Eight Fantasms and Magics

by Jack Vance

  Not all the activity was warlike. Moths were trained to gather nuts, worms to gnaw straight holes through timber; in another section caterpillars chewed a yellow mash, molded it into identical spheres. Much of the evil odor emanated from the zoo; the jinxmen departed without reluctance, and returned to the wagon. Sam Salazar pitched the tent and built a fire, while Hein Huss and Isak Comandore discussed the settlement.

  Night came; the blocks of foam glowed with imprisoned light; the activity underneath proceeded without cessation. The jinxmen retired to the tent and slept, while Sam Salazar stood guard.

  The following day Hein Huss was able to engage one of the First Folk in conversation; it was the first attention of any sort given to them.

  The conversation was long; Hein Huss reported only the gist of it to Lord Faide. (Isak Comandore turned away, ostentatiously disassociating himself from the matter.)

  Hein Huss first of all had inquired as to the purpose of the sinister preparations: the wasps, beetles, centipedes, and the like.

  “We intend to kill men,” the creature had reported ingenuously. “We intend to return to the moss. This has been our purpose ever since men appeared on the planet.”

  Huss had stated that such an ambition was shortsighted, that there was ample room for both men and First Folk on Pangborn. “The First Folk,” said Hein Huss, “should remove their traps and cease their efforts to surround the keeps with forest.”

  “No,” came the response, “men are intruders. They mar the beautiful moss. All will be killed.”

  Isak Comandore returned to the conversation. “I noticed here a significant fact. All the First Folk within sight had ceased their work; all looked toward us, as if they, too, participated in the discussion. I reached the highly important conclusion that the First Folk are not complete individuals but components of a larger unity, joined to a greater or less extent by a telepathic phase not unlike our own.”

  Hein Huss continued placidly, “I remarked that if we were attacked, many of the First Folk would perish. The creature showed no concern, and in fact implied much of what Jinxman Comandore had already induced: ‘There are always more in the cells to replace the elements which die. But if the community becomes sick, all suffer. We have been forced into the forests, into a strange existence. We must arm ourselves and drive away the men, and to this end we have developed the methods of men to our own purposes!’ ”

  Isak Comandore spoke. “Needless to say, the creature referred to the ancient men, not ourselves.”

  “In any event,” said Lord Faide, “they leave no doubt as to their intentions. We should be fools not to attack them at once, with every weapon at our disposal.”

  Hein Huss continued imperturbably. “The creature went on at some length. ‘We have learned the value of irrationality.’ ‘Irrationality’ of course was not his word or even his meaning. He said something like ‘a series of vaguely motivated trials’—as close as I can translate. He said, ‘We have learned to change our environment. We use insects and trees and plants and waterslugs. It is an enormous effort for us who would prefer a placid life in the moss. But you men have forced this life on us, and now you must suffer the consequences.’ I pointed out once more that men were not helpless, that many First Folk would die. The creature seemed unworried. ‘The community persists.’ I asked a delicate question, ‘If your purpose is to kill men, why do you allow us here?’ He said, ‘The entire community of men will be destroyed.’ Apparently they believe the human society to be similar to their own, and therefore regard the killing of three wayfaring individuals as pointless effort.”

  Lord Faide laughed grimly. “To destroy us they must first win past Hellmouth, then penetrate Faide Keep. This they are unable to do.”

  Isak Comandore resumed his report. “At this time I was already convinced that the problem was one of hoodooing not an individual but an entire race. In theory this should be no more difficult than hoodooing one. It requires no more effort to speak to twenty than to one. With this end in view I ordered the apprentice to collect substances associated with the creatures. Skinflakes, foam, droppings, all other exudations obtainable. While he did so, I tried to put myself in rapport with the creatures. It is difficult, for their telepathy works across a different stratum from ours. Nevertheless, to a certain extent I have succeeded.”

  “Then you can hoodoo the First Folk?” asked Lord Faide.

  “I vouchsafe nothing until I try. Certain preparations must be made.”

  “Go then; make your preparations.”

  Comandore rose to his feet and with a sly side glance for Hein Huss left the room. Huss waited, pinching his chin with heavy fingers. Lord Faide looked at him coldly. “You have something to add?”

