Tales of the Dying Earth

by Jack Vance

  The palace settled close above one of the ruins; a band of small weasel-life rodents bounded away into the scrub; no other sign of life was evident. The palace continued west around the planet. Vermoulian presently called down from the belvedere: "Notice the cairn; it marks an ancient thoroughfare."

  Other cairns at three-mile intervals appeared, mounds of carefully fitted stones six feet high; they marked a way around the planet.

  At the next tumble of ruins Vermoulian, observing a level area, allowed the palace to settle so that the ancient city and its cluster of surviving structures might be explored.

  The magicians set off in various directions, the better to pursue their investigations. Gilgad went toward the desolate plaza, Perdustin and Zilifant to the civic amphitheatre, Hurtiancz into a nearby tumble of sandstone blocks. Ildefonse, Rhialto, Mune the Mage and Herark the Harbinger wandered at random, until a raucous chanting brought them up short.

  "Peculiar!" exclaimed Herark. "It sounds like the voice of Hurtiancz, the most dignified of men!"

  The group entered a cranny through the ruins, which opened into a large chamber, protected from sifting sand by massive blocks of rock. Light filtered through various chinks and apertures; down the middle ran a line of six long slabs. At the far end sat Hurtiancz, watching the entry of the magicians with an imperturbable gaze. On the slab in front of him stood a globe of dark brown glass, or glazed stone. A rack behind him held other similar bottles.

  "It appears," said Ildefonse, "that Hurtiancz has stumbled upon the site of the ancient tavern."

  "Hurtiancz!" Rhialto called out. "We heard your song and came to investigate. What have you discovered?"

  Hurtiancz hawked and spat on the ground. "Hurtiancz!" cried Rhialto. "Do you hear me? Or have you taken too much of this ancient tipple to be sensible?"

  Hurtiancz replied in a clear voice, "In one sense I have taken too much: in another, not enough."

  Mune the Mage picked up the brown glass bottle and smelled the contents. "Astringent, tart, herbal." He tasted the liquid. "It is quite refreshing."

  Ildefonse and Herark the Harbinger each took a brown glass globe from the rack and broke open the bung; they were joined by Rhialto and Mune the Mage.

  Ildefonse, as he drank, became garrulous, and presently he fell to speculating in regard to the ancient city: "Just as from one bone the skilled palaeontologist deduces an entire skeleton, so from a single artifact the qualified scholar reconstructs every aspect of the responsible race. As I taste this liquor, as I examine this bottle, I ask myself, What do the dimensions, textures, colours and flavors betoken? No intelligent act is without symbolic significance."

  Hurtiancz, upon taking drink, tended to become gruff and surly. Now he stated in an uncompromising voice, ' 'The subject is of small import."

  Ildefonse was not to be deterred. "Here the pragmatic Hurtiancz and I, the man of many parts, are at variance. I was about to carry my argument a step farther, and in fact I will do so, stimulated as I am by this elixir of a vanished race. I therefore suggest that in the style of the previous examples, a natural scientist, examining a single atom, might well be able to asseverate the structure and history of the entire universe!"

  "Bah!" muttered Hurtiancz. "By the same token, a sensible man need listen to but a single word in order to recognize the whole for egregious nonsense."

  Ildefonse, absorbed in his theories, paid no heed. Herark took occasion to state that in his opinion not one, but at least two, even better, three of any class of objects was essential to understanding. "I cite the discipline of mathematics, where a series may not be determined by less than three terms."

  "I willingly grant the scientist his three atoms," said Ildefonse, "though in the strictest sense, two of these are supererogatory."

  Rhialto, rising from his slab, went to look into a dirt-choked aperture, to discover a passage descending by broad steps into the ground. He caused an illumination to proceed before him and descended the steps. The passage turned once, turned twice, then opened into a large chamber paved with brown stone. The walls held a number of niches, six feet long, two feet high, three feet deep; peering into one of these Rhialto discovered a skeleton of most curious structure, so fragile that the impact of Rhialto's gaze caused it to collapse into dust.

