Night Lamp (28 page)

Twee Pidy looked up from her work. “Need you ask? They want no interference with their trade! If you took your tools to Fader, you could sell them at your own price.”

Dame Estebel said mildly: “The Roum are odd folk, to judge by Asrubal of Urd. They are too proud to bargain; they pay the price with haughty disdain. This is what we hear from a very good source.”

Twee said spitefully, “Now you know why Dame Waldop guards the Fader trade. No one else may taste the fruits of this golden tree: that is the Lorquin creed.”

“How can they bar us from Fader? Do they control the spaceport?”

“There is a single spaceport, at a place called Flad. It is open, but what then? Two thousand miles of secret ways lead to Romarth, where the goods are sold. At Flad you are alone, in a wild waste, with no one to buy your goods. If you wander a hundred yards you may be captured by the Loklor and taken off to ‘dance with the girls,’ as they put it.”

“So why not land the cargo directly at Romarth?”

“That is forbidden. Even the Lorquin Agency must secure a special warrant, should they need to bring a shipment directly to Romarth.”

“So it is not impossible.”

“It seems not, if you carry a special warrant, which is seldom issued. The Roum value their splendid privacy, and they fear that outsiders might supply the Loklor with weapons.”

“Where does one apply for the warrant?”

“At Romarth; where else? But why trouble yourself?”

“There is no mystery,” said Maihac. “It is the difference between Dame Waldop’s two or three thousand sols, and the fifteen or twenty thousand we might collect from the open-handed Roum. For us Fader is only another port of call.”

Estebel became impatient. “Our time is valuable. We can tell you no more.”

Twee Pidy blurted resentfully, “Quite so, in all respects! If right were right, these two should pay consultation fees!”

Maihac smiled his most ingratiating smile. “One last question, which we dare not put to Dame Waldop.”

“Oh, very well,” sighed Estebel Pidy. “What is it this time?”

“After we leave Loorie, where do we look to find Fader?”

Estebel Pidy said, “When the sun has set, go outside, look into the sky. To one side is the bright galaxy; to the other is the black void, where one star hangs alone. That star is Night Lamp, with its planet Fader.”

The
Distilcord
, leaving Yellow Rose astern, set a course away from the glimmer of the galaxy and out into the void. Far ahead glittered Night Lamp, a vagabond star which had broken free of galactic gravity to wander alone, without orbit or destination.

Time passed; Night Lamp grew bright and the Distilcord approached the world Fader. Maihac, searching
HANDBOOK TO THE PLANETS
, found no entry. Other reference works were also devoid of information. The ship’s macroscope computed the diameter to be slightly less than Earth-standard, with an approximately equal gravity. A single continent occupied much of the southern
[13]
hemisphere, with an ocean covering the remainder of the planet. Mountains corrugated the southern edge of the continent, with a deep dark forest shrouding the central area and a vast steppe sprawled across north, east and west. Neither the city Romarth nor any other settlement was immediately evident. Maihac finally noticed an agglomeration of white structures in the forest, camouflaged by the trees which grew among the structures and lined the avenues. A radio beacon located the spaceport Flad, alone in the middle of the northern steppe. The macroscope showed a desolate spatter of wind-blown sheds and warehouses. Maihac dispatched a notification of arrival, but received no response. He tried again, with the same result. Without further ado he set the
Distilcord
down upon the landing field near the terminal office. To either side were warehouses, a dormitory for staff, a makeshift machine shop, miscellaneous sheds: all in various stages of dilapidation. The steppe spread away in all directions, marked only by a road leading off to the south.

The terminal building baked in the sunlight. No one came out to inspect the
Distilcord
.

Maihac and Gaing alighted, and noticed in the open doorway of the machine shop a large man with a tangle of black curls and a black beard, who watched incuriously as the two of them crossed the field to the terminal office. They pushed through a door of molded sinter and entered a dingy lobby. The single occupant sat at a counter, relaxed, hands clasped before him, apparently in a state of profound reverie. He was middle-aged, thin, with a scholar’s pallor, ascetic features and a fastidious droop to his mouth. He wore a crisp gray tunic with a blue medallion clipped to his shoulder. He was, thought Maihac, an odd sort to be minding the counter at this remote and dusty outpost.

