by Jack Vance
Minutes passed. King Casmir showed no impatience.
In the corridor sounded a shuffle of feet and muttering voices. Oldebor, a functionary of no definite title8, looked through the door. “Your Majesty, will you see the prisoner?”
“Bring him in.”
Oldebor stepped forward into the room and gestured over his shoulder. Two jailers, in black leather aprons and conical leather hats, jerked on a chain and brought their prisoner stumbling into the room: a tall spare man in his early maturity, wearing a soiled shirt and ragged pantaloons. Despite his disheveled condition, the captive showed a notably good address; his posture, indeed, seemed incongruously easy, under the circumstances, and even a trifle contemptuous. In person, he was broad of shoulder, narrow at the hip, with long strong legs and the hands of an aristocrat. His hair, matted and dirty, was a thick black thatch; his eyes were clear hazel under a low forehead. Wide cheekbones converged to a narrow jaw; a high-bridged nose hooked over a bony chin. His skin, dark sallow-olive, seemed to show a curious plum-colored undertone, as if from the close flow of rich dark blood.
One of the jailers, annoyed by the captive’s composure, jerked again at the chain. “Show proper respect! You stand in the presence of the king!”
The captive nodded toward King Casmir. “Good day to you, sir.”
King Casmir responded in an even voice: “Good day to you, Torqual. How have you found your confinement?”
“Tolerable only, sir, and not for the fastidious.”
Another person came quietly into the room: a gentleman somewhat past his first youth, stocky, brisk as a robin, with good features, neat brown hair and clever brown eyes. He bowed. “Good day, my lord.”
“Good day, Shalles. Do you know Torqual?”
Shalles inspected the prisoner. “To this moment, I have had no contact with the gentleman.”
“That is to our general advantage,” said King Casmir. “You will therefore have no prejudicial emotions in his direction. Jailers, remove the chains so that Torqual may sit in comfort; then you may wait in the corridor. Oldebor, you may wait outside as well.”
Oldebor protested. “Your Majesty, this is a desperate man, with neither hopes nor qualms!”
King Casmir showed a faint chilly smile. “That is why he is here. Abide in the corridor. Shalles is well able to protect me.”
While Shalles turned the prisoner a dubious sideglance, the jailers removed the chains, then, with Oldebor, withdrew to the corridor.
King Casmir pointed to benches. “Gentlemen, be seated. May I offer you wine?”
Both Torqual and Shalles accepted cups of wine, and seated themselves.
Casmir looked back and forth between the two, then said: “You are men of different sorts; so much is clear. Shalles is the fourth son of the honourable knight Sir Pellent-Overtree, whose estate includes three farms of sixty-three acres in total. Shalles has learned the niceties of noble behavior together with a taste for good food and wine, but so far has found no means to indulge his yearnings. Torqual, of you I know little, but I would learn more. Perhaps you will tell us something of yourself.”
“With pleasure,” said Torqual. “To begin with, I am the member of a class which may well include a single individual: myself. My father is a duke of Skaghahe; my lineage is longer than the history of the Elder Isles. My tastes, like those of Sir Shalles, are nice; I prefer the best of everything. While I am a Ska, I care not a fig for the Ska mystique. I have cohabited freely and often with Underfolk women and bred a dozen hybrids; therefore they call me a renegade.
“The epithet is inaccurate and undeserved. I cannot be faithless to a cause which I never have endorsed. Indeed, I am absolutely faithful to the only cause I espouse, which is my own welfare. I take pride in this unswerving loyalty!
“I came away from Skaghane early, with several advantages: the strength, vigor and intelligence of the typical Ska, which was my birthright, and the expert use of weapons, for which I must take credit upon myself, since there are few, if any, who can excel me, especially with the sword.
“In order to maintain a gentlemanly style, and lacking sympathy for working up the Ska hierarchies, I became a brigand; I robbed and murdered with the best. However, there is little wealth to be had in the Ulflands, and so I came to Lyonesse.
“My plans were simple and innocent. As soon as I took enough gold and silver to fill a wagon, I intended to become a robber baron of the Teach tac Teach, and live out my life in relative seclusion.
