The Magnificent Showboats (20 page)

“In iron, if Master Gassoon so elects, or some other valuable commodity, such as admission to a performance of the drama
Macbeth.
If you choose, you may profit by selling these vouchers for double their face value to folk fresh off the steppes.”

“Very well. The slaves are yours. At such a price I can make you no warranties.”

“I must take my chances,” said Zamp. “I will need a rope to tie them neck to neck to prevent their escape.”

“Escape? To where? Still, yonder is a stout cord which will serve your needs.”

Zamp led the erstwhile slaves back to the showboat, with the orchestra and mime-girls marching behind. The group filed up the gangplank and out upon the main deck where Garth Ashgale spoke in a trembling voice: “Apollon Zamp, in the past we have had our small differences, but today you have done a generous deed. Be certain that I for one will never forget your action!”

“Nor I!” declared Alpo the chief acrobat of Zamp’s old troupe. “Three cheers for Apollon Zamp, the most excellent fellow of all!”

“In due course,” said Garth Ashgale. “Now I am too hungry and weak even to cheer. Remove this cord, Master Zamp; I am truly anxious for a bath, clean garments, a good supper, and then: absolute relaxation!”

“Not so fast,” said Zamp with a grim smile. “Certain events along the Lant River and at the Green Star Inn are still fresh in my mind.”

“Come now, friend Zamp!” said Ashgale, “I, for one, am willing to let bygones be bygones.”

“In due course, but first things first. In assuming your indentures I have paid out a substantial sum.”

“Of course! We recognize the debt,” said Garth Ashgale heartily. “Each pledges his share of reimbursement!”

“Very good,” said Zamp. “You may now write me an irrevocable promissory note and bank draft for one thousand groats of iron, then each of the others will pay you his share, in accordance with this pledge.”

Garth Ashgale began a vociferous protest, but Zamp quelled him with a gesture. “It goes without saying that until I receive the iron into my hands, the indenture holds firm, and all must work at the capstans.”

“This is bitter news,” said Garth Ashgale. “Your mercy has an acrid flavor.”

Zamp started to make a cold retort, but was interrupted by Gassoon’s strident voice: “Master Zamp, what is the reason for this incursion?”

“One moment.” Zamp summoned the boatswain. “Take these folk down to the orlop; see to it that they do not stray to other sections of the ship.”

The boatswain led the group away and Zamp joined Gassoon on the quarter-deck. “Perhaps you can explain these peculiar acts?” demanded Gassoon.

“Naturally. Did you not recognize Garth Ashgale and his troupe? I discovered them in the slave pens!”

Gassoon looked askance at Zamp. “And how, lacking funds, did you liberate them? I hope by neither violence nor fraud?”

Zamp spoke in a voice of cool superiority. “Lacking funds, I used persuasiveness and resource.”

Gassoon clutched his head, so that tufts of white hair protruded past his fingers. “These words have an ominous sound!”

“The arrangements are perfectly straightforward,” said Zamp with quiet dignity. “The slave-dealer has in effect been appointed our ticket agent. I made a most satisfactory arrangement with him.”

Gassoon seemed to become limp. In a metallic voice he asked: “What are the details of this transaction?”

“I allotted him a certain number of tickets in full payment for his fees and charges.”

Gassoon groaned. “How many tickets?”

“Eight hundred and fifty-four, to be exact.”

“Eight hundred and fifty-four tickets! Must we play to three full houses for no return whatever?”

“Not necessarily,” said Zamp. “The agent has several options. He can sell the tickets at a profit, or distribute them to his friends, or even redeem them here for iron.”

Gassoon cried out in his most nasal tones: “I should pay iron for my own tickets? Inconceivable! I possess no such sum!”

“It will never come to that,” said Zamp. “The situation has many advantages. Master Ashgale and his comrades have volunteered to do the work of the missing bullocks; they will also reimburse us when we return to Coble. How can we help but profit?”

Gassoon threw his hands into the air and stamped away to his office.

