The Magnificent Showboats (10 page)

“By no means,” said Zamp and stood back, fingers hooked in his waistband, convenient to his snapples. “My trinkets are my own. To the boats!”

Without enthusiasm the troupe resumed their places, all except Chaunt. Zamp called: “Are you coming?”

“I think not,” said Chaunt. “The motion of the boat makes me uneasy. I will walk the riverbank to Lanteen; it is only a few miles.”

“I will stay and keep Chaunt company,” said Bonko, and jumped ashore.

“Whatever you like,” said Zamp, and pushed off from the beach.

Chaunt called out in sudden concern: “On second thought I think I will ride the boat.”

Someone cried: “Here come the Whants! They ride along the bank!”

“Out oars!” yelled Zamp. “Row for your lives! Hoist the sails!”

Along the banks pounded a troop of Whants bent low over their black horses, cloaks flapping behind them. Bonko and Chaunt fled along the bank, but were overtaken and cut down. The Whants fitted arrows to their short bows but the boats had gained the center of the river past effective range.

For an hour the Whants rode along the bank beside the boats, then saw no profit in the exercise and returned the way they had come.

Thrust along both by the current and a fair wind the boats moved at speed, and just at dusk sailed into Lanteen.

All the showboats had departed the town, save only
Fironzelle’s Golden Conceit
. Tonight it glowed with a multitude of lights, as Garth Ashgale played an entertainment before a large audience. Rancor rose in Zamp’s throat sour as bile. He hunched down on the seat. Useless now to curse or revile, but someday the tables would be turned!

The boats tied up to the dock; the bedraggled company clambered ashore and stood uncertainly, looking to Zamp for guidance.

Zamp spoke in a dispirited voice: “We must go our own ways. I am a ruined man; I can offer neither advice nor encouragement, except to suggest that all make their way to Coble by the best means possible and perhaps someday we will again sail the Vissel. The troupe is now dissolved.”

“Where do you go?”

Zamp turned away. Damsel Blanche-Aster stood waiting for him. Zamp heaved a melancholy sigh. Could it be that his adversity had aroused a pang of sympathy within her chilly bosom? If so, Zamp was in the mood to be comforted. He took up her bundle of belongings. “Where do you wish to go?”

Zamp considered. “The Green Star Inn at the end of the esplanade is a roisterer’s hangout, but inexpensive. It will serve my present purposes.”

“It will serve mine as well.”

Zamp, at this most dismal hour of his life, felt a glimmer of cheer. He said delicately: “I have salvaged a few valuables from the ruins: enough to see us to Coble, and I am more than willing to share with you.”

“I have funds sufficient for my needs.”

Zamp shrugged and blew out his cheeks. She was a skittish one for certain.

They set out along the esplanade. As they passed the Jolly Glassblower an enticing odor of barbecued meat came forth to tantalize them. Unfortunately, the Jolly Glassblower sold its food dear; at the Green Star Inn a bowl of stew with a crust and a draught of swamp-root beer could be had for a tenth the cost.

The esplanade ended; a walkway supported on crooked stilts led across tide* flats to the Green Star Inn: an erratic structure built of old planks, driftwood, warped bottles from the glass-works. On the verandah four men sat with their feet on the railing, drinking beer and indulging in coarse talk. They became silent as Zamp and Damsel Blanche-Aster, crossing the verandah, entered the inn, then fell to muttering to each other.

* Solar tides; Big Planet lacks a moon.

The common room spread wide under an irregular ceiling supported on equally eccentric posts. Lamps in the shape of green stars cast a sickly glow over tables where sat a number of undistinguished folk out for an evening’s entertainment, while in a corner a rather slatternly woman pumped doleful music out of a concertina.

Zamp approached the bar and signaled to the innkeeper. “We require lodging at least for the night, together with a substantial meal, to be served as soon as possible.”

“Very good, sir; our choicest room is luckily vacant. And aren’t you Apollon Zamp of the famous showboat?”

“I am Zamp indeed.”

The innkeeper came forth from behind the bar. “Along this hall, sir and madame; your room overlooks the river.”

The room appeared comfortable enough, with a floor of reed mats, a mattress stuffed with tinselweed fluff and a table supporting a ewer of water. An adjacent privy overhung the mud-flats.

Zamp dropped Damsel Blanche-Aster’s bundle upon the mattress; it fell apart and those garments she had elected to rescue tumbled forth, including an embroidered blue jacket of great richness which Zamp had never seen her wear.

