The Magnificent Showboats (26 page)
Duncan
:What bloody man is that? He can report,as seemeth by his plight, of the revoltThe newest state.Malcolm
:This is the sergeant …
Scene Two went off satisfactorily, thought Zamp. Now Scene Three and again the witches, on ‘a heath near Forres’.
First Witch
:Where has thou been, sister?Second Witch
:Killing swine.Third Witch
:Sister, where thou?First Witch
:A sailor’s wife …
Zamp, as Macbeth, came on stage, with Banquo. The two heard the prophesies and received news from Ross and Angus.
Now down with the curtain and away to Scene Three-and-a-half, that scene which Zamp had interpolated, both in accordance with his theories of mood-augmentation, and the better to display Damsel Blanche-Aster’s cool and exquisite beauty.
The sets shifted; the stage became a formal garden at Glamis Castle. The curtain lifted, to reveal Lady Macbeth at a table inscribing a letter with a quill pen.
As Zamp had constructed the scene, she would read phrases from the letter encouraging Macbeth in his ambitions; but now Damsel Blanche-Aster saw fit to alter the scene. As soon as the curtain had drawn fully aside, she rose to her feet, doffed her cloak and moved to the front of the stage to stand full in the footlights, and all could see that Damsel Blanche-Aster wore a blue and gold tabard similar to that red and gold garment worn by King Waldemar. From the audience came a gusty exhalation of shock and wonder.
Damsel Blanche-Aster said: “I wear the Blue and Gold; I received it from my father, and you all know my identity. There is no force in the Scarlet and Gold. Who recognizes the Blue and Gold and the House of Erme?”
King Waldemar had jumped to his feet, a curious uncertain expression on his face. Zamp stood frozen in the wings. How could he have ever thought the noblemen of Mornune cold and remote? Eyes glittered, jaws clenched to draw back the mouths into tight tense grins. In all quarters there was slow motion converging upon Waldemar, who darted glances from side to side. Suddenly he turned and started for the gangplank.
Damsel Blanche-Aster said in a clear voice: “Lord Haze, Lord Brouwe, Lord Valicour: take the person of Waldemar the murderer into your control. Convey him out upon the deep lake and there do what must be done.”
Three noblemen bowed and came forward. They took the dazed Waldemar by the arms and led him away.
Damsel Blanche-Aster stood stiff and cold. Gassoon, removing his cloak for the next scene, became aware of the interruption. He peered out through the wings, and noticed that for some remarkable reason — perhaps a coarse comment from the audience — Damsel Blanche-Aster had faltered in her performance. He rushed forth in reckless fury, to glare across the footlights. “I beg all of you to courtesy! Our performance has only just begun!” He turned to Damsel Blanche-Aster. “Please, my dear, continue with your scene.”
Damsel Blanche-Aster stared at him first with cold annoyance, then incredulous eyes and a mouth which gaped more loosely than had Waldemar’s. From the audience came a strange wail of awe and dread for the presence of the uncanny. Gassoon’s attention however was riveted upon Damsel Blanche-Aster. Gone was her self-possession, she seemed no more than a frightened girl. Gassoon cried out: “What is the matter? Why do you look at me so?”
Damsel Blanche-Aster pointed a shaking finger at him. “You wear the fabled Green and Gold, the Green and Gold Tabard! Where did you get it?”
Gassoon looked down slack-jawed at the brittle old garment which, so he had hoped, might invest Duncan with something of that kingly style he had observed in Waldemar. “From my collection of antique garments.”
Damsel Blanche-Aster numbly removed the Blue and Gold. “The warp of the Magic Loom leads not to me. You are King of Soyvanesse and Emperor of Fay.”
Gassoon struggled for words. “I am reluctant to make such claims … I am Throdorus Gassoon.”
“Your will is nothing. The Magic Loom has woven this destiny for you, and it is incontrovertible. This is the miracle Soyvanesse has hoped for; you must accept both the glory and the responsibility.”
Gassoon pulled doubtfully at his long white nose. “Most remarkable indeed. Zamp, have you heard all this?”