The evening’s performance was poorly attended. Present were the slave-dealer, the magistrate, those others who had paid for their tickets in certified paper, thirty who paid at the gangplank with stamped paper squares, and perhaps a dozen others who presumably had obtained their tickets from the slave-dealer.

Gassoon glumly surveyed the empty seats. “At this rate we must remain here two weeks, playing two performances a day — for nothing.”

“Hardly feasible,” said Zamp. “Perhaps …” He paused, to pull thoughtfully at his goatee.

“Perhaps what?”

Before Zamp could explain, the magistrate and the slave-dealer approached. “An excellent performance, if somewhat macabre and dreary,” declared the magistrate. “What is tomorrow’s program?”

“The same,” said Zamp.

The slave-dealer shook his head in displeasure. “I can sell no tickets to such a despondent affair. Here at Garken we prefer frivolity, merriment, even a bit of ribaldry, if done in good taste. I think that I will exchange these vouchers for their value in iron.”

Gassoon raised his eyes to the sky. Zamp said suavely: “The vouchers are similar to your certified paper; they must be redeemed at the bank.”

The slave-dealer started to expostulate, but the magistrate said: “This is reasonable enough. Who would risk the consequences of fraud for a paltry few groats of iron?”

“Undoubtedly no one,” replied the slave-dealer, “but redemption day at the bank is six months away!”

“What!” cried Gassoon in wrath. “Those bits of stamped paper paid in at the gangplank window cannot be redeemed for six months?”

“Owing to the special circumstances,” said the magistrate, “I will request the bank official to redeem both the certified paper and those vouchers issued on behalf of this vessel tomorrow morning. You need not fear for your iron; at Garken we are rigidly meticulous. We dare not be otherwise.”

The magistrate and the slave-dealer departed. Zamp and Gassoon looked at each other. Zamp said: “Our recourse is clear and obvious.”

Gassoon for once agreed with Zamp. He summoned the boatswain: “Bullocks to the capstans. Sheet home all sails, then throw off the hawsers. We depart Garken instantly.”

The winds blew cool and steady out of the south; stars were revealed, then obscured by moving wisps of cloud. By a near-clairvoyant feel for the loom of the low banks, the crew of
Miraldra’s Enchantment
navigated the brimming river.

At midnight the winds failed. The bullocks worked two capstans, while Garth Ashgale and his troupe, bitterly protesting, thrust at the bars of the third, and the vessel continued to thrust north.

At dawn wind once more filled the sails and the stern-wheel was lifted from the water. Halfway through the morning six horsemen came pounding from the south along the east bank of the river, to shout and wave their arms toward the ship. Gassoon prudently hugged the west bank and pretended to ignore the gesticulations. The horsemen at last became discouraged and turned disconsolately back toward the south. Zamp, watching through the spy-glass, thought to recognize the portly shape of the slave-dealer, although a cowl shadowed his features.

“We are well clear of Garken,” Zamp told Gassoon. “The natives of the place are petty and humorless; they would stop at nothing to gain an advantage.”

“Nevertheless,” growled Gassoon, “my reputation for integrity, which I have jealously guarded, has now been tarnished.”

“Not necessarily,” said Zamp. “The Garken bank may decide to treat our tickets as valid tokens of exchange, in which case no one is the loser.”

Late the following day the ship approached Massacre Bend, regarding which the
River Index
had nothing whatever to say. Gassoon wanted to play a performance or two in order to repair his finances; Zamp suspected that riders from Garken might have preceded the ship to Massacre Bend, with possibly unpleasant consequences; and the two conducted a lively discussion.

The argument was rendered moot as Massacre Bend came into view: a town dilapidated and deserted. Gassoon took his vessel close by the broken docks and examined the ruins through his spyglass. He saw only what might have been furtive movement in the shadows. Massacre Bend was clearly not a propitious location at which to stage a performance, and
Miraldra’s Enchantment
sailed on.

