The Magnificent Showboats (24 page)

The Director of Docks performed a formal salute and took his leave. Zamp sought out Gassoon and conveyed the purport of the meeting. Gassoon, who had succumbed to a mood of depression and despondency, listened with only half an ear. “This expedition is a piece of rattle-brained tomfoolery, no more and no less. We are obviously out of our element here. These folk are caustic, cynical, hyper-civilized. They will mock our attempts at authenticity. I am not sanguine as to our chances.”

“There is little time to prepare a new entertainment,” said Zamp dubiously, “although I suppose —”

“No!” rasped Gassoon with sudden energy. “Let them scoff as they see fit! I will never compromise what I consider my art, especially for the sake of gain!”

“For the sake of gain I’d compromise the art of my grandmother,” muttered Zamp under his breath.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Gassoon. “What did you say?”

“Nothing of consequence. We are allowed two places at the first presentation, aboard the ship
Voyuz
. Do you choose to attend, or will you allow Damsel Blanche-Aster to go in your stead?”

“If only two places are allowed us, you shall remain aboard the ship, making ready for our show.”

Damsel Blanche-Aster herself settled the argument. “I will attend none of the entertainments. You two may go together.”

The swan-ship
Voyuz
had been built to lavish and opulent standards, without thought for expense, and with the most assiduous concern for comfort and convenience. The superstructure was pale sanoe wood, embellished with fretwork of intricacy upon intricacy. The audience sat on cushioned benches with a deep rose carpet underfoot and a canopy of patterned silk overhead, to shield away the daylight.

Zamp and Gassoon boarded the craft an hour early and were conducted to back-row seats by an obsequious usher in pale green livery, and a moment later a girl in dark green tights brought two moist perfumed towels on a tray that they might refresh their faces. Both Gassoon and Zamp were impressed by the luxurious appointments of the ship, although Gassoon asserted the old-rose carpet to be a piece of sheer ostentation and a sore trial to keep clean. “How would a vessel like this look after an evening at Chist or Fudurth? Poorly indeed!”

Zamp objected on technical grounds to the dimensions of the stage. “Sound will never project from such a cavern,” he told Gassoon. “There is too much height for the breadth. We will hear only mumbling unless the artistes own the lungs and voices of sagmaws.”

“A theater should be austere and unobtrusive in its decor,” stated Gassoon. “A jewel shows best on a cloth of black velvet; just so should the performance enhance the theater. This luxury —” Gassoon made a scornful gesture “— I consider sheer vulgarity.”

“I doubt if we’ll see anything too skillful,” Zamp agreed. “Perhaps a set of erotic pantomimes, or a comedy such as my old
Cuckold’s Revenge
. At least the reactions of the audience will be interesting.”

“Especially those of King Waldemar, although I doubt if he will reveal himself so early in the competition.”

Persons of dignified mien began to enter the chamber. Ignoring Zamp and Gassoon as if the two ship-masters failed to exist, they greeted their acquaintances with measured gestures. Seating arrangements, so Zamp noted, were governed by precise protocol, an exactitude reflected in the formality of dress. A peculiar and even somewhat bizarre discord, in Zamp’s opinion, were the cockades worn by the men at the sides of their small stiff hats: green and gold to the right, red and gold to the left. The plumes fixed into the hair-dresses of the ladies were similarly green and gold on the right; red and gold on the left.

A portly man in a suit of russet and orange, with a black cummerbund, seated himself beside Zamp; the two entered into conversation, the newcomer identifying himself as Roald Tush, Master of the showboat
Perfumed Oliolus
. For a period the two discussed vicissitudes along the Cynthiana River as compared to those of the Lower Vissel and found many parallel circumstances.

Zamp however had never encountered an audience like that among which they sat, and Tush in terms which Zamp considered astonishingly frank expressed his own lack of enthusiasm for Mornune and its population. “They are extremely difficult to please, and despite their wealth not altogether open-handed, if in fact they deign to visit your boat in the first place.”