“Through a freak of luck, I was trapped by your thief-takers. I now await drawing and quartering, though I will be glad to consider any other program your Majesty may see fit to propose.”
“Hm,” said King Casmir. “Your execution is scheduled for tomorrow?”
“That is my understanding.”
Casmir nodded and turned to Shalles. “What do you think of this fellow?”
Shalles considered Torqual sidelong. “Obviously, he is a blackguard of the deepest dye, with the conscience of a shark. At this moment he has nothing to lose and so feels free to exercise his insouciance.”
“What faith would you put in his word?”
Shalles dubiously cocked his head to the side. “It would depend upon how far his self-esteem rides with his faith. I am sure the word ‘honour’ means something different to him than it does to me or to you. I would trust him better on a system of rewards after stipulated service. Still, if only from caprice, Torqual might serve you well. He is clearly intelligent, energetic, forthright, and despite his present condition, I would guess him to be resourceful.”
King Casmir turned to Torqual. “You have heard Shalles’ opinions. What is your comment?”
“He is a person of discernment. I cannot argue with his remarks.”
King Casmir nodded, and poured wine into the three mugs. “The circumstances are these. King Aillas of Troicinet has extended his power into South Ulfland, where it impedes my own ambitions. I therefore wish to make South Ulfland ungovernable for the Troice. I intend that you two should serve me to this end, both singly, or, when occasion arises, in tandem. Shalles, what do you say to this?”
Shalles considered. “Your Majesty, may I be frank?”
“Naturally.”
“The task is dangerous. I am willing to serve you in this regard, at least for a limited period, if the rewards are commensurate to the danger.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Full knighthood and a prosperous estate of at least two hundred acres.”
King Casmir grunted. “You value yourself highly.”
“Sir, my life, drab and insipid though it may seem to others, is the only life given me to live.”
“Very well; so it shall be. Torqual, what of you?”
Torqual laughed. “I accept, regardless of risk or your distrust, or whatever the nature of the task, or whatever the reward.”
King Casmir said dryly: “Essentially, I want you to establish yourself in the highlands of South Ulfland and there wreak as much disorder as possible, but only upon the forces cooperating with the Troice. You are to make contact with other high-country barons and counsel disobedience, insurrection and banditry similar to your own. Do you understand my needs?”
“Perfectly! I accept your proposal with enthusiasm.”
“I thought as much. Shalles, you shall, like Torqual, visit among such of the barons you suspect of disaffection, and give them counsel and coordinate their efforts. If necessary, you may offer bribes, though this will be your last resort. You will also work closely with Torqual, and at intervals you will report to me, by methods which we will arrange.”
“Sir, I will do my best in this regard, for a period which perhaps we now should define for our exact understanding.”
Casmir drummed a quick tattoo on the table-top, but when he spoke, his voice was even. “Much depends upon circumstances.”
“Exactly so, sir, which is why I wish to define an upper limit upon my service. The danger is very great in
this game which you want me to play. In short, I do not care to roam the moors until finally I am killed.”
“Hm. How long a term do you suggest?”
“In view of the danger, a year seems long enough.”
Casmir grunted. “In a year you will hardly learn the lay of the land.”
“Sir, I can only do my best, and, remember, King Aillas will send out his own spies. Once I am identified, my usefulness decreases.”
“Hmf. I will think on it. Come before me tomorrow afternoon.”
Shalles rose to his feet, bowed and departed. Casmir turned to Torqual. “Shalles may be somewhat too scrupulous for this sort of work. Still, he is avaricious, which is a good sign. As for you, I am under no illusions. You are a wolf’s-head, a crafty murderer and a blackguard.”
Torqual grinned. “I also ravish women. Usually they cry and hold out their arms when I leave them.”
King Casmir, who was something of a prig in such matters, turned him a cold stare. “I will provide you weapons and, at your option, a small company of cutthroats. If you succeed well, and, like Shalles, desire a life of rustic gentility, I will also find for you a suitable estate. So I hope to guarantee your faith. You have reason to serve me well.”
