Marune: Alastor 933 (21 page)

Jochaim had smiled. “Impossible! Have you no sense of fitness? My eiodarks would drive me forth for a madman if I agreed to your proposal. Additionally, I am bound by a covenant with the Fwai-chi. Certainly you are making a joke.”

“No joke whatever. Truly I covet that bit, that trifle, that insignificant wisp of land!”

Jochaim shook his head. “When I am dead, I can no longer oppose; Efraim must then assume that responsibility. While I live, I must deny you your fancy.”

Rianlle said: “It would seem that by the process of dying, you withdraw your opposition. I would not have you dead on that account, however. Let us talk along easier subjects…”

The group had flown into Port Mar, and as usual taken accommodation at the Royal Rhune Hotel, where the management knew and respected their customs …

Efraim raised his head from his hands and looked wildly around the table. Taut faces everywhere; eyes fixed upon him; silence: He closed his eyes.

Recollections came soft and slow now, but with a wonderful luminous clarity. He felt himself leaving the hotel in company with Destian, Sthelany, and Maerio for a stroll through Port Mar, and perhaps a visit to the Fairy Gardens, where Galligade’s Puppets provided entertainment.

They walked down the Street of Brass Boxes and across the bridge into New Town.

For a few minutes they strolled along the Estrada, peering into the beer gardens where the folk of Port Mar and students from the college drank beer and devoured food in full view of everyone.

Efraim at last asked direction from a young man emerging from a book shop.

Seeing the party to be Rhunes, he volunteered serving as their escort to the Fairy Gardens. To everyone’s disappointment the entertainment was at an end.

Their guide introduced himself as Matho Lorcas and insisted upon ordering a bottle of wine, along with suitable etiquette screens. Sthelany raised her eyebrows in a fashion reminiscent of Singhalissa and turned away. Efraim, catching Maerio’s eye, sipped the wine, protected by the propriety of the screen. Maerio, greatly daring, did likewise.

Matho Lorcas seemed a person of buoyant disposition and irrepressible wit; he refused to allow either Sthelany or Destian to sulk. “And how are you enjoying your visit?” he asked.

“Very much,” said Maerio. “But surely there is more excitement than this? We always think of Port Mar as a place of wild abandon.”

“Not quite accurate. Of course this is the respectable part of town. Doesn’t it seem so to you?”

“Our customs are rather different,” said Destian frostily.

“So I understand, but here you are in Port Mar; why not attempt the Port Mar customs?”

“That logic does not quite follow,” murmured Sthelany.

Lorcas laughed. “Of course not! I wondered if you’d agree. Still - don’t you have any inclination to live - well, let us say, normal lives?”

Efraim asked: “You think we don’t live normal lives?”

“Not from my point of view. You’re smothered in convention. You’re walking bundles of neuroses.”

“Peculiar,” said Maerio, “I feel quite well.”

“I feel well,” said Efraim. “You must be mistaken.”

“Aha! Well, possibly. I’d like to visit one of the Realms and see how things go for myself. Do you like the wine? Perhaps you’d prefer punch.”

Destian looked around the table. “I think we’d better return to the hotel. Haven’t we seen enough of New Town?”

“Go, if you like,” said Efraim. “I’m in no hurry.”

“I’ll wait with Efraim,” said Maerio.

Matho Lorcas spoke to Sthelany. “I hope you’ll wait too. Will you not?”

“Why?”

“I want to explain something which I believe you want to hear.”

Sthelany languidly rose to her feet and without a word moved off. Destian, with a dubious look back at Efraim and Maerio, followed.

“A pity,” said Lorcas. “I found her extremely attractive.”

“Sthelany and Destian are both most stately,” said Maerio.

Lorcas asked with a sly smile, “And what of you? Aren’t you stately too?”

“When ceremony makes demands on me. Sometimes I find Rhune ways rather tiresome.

If Efraim weren’t here I’d try that punch. I’m not ashamed of my inner workings.”

Efraim laughed. “Very well. If you will, I will too. But wait until Destian and Sthelany are out of sight.”

Matho Lorcas ordered rum punch for all. Efraim and Maerio drank first behind the screens, then spluttering with embarrassed laughter, brought the goblets into the open and drank.

“Bravo!” declared Lorcas soberly. “You have taken a long step on the road to emancipation.”

“It doesn’t amount to all that much,” said Efraim, “I’ll buy another round.

Lorcas, what about you?”

“With pleasure. Still, it wouldn’t do for the two of you to stagger into the hotel drunk, would it?”

