by Jack Vance
"Thank you for your help." Reith and his companions walked down the dock to the Vargaz: a short high-pooped round-hulled ship with a long bowsprit, sharply aslant. The two masts supported a pair of lateen yards with sails hanging limp while crewmen sewed on patches of new canvas.
Reith inspected the cog dubiously, then shrugged and went aboard. In the shadow of the after-house two men sat at a table littered with papers, ink-sticks, seals, ribbons and a jug of wine. The most imposing of these was a burly man, naked from the waist up, save for a heavy growth of coarse black hair on his chest. His skin was brown, his features small and hard in a round immobile face.
The other man was thin, almost frail, wearing a loose gown of white and a yellow vest the color of his skin. A long mustache drooped sadly beside his mouth; he wore a scimitar at his waist. Ostensibly a pair of sinister ruffians, thought Reith. "Yes, sir, what do you wish?" asked the burly man.
"Transportation to Cath in as much comfort as possible," said Reith.
"Little enough to ask." The man heaved himself to his feet. "I will show you what is available."
Reith eventually paid a deposit on two small cabins for Anacho and Ylin-Ylan, a larger stateroom which he would share with Traz. The quarters were neither airy, spacious nor over-clean, but Reith thought that they might have been worse.
"When do you sail?" he asked the burly man.
"Tomorrow noon on the flood. By preference, be aboard by midmorning; I run a punctual ship."
The three returned through the crooked streets of Coad to the hotel. Neither the Flower nor Dordolio were on the premises. Late in the afternoon they returned in a palanquin, followed by three porters laden with bundles. Dordolio alighted, helped Ylin-Ylan forth; they entered the hotel followed by the porters and the chief bearer of the palanquin.
Ylin-Ylan wore a graceful gown of dark green silk, with a dark blue bodice. A
charming little cap of crystal-frosted net constrained her hair. Seeing Reith she hesitated, turned to Dordolio and spoke a few words. Dordolio pulled at his extraordinary gold mustache, sauntered to where Reith sat with Anacho and Traz.
"All is well," said Dordolio. "I have taken passage for all aboard the Yazilissa, a ship of excellent reputation."
"I fear you have incurred an unnecessary expense," said Reith politely. "I have made other arrangements."
Dordolio stood back, nonplussed. "But you should have consulted me!"
"I can't imagine why," said Reith.
"On what ship do you sail?" demanded Dordolio.
"The cog Vargaz."
"The Vargaz? Bah! A floating pigpen. I would not wish to sail on the Vargaz."
"You do not need to do so, if you are sailing on the Yazilissa."
Dordolio tugged at his mustache. "The Blue Jade Princess likewise prefers to travel aboard the Yazilissa, the best accommodation available."
"You are a bountiful man," said Reith, "to take luxurious passage for so large a group."
"In point of fact, I did only what I could," admitted Dordolio. "Since you are in charge of the group's funds the supercargo will render an account to you."
"By no means," said Reith. "I remind you that I have already taken passage aboard the Vargaz."
Dordolio hissed petulantly through his teeth. "This is an insufferable situation."
The porters and the palanquin carrier drew near, and bowed before Reith. "Permit us to tender our accounts."
Reith raised his eyebrows. Was there no limit to Dordolio's insouciance? "Of course, why should you not? Naturally to those who commanded your services." He rose to his feet. He went to Ylin-Ylan's room, knocked on the rattan door. There was the sound of movement within; she looked forth through a peep lens. The upper panel of the door slid back a trifle.
Reith asked, "May I come in?"
"But I'm dressing."
"This has made no difference before."
The door opened; Ylin-Ylan stood somewhat sullenly aside. Reith entered. Bundles were everywhere, some opened to reveal garments and leathers, gauze slippers, embroidered bodices, filigree headwear. Reith looked around in astonishment.
"Your friend is extravagantly generous."
The Flower started to speak, then bit her lips. "These few things are necessities for the voyage home. I do not care to arrive at Vervodei like a scullery maid." She spoke with a haughtiness Reith had never before heard. "They are to be reckoned as traveling expenses. Please keep an account and my father will settle affairs to your satisfaction."
"You put me in a hard position," said Reith, "where inevitably I lose my dignity. If I pay, I'm a lout and a fool; if I don't, I'm a heartless pinchpenny. It seems that you might have handled the situation more tactfully."
