Maske: Thaery (19 page)

Nai the Hever awaited Jubal in the foyer, standing erect and still, and showing only a trace of that ironic urbanity which Jubal had come to expect. “The morning-room is pleasant at this hour,” said Nai the Hever. “Shall we conduct our business there?”

“Wherever you like.” Jubal had determined to match Nai the Hever’s ease of manner with his own.

“This way then.”

By a white-paneled hall, across a succession of three-life Djan rugs, woven of stained cobweb, they came to a chamber beside an antique garden. Nai the Hever indicated a chair of carved white faiole. “Will you take refreshment? Perhaps a gill of this excellent Brown-bottle? Or spirits of larch?”

“Larch, if you please.”

Nai the Hever poured tincture into goblets, then, sitting back, he watched Jubal through half-closed eyes.

“You are comfortable?” He pushed forward a tray. “These pastilles are delicious; they are imported from Bazan. Or perhaps another gill of spirits?”

“If you please; I am emotionally and physically exhausted; I feel a pleasant relaxation. My mind, however, functions quite clearly.”

“This is often the case. And I am glad to find you in such evident health. May I ask as to your future plans?”

Jubal pulled thoughtfully at his chin. “On this topic I would welcome your advice. Do you feel that I can make a satisfactory career at D3?”

Nai the Hever gave the matter consideration. “I can at least say this: your old post has not yet been filled.”

“I was never discharged,” said Jubal. “In fact—before I forget—I must collect my back pay, which was fixed at forty-five toldecks a week.”

“Some such figure was mentioned. Still—”

“In fact, if I am to continue at D3, I would hope for an increment.”

“Really, your desires exceed reality! Forty-five toldecks is more than adequate compensation, for the present at least!”

“Very well. I am not a man to wrangle over a few toldecks. Perhaps you will write me out a contract.

Please use my stylus and this paper which I have brought for the purpose.”

Nai the Hever allowed himself to chuckle. “For once you must trust my good faith. Shall we now discuss Ramus Ymph?”

Jubal came to the end of his account, and for several moments there was silence in the room, as Nai the Hever, standing beside the windows, mulled the matter over. Then he returned to his chair and fixed his quicksilver eyes upon Jubal. “What conclusions do you draw from these events?”

Jubal deliberated a moment or two. “The Waels are not to be trifled with: I am convinced of this. They are a most peculiar people, with urgent problems, but their religious convictions—if this is the proper term—impel them to aggravate these problems.”

“Then you consider their convictions impractical?”

Jubal shrugged. “I don’t see the need for so many jin trees—but then, I am not a Wael. Perhaps they know their own needs best; for a fact they think different thoughts than I do. I am still bewildered by what I have seen. I suppose that I might have been confused by mentalistic tricks, but if not, what then? It gives one pause to wonder.”

“Quite so,” said Nai the Hever. “In addition to these metaphysical mysteries, several practical matters call for explanation, and these may be the most significant aspects of the entire episode. For instance, how could Ramus Ymph hope to nullify the hostility of the Nationals, even in concert with the People’s Joy Tourist Agency? How could he coerce us, the Thariots? Who would supply such forceful persuasion?”

“The Pan-Djan?” suggested Jubal without conviction.

“They would hardly want to introduce new foreigners to Maske,” said Nai the Hever.

“A pity that we can’t put a question or two to Ramus Ymph,” said Jubal. “Perhaps Husler Wolmer might yield the information.”

Nai the Hever nodded. “I am considering such an inquiry. In fact—”

Jubal raised his hand in quick remonstrance. “Please do not ask me to return to Eiselbar; the music still rings in my ears. This time send Eyvant Dasduke.”

“Eyvant Dasduke? I cannot spare him, and I am beginning to appreciate your objectivity, blunt though it may be. In fact, I already have in mind another mission for you. But enough for today. You are exhausted and in no mood to learn of new tasks.”

“True. But I must discuss another matter. By fault of Ramus Ymph, Droad House is in ruins! Since Ramus Ymph is now no more than a garden ornament, without financial resources—”

Nai the Hever showed a crooked smile. “Do not deceive yourself! He is far more than you suppose! The Ymph ilk will make the most of him!”

“Then I must demand a settlement from the Ymphs!”

Nai the Hever stared in speechless wonder. Finally he asked: “Do you value your life?”

“Certainly.”

“If you put such a demand to the Ymphs in their present frame of mind, you will be dead almost immediately, and your blood will be used to fertilize the soil around Ramus Ymph.”

Jubal started to protest, but Nai the Hever would not listen. “Think no further along these lines.