The innkeeper asked: “Will this do, sir?”

“Well enough,” said Zamp. “We will be out for our supper in five minutes.”

The innkeeper departed; Zamp turned to find Damsel Blanche-Aster staring at him. “You do not propose that we share this room?”

Zamp inspected the room. “It appears clean and comfortable; why not?”

Damsel Blanche-Aster said frigidly: “I do not wish to share any room whatever with you.”

Zamp’s disposition had been seriously abraded by events. He flung his hat to the floor, picked up her bundle and thrust it into her arms. “Find your own room. I am bored with your fastidiousness. Go your way and trouble me no further!”

Damsel Blanche-Aster marched to the door, opened it, then hesitated. She bowed her head and Zamp saw tears. Zamp’s irascibility was usually short-lived; now he maintained a sullen silence: he could not forever be dancing this way and that like a puppet.

Damsel Blanche-Aster turned back into the room and put her bundle on the floor; she seemed wistful and young and tired to the point of exhaustion. Zamp went forward, took her bundle, set it on a chair, then clasped her in his arms, and despite her horrified expression found her mouth and kissed her. She made neither response nor resistance; Zamp might have been kissing a doll. He stood back in frustration.

Damsel Blanche-Aster wiped her mouth and finally found words. “Apollon Zamp, I wish to accompany you to Mornune, this is true. But I had hoped that you might curb your lust, or at least focus it upon some person or creature other than myself. I am faced with a dilemma. I do not care to sacrifice either my goals or what you call my fastidiousness.”

Zamp threw his hands in the air and walked back and forth across the room in long bent-kneed strides. He cried: “Your qualms are frustrating! Am I so ill-favored? Does blood course in your veins, or vinegar? Is life so long that we can afford to postpone a single pleasure?” He went close to her and put his arms around her waist. “Do you not feel a quickening of the pulse, a warmth in some inner region, a delightful weakness in your limbs?”

“I feel only hunger, fatigue and apathy.”

Zamp dropped his arms in disgust. “No one can claim of Apollon Zamp that he coerced a woman against her will! However, I do not intend to vacate this room. Share it with me, or find another, at your option.”

“You may have the mattress. I will sleep on the floor.”

“Whatever you like. Meanwhile, let us wash our hands and then take our supper.”

Returning to the common room, they found that most of the old troupe had also arrived at the Green Star Inn and were negotiating for lodging and meals with the innkeeper.

Supper had been laid for Zamp and Damsel Blanche-Aster: bowls of thick soup, a platter of roasted larks, a pungent stew of herbs, clams and fish, a loaf of pollen-bread: a meal somewhat more lavish than Zamp had expected but to which he and Damsel Blanche-Aster did full justice. As he ate Zamp expressed his bewilderment and disappointment to Damsel Blanche-Aster. “I am not a man who ordinarily allows emotion to interfere with his intellect; still your conduct distracts me from sober calculation —”

A hulking shape loomed over the table; it was Ulfimer, captain of the grotesques. “You who claimed poverty and could not pay my salary: here you sit devouring larks while I must sell my boots to buy a dish or two of porridge! Do you wonder at my acrimony?”

“This is illogical!” declared Zamp heatedly. “You begrudge me a meal: I who lost vessel, iron and all? What have you lost? Only the wage you earned by allowing your appearance to disgust all onlookers.”

“Do not belittle my abilities!” growled Ulfimer. “Whatever the case, you sit with grease on your chin while I bend double with hunger.”

“In due course, all will be set right,” said Zamp. Ulfimer hunched away and Zamp once more turned his attention to Damsel Blanche-Aster. “I feel that you mistake the nature of my ardor. I propose, not a sordid little amour, but —”

Again he was interrupted, this time by the mime girl, Lael-Rosza, who glanced angrily sidewise at Damsel Blanche-Aster as she spoke. “Apollon Zamp, I can no longer restrain my bitterness! You have misused each mime-girl in turn, and what have we gained by such service? Nothing. Here you sit with your new woman, while I and Krissa and Demel and Septine must sell ourselves along the esplanade in order to exist!”

With an effort Zamp replied in an even voice: “Your language does you no credit. In due course I will command a new vessel, and I plan to rehire all the loyal members of my old troupe.”

Lael-Rosza, paying no heed, had marched away.