“Yes,” said Zamp. “I’ve heard and seen it all. What of our performance? Shall we continue? It seems that now you must sit in judgment.”
“I have already made up my mind,” declared Gassoon in sudden exaltation. “The grand prize goes to
Miraldra’s Enchantment
and its magnificent troupe! I also decree munificent second prizes for the talented troupes of the
Voyuz
, the
Star-wisp
, the
Perfumed Oliolus
, the
Dellora
and the
Empyrean Wanderer
. All performances were excellent; the penalty suggested by the late King Waldemar is nullified. I invite all present to the royal palace where we will celebrate this remarkable event, and now, while the idea is fresh in my mind, I appoint, designate and select Princess Blanche-Aster to be my consort, my adored and intimate companion, a condition she and I have long anticipated and which tonight we will consecrate. What did you say, Master Zamp?”
“Nothing of consequence, Master Gassoon.”
“Well then, be so good as to show more elation for these happy circumstances!”
“I will indeed.”
“Good! Excellent, in fact! Bring forth Garth Ashgale and his miserable troupe! I hereby remit their indentures! Bring forth Baron Banoury and his cut-throats and give them into custody! They must answer for their crimes. As for you, Apollon Zamp, I hereby forgive you a long score of offenses, petty impertinences and frauds. In fact, I invest you with full title to
Miraldra’s Enchantment
and all its appurtenances, in fee simple and perpetual. I will no longer have need for such a vessel.”
Zamp bowed. “I thank you most gratefully, King Throdorus.”
“Aha!” cried Gassoon. “Marvelous indeed are the ways of the Magic Loom! So now — all to the royal palace!”
Many adversities had ingrained in Zamp the conviction that the time to leave was when conditions were auspicious. After three days of festivity he decided to depart Mornune and make his way south along the Vissel. Gassoon, a most indulgent monarch, granted him leave to do as he wished. “Still, why not remain at Mornune? As a courtesy due an old crony, I will appoint you a Grandee of the Realm, and settle upon you an appropriate estate: honors which in fact you already have earned, in line with Waldemar’s proclamation.”
Zamp was not to be dissuaded. “As you know, I am three parts wandering minstrel to one part aristocrat. The river winds blow in my blood! If you wish, you may grant me an equivalence of iron, so that I may construct the grandest boat yet seen on the Vissel, or the Cynthiana, or elsewhere!”
Gassoon attempted an indulgent gesture, but restrained the swing of his arm. The Green and Gold Tabard constricted his shoulders, and forced him to careful and controlled motions lest he burst the brittle fabric. The Princess Blanche-Aster, on a couch of carved jade, sat blank-faced, like a porcelain doll. “As you wish, but you must promise to bring your magnificent new showboat to Mornune on its maiden voyage, to regale us with your fancies and fantasies.”
“I will certainly do so,” declared Zamp.
Gassoon summoned an equerry. “Convey at once twenty ingots of black iron to Master Zamp’s authority aboard
Miraldra’s Enchantment
.”
Zamp bowed once to Gassoon and again to Princess Blanche-Aster, who returned an abstracted nod. Zamp thought she seemed dull and bloodless. Her green silk gown was embroidered with pearls and black iron beads; her blonde hair had been worked into an elaborate confection of curls and coils: was it for this that she had returned to Mornune? “Without further formality,” said Zamp, “I will take my leave.”
“May fair winds fill your sails.”
At the portal Zamp turned and made a final salute. Gassoon stood as before, tall and gaunt, wild white hair tufted through his iron crown, bony wrists protruding from the fabulous tabard.
Returning to
Miraldra’s Enchantment
, Zamp certified the quality of the twenty ingots, to the total of two hundred pounds. Assured that all his personnel were aboard, he gave orders to cast off lines, and make all sail south.
Bottomless Lake lay flat as a mirror; the sails hung limp. Zamp ordered the stern-wheel down, the bullocks and Garth Ashgale’s crew to the capstan. Garth Ashgale set up an outcry. “Our indentures have been lifted; we are now free men and need not toil at the capstan!”
“You are free men indeed,” said Zamp, “but you must earn your way back to Coble, which means the capstan. If you prefer to remain at Mornune, feel free to swim ashore!”