The terminal manager, if such he were, became aware of Maihac and Gaing. His face changed; apparently he had been asleep with his eyes open. Rising to his feet, he looked through the window at the
Distilcord
. He turned back to the newcomers. “That is neither the
Liliom
nor the
Audrey-Anthey
; who are you?”

“The ship is the
Distilcord
.” Maihac supplied registration particulars, which the manager looked over without any real interest. He examined Maihac and Gaing again, more closely than before. “Then you are not from the Lorquin Agency?”

“No; we represent ourselves exclusively.”

“So why do you come to Fader? It is a far voyage.”

“We carry a cargo of small tools which we hope to sell at Romarth.”

The manager asked dubiously, “Are these weapons, or can they be used as weapons?”

“Absolutely not; they are useful only in the construction business. We want to discharge our cargo at Romarth, which would be both efficient and convenient.”

The manager showed a sour smile. “Those words have no currency at Romarth. The Roum do no work; hence no one cares much for either convenience or efficiency.”

Gaing spoke impatiently: “If only for our own convenience, may we proceed to Romarth?”

The manager shook his head. “Not without a special warrant, lacking which, you would be placed under instant arrest, and lose both ship and cargo.”

“In that case, please issue the proper warrant.”

Again the manager shook his head. “It is not as easy as all that. My authority is nil, or even less, since I am here for purposes of penal cogitation—now, happily, at an end.”

Maihac asked, “Who then has the authority?”

The manager pulled at his chin. “The only person with authority around here is Arsloe, at the machine shop.”

“The man with the black beard?”

“Yes; a surly sort of fellow, and an off-worlder like yourselves. He talks to Asrubal by radio when he wants something; even so, he can’t do anything for you. The warrant is available only at Romarth itself.”

Gaing asked gruffly: “How do we get the warrant if we’re not allowed to go after it?”

“Aha!” the manager exclaimed. “You think to have posed a tricky paradox, but you are wrong. You travel to Romarth for the warrant, then return.”

“Fair enough,” said Gaing. “We will fly there in our flitter.”

“No,” said the manager. “Nothing is easy on Fader. Such an act is also illegal.”

“Why is that?”

“Because the flitter might fall into the hands of the Loklor, and become a dangerous weapon. They are enough trouble already; we take pains to deny them weapons and other such equipment. If you wish to go to Romarth, you must use the regular transport, like anyone else. There is in fact a train departing Flad tomorrow morning.” For the first time the manager showed a trace of animation. “I will be traveling aboard this train myself; my term of penitence is over and tomorrow I leave this dust hole and that sullen beast Arsloe behind—forever, or so I hope. I must take pains, of course, to avoid my previous faults.”

“What did you do?” asked Gaing. “Did you—” and he coarsely suggested an act of sexual perversion committed upon the young daughter of the Chief Magistrate.

“No, nothing like that. What I did was worse. I gave voice to unpopular opinions.”

Maihac and Gaing returned to the
Distilcord
, where they discussed their options. They could depart Fader and try to sell their cargo elsewhere, or they could make an effort to sell at Romarth. In the end they decided that Maihac should travel to Romarth aboard the train, while Gaing remained at Flad to guard the
Distilcord
and its cargo. It was an arrangement which pleased neither, but the manager had informed them that ships left unguarded were apt to be looted by bands of wandering Loklor.

The trip to Romarth required six or seven days: three days across the Tangtsang Steppe, three or four days through the Blandy Deep Forest. If the warrant were granted expeditiously. Maihac would be back in two weeks. If the warrant were refused, Maihac would still return at best speed. Meanwhile he would keep in touch with Gaing by means of a portable radio.

The sun set among streaks of plum and carmine cirrus. Dusk fell over the world, giving way to black night. In the east a large dim moon the color of silver-gold alloy floated into the sky, followed by another of the same size and color. Far to the south, a night creature set up a wild wailing which presently died, leaving behind an oppressive silence. The moons drifted across the sky and settled into the west. Hours passed. In the east the sky showed a saffron blush and presently the sun rose. The train had been assembled: a massive tractor unit rolling on six large wheels, a passenger wagon, a service wagon and three goods wagons. Maihac climbed aboard; half an hour after sunrise the train departed Flad and trundled south across Tangtsang Steppe toward far Romarth.

