Jack Vance - Gaean Reach 01 (18 page)

A
t Morningswake the days passed, one much like the next. Schaine and Kelse examined the casual and often enigmatic records left by Uther Madduc and instituted a new system to facilitate management of the domain.

Each morning the two conferred over breakfast, sometimes harmoniously, sometimes in a state of contention. Schaine was forced to admit that, despite her natural affection for Kelse, she often did not like him very much. Kelse had become crabbed, rigid and humorless, for reasons beyond her understanding. Certainly Kelse had suffered greatly; still his loss of arm and leg inconvenienced him little. In his place, she would never allow herself to brood! Another thought occurred to her. Perhaps Kelse loved someone who had rejected him because of his handicap.

The idea fascinated her. Who could it be?

Social life back and forth across the domains was gay; there were house parties, balls, fiestas, ‘karoos’: these latter pale imitations of the Uldra carnivals of lust, gluttony and psychological catharsis. Kelse agreed that he seldom attended such functions, so when from Ellora Domain arrived an invitation to an all-day picnic in the wonderful Ellora Garden, Schaine accepted for both herself and Kelse.

The picnic was a most delightful affair. Two hundred guests roamed the fifty-acre park which the Lilliet family had now maintained for two hundred years, each generation augmenting and improving the work of those before. Schaine enjoyed herself immensely and meanwhile kept an interested eye upon Kelse. As she had expected he made no attempt to mingle with younger folk—after all, he was only two years her senior—but kept to the company of those land-barons present.

Schaine renewed many old acquaintances and learned that, as she suspected, Kelse was considered shy and abrupt by the girls.

Schaine sought Kelse out and said, “You’ve just had some dazzling compliments. I probably shouldn’t explain, because you might become vain.”

“Small chance of that,” grumbled Kelse, which Schaine took as an invitation to proceed.

“I’ve been talking to Zia Forres; she considers you most attractive, but she’s afraid to talk to you for fear you might destroy her.”

“I’m not all that irascible; and certainly not vain. Zia Forres can talk to me anytime she likes.”

“You don’t seem elevated by the compliment.”

Kelse gave her a sickly grin. “It startles me.”

“Well then—look pleasantly startled at least, not as if someone had dropped a rock on your foot.”

“Which foot?”

“On your head then.”

“To be quite honest my mind is on other things. There’s been news from Olanje. The Redemptionists have finally persuaded the Mull to issue a definitive mandate—directed against us, naturally.”

Schaine began to feel despondent. If only these discouraging problems would go away, or at least be forgotten, just for today! In a resigned voice she asked: “What kind of mandate?”

“The land-barons are ordered to meet with a council of tribal hetmen. We must abandon all pretense to legal title; said title must be affirmed to reside with the tribes traditionally resident on the domains. We retain the manors and ten acres surrounding, and at the pleasure and discretion of the tribal councils, may apply for leaseholds not to exceed terms of ten years on other lands, and not to exceed one thousand acres per domain.”

Schaine said flippantly, “It could be worse. They could sequester title to the houses as well.”

“They’ve sequestered nothing as yet. A manifesto is words. We hold the land and we’ll continue to hold it.”

“That’s not realistic, Kelse.”

“It seems realistic to me. We’ve declared ourselves a political entity independent of the Mull; they no longer exert authority over us—if ever they did.”

“Realism is this: Szintarre has a population of millions. The political entity you speak of has a population of a few thousand. The Mull exerts much more power. We’ve got to obey.”

“Don’t equate power with population,” said Kelse. “Especially urban population. But there’s no immediate worry—not from our side at least. We won’t kill any Redemptionists unless they come here to kill us. I hope they think better of it.”

Schaine turned away, furiously angry with Kelse and in the mood to do something wild and outrageous. She restrained herself and went to visit with her old friends, but the day had lost its zest.

Returning to Morningswake, Kelse and Schaine were surprised to find six Ao elders encamped on the lawn in front of the house, in a manner which Schaine thought portentous and somber. Kelse muttered, “Now what’s the emergency?”

Schaine said: “They’ve also had the news from Olanje. They’re here to get your signature on the lease.”

“Not likely.” Kelse nonetheless hesitated before he went to investigate. “You’d better wait in the house—just in case.” And so Schaine, standing in the grand front parlor, watched through the window as Kelse crossed the lawn to where the Aos waited.