“You have verified my own instinctive judgment,” said Zamp. “I have never seen folk so punctilious. Notice the precise inclination of their heads as they greet each other!”

“There is substance in the most trifling nuances of their behavior,” stated Tush. “I would bore you by explaining their etiquette, but you may believe them to be a complicated and subtle folk. For instance, this audience includes princes, dukes, earls, barons and knights, each of whom must carefully graduate his conduct as he pays his respects about the room. Still, to the uninitiated, no great variance is evident.”

“I admit as much,” said Zamp. “How does one make a distinction? By the tilt of the cockades and feathers?”

Tush smilingly shook his head. “The green and gold symbolizes their reverence for the memory of the Doro Dynasty. These were heroic kings who defeated the Saguald Dominators, founded the kingdom of Soyvanesse, mined the Black Bog for iron and built the Magic Loom which thereupon wove the green and gold Tabard of Destiny.”

“An interesting legend, to be sure. King Waldemar claims this lineage?”

“He would not dare to do so, since he lacks the green and gold Tabard which would certify such a claim. In fact, the line was broken two hundred years ago when Shimrod the Usurper drowned the Green and Gold Tabard, and the last Doro, in Bottomless Lake. Am I boring you with this historical dissertation?”

“By no means!” declared Zamp. “I am anxious to learn something of the local history, for more reasons than one. Where did the line progress after Shimrod?”

“The Magic Loom wove a blue and gold tabard for the House of Erme. Shimrod was destroyed and the Ermes ruled until King Roble was killed at the Battle of Zemail. The Blue and Gold Tabard was lost under circumstances regarding which it would be folly to speculate, since the Magic Loom might or might not have woven the Scarlet and Gold which King Waldemar now wears. These of course are dangerous topics which I would not dare discuss with anyone but a fellow ship-master. In any event, the colors you see signify the fervent reverence still felt for the Green and Gold, and also the deference duly rendered the Scarlet and Gold of King Waldemar; and your question, if at discursive length, has been answered.”

“All is clear,” said Zamp, “except as to the Magic Loom.”

“If you would like to explore the depths of Bottomless Lake, you need only climb Myrmont.”

“I am curious, but not reckless,” said Zamp.

“Such curiosity is natural,” said Tush. “I was similarly affected when I first learned of the Magic Loom. Essentially I know nothing but rumor, to the effect that the loom is tended by nine Norns, who are fitful hysterical women, either blind, dumb or deaf from birth. When one dies she selects her successor and announces her choice by means of dreams, and the new Norn then takes the name of the old.”

“The Magic Loom would appear to control the destinies of Soyvanesse,” Zamp suggested.

“It is not quite so simple. Still, when King Waldemar appears, the company will give as much reverence to the tabard as to the man.”

“Master Gassoon, have you heard all this?” demanded Zamp. “To win the prize we should impress and entertain the tabard rather than the man within!”

Tush held up his hand in a quick gesture of caution. “Be careful with your jokes; skewed phrases carry far in Mornune. Already we have far overstepped discretion, and here now is King Waldemar. You must rise, and stand in the ritual posture: knees bent, head bowed, arms behind your back: so. Silence now; Waldemar is notorious for his impatience.”

In dead silence King Waldemar entered the chamber: a man of medium stature, somewhat plump, his round pale face surrounded by precise ringlets of moist black hair. He paused at the back of the chamber and scanned the company with restless black eyes. Zamp surreptitiously studied the tabard he wore over a jumper of rich red cloth: a garment of heavy black silk embroidered with starbursts of red and gold.

King Waldemar murmured over his shoulder to the noblemen who accompanied him, then advanced down the aisle and seated himself upon the throne which had been placed for him at the center of the front row. A respectful moment later the remainder of the audience resumed their own seats.