  Huss grunted, hoisted himself to his feet. “I wish that I did. But my thoughts are confused. Of the many futures, all seem troubled and angry. Perhaps our best is not good enough.”

  Lord Faide looked at Hein Huss with surprise; the massive Head Jinxman had never before spoken in terms so pessimistic and melancholy. “Speak then; I will listen.”

  Hein Huss said gruffly, “If I knew any certainties I would speak gladly. But I am merely beset by doubts. I fear that we can no longer depend on logic and careful jinxmanship. Our ancestors were miracle workers, magicians. They drove the First Folk into the forest. To put us to flight in our turn the First Folk have adopted the ancient methods: random trial and purposeless empiricism. I am dubious. Perhaps we must turn our backs on sanity and likewise return to the mysticism of our ancestors.”

  Lord Faide shrugged. “If Isak Comandore can hoodoo the First Folk, such a retreat may be unnecessary.”

  “The world changes,” said Hein Huss. “Of so much I feel sure: the old days of craft and careful knowledge are gone. The future is for men of cleverness, of imagination untroubled by discipline; the unorthodox Sam Salazar may become more effective than I. The world changes.”

  Lord Faide smiled his sour dyspeptic smile. “When that day comes I will appoint Sam Salazar Head Jinxman and also name him Lord Faide, and you and I will retire together to a hut on the downs.”

  Hein Huss made a heavy fateful gesture and departed.

  X

  Two days later Lord Faide, coming upon Isak Comandore, inquired as to his progress. Comandore took refuge in generalities. After another two days Lord Faide inquired again and this time insisted on particulars. Comandore grudgingly led the way to his workroom, where a dozen cabalmen, spellbinders, and apprentices worked around a large table, building a model of the First Folk settlement in Wildwood.

  “Along the lakeshore,” said Comandore, “I will range a great number of dolls, daubed with First Folk essences. When this is complete I will work up a hoodoo and blight the creatures.”

  “Good. Perform well.” Lord Faide departed the workroom, mounted to the topmost pinnacle of the keep, to the cupola where the ancestral weapon Hellmouth was housed. “Jambart! Where are you?”

  Weapon-tender Jambart, short, blue-jowled, red-nosed and big-bellied, appeared. “My lord?”

  “I come to inspect Hellmouth. Is it prepared for instant use?”

  “Prepared, my lord, and ready. Oiled, greased, polished, scraped, burnished, tended—every part smooth as an egg.”

  Lord Faide made a scowling examination of Hellmouth—a heavy cylinder six feet in diameter, twelve feet long, studded with half-domes interconnected with tubes of polished copper. Jambart undoubtedly had been diligent. No trace of dirt or rust or corrosion showed; all was gleaming metal. The snout was covered with a heavy plate of metal and tarred canvas; the ring upon which the weapon swiveled was well greased.

  Lord Faide surveyed the four horizons. To the south was fertile Faide Valley; to the west open downs; to north and east the menacing loom of Wildwood.

  He turned back to Hellmouth and pretended to find a smear of grease. Jambart boiled with expostulations and protestations; Lord Faide uttered a grim warning, enjoining less laxity, then descended to the workroom of Hein Hus
s. He found the Head Jinxman reclining on a couch, staring at the ceiling. At a bench stood Sam Salazar surrounded by bottles, flasks, and dishes.

  Lord Faide stared balefully at the confusion. “What are you doing?” he asked the apprentice.

  Sam Salazar looked up guiltily. “Nothing in particular, my lord.”

  “If you are idle, go then and assist Isak Comandore.”

  “I am not idle, Lord Faide.”

  “Then what do you do?”

  Sam Salazar gazed sulkily at the bench. “I don’t know.”

  “Then you are idle!”

  “No, I am occupied. I pour various liquids on this foam. It is First Folk foam. I wonder what will happen. Water does not dissolve it, nor spirits. Heat chars and slowly burns it, emitting a foul smoke.”

  Lord Faide turned away with a sneer. “You amuse yourself as a child might. Go to Isak Comandore; he can find use for you. How do you expect to become a jinxman, dabbling and prattling like a baby among pretty rocks?”