  Rhialto rubbed his chin. He looked into a second niche to discover a similar skeleton. He backed away, and stood musing a moment or two. Then he returned up the steps, the drone of Ildefonse's voice growing progressively louder: "—in the same manner to the question: Why does the universe end here and not a mile farther? Of all questions, why? is the least pertinent. It begs the question; it assumes the larger part of its own response; to wit, that a sensible response exists." Ildefonse paused to refresh himself, and Rhialto took occasion to relate his discoveries in the chamber below.

  "It appears to be a crypt," said Rhialto. "The walls are lined with niches, and each contains the veriest wraith of a dead corpse."

  "Indeed, indeed!" muttered Hurtiancz. He lifted the brown glass bottle and at once put it down.

  "Perhaps we are mistaken in assuming this place a tavern," Rhialto continued. "The liquid in the bottles, rather than tipple, I believe to be embalming fluid."

  Ildefonse was not so easily diverted. "I now propound the basic and elemental verity: What is IS. Here you have heard the basic proposition of magic. What magician asks Why! He asks How? Why leads to stultification; each response generates at least one other question, in this fashion:

  "Question: Why does Rhialto wear a black hat with gold tassels and a scarlet plume?

  "Answer: Because he hopes to improve his semblance.

  "Question: Why does he want to improve his semblance?

  "Answer: Because he craves the admiration and envy of his fellows.

  "Question: Why does he crave admiration?

  "Answer: Because, as a man, he is a social animal.

  "Question: Why is Man a social animal?

  "So go the questions and responses, expanding to infinity. Therefore—''

  In a passion Hurtiancz leapt to his feet. Raising the brown glass pot above his head he dashed it to the floor. "Enough of this intolerable inanity! I propose that such loquacity passes beyond the scope of nuisance and over the verge of turpitude."

  "It is a fine point," said Herark. "Ildefonse, what have you to say on this score?"

  "I am more inclined to punish Hurtiancz for his crassness," said Ildefonse. "But now he simulates a swinish stupidity to escape my anger."

  "Absolute falsity!" roared Hurtiancz. "I simulate nothing!"

  Ildefonse shrugged. "For all his deficiencies as polemicist and magician, Hurtiancz at least is candid."

  Hurtiancz controlled his fury. He said, "Who could defeat your volubility? As a magician, however, I outmatch your bumbling skills as Rhialto the Marvellous exceeds your rheumy decrepitude."

  Ildefonse in his turn became angry. "A test!" He flung up his hand; the massive blocks scattered in all directions; they stood on a vacant floor in the full glare of sunlight. "What of that?"

  "Trivial," said Hurtiancz. "Match this!" He held up his two hands; from each finger issued a jet of vivid smoke in ten different colours.

  "The pretty prank of a charlatan," declared Ildefonse. "Now watch! I utter a word: 'Roof!' " The word leaving his lips hesitated in the air, in the form of symbol, then moved out in a wide circle, to impinge upon the roof of one of the strangely styled structures still extant. The symbol disappeared; the roof glowed a vivid orange and melted to spawn a thousand symbols like the word Ildefonse had sent forth. These darted high in the sky, stopped short, disappeared. From above, like a great clap of thunder, came Ildefonse's voice: "ROOF!"

  "No great matter," stated Hurtiancz. "Now—"

  "Hist!" said Mune the Mage. "Cease your drunken quarrel. Look yonder!"

  From the structure whose roof Ildefonse had demolished came a man.

  9

  The man stood in the doorway. He was impressivel
y tall. A long white beard hung down his chest; white hair covered his ears; his eyes glittered black. He wore an elegant caftan woven in patterns of dark red, brown, black and blue. Now he stepped forward, and it could be seen that he trailed a cloud of glowing objects. Gilgad, who had returned from the plaza, instantly set up a shout: 'The IOUN stones!"

