Tales of the Dying Earth

by Jack Vance

  As Morreion spoke the red stones went pale; his voice quavered with passion he had not hitherto displayed.

  "I stood alone," said Morreion hoarsely. "I could not die, with the Spell of Untiring Nourishment upon me, but I could not move a step, not an inch from the cavity of black dust, or I would instantly have been no more than a print upon the surface of the shining field.

  "I stood rigid—how long I cannot say. Years? Decades? I cannot remember. This period seems a time of dull daze. I searched my mind for resources, and I grew bold with despair. I probed for IOUN stones, and I won those which now attend me. They became my friends and gave me solace.

  "I embarked then upon a new task, which, had I not been mad with despair, I would never have attempted. I brought up particles of black dust, wet them with blood to make a paste; this paste I molded into a circular plate four feet in diameter.

  "It was finished. I stepped aboard; I anchored myself with the barbed pins, and I floated up and away from the half-star.

  "I had won free! I stood on my disk in the void! I was free, but I was alone. You cannot know what I felt until you, too, have stood in space, without knowledge of where to go. Far away I saw a single star; a rogue, a wanderer; toward this star I fared.

  "How long the voyage required, again I cannot say. When I judged that I had traveled half-way, I turned the disk about and slowed my motion.

  "Of this voyage I remember little. I spoke to my stones, I gave them my thoughts. I seemed to become calm from talking, for during the first hundred years of this voyage I felt a prodigious fury that seemed to overwhelm all rational thought; to inflict but a pin prick upon a single one of my adversaries I would have died by torture a hundred times! I plotted delicious vengeance, I became yeasty and exuberant upon the imagined pain I would inflict. Then at times I suffered unutterable melancholy—while others enjoyed the good things of life, the feasts, the comradeship, the caresses of their loved ones, here stood I, alone in the dark. The balance would be restored, I assured myself. My enemies would suffer as I had suffered, and more! But the passion waned, and as my stones grew to know me they assumed their beautiful colours. Each has his name; each is individual; I know each stone by its motion. The archveults consider them the brain-eggs of fire-folk who live within these stars; as to this I cannot say.

  "At last I came down upon my world. I had burned away my rage. I was calm and placid, as now you know me. My old lust for revenge I saw to be futility. I turned my mind to a new existence, and over the aeons I built my buildings and my cairns; I lived my new life.

  "The Sahars excited my interest. I read their books, I learned their lore. . .. Perhaps I began to live a dream. My old life was far away; a discordant trifle to which I gave ever less importance. I am amazed that the language of Earth returned to me as readily as it has. Perhaps the stones held my knowledge in trust, and extended it as the need came. Ah, my wonderful stones, what would I be without them?

  "Now I am back among men. I know how my life has gone. There are still confused areas; in due course I will remember all."

  Morreion paused to consider; several of the blue and scarlet stones went quickly dim. Morreion quivered, as if touched by galvanic essence; his cropped white hair seemed to bristle. He took a slow step forward; certain of the magicians made uneasy movements.

  Morreion spoke in a new voice, one less reflective and reminiscent, with a harsh grating sound somewhere at its basis. "Now I will confide in you." He turned the glitter of his black eyes upon each face in turn. "I intimated that my rage had waned with the aeons; this is true. The sobs which lacerated my throat, the gnashing which broke my teeth, the fury which caused my brain to shudder and ache: all dwindled; for I had nothing with which to feed my emotions. After bitter reflection came tragic melancholy, then at last peace, which your coming disturbed.

  "A new mood has now come upon me! As the past becomes real, so I have returned along the way of the past. There is a difference. I am now a cold cautious man; perhaps I can never experience the extremes of passion which once consumed me. On the other hand, certain periods in my life are still dim." Another of the red and scarlet stones lost its vivid glow; Morreion stiffened, his voice took on a new edge. "The crimes upon my person call out for rebuttal! The archveults of Jangk must pay in the fullest and most onerous measure! Vermoulian the Dream-walker, expunge the present symbols from your mandate-wheel! Our destination now becomes the planet Jangk!"