Torqual smiled. “Why not? As scoundrels go, we are a pair.”
The remark, in King Casmir’s view, verged close upon insolence, and he gave Torqual another cold stare. “I will confer with you again in two days. Meanwhile, you will continue to be my guest.”
“I would prefer Haidion to the Peinhador.”
“No doubt. Oldebor!”
Oldebor entered from the corridor. “Your Majesty?”
“Take Torqual back to the Peinhador. Let him bathe, provide him decent garments, house him in a clean cell and give him food to his choice-within reason, of course.”
The jailers came into the room. “Are we not to see the colour of his guts? He is the worst of the worst!”
“And a Ska, to boot!” declared the other. “I hoped to work the knife myself!”
“Another time,” said King Casmir. “Torqual has been assigned to dangerous work in the service of the state.”
“Very well, your Majesty. Come along, dog-dirt.”
Torqual fixed the jailer with a cool stare. “Jailer, take care! I am soon to be free and in the king’s service. On a whim I might seek you out; then we shall see who does good work with the knife!”
King Casmir made an impatient gesture. “Enough of this!” He looked to the jailers, now subdued and uneasy: “You have heard Torqual’s remarks; if I were you, I would henceforth use him with courtesy.”
“Sire, it shall be as you command. Torqual, come; we spoke in jest. Tonight you shall drink wine and eat roast fowl.”
King Casmir smiled his wintry smile. “Oldebor, in two days I will again see Torqual.”
Chapter 5
I
THREE DAYS AFTER THE DEPARTURE of King Casmir and his retinue aboard the carrack Star Regulus, Aillas himself set sail for South Ulfland with a flotilla of seventeen ships.
The company included Lord Maloof and Lord Pirmence, both seething with resentment. Dhrun and Glyneth remained at Domreis, to be educated in a style befitting their rank. Both would learn Latin and Greek, geography, the natural sciences, calligraphy, the mathematics of Pythagoras, Euclid and Aristarchus, as well as the new style of Moorish numeration. Through readings in Herodotus, Tacitus, Xenophon, Clavetz of Avallon, Dioscuros of Alexandria, the Chronicles of Ys, and Khersom’s War of the Goths and the Huns, they would gain an overview of history. They would learn to name stars, planets and constellations, and ponder a variety of cosmological theories. Dhrun would attend a school of military science, where he would learn the skill of weapons, and the strategies of warfare. Glyneth and Dhrun both would attend classes in the courtly arts, which included dancing, declamation, music and the proprieties.
Both Glyneth and Dhrun, had their preferences been heeded, would have accompanied Aillas to South Ulfland. Not so with Lords Maloof and Pirmence, each of whom had advanced a dozen reasons why he should not be plucked so rudely from his familiar routines.
To Maloof s protests Aillas made the response: “I appreciate your concern for the work which will be interrupted, but your talents are more urgently needed in South Ulfland; this is where you may best serve king and country.”
“My skills are complex and sophisticated,” grumbled Maloof. “Any clerk can weigh up broad-beans and count out onions.”
“You still do not understand the scope of our project! I will want an inventory of every estate in the land, so that we know its extent and resources, and-no less important-the acreage unoccupied, unclaimed, wild or in dispute. You will direct a staff of surveyors, cartographers and clerks to research the existing records.”
Lord Maloof stood limp. “That is a monumental task!”
“Naturally the work will not be accomplished in a day, but it is only the beginning. I will expect you to establish and regulate an exchequer for South Ulfland. Third-”
” ‘Third’?” groaned Maloof. “Already you have laid out a whole lifetime of work! Your confidence in me is flattering but unreal; I can work only by day and by night: no other periods of time exist. Meanwhile my work here at Domreis will be muddled by bunglers and hacks!”
“Here, so I suppose, you refer to your work with the exchequer?”
Lord Maloof flushed and looked askance toward Aillas. “Naturally: just so!”
“I have made inquiries and I am assured that we leave the work, and again I refer to the exchequer, in capable hands. It is time for a change! A clever man such as yourself needs challenge to develop his full potential, and also to keep him out of mischief. South Ulfland with its intransigent barons and threatening Ska offers a hundred such challenges!”