  Hein Huss gave a deep sound: a mingling of sigh, snort, grunt, and clearing of the throat. “He does no harm, and Isak Comandore has hands enough. Salazar will never become a jinxman; that has been clear a long time.”

  Lord Faide shrugged. “He is your apprentice, and your responsibility. Well, then. What news from the keeps?”

  Hein Huss, groaning and wheezing, swung his legs over the edge of the couch. “The lords share your concern, to greater or less extent. Your close allies will readily place troops at your disposal; the others likewise if pressure is brought to bear.”

  Lord Faide nodded in dour satisfaction. “For the moment there is no urgency. The First Folk hold to their forests. Faide Keep of course is impregnable, although they might ravage the valley. . . .” he paused thoughtfully. “Let Isak Comandore cast his hoodoo. Then we will see.”

  From the direction of the bench came a hiss, a small explosion, a whiff of acrid gas. Sam Salazar turned guiltily to look at them, his eyebrows singed. Lord Faide gave a snort of disgust and strode from the room.

  “What did you do?” Hein Huss inquired in a colorless voice.

  “I don't know.”

  Now Hein Huss likewise snorted in disgust. “Ridiculous. If you wish to work miracles, you must remember your procedures. Miracle working is not jinxmanship, with established rules and guides. In matters so complex it is well that you take notes, so that the miracles ma_y be repeated.”

  Sam Salazar nodded in agreement and turned back to the bench.

  XI

  Late during the day, news of new First Folk truculence reached Faide Keep. On Honeymoss Hill, not far west of Forest Market, a camp of shepherds had been visited by a wandering group of First Folk, who began to kill the sheep with thorn-swords. When the shepherds protested they, too, were attacked, and many were killed. The remainder of the sheep were massacred.

  The following day came other news: four children swimming in Brastock River at Gilbert Ferry had been seized by enormous water-beetles and cut into pieces. On the other side of Wildwood, in the foothills immediately below Castle Cloud, peasants had cleared several hillsides and planted them to vines. Early in the morning they had discovered a horde of black disklike flukes devouring the vines— leaves, branches, trunks, and roots. They set about killing the flukes with spades and at once were stung to death by wasps.

  Adam McAdam reported the incidents to Lord Faide, who went to Isak Comandore in a fury. “How soon before you are prepared?”

  “I am prepared now. But I must rest and fortify myself. Tomorrow morning I work the hoodoo.”

  “The sooner the better! The creatures have left their forest; they are out killing men!”

  Isak Comandore pulled his long chin. “That was to be expected; they told us as much.”

  Lord Faide ignored the remark. “Show me your tableau.”

  Isak Comandore took him into his workroom. The model was now complete, with the masses of simulated First Folk properly daubed and sensitized, each tied with a small wad of foam. Isak Comandore pointed to a pot of dark liquid. “I will explain the basis of the hoodoo. When I visited the camp I watched everywhere for powerful symbols. Undoubtedly there were many at hand, but I could not discern them. However, I remembered a circumstance from the battle at the planting: when the creatures were attacked, threatened with fire and about to die, they spewed foam of dull purple color. Evidently this purple foam is associated with death. My hoodoo will be based upon this symbol.”

  “Rest well, then, so that you may hoodoo to your best capacity.”

  The following morning Isak Comandore dressed in long robes of black, and set a mask of the demon Nard on his head to fortify himself. He entered his workroom, closed the door.

  An hour passed, two hours. Lord Faide sat at breakfast

  with his kin, stubbornly maintaining a pose of cynical unconcern. At last he could contain himself no longer and went out into the courtyard where Comandore’s underlings stood fidgeting and uneasy. “Where is Hein Huss?" demanded Lord Faide. “Summon him here."

  Hein Huss came stumping out of his quarters. Lord Faide motioned to Comandore’s workshop. “What is happening? Is he succeeding?"

  Hein Huss looked toward the workshop. “He is casting a powerful hoodoo. I feel confusion, anger-"

  “In Comandore, or in the First Folk?”

  “I am not in rapport. I think he has conveyed a message to their minds. A very difficult task, as I explained to you. In this preliminary aspect he has succeeded."