  Vermoulian looked to his colleagues to learn their opinion.

  Ildefonse cleared his throat. "I suggest that our host Vermoulian first pause at Earth, to discharge those of us with urgent business.

  Those others will continue with Vermoulian and Morreion to Jangk; in this way the convenience of all may be served."

  Morreion said in a voice ominously quiet: "No business is as urgent as mine, which already has been delayed too long." He spoke to Vermoulian: "Apply more fire to the speed-incense! Proceed directly to Jangk."

  Haze of Wheary Water said diffidently, "I would be remiss if I failed to remind you that the archveults are powerful magicians; like yourself they wield IOUN stones."

  Morreion made a furious motion; as his hand swept the air, it left a trail of sparks. "Magic derives from personal force! My passion alone will defeat the archveults! I glory in the forthcoming confrontation. Ah, but they will regret their deeds!"

  "Forbearance has been termed the noblest of virtues," Ildefonse suggested. "The archveults have long forgotten your very existence; your vengeance will seem an unjust and unnecessary tribulation."

  Morreion swung around his glittering black gaze. "I reject the concept. Vermoulian, obey!"

  "We fare toward Jangk," said Vermoulian.

  12

  On a marble bench between a pair of silver-fruited lime trees sat Ildefonse. Rhialto stood beside him, one elegant leg raised to the bench; a posture which displayed his rose satin cape with the white lining to dramatic advantage. They drifted through a cluster of a thousand stars; great lights passed above, below, to each side; the crystal spires of the palace gave back millions of scintillations.

  Rhialto had already expressed his concern at the direction of events. Now he spoke again, more emphatically. "It is all very well to point out that the man lacks facility; as he asserts, sheer force can overpower sophistication."

  Ildefonse said bluffly, "Morreion's force is that of hysteria, diffuse and undirected."

  "Therein lies the danger! What if by some freak his wrath focuses upon us?"

  "Bah, what then?" demanded Ildefonse. "Do you doubt my ability, or your own?''

  "The prudent man anticipates contingencies," said Rhialto with dignity. "Remember, a certain area of Morreion's life remains clouded."

  Ildefonse tugged thoughtfully at his white beard. "The aeons have altered all of us; Morreion not the least of any."

  "This is the core of my meaning," said Rhialto. "I might mention that not an hour since I essayed a small experiment. Morreion walked the third balcony, watching the stars pass by. His attention being diverted, I took occasion to project a minor spell of annoyance toward him—Houlart's Visceral Pang—but with no perceptible effect. Next I attempted the diminutive version of Lugwiler's Dismal Itch, again without success. I noted, however, his IOUN stones pulsed bright as they absorbed the magic. I tried my own Green Turmoil; the stones glowed bright and this time Morreion became aware of the attention. By happy chance Byzant the Necrope passed by. Morreion put an accusation upon him, which Byzant denied. I left them engaged in contention. The instruction is this: first, Morreion's stones guard him from hostile magic; second, he is vigilant and suspicious; third, he is not one to shrug aside an offense."

  Ildefonse nodded gravely. "We must certainly take these matters into consideration. I now appreciate the scope of Xexamedes' plan: he intended harm to all. But behold in the sky yonder! Is that not the constellation Elektha, seen from obverse? We are in familiar precincts once more. Kerkaju must lie close ahead, and with it that ex
traordinary planet Jangk."

  The two strolled to the forward part of the pavilion. "You are right!" exclaimed Rhialto. He pointed. "There is Kerkaju; I recognize its scarlet empharism!"

  The planet Jangk appeared: a world with a curious dull sheen.