The lights in the chamber dimmed; through the curtains stepped a tall slender man in amber robes with a long glossy amber beard. He bowed to the audience and spoke in a soft clear voice:

“For the pleasure and approval of the most gracious King Waldemar, and the noble citizens of Soyvanesse, we have chosen to celebrate a cycle of tales from the second book of the Rhiatic Myth. Our symbology follows the precepts of Phrygius Maestor; our music operates in the Fourth Mode, as many among you will recognize. Listen then to the First Chord, which orders the inchoate!” He waved his hand; from an unseen source came a whisper of sound, waxing to a shivering gorgeous tone of many parts. The curtains drew back to reveal a landscape of colossal ruins illuminated by three suns: purple, pale green and white. From the ruins sprang, one by one, a company of beautiful men and women, clad only in white dust and violet breech-clouts. To the music of lutes, tambourines and oboes, they performed a stiff, stately ballet. The clang of a gong: down swooped green-scaled half-human beings with cockatrice heads to smite the men and women to the ground and tear out their tongues. The green creatures performed a strutting pavane of triumph, which became a frenzied stamping dance, during which the suns changed color to red, dark orange and black. A thin clangor of bells interrupted the music; a rain of white sparks fell, shriveling the creatures and exploding them in puffs of vapor. The men and women reappeared, carrying black disks as tall as themselves, with which they performed a set of evolutions. The light began to grow dim; the dancers brought their disks together and superimposed them, disappearing behind, until a single black disk occupied the center of the stage. It turned sideways; all behind had disappeared, just as the stage became dark.

The second phase of the cycle occurred on a bleak plain, with the ruins of the first scene upon the distant horizon. To a throbbing spurting music which seemed only barely under control an epicene creature performed a writhing contortion. As it threw back its arms in an evocation of the heavens, a shaft of intense white light streaming with tinsel strands struck down upon the creature, forcing it to the ground where it was absorbed into the soil. A black and green plant sprouted and grew and put forth a white flower. A second shaft of light struck into the flower which, so fertilized, closed into a pod. Silence: heavy, suspenseful seconds: then a faint crystalline tinkling sound. The pod fell apart to reveal a golden-skinned nymph. She stood still and stiff, arms at her sides. A fanfare: from the left came a black hero, from the right a red hero, wearing only kirtles and magnificent helmets. They fought with swords and the black hero triumphed. He advanced to claim the golden nymph. He touched her: the stage exploded to an effulgence of sparks; the black hero shivered and toppled dead. In joy the nymph pirouetted, whirling faster and faster; the music keened and wailed and the stage went black.

In the final phase the dancers constructed a fane of three pillars and an altar, then formed an armature upon which they molded black clay, to produce a monstrous face. Others brought torches and applied fire to the face, which thereupon opened its mouth and bawled in pain. The eyes opened, glared right and left, while those who had built the temple waved their torches and jerked to a convulsive music. The image began to chant in a harsh voice: first a babble of nonsense; then, as if gaining understanding, it produced a song increasingly melodious until at last, by the force of its music, it compelled the dancers, urging them to its impulses, while the stage grew lurid and smoky, and the dancers sweated and twitched. The image uttered a great pulsing cry, and the dancers fell together in a heap. Flames burnt on the altar and the image became silent.

The curtain fell; the slender man in the amber silks appeared and bowed gravely. “Thank you for your presence. This has been our statement and we hope that you have been affected.” He bowed again.

King Waldemar, his face a mask, arose, and the entire audience arose and stood in the formal posture of respect as Waldemar departed the chamber.

Roald Tush turned to Zamp: “What do you think?”

“Extremely powerful, most ingenious,” muttered Zamp.

Gassoon said in a bleak voice: “I found the matter somewhat dense, even over-portentous.”

Tush laughed. “The
Voyuz is
noted for its remarkable effects. And regardless of our personal opinions, we all must ask ourselves: did Waldemar like it? He is said to prefer prettier stuff, and he might not have enjoyed all the sparks and explosions and screams so close in his face. In due course we shall know. Well then — tomorrow night to Lulu Chalu’s
Star-wisp
, then to my ship, the
Perfumed Oliolus
, for one of my own poor specialities … Your turn is sixth and last? No disadvantage, I should think. What type of presentation will you offer?”