Grumbling and muttering, Garth Ashgale led his troupe to the capstans.
The showboat churned across the lake. After an hour, Zamp raised the stern-wheel and drifted silently south on what vagrant airs struck the sails.
At noon on the following day the vessel passed through the Mandaman Gate and riding the current swept past Banoury Castle without challenge. To either side spread the Tinsitala Steppe; ahead stretched the Vissel.
The south monsoon had definitely died; winds were captious and fickle, blowing first one way, then another. Zamp was in no hurry. An hour in the morning and an hour in the afternoon he turned his stern wheel to provide exercise both for the bullocks and for Garth Ashgale; otherwise he was content to float on the current, while he drew up specifications for his wonderful new vessel. He would command the rarest woods, the most elaborate carving, the best Lanteen glass! There would be luxurious quarters for troupe and crew alike, and for himself a great stern cabin with mullioned casements looking aft down the wake. He would specify colonnaded upper decks like those which graced the
Voyuz
, a stage as ingenious as that of the
Dellora
, banks of folding seats like those of the
Empyrean Wanderer
. The deck would be hinged to slide the audience overboard, and also equipped with a drop-section to precipitate trouble-makers into a cargo-net: both systems had proved their worth. Stern wheel? Side-wheels? Propellers? Zamp delayed decision. His repertory? Classical dramas from antique Earth? Ha ha! And Zamp, leaning back in his chair, watched the clouds drift across the wide Big Planet sky.
On the fourth day after passing through the Mandaman Gate Zamp’s attention was attracted by a wildly galloping horseman on the east bank of the river. The horseman, drawing abreast of the ship, performed a set of urgent gesticulations; looking through the spy-glass Zamp identified the man as Throdorus Gassoon.
Zamp ordered the sails backed and sent a boat to the shore. Gassoon, sagging with fatigue, his skin red and coarse from sunburn, presently joined him on the quarterdeck.
“Well then, King Throdorus,” said Zamp, “this is an honor and a privilege, but I had not expected to see you so soon.”
Gassoon drank down the glass of brandy proffered by Zamp. “King Throdorus no more,” he croaked. “I am now as before, Throdorus Gassoon of Coble, and I have no regrets, I assure you. But what do you have on hand that I might eat? I am ravenous with hunger!”
Zamp ordered up a meal of bread, cheese, meat and preserved leeks; as Gassoon ate he related the circumstances which had brought him back to the showboat. The tale, in essence, was succinct. The Green and Gold Tabard, brittle with age and subjected to the strain of fitting Gassoon’s ill-proportioned form, had suddenly disintegrated into shreds. Gassoon immediately calculated that if possession of the tabard transformed him from an uncouth down-river boatman to King of Soyvanesse, then the lack of the same tabard must perform an equivalent metamorphosis in reverse.
He had confided nothing to the Princess Blanche-Aster. “In all honesty I must report that while her conduct was most dutiful and correct, I detected a lack of enthusiasm in certain aspects of our relationship. I am inclined to suspect that our very real mutuality was of the spirit, rather than the physical. To be totally candid — well, let me say only that I kept my own counsel in regard to the tabard. To make a long story short, I decided to rejoin my good comrade Apollon Zamp, in the hope that the old association held firm.”
Zamp poured himself a dram of brandy. “The association is firm. The boat is once more yours and the iron you were generous enough to bestow shall be divided between us. There is ample wealth for the two of us.”
Gassoon raised his finger in a sly gesture. “I will keep my vessel; it is once more the
Universal Pancomium
; and you shall keep the iron.” He kicked the saddlebags on the deck beside him. “Here are diamonds, rubies and emeralds, as well as great black opals set in iron. Our wealth is by no means disproportionate.”
Zamp poured brandy into both glasses. “The association has been profitable, Throdorus!”
“Profitable, instructive and edifying.”
The two men drank, then turned to look north up the Vissel at the far shadow of the Mandaman Palisades. At this moment a breeze veering down from the equatorial trades filled the sails. With foam at the bow and a gurgle to the wake, the ship surged south down the Vissel toward far Coble.
