hot tea and scones.

“How did you find the city?” Wingo asked cheerfully.

“The streets were like dark passages and smelled of dead dogs. The rain was incessant and coursed down our necks in a freshet. We tried to find a tea shop where we could refresh ourselves, but there was none to be found.”

Siglaf added: “We tramped the streets with Blenks, who rambled at a fast pace as if they were late. I believe that, despite its giddy foolishness, I prefer Fluter.”