  “ ‘Preliminary’? What else remains?"

  “The two most important elements of the hoodoo: the susceptibility of the victim and the appropriateness of the symbol."

  Lord Faide frowned. “You do not seem optimistic."

  “I am uncertain. Isak Comandore may be right in his assumption. If so, and if the First Folk are highly susceptible, today marks a great victory, and Comandore will achieve tremendous mana!”

  Lord Faide stared at the door to the workshop. “What now?"

  Hein Huss’s eyes went blank with concentration. “Isak Comandore is near death. He can hoodoo no more today."

  Lord Faide turned, waved his arm to the cabalmen. “Enter the workroom! Assist your master!"

  The cabalmen raced to the door, flung it open. Presently they emerged supporting the limp form of Isak Comandore, his black robe spattered with purple foam. Lord Faide pressed close. “What did you achieve? Speak!"

  Isak Comandore’s eyes were half closed, his mouth hung loose and wet. “I spoke to the First Folk, to the whole race. I sent the symbol into their minds—’’ His head fell limply sidewise.

  Lord Faide moved back. “Take him to his quarters. Put him on his couch." He turned away, stood indecisively, chewing at his drooping lower lip. “Still we do not know the measure of his success.”

  “Ah,” said Hein Huss, “but we do!”

  Lord Faide jerked around. “What is this? What do you say?”

  “I saw into Comandore’s mind. He used the symbol of purple foam; with tremendous effort he drove it into their minds. Then he learned that purple foam means not death— purple foam means fear for the safety of the community, purple foam means desperate rage.”

  “In any event,” said Lord Faide after a moment, “there is no harm done. The First Folk can hardly become more hostile.”

  Three hours later a scout rode furiously into the courtyard, threw himself off his horse, ran to Lord Faide. “The First Folk have left the forest! A tremendous number! Thousands! They are advancing on Faide Keep!”

  “Let them advance!” said Lord Faide. “The more the better! Jambart, where are you?”

  “Here, sir.”

  “Prepare Hellmouth! Hold all in readiness!”

  “Hellmouth is always ready, sir!”

  Lord Faide struck him across the shoulders. “Off with you! Bernard!”

  The sergeant of the Faide troops came forward. “Ready, Lord Faide.”

  “The First Folk attack. Armor your men ag
ainst wasps, feed them well. We will need all our strength.”

  Lord Faide turned to Hein Huss. “Send to the keeps, to the manor houses,- order our kinsmen to join us, with all their troops and all their armor. Send to Bellgard Hall, to Boghoten, Camber, and Candelwade. Haste, haste, it is only hours from Wildwood.”

  Huss held up his hand. “I have already done so. The keeps are warned. They know your need.”

  “And the First Folk—can you feel their minds?” “No.”

  Lord Faide walked away. Hein Huss lumbered out the main gate, walked around the keep, casting appraising

  glances up the black walls of the squat towers, windowless and proof even against the ancient miracle-weapons. High on top the great parasol roof Jambart the weapon-tender worked in the cupola, polishing that which already glistened, greasing surfaces already heavy with grease.

  Hein Huss returned within. Lord Faide approached him, mouth hard, eyes bright. “What have you seen?”

  “Only the keep, the walls, the towers, the roof, and Hell-mouth.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “I think many things.”

  “You are noncommittal; you know more than you say. It is best that you speak, because if Faide Keep falls to the savages you die with the rest of us.”

  Hein Huss’s water-clear eyes met the brilliant black gaze of Lord Faide. “I know only what you know. The First Folk attack. They have proved they are not stupid. They intend to kill us. They are not jinxmen; they cannot afflict us or force us out. They cannot break in the walls. To burrow under, they must dig through solid rock. What are their plans? I do not know. Will they succeed? Again, I do not know. But the day of the jinxman and his orderly array of knowledge is past. I think that we must grope for miracles, blindly and foolishly, like Salazar pouring liquids on foam.”

  A troop of armored horsemen rode in through the gates: warriors from nearby Bellgard Hall. And as the hours passed contingents from other keeps came to Faide Keep, until the courtyard was dense with troops and horses.