Zamp heaved a weary sigh. “At the moment my fortunes are at a low ebb,” he told Damsel Blanche-Aster. “They can only ascend. Meanwhile I desperately need your faith and affection. Believe me, we will share the rewards! Meanwhile, tonight for instance, is it too much to ask that —”

Again someone came to stand over their table; Zamp looked up to see Garth Ashgale. “Aha there, Zamp! I have heard the news of your mishap. My condolences! The catastrophe is felt by all of us!”

“I am despondent,” said Zamp, “but not discouraged. I start afresh. Eventually I will reward my friends and punish my enemies. In a certain sense that wicked person who arranged my misadventure has done me a service; but still he will find no mercy.”

“Ha, ha, Zamp, very good! I am pleased that events have not conquered your spirit!” He glanced down at Damsel Blanche-Aster in obvious curiosity, but Zamp performed no introductions. Ashgale spoke reflectively: “What of that affair up the river at Mornune?”

Zamp grunted. “King Waldemar can amuse himself by counting his toes for all of me.”

Damsel Blanche-Aster raised her eyes; meeting her blue gaze, Zamp said, “Nothing has yet been decided. We may still undertake the journey.”

“In the pinnaces which brought you to Lanteen?”

“At Coble affairs will order themselves.”

Ashgale could no longer contain his curiosity. “And this charming lady, what of her?”

“She is a member of my troupe.”

“Indeed!” Ashgale addressed himself to Damsel Blanche-Aster. “May I enquire your specialties?”

Damsel Blanche-Aster made an airy gesture. “I am highly versatile. I sing in two voices; I wrestle bearded champions; I train oels to dance the mazurka.”

“Remarkable!” declared Ashgale. “Since Zamp no longer owns a boat, would you care to transfer your capabilities to my vessel?”

“I am content as I am.”

Ashgale made a suave gesture, then looked across the room to where the members of Zamp’s old troupe sat over their gruel. Ashgale signaled the innkeeper: “At my expense, set before those excellent folk the fare they deserve. Are there more of those larks? Bring them forth, with trenchers of goulash and two dozen white cheese pasties.”

“Bravo!” cried Viliweg. “Master Ashgale is a true nobleman!”

“My generosity is not entirely unpremeditated,” said Ashgale. “I have decided to augment my programs with material of a frivolous nature, and I will consider hiring any qualified artists who are currently at liberty.”

“Hurrah for Master Ashgale!” cried Alpo the acrobat.

Ashgale bowed and again signaled the innkeeper. “Serve flasks of medium-quality wine to my friends.” Once again Ashgale was cheered. He held up his hand for silence. “I will not intrude upon your meal. Tonight relax and rest; tomorrow I will interview you aboard
Fironzelle’s Golden Conceit
.” He slapped clinking iron coins into the innkeeper’s palm, bowed serenely to Damsel Blanche-Aster and departed the tavern.

Zamp immediately rose to his feet and went to address his former troupe. “Do not be fooled by Ashgale! The opportunities he offers are worthless!”

Viliweg uttered a jeering laugh. “Can you offer better?”

“The question is sterile,” said Zamp. “However I will say this: when the new
Miraldra’s Enchantment
floats the river, you may well regret deserting Apollon Zamp for the silken reptile who just departed the premises.”

“We will salve those aches as we become aware of them!” retorted Alpo the acrobat, to stimulate an outburst of merriment from his fellows. Viliweg, in his exuberance, bestowed a gratuity upon the fat woman in the gown of black beads, and she played her concertina with even greater gusto.

Zamp leaned across the table and addressed himself to Damsel Blanche-Aster, “In this den of ruffians conversation is impossible. Let us go out upon the verandah, or perhaps you would care to walk up and down the esplanade?”

Damsel Blanche-Aster said in a voice abstracted and somewhat listless: “I do not care for conversation. But sleep is impossible amid so much din.”

Zamp rose to his feet and with a flourish which belied his own fatigue drew back her chair and helped her to arise. “We will go to sit out upon the verandah.”

The innkeeper appeared at his elbow. “I have prepared your reckoning, Master Zamp.”

Zamp stared in bewilderment. “My reckoning? I will settle my account when I leave the premises.”

“There has been a mistake. Viliweg had already reserved the chamber into which I mistakenly placed you.”

Zamp lowered his hand to the pommel of his rapier. “Three options are open for your consideration. You may return to Viliweg that sum double your ordinary rent which he has just paid you; you may arrange for me free and without charge the best room available at the Jolly Glassblower; or you may elect to spill a quantity of your red blood upon this floor.”