Kelse returned to the house faster than he had departed. Schaine ran out into the hall to meet him. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve got to take the Standard north. Zagwitz has had a message from Kurgech. A mind-message, needless to say, the substance of which is trouble.”

Schaine’s heart went up in her throat. “Do they know how, or why, or where?”

“I’m not sure what they know. They want me to take them up into the Volwodes.”

“What about Gerd and Elvo?”

“They’ve nothing to say.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No. There’s danger. I’ll keep in touch with you by radio.”

At midnight the sky-car returned, with Kurgech, Gerd Jemasze, and Elvo Glissam barely conscious on an improvised stretcher. Kelse had already administered an all-purpose disinfectant and pain-suppressant from the sky-car’s emergency kit. Gerd and Kurgech carried the stretcher into the sick-bay where Cosmo Brasbane the domain medic removed Elvo’s clothes and gave him further medical attention.

Kurgech started to leave the house; Gerd called him back. “Where are you going?”

Kurgech said soberly: “This is Morningswake Manor and the traditions of your people are strong.”

Gerd said, “You and I have been through too much together; if it weren’t for you we’d all be dead. What’s good enough for me is good enough for you.”

Schaine, looking at Gerd Jemasze, felt an almost overwhelming suffusion of warmth; she wanted to laugh and she wanted to cry. Of course, of course! She loved Gerd Jemasze! Through prejudice and incomprehension she had not allowed herself to recognize the fact. Gerd Jemasze was a man of the Alouan; she was Schaine Madduc of Morningswake. Elvo Glissam? No.

Kelse said gruffly, and perhaps only Schaine apprehended the nearly imperceptible reluctance: “Gerd is quite right; formality can’t apply to situations like this.”

Kurgech shook his head and half-smiling, took a step backward. “The expedition is over; conditions are once more as before. Our lives go differently, and this is as it should be.”

Schaine ran forward. “Kurgech, don’t be so solemn and fateful; I want you to stay with us. I’m sure you’re hungry and I’m having a meal laid out.”

Kurgech went to the door. “Thank you, Lady Schaine, but you are Outker, I am Uldra. Tonight I will be more comfortable with my own people.” He departed.

In the morning Elvo Glissam, his shoulder bandaged and his left arm in a sling, limped down to the breakfast table to find the others there before him, and all talking. Everyone felt at the same time emotionally flat but superficially stimulated and almost euphoric, so that all kinds of remarks and opinions came forth that might not have been broached under different circumstances.

The talk went quickly and lightly, glancing on many subjects. In a weak but marveling voice, like a man describing a nightmare, Elvo Glissam recounted his version of the events of the past two weeks which provided Schaine and Kelse a more particularized and personal account than that which they had gleaned from Gerd Jemasze.

Schaine asked in bewilderment: “But where is the ‘wonderful joke’? I haven’t heard anything even remotely funny.”

“Father had an odd sense of humor,” said Kelse, “if any.”

“He must have had a sense of humor,” declared Elvo. “From all I’ve heard of him he was a remarkable man.”

“Well then,” Schaine challenged him, “where is the great joke?”

“It’s too subtle for me.”

Glancing sidewise at Gerd Jemasze, Schaine thought to detect a half-smile. “Gerd! You know!”

“Only a guess.”

“Tell me! Please!”

“Let me think about it; I don’t know whether it’s a joke or a tragedy.”

“Tell us! Let us all judge!”

Gerd Jemasze started to speak but hesitated too long, and Elvo, almost intoxicated from relief of tension, spoke first. “Joke or no joke, the shrine is a remarkable discovery. Morningswake will soon be a name as familiar as Gomaz and Sadhara! There’ll be guided tours flying out from Olanje!”

“We could put up a hotel and make a fortune,” Schaine suggested.

“What would we do with a fortune?” growled Kelse. “We have all the money we need.”

“If we’re allowed to keep Morningswake.”

“Bah. Who’s to stop us? Don’t say the Mull.”

“The Mull.”

“Once again—bah.”

“I’ll take the fortune. We need another big saloon,” said Schaine. “Remember, the Sturdevant is wrecked. I say, let’s buy another Sturdevant.”

Kelse threw up his hands. “How will we pay for it? Do you know how much a sound saloon car costs?”