  At Morreion's direction, Vermoulian directed the palace down to Smokedancers Bluff, at the southern shore of the Quicksilver Ocean. Guarding themselves against the poisonous air, the magicians descended the marble steps and walked out on the bluff, where an inspiring vista spread before them. Monstrous Kerkaju bulged across the green sky, every pore and flocculation distinct, its simulacrum mirrored in the Quicksilver Ocean. Directly below, at the base of the bluff, quicksilver puddled and trickled across flats of black hornblende; here the Jangk 'dragoons'—purple pansy-shaped creatures six feet in diameter—grazed on tufts of moss. Somewhat to the east the town Ka-leshe descended in terraces to the shore.

  Morreion, standing at the edge of the bluff, inhaled the noxious vapors which blew in from the ocean, as if they were a tonic. "My memory quickens," he called out. "I remember this scene as if it were yesterday. There have been changes, true. Yonder far peak has eroded to half its height; the bluffs on which we stand have been thrust upwards at least a hundred feet. Has it been so long? While I built my cairns and pored over my books the aeons flitted past. Not to mention the unknown period I rode through space on a disk of blood and star-stuff. Let us proceed to Kaleshe; it was formerly the haunt of the archveult Persain."

  "When you encounter your enemies, what then?" asked Rhialto. "Are your spells prepared and ready?"

  "What need I for spells?" grated Morreion. "Behold!" He pointed his finger; a flicker of emotion spurted forth to shatter a boulder. He clenched his fists; the constricted passion crackled as if he had crumpled stiff parchment. He strode off toward Kaleshe, the magicians trooping behind.

  The Kalsh had seen the palace descend; a number had gathered at the top of the bluff. Like the archveults they were sheathed in pale blue scales. Osmium cords constricted the black plumes of the men; the feathery green plumes of the women, however, waved and swayed as they walked. All stood seven feet tall, and were slim as lizards.

  Morreion halted. "Persain, stand forth!" he called.

  One of the men spoke: "There is no Persain at Kaleshe."

  "What? No archveult Persain?"

  "None of this name. The local archveult is a certain Evorix, who departed in haste at the sight of your peregrine palace."

  "Who keeps the town records?"

  Another Kalsh stepped forth. "I am that functionary."

  "Are you acquainted with Persain the archveult?"

  "I know by repute a Persain who was swallowed by a harpy toward the end of the 21st Aeon."

  Morreion uttered a groan. "Has he evaded me? What of Xexamedes?"

  "He is gone from Jangk; no one knows where."

  "Djorin?"

  "He lives, but keeps to a pink pearl castle across the ocean."

  "Aha! What of Ospro?"

  "Dead."

  Morreion gave another abysmal groan. "Vexel?"

  "Dead."

  Morreion groaned once more. Name by name he ran down the roster of his enemies. Four only survived.

  When Morreion turned about his face had become haunted and haggard; he seemed not to see the magicians of Earth. All of his scarlet and blue stones had given up their colour. "Four only," he muttered. "Four only to receive the charge of all my force. . . . Not enough, not enough! So many have won free! Not enough, not enough! The balance must adjust!" He made a brusque gesture. "Come! To the castle of Djorin!"

  In the palace they drifted across the ocean while the great red globe of Kerkaju kept pace above and below. Cliffs of mottled quartz and cinnabar rose ahead; on a crag jutting over the ocean stood a castle in the shape of a great pink pearl.

  The peregrine palace settled upon a level area; Morreion leapt down the steps and advanced toward the castle. A circular door of solid osmium rolled back; an archveult nine feet tall, with black plumes waving three feet over his head, came forth.

  Morreion called, "Send forth Djorin; I have dealings with him."

  "Djorin is within! We have had a presentiment! You are the land-ape Morreion, from the far past. Be warned; we are prepared for you."

  "Djorin!" called Morreion. "Come forth!"

  "Djorin will not come forth," stated the archveult, "nor will Ar-vianid, Ifhix, Herclamon, or the other archveults of Jangk who have come to combine their power against yours. If you seek vengeance, turn upon the real culprits; do not annoy us with your peevish complaints." The archveult returned within and the osmium door rolled shut.