"The question of tact did not arise," said the Flower. "I desired the articles.
I ordered them to be brought here."
Reith grimaced. "I won't argue the subject. I came to tell you this: I have engaged passage to Cath aboard the cog Vargaz, which leaves tomorrow. It is a plain simple ship; you will need plain simple garments."
The Flower stared at him in puzzlement. "But the Noble Gold and Carnelian took passage aboard the Yazilissa!"
"If he chooses to travel aboard the Yazilissa, he of course may do so, if he can settle for his passage. I have just notified him that I will pay neither for his palanquin rides, nor his passage to Cath, nor "-Reith gestured toward the parcels-"for the finery which he evidently urged you to select."
Ylin-Ylan flushed angrily. "I had never expected to find you niggardly."
"The alternative is worse. Dordolio-"
"That is his friend name," said Ylin-Ylan in an undertone. "Best that you use his field name, or the formal address: Noble Gold and Carnelian."
"Whatever the situation, the cog Vargaz sails tomorrow. You may be aboard or remain in Coad as you choose."
Reith returned to the foyer. The porters and palanquin carrier had departed.
Dordolio stood on the front veranda. The jeweled ornaments which had buckled his breeches at the knees were no longer to be seen.
CHAPTER THREE
THE COG VARGAZ, broad of beam, with high narrow prow, a cutaway midships, a lofty stern-castle, wallowed comfortably at its mooring against the dock. Like all else of Tschai, the cog's aspects were exaggerated, with every quality dramatized. The curve of the hull was florid, the bowsprit prodded at the sky, the sails were raffishly patched.
The Flower of Cath silently accompanied Reith, Traz and Anacho the Dirdirman aboard the Vargaz, with a porter bringing her luggage on a hand-truck.
Half an hour later Dordolio appeared on the dock. He appraised the Vargaz a moment or two, then strolled up the gangplank. He spoke briefly with the captain, tossed a purse upon the table. The captain frowned up sidewise from under bushy black eyebrows, thinking his own thoughts. He opened the purse, counted the sequins and found an insufficiency, which he pointed out. Dordolio wearily reached into his pouch, found the required sum, and the captain jerked his thumb toward the sterncastle.
Dordolio pulled at his mustache, raised his eyes toward the sky. He went to the gangplank, signaled a pair of porters who conveyed aboard his luggage. Then, with a formal bow toward the Flower of Cath, he went to stand at the far rail, looking moodily off across the Dwan Zher.
Five other passengers came aboard: a small fat merchant in a somber gray caftan and tall cylindrical hat; a man of the Isle of Cloud, with his spouse and two daughters: fresh fragile girls with pale skins and orange hair.
An hour before noon the Vargaz hoisted sails, cast off lines, and sheered away from the dock. The roofs of Coad became dark brown prisms laid along the hillside. The crew trimmed sails, coiled down lines, then unshipped a clumsy blast-cannon, which they dragged up to the foredeck.
Reith asked Anacho, "Who do they fear? Pirates?"
"A precaution. So long as a cannon is seen, pirates keep their distance. We have nothing to fear; they are seldom seen on the Draschade. A greater hazard is the victualing. The
captain appears a man accustomed to good living, an optimistic sign."
The cog moved easily through the hazy afternoon. The Dawn Zher was calm and showed a pearly luster. The coastline faded away to the north; there were no ships to be seen. Sunset came: a wan display of dove-brown and umber, and with it a cool breeze which sent the water chuckling around the bluff bow.
The evening meal was simple but palatable: slices of dry spiced meat, a salad of raw vegetables, insect paste, pickles, soft white wine from a green glass demijohn. The passengers ate in wary silence; on Tschai strangers were objects of instinctive suspicion. The captain had no such inhibitions. He ate and drank with gusto and regaled the company with witticisms, reminiscences of previous voyages, jocular guesses regarding each passenger's purpose in making the voyage: a performance which gradually thawed the atmosphere. Ylin-Ylan ate little. She appraised the two orange-haired girls and became gloomily aware of their appealing fragility. Dordolio sat somewhat apart, paying little heed to the captain's conversation, but from time to time looking sidewise toward the two girls and preening his mustache. After the meal he conducted Ylin-Ylan forward to the bow where they watched phosphorescent sea-eels streaking away from the oncoming bow. The others sat on benches along the high quarterdeck, conducting guarded conversations while pink Az and blue Braz rose, one immediately behind the other, to send a pair of trails across the water.