“But I know nothing, and want to know nothing, of troubles and conflicts and war! I am a man of peace!”
“And I no less! But even men of peace must learn to fight. The world is often brutal, and not everyone shares our ideals. Therefore, you must be prepared to defend yourself and your loved ones, or reconcile yourself to slavery.”
“I prefer to reason, to proffer kind counsel, to ameliorate and to compromise!”
“As a preliminary and tentative policy, these activities are useful!” said Aillas. “If we behave reasonably, our conscience is clear! Then, should decency fail and the tyrants attack, we can lop off their heads with righteous zest.”
“I have few skills along these lines,” said Maloof in a bleak voice.
“Now then, Maloof: do not underestimate yourself! You are sturdy and deft, if a trifle overweight. After a few brisk campaigns, you will gallop your horse and brandish your battle-axe with as much fury as any!”
“Bah!” grumbled Maloof. “I am not the hell-for-leather bravo you take me for. I will waste my life in this dour wilderness.”
“Never! You may use well this life of yours in South Ulfland, but we will find scope for all your skills: perhaps in the suppression of espionage. You might-or might not-be startled to learn that I have discovered treachery in the most exalted circles!”
Maloof blinked and responded, in a subdued voice: “Your Majesty, it shall be as you command.”
Lord Pirmence used different tactics when it came his turn. “Your Majesty, I deem this appointment in the nature of an accolade! I shall always cherish this evidence of your high esteem! But I am a modest man, and I must resolutely decline the honour. No, sir! Do not press it upon me! My withdrawal is definite and irrevocable! I have gained distinction enough for a single lifetime; let the eager young bloods take their turn!” Lord Pirmence performed a courtly bow, and would have considered the matter closed had not Aillas called him back.
“Lord Pirmence, your abnegation does you credit. However, I assure you that honour sufficient for all will be won on the moors of South Ulfland!”
“That is good to hear!” declared Lord Pirmence. “But alas! You forget my advancing years! I h
ave enemies, yes: pangs and aches, failing vision, asthma, toothlessness and senile cachexis; but they are no longer cruel knights, ogres, Goths and Moors. I intimately know the ague, gout, rheumatism and palsy. If truth be known, I am almost ready to creep away to Castle Lutez, to wrap myself in eiderdowns and quiet my roaring digestion with a diet of curds and gruel.”
Aillas said soberly: “Lord Pirmence, I am greatly distressed to hear of your decrepitude.”
“Alas! It is an end to which we all must come!”
“So I am led to believe. Incidentally, are you aware that a person who bears a striking resemblance to yourself roams the coarser districts of Domreis? No? He does your reputation no credit! Recently, close on midnight, I happened to look into the Green Star Inn and there I saw this person with one foot on a bench, the other on a table, brandishing high a tankard of ale and trolling a mighty stave; meanwhile he clasped one of the tavern wenches with an iron grip. His whiskers were exactly like your own and he seemed to enjoy almost an excess of exuberant good health.”
“How I envy the man!” murmured Lord Pirmence. “I wonder at his secret!”
“Perhaps you will learn it in South Ulfland. I consider your presence indispensable. After all, when one hunts important game, he calls out the old hound. I rely upon you to impose order upon the barons of the moors.”
Lord Pirmence gave a delicate cough. “I would survive not a single windy day on those desolate fells!”
“To the contrary! You will thrive in the fresh climate! ‘An Ulf lives forever-unless he is cut with steel, or chokes on his meat, or falls drunk into the mire!’ So say the Ulfs. You will soon be as hearty as ever!”
Lord Pirmence shook his head. “Truly, I am not your man! I have little tact with boors and bog-trotters. With the best will in the world I will surely do our cause a disservice.”
“Odd,” mused Aillas. “I was told that you have recently become expert in the field of secret diplomacy!”
Lord Pirmence pursed his lips, pulled at his mustache, and looked toward the ceiling. “Hum, ha! Not quite true! Still- when duty calls I must ignore all else and leap into the breach.”