Maerio clasped her head. “My father would turn purple. Of all the folk alive he is the most rigid.”

“My father would simply look the other way,” said Efraim. “He seems rigid, and of course he is, but essentially he is quite reasonable.”

“So, you two are not related?”

“Not at all.”

“But you’re fond of each other?”

Efraim and Maerio looked sidewise at each other. Efraim laughed uncomfortably.

“I won’t deny it.” He looked again at Maerio, whose face was twisting. “Have I offended you?”

“No.”

“Then why do you look so doleful?”

“Because we must come to Port Mar to tell each other such things.”

“I suppose it is absurd,” said Efraim. “But Port Mar is so much different from Eccord and Scharrode. Here I can touch you, and it is not mirk.” He took her hand.

Matho Lorcas heaved a sigh. “Ah me. I should leave you two alone. Excuse me a moment; for a fact there is someone I wish to see.”

Efraim and Maerio sat together. She leaned her head against his shoulder; he bent down, kissed her forehead. “Efraim! It is not even mirk!”

“Are you angry?”

Lorcas appeared beside the table. “Your friend Destian is here.”

Efraim and Maerio drew apart. Destian approached and looked curiously from one to the other. He addressed Maerio. “The Kaiark Rianlle has asked me to conduct you back to the hotel.”

Efraim stared up at Destian, who, so he knew, was not above misrepresenting facts. Maerio, sensing friction, jumped to her feet. “Yes. I’ll welcome some rest, and look! with umber and the overcast and the shade from these enormous trees it is almost like mirk!”

Destian and Maerio departed. With a debonair gesture Lorcas settled into the seat beside Efraim. “And that is the way things go, my friend.”

“I am embarrassed,” said Efraim. “What will she think of me?”

“Get her alone somewhere and find out.”

“That is impossible! Here in Port Mar perhaps we lost our equilibrium. In our realms we could never consider such display.” He rested his chin on his hands and looked gloomily across the restaurant.

“Come along,” said Lorcas. “Let’s move down the avenue. I’m due at the Three Lanterns presently; first I’ll show you a bit of the town.”

Lorcas took Efraim to a cabaret frequented by students. They listened to music, drank light beer. Efraim explained to Lorcas how life went in the Realms. “A place like this by comparison seems a zoo of fecund animals. The Kraike Singhalissa, at least, would adopt this view.”

“And you respect her judgment?”

“To the contrary; this is the principal reason I am here. I hope to discover benefits and redemptions in what I confess seems sickening behavior. Look at that couple yonder. Sweating, panting, shameless as dogs in rut. At the very least their activity is unhygienic.”

“They are relaxed. Still, yonder other folk sit quite decorously, and none seem offended by the antics of the two reprobates.”

“I am confused,” admitted Efraim. “Trillions inhabit Alastor Cluster; not all can be deluded. Perhaps anything and everything is innocent.”

“What you see here is relatively innocent,” said Lorcas. “Come, I’ll show you places less so. Unless you prefer your illusions, so to speak?”

“No. I will come with you, as long as I do not have to breathe too much fetid air.”

“When you’ve seen enough, just say the word.” He glanced at his watch. “I have just an hour to spare, then I must go to work at the Three Lanterns.”

The two walked up the Street of Limping Children, then turned along the Avenue of Haune, Lorcas pointing out the more disreputable places of the tower - an expensive bordello, bars frequented by sexual deviates, and a dim establishment, purportedly a tea shop which operated illegal nerve machines in the upper rooms; other sordid places offering even more questionable entertainment.

Efraim observed all with a stony face. He found himself not so much shocked as detached, as if what he saw were intended as a grotesque stage-setting. At last they reached the Three Lanterns, a rambling old structure from which issued the sound of fiddles with banjos playing merry jigs after the style of the Tinsdale Wayfarers.

Singhalissa was right, thought Efraim, when she declared music no more than symbolic sebalism - well, perhaps “sebalism” was not quite the right word.

“Passion,” perhaps, which encompassed sebalism and all the other strong emotions as well. At the Three Lanterns, Lorcas took his leave of Efraim. “Remember, I’d be enchanted for the opportunity to visit the Realms. Perhaps someday - who knows?”

Efraim, thinking of the frigid reception Lorcas would certainly receive at the hands of Singhalissa, retrained an invitation. “Perhaps some day. At the moment it might not be convenient.”