Tomorrow report to Eyvant Dasduke, and he will instruct you.”

“And my back pay?”

“Render an account to Eyvant Dasduke.”

Jubal departed Hever House. Nai the Hever returned to his study, where he was presently joined by Mieltrude, and the two spoke at length.

“What of Jubal Droad now?” asked Nai the Hever. “Do you still find him so odious?”

Mieltrude gave her shoulders a flippant jerk. “He is obstinate, forthright and sometimes acts the swashbuckler… Still, for a Glint he is tolerable enough. He is actually a rather pleasant young man.”

“I was wondering if you had noticed,” said Nai the Hever drily.

Jubal waited at the Jiraldra, a fashionable pavilion beside the Marine Parade. The time was sunset; the sky glowed with melancholy colors. A russet-red spark showed under a far ledge of cloud; it guttered and vanished; Mora was gone. In the east Skay at the full pivoted upon the Cham, its rotundity emphasized by a gradation of colors: frosty yellow over the upper limb, gold at the circumference, melting peach-rose below.

Jubal glanced at his watch and rose to his feet; Vaidro was known for his punctuality. And there he came, along the Marine Parade, his figure silhouetted against the face of Skay.

The men exchanged a two-fingered tap on the shoulder: the ordinary Glint salute. Vaidro said: “You have been busy since our last meeting.”

“I have had an interesting voyage and to some degree I have adjusted our score against Ramus Ymph.”

“An exact balance between offense and retribution is hard to attain,” said Vaidro judiciously. “You feel that a deficiency still exists?”

“Droad House is a ruin. The heirlooms and trophies are gone; the family documents are ashes. I can only rebuild the house, and maybe after three hundred years, it will regain something of its character.”

“This is an ambitious goal in itself,” said Vaidro. “Where will you find the money? I have certain funds, but not a fraction of what would be required.”

Jubal pointed across Duskerl Bay, toward the Cham. “Just under that high ridge Gawel the Ymph maintains his palace. It is he and the other wealthy Ymphs who should repair the damage, but Nai the Hever tells me that such a hope is self-delusion.”

“If anything, he understates the case,” said Vaidro. “The Ymphs have suffered a vicious humiliation; they would resent your request.”

“Probably so,” said Jubal. “You have seen the tree?”

“Only casually; the fence keeps passers-by at a distance.”

The two men set off along the Marine Parade, the vast orb of Skay looming over them.

“There seem to be plans to erect a monument or shrine near the tree,” Vaidro remarked.

Jubal grunted. “The Ymphs would like to portray Ramus as an heroic martyr, whose worst fault was his adventurous spirit. This is possible because the facts are not widely known.”

“And what are these facts? I confess to curiosity myself.”

“I can only give you my own version, and my speculations, but I hardly think I am wrong. Ramus Ymph was a man of energy and ambition: vain, proud and undoubtedly brave—in fact, all these qualities seem to have been overdeveloped in Ramus Ymph. I am sure that he felt dissatisfied, even stifled, by the circumstances of his life, so he exerted himself to alter these circumstances, without regard for the consequences. Specifically, he wanted a space-yacht; he wanted to travel at his ease among the far worlds.

Such a project is expensive, but Ramus Ymph thought he knew how to gain sufficient money. The Waels, however, resented his irresponsibility, and punished him accordingly.”

“The tree, of course, is a handsome sight,” said Vaidro. “Ramus Ymph can at least be grateful in this regard.”

“Always supposing that his intelligence still inhabits the tree, which is an unsettling thought. Consider! A man dedicated to freedom and far-ranging adventure who now must stand immobile!”

“You are suggesting then that his motives were not inglorious?”

Jubal shrugged. “I myself would like to own a Sagittarius or, even better, a Magellanic Wanderer. I might even try to sell Djan rugs. Ramus Ymph went farther: he tried to sell the planet Maske to the People’s Joy Tourist Agency and uncounted modules of tourists. Think of it! With the largest hotel of all on Cape Junchion!”

The two men turned aside and walked through the twilight to an iron fence, and there joined a dozen other men and women who had come to see the tree which had been Ramus Ymph. A light shone upon a massive box of white alabaster and a sign:

On this site shall be erected a shrine befitting the memory of that indomitable visionary: Ramus Ymph!

Always will he stand in our presence; his soul surveys you now!

His friends and kinship, with all their connections and cadets, and all other folk who revere the memory of Ramus Ymph: let them place a portion of their wealth within this box, to the limit of their capabilities, that a fitting memorial to Ramus Ymph may be erected!