“What’s money? We’ll run our own guided tours out to this wonderful exhibit. And don’t forget: the hotel!”

Elvo asked: “Is that valley the Palga or the Retent or what?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Gerd Jemasze. “The gorge runs west and south out of the Volwodes. That’s Ao country and Morningswake domain.”

“No problem then,” declared Elvo. “You own a magnificent historical monument, and you have every right to build a hotel!”

“Not so fast,” said Kelse. “The Mull and the Redemptionists say we own no more than the clothes on our back; who is right?”

“I agree the matter must be adjudicated,” said Elvo. “Still, Redemptionist though I am, I wish the best for my friends here at Morningswake.”

“Strange that the Aos know nothing about the shrine,” said Gerd Jemasze. “I’ve checked the map; it’s on Ao tribal land.”

“It’s also next to the Retent,” said Kelse. “The Garganche might know about it.”

“Aha!” cried Schaine. “All is clear. Jorjol has learned of the shrine; he wants to build a hotel; and that’s why he wants to kick us out of Morningswake!”

“I wouldn’t put anything past Jorjol,” said Kelse.

“You wrong poor Muffin,” said Schaine. “He’s really very simple, very straightforward, very open. I understand him completely.”

“Then you’re the only one,” said Kelse.

“I also disagree,” said Elvo. “Jorjol is a very complex person. He has no choice. Let’s view him from the standpoint of the psychologist. He’s an Outker and an Uldra at the same time: two sets of ideas work in his one brain. He can’t have a thought without finding an instant contradiction. It’s a wonder he’s as effective as he is!”

“No puzzle there,” said Kelse. “Outker or Uldra, first and last, backward and forward, Jorjol is an egotist. He switches back and forth between roles as it suits him. At this moment he’s a Garganche bucko: the swashbuckling Gray Prince. Do you know, it’s quite likely that he drove the sky-shark that shot down Father, and the Apex as well!”

Schaine produced an indignant refutal. “What utter nonsense! You know Jorjol better than that! He’s proud and gallant! A ruthless assassin? Never!”

Kelse was not convinced. “By Garganche theories, ruthless assassination is equivalent to pride and gallantry.”

“You’re not at all fair to Jorjol,” said Schaine. “His ‘pride and gallantry’, or however you want to put it, saved your life. He deserves at least credit for bravery.”

“I’ll concede him that,” said Kelse. “Still, I don’t think much of his loyalty.”

Schaine laughed. “Loyalty to whom? To what? I never had reason to complain.”

“Naturally not; you were in love with him.”

Schaine heaved a patient sigh. “I’d prefer to call it infatuation.”

“Father, it would seem, is now vindicated.”

With an effort Schaine decided not to quarrel with Kelse. She responded quietly and, she hoped, rationally. “Father meant well. He gave Muffin a great deal, up to a carefully defined limit. Muffin naturally resented the limit more than he appreciated the generosity. And why not? Put yourself in his place: half part of the family, half a Blue ragamuffin who ate his meals in the kitchen. He was allowed to look at the cake and even taste it, but never eat any of it.”

Elvo Glissam ventured a facetious quip: “And you were the cake?—I hope not!”

Schaine raised her eyebrows and looked away with pointed coolness. The remark seemed in poor taste—especially in view of the fact that immediately following Jorjol’s rescue of Kelse, she had allowed Jorjol considerably more than a taste. The discovery of the affair had provoked a wrathful explosion in Uther Madduc, which had sent Jorjol flying in one direction and Schaine thirty-two light years in another.

Schaine said evenly: “Those times are quite remote.” She rose to her feet. “The conversation is becoming dull.”

G
erd Jemasze, with his younger brother Adare, two cousins and a nephew, flew the Standard utility up to the Palga across to where the sarai broke against the Volwode foothills. They found the land-yawl undisturbed. Gerd and Adare Jemasze and the nephew sailed the yawl east, while the cousins flew overhead in the sky-car.

A day’s brisk sail brought them to No. 2 Depot. Jemasze paid rent for the use of the land-yawl and examined the Dacy sky-boat, which Moffamides’ fiaps had kept inviolate. A new priest was on hand, a thin young man with burning eyes and a thin quivering mouth, who watched intently but spoke not a word. Jemasze wondered if Moffamides had gone to sit high in the Aluban, but forbore to question the young priest, who stood glowering at them from across the compound.