“Good-by then. Remember, directly back down the avenue of Haune, turn south on any of the side streets to the Estrada, and along to the bridge. Then up the Street of Brass Boxes to your hotel.”

“I am exactly oriented; I will not get lost.”

Somewhat reluctantly Lorcas went into the Three Lanterns; at the entrance he waved farewell. Efraim turned back the way they had come.

Clouds hung heavy; the time was yet umber, though very dull. Furad hung low behind Jibberee Hill, and both Maddar and Cirse were obscured by overcast Gloom almost as dense as mirk shrouded Port Mar, and colored lights invested the Avenue of Haune with a tipsy gaiety.

As Efraim walked, his thoughts returned to Maerio; how he wished she were with him now! But futile to counter the will of the Kaiark Rianlle, whose rectitude was matched only by that of Singhalissa.

Efraim at this moment was passing the expensive bordello, and even as he reflected upon the character of the Kaiark Rianlle, out the door of the bordello, his face blurred and clothes disheveled, stepped the Kaiark Rianlle himself.

Efraim stared, unbelievingly. He began to laugh first incredulously, then with the intoxication of total mirth.

Rianlle stood with his mouth first open, then closed; first swelling with purple wrath, then trying to achieve a comradely grin. Under the circumstances neither could be convincing or effective. Ridicule to a Rhune was insupportable; when Efraim told the story, as surely he must - the episode was too good to keep; even Rianlle realized this - the Kaiark Rianlle would thereafter be a figure of fun, and furtive snickers would accompany him through life.

Rianlle by dint of some desperate inner contortion composed himself. “What are you doing out along the avenue?”

“Nothing! Investigating weird antics!” And Efraim again began to chuckle.

Rianlle managed a steely grin. “Ah, well, you must not judge me too harshly: Unfortunately for myself, I am expected to represent the apotheosis of Rhune gallantry. The pressure becomes overwhelming. Come along; we will take a hot drink together as the folk do without shame here at Port Mar. The drink is called coffee and is not considered intoxicating.” Rianlle led the way along the Street of the Clever Flea to an establishment called “The Great Alastor Coffee Emporium.” He ordered the refreshment for both, then excused himself. “A moment; I have a small errand.”

Efraim watched Rianlle cross the avenue and enter a dingy little shop whose windows were crowded with all manner of goods.

The coffee was served; Efraim tasted the brew and found it savory, aromatic, and to his liking. Rianlle returned; the two sipped coffee in cautious silence.

Rianlle lifted the lid to the silver ewer in which the coffee was served, peered within. His hand hovered, a moment over the open mouth of the ewer, then the lid dropped with a clang. He poured a second cup for Efraim and a second cup for himself. He now became affable and expansive. Efraim drank more coffee, although Rianlle allowed his own portion to go cold. And Efraim’s mind dimmed and lost itself in floating mists.

As if in a dream he felt himself walking with Rianlle along the Estrada, across the bridge, and by back alleys into the park at the Royal Rhune Hotel. Rianlle approached the hotel with great stealth; but as luck would have it, the path curved and Singhalissa stood before them.

She looked in disgust from Efraim to Rianlle. “You have found him in a state of intoxication! What shame! Jochaim will be furious!”

Rianlle considered a moment, then shook his head despondently. “Come with me, away from the path; and I will explain how things have gone.”

On a secluded bench Rianlle and Singhalissa sat; Efraim stood watching a firefly. Rianlle cleared his throat. “Affairs are more serious than simple intoxication. Someone offered him a dangerous drug which he foolishly ingested; his memory has completely been destroyed.”

“What a tragedy!” cried Singhalissa. “I must inform Jochaim; he will turn New Town topsy-turvy, and never stop until he learns the truth!”

“Wait!” said Rianlle in a low hoarse voice. “This may not be to our best interests.”

Singhalissa fixed Rianlle with a cool stare which seemed to see everything. “Our best interests?”

“Yes. Consider. Jochaim must ultimately die - perhaps sooner than we might wish.

When that unhappy event occurs, Efraim will become Kaiark.”

“In his present condition?”

“Of course not. He will rapidly become whole and alert, and Jochaim will renew his memories. But - what if Efraim goes traveling?”

“And does not return?”

“On Jochaim’s death Destian than becomes Kaiark of Scharrode, and I will give him Maerio in trisme. Jochaim will never surrender Whispering Ridge; if I hold it I can levy a great toll upon the Fwai-chi. What, after all, are gems and elixirs to them? If Destian is Kaiark there will be no difficulty.”