One by one the passengers drifted off to their cabins, and presently the ship was left to the helmsman and the lookout.
Days drifted past: cool mornings with a pearly smoke clinging to the sea; noons with Carina 4269 burning at the zenith; ale-colored afternoons; quiet nights.
The Vargaz touched briefly at two small ports along the coast of Horasin: villages submerged in the foliage of giant gray-green trees. The Vargaz discharged hides and metal implements, took aboard bales of nuts, lumps of jellied fruit, butts of a beautiful rose and black timber.
Departing Horasin the Vargaz veered out into the Draschade Ocean, steering dead east along the equator both to take advantage of the counter-current and to avoid unfavorable weather patterns to north and south.
Winds were fickle; the Vargaz wallowed lazily across almost imperceptible swells.
The passengers amused themselves in their various ways. The orange-haired girls Heizari and Edwe played quoits, and teased Traz until he also joined the game.
Reith introduced the group to shuffleboard, which was taken up with enthusiasm.
Palo Barba, the father of the girls, declared himself an instructor of swordsmanship; he and Dordolio fenced an hour or so each day, Dordolio stripped to the waist, a black ribbon confining his hair. Dordolio performed with foot-stamping bravura and staccato exclamations. Palo Barba fenced less flamboyantly, but with great emphasis upon traditional postures. Reith occasionally watched the two at their bouts, and on one occasion accepted Palo Barba's invitation to fence. Reith found the foils somewhat long and over-flexible, but conducted himself without discredit. He noticed Dordolio making critical observations to Ylin-Ylan, and later Traz, who had overhead, informed him that Dordolio had pronounced his technique naive and eccentric.
Reith shrugged and grinned. Dordolio was a man Reith found impossible to take seriously.
Twice other sails were spied in the distance; on one occasion a long black motor-galley changed course in a sinister fashion.
Reith inspected the vessel through his scanscope. A dozen tall yellow skinned men wearing complicated black turbans stood looking toward the Vargaz. Reith reported as much to the captain, who made a casual glance. "Pirates. They won't bother us: too much risk."
The galley passed a mile to the south, then turned and disappeared into the southwest.
Two days later an island appeared ahead: a mountainous hump with foreshore cloaked under tall trees. "Gozed," said the captain, in response to Reith's inquiry. "We'll put in for a day or so. You've never touched at Gozed?"
"Never."
"You have a surprise in store. Or then, on the other hand" here the captain gave Reith a careful inspection-"perhaps you don't. I can't say, since the customs of your own land are unknown to me. And unknown to yourself perhaps? I understand you to be an amnesiac."
Reith made a deprecatory gesture. "I never dispute other people's opinions of myself."
"In itself, a bizarre custom," declared the captain. "Try as I may, I cannot decide the land of your birth. You are a sort strange to me."
"I am a wanderer," said Reith. "A nomad, if you like."
"For a wanderer, you are at times strangely ignorant. Well then, ahead lies Gozed."
The island bulked large against the sky. Looking through the scanscope Reith could see an area along the foreshore where the trees had been defoliated and trimmed to the condition of crooked poles, each supporting one, two or three round huts. The ground below was barren gray sand, clear of refuse and raked smooth. Anacho the Dirdirman inspected the village through the scanscope. "About what I expected."
"You are acquainted with Gozed? The captain made quite a mystery of the place."
"No mystery. The folk of the island are highly religious; they worship the sea-scorpions native to the waters around the island. They are as large or larger than a man, or so I am told."
"Why then are the huts so high in the air?"
"At night the scorpions come up from the sea to spawn, which they accomplish by stinging eggs into a host animal, often a woman left down on the beach for that purpose. The eggs hatch, the 'Mother of the Gods' is devoured by the larvae. In the last stages, when pain and religious ecstasy produce a curious psychological state in the 'Mother; she runs down the beach and flings herself into the sea."
"An unsettling religion."
The Dirdirman admitted as much. "Still it appears to suit the folk of Gozed.
They could change anytime they chose. Sub-men are notoriously susceptible to aberrations of this sort."
Reith could not restrain a grin, and Anacho examined him with surprise. "May I inquire the source of your amusement?"