The countryside had become a vast prairie. The Vissel River sprawled across the land like a gigantic sentient organism, soft and sluggish.
Miraldra’s Enchantment
moved like a boat in a quiet dream, under the softest of sunny blue skies. On several occasions nomad bands showed themselves, to stare silently, or sometimes to ride along the shore hallooing and howling and waving their hats.

The
River Index
no longer offered pertinent information, although the chart tentatively located several towns: Prairie View, Idanthus, Port Venable and Castle Banoury. Gassoon insisted upon a halt at Prairie View, despite Zamp’s apprehension in regard to envoys from Garken. The town was little more than a dock, a warehouse and a huddle of farmsteads; nevertheless,
Macbeth
was played before an appreciative audience and Gassoon took great satisfaction with the admission receipts, so much so that he wished to lay over several days. Zamp, however, interposed his veto, citing the press of time.

On the day after leaving Prairie View a band of nomads appeared on the bank, watched a few moments, then galloped upstream with an air of purpose which Zamp considered sinister. Gassoon, engrossed in a discussion of poetry with Damsel Blanche-Aster, scoffed aside Zamp’s forebodings. Two hours later
Miraldra’s Enchantment
, rounding a bend in the river, encountered a fleet of a dozen coracles manned by these same nomads, armed with bows and arrows, axes and grappling hooks.

Zamp, far from being reassured by Gassoon’s confidence, had put the ship’s company on the alert, and now defense procedures were instantly effectuated. Arrow guards were raised to protect the helmsman and the drive-capstans, at which the bullocks already were harnessed. On the foredeck Zamp aimed the howitzer of cemented glass fiber and applied a match to the fuse; the howitzer belched a charge of pebbles at the coracles, destroying three. Ashgale and his troupe were posted around the gunwales with orders to dislodge whatever grapples were flung aboard. The crew meanwhile manned the port and starboard catapults, to fling bags of volatile oil out among the coracles. Wads of burning waste then ignited the oil-slick, to create an almost explosive curtain of fire. The would-be assailants screamed in despair, dived into the river and swam ashore. Zamp reloaded the howitzer and discharged it at the three coracles still floating, and almost as soon as it had started the attack was repelled.

Gassoon grudgingly acknowledged the efficacy of Zamp’s measures, but wondered if Zamp had not been precipitate. “Conceivably they could have been warned off by an announcement or a display of some sort. I deplore taking lives in so wanton a fashion.”

“On the other hand,” Zamp pointed out, “there will be just so many fewer bloodthirsty ruffians to attack us on our return trip.”

Gassoon muttered under his breath and stalked off to his office.

An hour later a dead calm fell over the prairie. Clouds boiled down from the north, where the Mandaman Mountains now cast a vague loom. Lightning thrashed at the passive land right and left, then came a pelt of cold rain. Five minutes later the storm fled off to all directions as if a great fist had struck down upon it. The sky opened and gentle breezes blew
Miraldra’s Enchantment
upstream.

In late afternoon a small town appeared on the eastern shore. Checking the chart, Zamp declared the town to be Idanthus. In the absence of information, Zamp would have proceeded discreetly past, but Gassoon insisted on halting for the night, not only to stage a performance and thus benefit the exchequer, but also to be spared the danger of anchoring overnight in midstream.

Against these arguments Zamp could pose only a mood of generalized uneasiness which Gassoon derided.
Miraldra’s Enchantment
eased off sheets and slid sidewise across the current against the Idanthus dock.

A crowd of Idanthans immediately appeared: a sturdy folk with ruddy complexions, blonde hair, and candid open countenances. The children especially were charming and threw flowers up on the deck of the vessel.

When Gassoon stepped forth to introduce himself and his ship, the Idanthans greeted him with enthusiasm;
Miraldra’s Enchantment
, so they declared, was the first showboat they had ever seen; indeed, vessels of any sort were infrequent.

Zamp’s misgivings were disarmed by the cordiality of the welcome, and it seemed as if the entire population of the town attended the evening’s performance, paying in cold honest iron, to Gassoon’s satisfaction.