  The man came forward. His face showed an expression of calm inquiry. Ildefonse muttered, "It is Morreion! Of this there can be no doubt. The stature, the stance—they are unmistakable!"

  "It is Morreion," Rhialto agreed. "But why is he so calm, as if each week he received visitors who took off his roof, as if 'Nothing' loomed over someone else?"

  "His perceptions may have become somewhat dulled," Herark suggested. "Notice: he evinces no signal of human recognition."

  Morreion came slowly forward, the IOUN stones swirling in his wake. The magicians gathered before the marble steps of the palace. Vermoulian stepped forth and raised his hand. "Hail, Morreion! We have come to take you from this intolerable isolation!"

  Morreion looked from one face to the other. He made a guttural sound, then a rasping croak, as if trying organs whose use he had long forgotten.

  Ildefonse now presented himself. "Morreion, my comrade! It is I, Ildefonse; do you not remember the old days at Kammerbrand? Speak then!"

  "I hear," croaked Morreion. "I speak, but I do not remember."

  Vermoulian indicated the marble stairs. "Step aboard, if you will; we depart this dreary world at once."

  Morreion made no move. He examined the palace with a frown of vexation. "You have placed your flying hut upon the area where I dry my skeins."

  Ildefonse pointed toward the black wall, which through the haze of the atmosphere showed only as a portentous shadow. " 'Nothing' looms close. It is about to impinge upon this world, whereupon you will be no more; in short, you will be dead."

  "I am not clear as to your meaning," said Morreion. "If you will excuse me, I must be away and about my affairs."

  "A quick question before you go," spoke Gilgad. "Where does one find IOUN stones?"

  Morreion looked at him without comprehension. At last he gave his attention to the stones, which swirled with a swifter motion. In comparison, those of the archveult Xexamedes were listless and dull. These danced and curveted, and sparkled with different colours. Closest to Morreion's head moved the lavender and the pale green stones, as if they thought themselves the most loved and most privileged.

  Somewhat more wayward were the stones glowing pink and green together; then came stones of a proud pure pink, then the royal carmine stones, then the red and blue; and finally, at the outer periphery, a number of stones glittering with intense blue lights.

  As Morreion cogitated, the magicians noted a peculiar circumstance: certain of the innermost lavender stones lost their glow and became as dull as the stones of Xexamedes.

  Morreion gave a slow thoughtful nod. "Curious! So much which I seem to have forgotten. ... I did not always live here," he said in a voice of surprise. "There was at one time another place. The memory is dim and remote."

  Vermoulian said, "That place is Earth! It is where we will take you."

  Morreion smilingly shook his head. "I am just about to start on an important journey."

  "Is the trip absolutely necessary?" inquired Mune the Mage. "Our time is limited, and even more to the point, we do not care to be engulfed in 'Nothing.' "

  "I must see to my cairns," said Morreion in a mild but definite manner.

  For a moment there was silence. Then Ildefonse asked, ' 'What is the purpose of these cairns?"

  Morreion used the even voice of one speaking to a child. ' 'They indicate the most expeditious route around my world. Without the cairns it is possible to go astray."

  "But remember, there is no longer need for such landmarks," said Ao of the Opals. "You will be returning to Earth with us!"

  Morreion could not restrain a small laugh at the obtuse persistence of his visitors. "Who would look after my properties? How would I fare if my cairns toppled, if my looms broke, if my kilns crumbled, if my other enterprises dissolved, and all for the lack of methodical care?"

  Vermoulian said blandly, "At least come aboard the palace to share our evening banquet."

  "It will be my pleasure," replied Morreion. He mounted the marble steps, to gaze with pleasure around the pavilion. "Charming. I must consider something of this nature as a forecourt for my new mansion."

  "There will be insufficient time," Rhialto told him.