"It occurs to me that the relationship of Dirdirmen to Dirdir is not unlike that of the Gozed toward their scorpions."
"I fail to see the analogy," Anacho declared rather stiffly.
"Simplicity itself: both are victims to non-human beings who use men for their particular needs."
"Bah!" muttered Anacho. "In many ways you are the most wrongheaded man alive."
He walked abruptly aft, to stand staring out over the sea. Pressures were working in Anacho's subconscious, thought Reith, causing him uneasiness.
The Vargaz nosed cautiously in toward the beach, swung behind a jut of barnacle-encrusted rock and dropped anchor. The captain went ashore in a pinnace; the passengers saw him talking to a group of sternfaced men, white-skinned, totally naked save for sandals and fillets holding down their long iron-colored hair.
Agreement was reached; the captain returned to the Vargaz. A half hour later a pair of lighters came out to the boat. A boom was rigged; bales of fiber and coils of rope were brought aboard, other bales and crates were lowered to the lighters. Two hours after arriving at Gozed the Vargaz backed sail, hoisted anchor and set off across the Draschade.
After the evening meal the passengers sat on the deck forward of the sterncastle with a lantern swinging overhead, and the talk veered to the people of Gozed and their religion. Val Dal Barba, wife of Palo Barba, mother of Heizari and Edwe, thought the ritual unjust.
"Why are there only 'Mothers of Gods'? Why shouldn't those flintfaced men go down on the beach and become 'Fathers of Gods'?"
The captain chuckled. "It seems as if the honors are reserved for the ladies."
"It would never be thus in Murgen," declared the merchant warmly. "We pay sizable tithes to the priests; they take all responsibility for appeasing Bisme; we have no further inconvenience."
"A system as sensible as any," agreed Pal Barba. "This year we subscribe to the Pansogmatic Gnosis, and the religion has much virtue to it."
"I like it much better than Tutelanics," said Edwe. "You merely recite the litany and then you are done for the day."
"Tutelanics was a dreadful bore," Heizari concurred. "All that memorizing! And remember that dreadful Convocation of Souls, where the priests were so familiar?
I like Pansogmatic Gnosis much better."
Dordolio gave an indulgent laugh. "You prefer not to become intense. I myself incline in this direction. Yao doctrine, of course, is to some extent a syncresis; or, better to say, in the course of the 'round' all aspects of the Ineffable are given opportunity to manifest themselves, so that, as we move with the cycle, we experience all theopathy."
Anacho, still smarting from Reith's comparisons, looked across the deck. "Well then, what of Adam Reith, the erudite ethnologist? What theosophical insights can he contribute?"
"None," said Reith. "Very few, at any rate. It occurs to me that the man and his religion are one and the same thing. The unknown exists. Each man projects on the blankness the shape of his own particular world-view. He endows his creation with his personal volitions and attitudes. The religious man stating his case is in essence explaining himself. When a fanatic is contradicted he feels a threat to his own existence; he reacts violently."
"Interesting!" declared the fat merchant. "And the atheist?"
"He projects no image upon the blank whatever. The cosmic mysteries he accepts as things in themselves; he feels no need to hang a more or less human mask upon them. Otherwise, the correlation between a man and the shape into which he molds the unknown for greater ease of manipulation is exact."
The captain raised his goblet of wine against the light of the lantern, tossed it down his throat. "Perhaps you're right, but no one will ever change himself on this account. I have known a multitude of peoples. I have walked under Dirdir spires, through Blue Chasch gardens and Wankh castles. I know these folk and their changeling men. I have traveled to six continents of Tschai; I have befriended a thousand men, caressed a thousand women, killed a thousand enemies; I know the Yao, the Binth, the Walalukians, the Shemolei on one hand; on the other the steppe nomads, the marshmen, the islanders, the cannibals of Rakh and Kislovan; I see differences; I see identities. All try to extract a maximum advantage from existence, and finally all die. None seems the better for it. My own god? Good old Vargaz! Of course! As Adam Reith insists, it is myself. When Vargaz groans through the storm waves, I shudder and grind my teeth. When we glide the dark water under the pink and blue moons, I play the lute, I wear a red ribbon around my forehead, I drink wine. I and Vargaz serve each other and the day Vargaz sinks into the deep, I sink with her."