Maihac found himself riding in the company of four other passengers, including the former terminal manager, whose name, so he learned, was Bariano of Ephrim House. The other three passengers were Roum of mature years, all of Urd House. Their demeanor was notably self-important, if not haughty. They used a chilly punctilio in their dealings with Bariano and, after a glance at Maihac and a few muttered words among themselves, they ignored his existence. While conversing among themselves they used a dialect incomprehensible to Maihac. When Bariano was included in the conversation, they spoke standard Gaean, using a stilted accent. Immediately upon boarding the train they commandeered a table at the rear of the car, where they spread out documents and entered upon earnest discussions. Bariano sat to the side, looking out over the steppe, and Maihac did the same. There was little to see. The landscape was bleak, relieved by low hills in the distance and an occasional lonely sentinel tree. Closer at hand were thickets of brittle thornbush, spinneys of dull yellow spindlegrass, patches of lichen, the color and texture of scab.

After a time Bariano became bored with his introspection and, rather grudgingly, allowed himself to converse with Maihac. He intimated that he held the other three passengers in low esteem. “They are no more than petty functionaries, intoxicated with their own importance, which is small. They come out to Flad at intervals to validate the Lorquin bookkeeping. Of course they never find even the most modest peccadillo, let alone any serious transgressions, since they are Urd, of the same house as Asrubal. Have you noticed their pink shoulder clips? That means their faction is Pink, while the faction of Ephrim House is Blue. Nowadays the factions are of little importance; in fact, it is a dying tradition. Still, it gives them no reason to love me. Also, I must admit that my time of penitence has marred my rashudo.”

“ ‘Rashudo’?”

“A local word. It means ‘reputation,’ ‘self-respect,’ and much more. You will find that the Roum psyche is highly complex, beyond any you have ever known before.”

During late afternoon the train was halted by a troop of six Loklor nomads. Bariano told Maihac: “They are collecting a toll. Do nothing; say nothing. Show no curiosity. They will not become fractious unless provoked.”

Maihac, looking through the window, saw six grotesque creatures close to seven feet tall: so massive and so awful as to seem almost majestic. Their skins appeared to be a horny integument, mottled yellow and russet. Their foreheads slanted back, narrowing into crests barbed with short spikes. The lower half of the faces were pinched and thin, so that under the nose-beaks, the mouths were small and folded into pads of cartilage. They wore greasy leather aprons, black vests, and iron-shod sandals.

The driver of the train paid them six jugs of beer, which the Loklor slung over their shoulders, then filed past the passenger car. For a moment they leered through the windows at the passengers, then turned and loped away, across the waste. The tractor’s six wheels thrust at the road and the train lurched off to the south. On the following day another Loklor band appeared and collected another toll of the strong brew known as “Nacnoc.” Bariano and the three Urd officials became visibly tense. Bariano muttered to Maihac: “These are Strenke—the worst of all. If they come to look at you, sit like a stone or they may take you away, to ‘dance with the girls’ by the light of the two pale moons.”

The Loklor, however, snatched their jugs and stood back, allowing the train to go its way with the five passengers sitting stiff as statues, eyes fixed on the floor.

After the train had rolled a quarter mile, the passengers relaxed. The Urd officials gave vent to a flurry of angry remarks. Bariano, with a gloomy smile, told Maihac, “There you find the reality of the Tangtsang steppe, and perhaps of all Fader. We no longer control our habitat, if ever we did.”

“I have a suggestion,” said Maihac. “You might or might not want to hear it.”

Bariano’s eyebrows lofted high. “Aha! It seems that we have overlooked some elemental concept! Fortunately, you have come to set things right!”

Maihac ignored the sarcasm. “A pair of armed guards with power-guns might solve the problem.”

Bariano pulled thoughtfully at his chin. “The idea has a pleasing simplicity. We recruit several guards, arm them with imported power-guns. They ride the train and shoot a number of Loklor and deny them their Nacnoc. So far, so good! But what of the next run? The Loklor might gather on the Beresford Bluffs and roll boulders down the slopes, smashing the train and killing both guards and passengers. Then they confiscate the power-guns. At Romarth there is great anger and we send out a punitive expedition. The Loklor take to the forest and disappear. But they are not ones to forgive and forget! They surround Romarth, infiltrate the city by night, and take their revenge. Thereafter, we accept the inevitable and pay their toll. Your suggestion, despite its virtue of easy comprehension, is flawed.”