  " 'Time'?" Morreion frowned as if the word were unfamiliar to him. Other of the lavender stones suddenly went pale. "Time indeed! But time is required to do a proper job! This gown for instance." He indicated his gorgeously patterned caftan. "The weaving required four years. Before that I gathered beast-fur for ten years; then for another two years I bleached and dyed and spun. My cairns were built a stone at a time, each time I wandered around the world. My wanderlust has waned somewhat, but I occasionally make the journey, to rebuild where necessary, and to note the changes of the landscape."

  Rhialto pointed to the sun. "Do you recognize the nature of that object?"

  Morreion frowned. "I call it 'the sun'—though why I have chosen this particular term escapes me."

  "There are many such suns," said Rhialto. "Around one of them swings that ancient and remarkable world which gave you birth. Do you remember Earth?''

  Morreion looked dubiously up into the sky. "I have seen none of these other suns you describe. At night my sky is quite dark; there is no other light the world over save the glow of my fires. It is a peaceful world indeed. ... I seem to recall more eventful times." The last of the lavender stones and certain of the green stones lost their colour. Morreion's eyes became momentarily intent. He went to inspect the tame water-nymphs which sported in the central fountain. "And what might be these glossy little creatures? They are most appealing."

  "They are quite fragile, and useful only as show," said Vermou-lian. "Come, Morreion, my valet will help you prepare for the banquet."

  "You are most gracious," said Morreion.

  10

  The magicians awaited their guest in the grand salon.

  Each had his own opinion of the circumstances. Rhialto said, "Best that we raise the palace now and so be off and away. Morreion may be agitated for a period, but when all the facts are laid before him he must surely see reason."

  The cautious Perdustin demurred. "There is power in the man! At one time, his magic was a source of awe and wonder; what if in a fit of pique he wreaks a harm upon all of us?"

  Gilgad endorsed Perdustin's view. "Everyone has noted Morreion's IOUN stones. Where did he acquire them? Can this world be the source?"

  "Such a possibility should not automatically be dismissed," admitted Ildefonse. "Tomorrow, when the imminence of 'Nothing' is described, Morreion will surely depart without resentment."

  So the matter rested. The magicians turned their discussion to other aspects of this dismal world.

  Herark the Harbinger, who had skill as a cognizancer, attempted to divine the nature of the race which had left ruins across the planet, without notable success. "They have been gone too long; their influence has waned. I seem to discern creatures with thin white legs and large green eyes. ... I hear a whisper of their music: a jingling, a tinkle, to a rather plaintive obbligato of pipes. ... I sense no magic. I doubt if they recognized the IOUN stones, if in fact such exist on this planet."

  "Where else could they originate?" demanded Gilgad.

  "The 'shining fields' are nowhere evident," remarked Haze of Wheary Water.

  Morreion entered the hall. His appearance had undergone a dramatic change. The great white beard had been shaved away; his bush of hair had been cropped to a more modish style. In the place of his gorgeous caftan he wore a garment of ivory silk with a blue sash and a pair of scarlet slippers. Morreion now stood revealed as a tall spare man, attentive and alert. Glittering black eyes dominated his face, which was taut, hars
h at chin and jaw, massive of forehead, disciplined in the even lines of the mouth. The lethargy and boredom of so many aeons were nowhere evident; he moved with easy command, and behind him, darting and circling, swarmed the IOUN stones.

  Morreion greeted the assembled magicians with an inclination of the head, and gave his attention to the appointments of the salon. "Magnificent and luxurious! But I will be forced to use quartz in the place of this splendid marble, and there is little silver to be found; the Sahars plundered all the surface ores. When I need metal I must tunnel deep underground."

  "You have led a busy existence," declared Ildefonse. "And who were the Sahars?"

  "The race whose ruins mar the landscape. A frivolous and irresponsible folk, though I admit that I find their poetic conundrums amusing."

  "The Sahars still exist?"

  "Indeed not! They became extinct long ages go. But they left numerous records etched on bronze, which I have taken occasion to translate."