“So Ramus Ymph’s exploits are to be distorted and glorified,” mused Vaidro. “I suppose that for the Ymphs it is the easiest way out of their dilemma, even though everyone loses dignity in the process.”

“No one seems embarrassed,” said Jubal. “Notice that portly old man; he has just dropped ten toldecks into the slot.”

“It is an absurd and complicated business. Ramus Ymph becomes a popular hero, despite his crimes.”

A slender figure in a dark cloak came walking on quick uncertain steps through the twilight; under a hood the face of a young woman glimmered in the Skay-light. She went to the fence and for several long moments stared at the tree, her shoulders drooping. Then, uttering a soft moan she turned away and with shaking hands dropped toldeck after toldeck into the alabaster box. She noticed Jubal and stopped short.

“It is you,” she cried fiercely, in a husky almost sibilant voice. “I could have expected as much! You have taken your revenge and now you come to gloat!”

“Not at all!” said Jubal politely. “You quite misinterpret my motives.”

“Then why are you here?”

“For very important but private reasons.”

“I believe none of this! You have come to take your vindictive pleasures.”

“I assure you to the contrary.” To Vaidro Jubal said: “Allow me to present the Lady Sune Mircea, who at one time was friendly with Ramus Ymph.”

“Friendly?” Sune’s voice rose in pitch. “How drab and trivial a word; how well suited to your torpid temperament!”

“I beg your pardon,” said Jubal. “I never understood the relationship.”

“Naturally not; we were incomparables! How could you know of our passion, our pinnacles of joy, the miracles we performed together? I do not expect it of you. And now I know why you are here! To see me in my misery! Well then, look as you please!” Sune threw back her hood. “Extract your gratification and I despise you for it!”

“Lady Sune,” said Jubal, “you are quite mistaken; I have no feelings for you other than pity. I would suggest that you stay away from this place if it disturbs you so.”

“Never! I will come every day of my life, and when the shrine is built, I will be the first to trace my sign upon the fane!” She faced the tree: “Ramus, can you hear me? Give me a sign; surely it is possible!”

All three fell silent and looked at the tree. A minute passed. The tree remained motionless. Sune gave a soft moan, then turned and ran away on swift stumbling steps.

“A rather theatrical young woman,” Vaidro remarked. “Still, her feelings seem genuine.”

“Yes. She ratified them with toldecks, as you must have noticed. Ah well, I feel sorry for her, even though she’s played me a bad trick or two.” He looked around the enclosure. The folk who had come to inspect the tree had departed; the area except for themselves was vacant. Jubal reached in his pocket and brought forth a stout cloth bag. He went to the alabaster box, produced a key, unlocked the bronze door at the side, and raked the accumulated money into his bag.

Vaidro quizzically watched the proceedings. “I must say that this is an unexpected development.”

Jubal locked the bronze door and hefted the bag. “A good day’s take—several hundred toldecks at the very least.”

“You have become bursar for the Ymphs?”

“The Ymphs are really not involved,” said Jubal with a grin, “except to put their toldecks into the slot.

They are paying to rebuild Droad House despite themselves.”

“You wrote the sign then?”

“Yes, with great care. You will notice the words ‘a shrine befitting the memory of Ramus Ymph’. Not ‘a magnificent shrine’, nor ‘a shrine of marble and gold’. I can erect a suitable shrine to Ramus Ymph in half an hour; perhaps a pile of shore-stones, or even a public rest-station.”

Vaidro re-read the sign. “You have been scrupulous in the choice of your words; it is a trait I appreciate.”

“After all, we cannot know Ramus Ymph’s mind. Perhaps he feels remorse and endorses my efforts.

Ramus! You in the tree! Do you hear me? What is your opinion? How should I spend this money?”

The tree gave back no perceptible signal, though the two men waited a long minute. But the night was quiet and windless, and the leaves moved by not so much as a quiver.

Jubal hefted the bag and shook it to hear the jingle. “In due course, I’ll remove the sign and box, but for now, let the Ymphs pay! I enjoy every toldeck! Are you ready for a glass of wine?”

“Quite ready.”

“Then let’s visit the Jiraldra, where we can discuss Wellas and Nai the Hever and what lies beyond Zangwill Reef, and I’ll describe the music of Eiselbar.”

“An idea of great merit! While we are alive we should sit among colored lights and taste good wines, and discuss our adventures in far places; when we are dead, the opportunity is past.”

The two men walked out to the Marine Parade and were gone, and the tree remained alone in the light of Skay.