  Morreion stood stock-still. Mune the Mage came forward, and stated: "I will winkle them out, with Houlart's Blue Extractive." He hurled the spell toward the castle, to no effect. Rhialto attempted a spell of brain pullulations, but the magic was absorbed; Gilgad next brought down his Instantaneous Galvanic Thrust, which spattered harmlessly off the glossy pink surface.

  "Useless," said Ildefonse. "Their IOUN stones absorb the magic."

  The archveults in their turn became active. Three ports opened; three spells simultaneously issued forth, to be intercepted by Morreion's IOUN stones, which momentarily pulsed the brighter.

  Morreion stepped three paces forward. He pointed his finger; force struck at the osmium door. It creaked and rattled, but held firm.

  Morreion pointed his finger at the fragile pink nacre; the force slid away and was wasted.

  Morreion pointed at the stone posts which supported the castle. They burst apart. The castle lurched, rolled over and down the crags. It bounced from jut to jut, smashing and shattering, and splashed into the Quicksilver Ocean, where a current caught it and carried it out to sea. Through rents in the nacre the archveults crawled forth, to clamber to the top. More followed, until their accumulated weight rolled the pearl over, throwing all on top into the quicksilver sea, where they sank as deep as their thighs. Some tried to walk and leap to the shore, others lay flat on their backs and sculled with their hands. A gust of wind caught the pink bubble and sent it rolling across the sea, tossing off archveults as a turning wheel flings away drops of water. A band of Jangk harpies put out from the shore to envelop and devour the archveults closest at hand; the others allowed themselves to drift on the current and out to sea, where they were lost to view.

  Morreion turned slowly toward the magicians of Earth. His face was gray. "A fiasco," he muttered. "It is nothing."

  Slowly he walked toward the palace. At the steps he stopped short. "What did they mean: The real culprits'?"

  "A figure of speech," replied Ildefonse. "Come up on the pavilion; we will refresh ourselves with wine. At last your vengeance is complete. And now ..." His voice died as Morreion climbed the steps. One of the bright blue stones lost its colour. Morreion stiffened as if at a twinge of pain. He swung around to look from magician to magician. "I remember a certain face: a man with a bald head; black beardlets hung from each of his cheeks. He was a burly man. . . . What was his name?"

  "These events are far in the past," said the diabolist Shrue. "Best to put them out of mind."

  Other blue stones became dull: Morreion's eyes seemed to assume the light they had lost.

  1 The archveults came to Earth. We conquered them. They begged for their lives. So much I recall.. .. The chief magician demanded the secret of the IOUN stones. Ah! What was his name? He had a habit of pulling on his black beardlets.... A handsome man, a great popinjay—I almost see his face—he made a proposal to the chief magician. Ah! Now it begins to come clear!" The blue stones faded one by one. Morreion's face shone with a white fire. The last of the blue stones went pallid.

  Morreion spoke in a soft voice, a delicate voice, as if he savored each word. "The chief magician's name was Ildefonse. The popinjay was Rhialto. I remember each detail. Rhialto proposed that I go to learn the secret; Ildefonse vowed to protect me, as if I were his own life. I trusted them; I trusted all the magi
cians in the chamber: Gilgad was there, and Hurtiancz and Mune the Mage and Perdustin. All my dear friends, who joined in a solemn vow to make the archveults hostage for my safety. Now I know the culprits. The archveults dealt with me as an enemy. My friends sent me forth and never thought of me again. Ildefonse—what have you to say, before you go to wait out twenty aeons in a certain place of which I know?"

  Ildefonse said bluffly, "Come now, you must not take matters so seriously. All's well that ends well; we are now happily reunited and the secret of the IOUN stones is ours!"

  "For each pang I suffered, you shall suffer twenty," said Mor-reion. "Rhialto as well, and Gilgad, and Mune, and Herark and all the rest. Vermoulian, lift the palace. Return us the way we have come. Put double fire to the incense."

  Rhialto looked at Ildefonse, who shrugged.

  "Unavoidable." said Rhialto. He evoked the Spell of Temporal Stasis. Silence fell upon the scene. Each person stood like a monument.