by Jack Vance
Ervis Carcolo turned away, pretended to watch a pair of Termagants exercising with wooden scimitars. The two men stood by a stone fence behind which scores of dragons practiced evolutions, dueled with spears and swords, strengthened their muscles. Scales flashed, dust rose up under splayed stamping feet; the acrid odor of dragon-sweat permeated the air.
Carcolo muttered, “He is crafty, that Joaz. He knew you would report to me in detail.”
Dae Alvonso nodded. “Precisely. His words were — but perhaps I should be discreet.” He glanced slyly toward Carcolo from under shaggy white eyebrows.
“Speak,” said Ervis Carcolo gruffly.
“Very well. Mind you, I quote Joaz Banbeck. ‘Tell blundering old Carcolo that he is in great danger. If the Basics return to Aerlith, as well they may, Happy Valley is absolutely vulnerable and will be ruined. Where can his people hide? They will be herded into the black ship, transported to a cold new planet. If Carcolo is not completely heartless he will drive new tunnels, prepare hidden avenues. Otherwise —’”
“Otherwise what?” demanded Carcolo.
“‘Otherwise there will be no more Happy Valley, no more Ervis Carcolo.’”
“Bah,” said Carcolo in a subdued voice. “The young jackanapes barks in shrill tones.”
“Perhaps he extends an honest warning. His further words — but I fear to offend your dignity.”
“Continue! Speak!”
“These are his words — but no, I dare not repeat them. Essentially he considers your efforts to create an army ludicrous; he contrasts your intelligence unfavorably to his own; he predicts —”
“Enough!” roared Ervis Carcolo, waving his fists. “He is a subtle adversary, but why do you lend yourself to his tricks?”
Dae Alvonso shook his frosty old head. “I merely repeat, with reluctance, that which you demand to hear. Now then, since you have wrung me dry, do me some profit. Will you buy drugs, elixirs, wambles or potions? I have here a salve of eternal youth which I stole from the Demie Sacerdote’s personal coffer. In my train are both boy and girl children, obsequious and handsome, at a fair price. I will listen to your woes, cure your lisp, guarantee a placidity of disposition — or perhaps you would buy dragon eggs?”
“I need none of those,” grunted Carcolo. “Especially dragon’s eggs which hatch to lizards. As for children, Happy Valley seethes with them. Bring me a dozen sound Juggers and you may depart with a hundred children of your choice.”
Dae Alvonso shook his head sadly, lurched away. Carcolo slumped against the fence, staring across the dragon pens.
The sun hung low over the crags of Mount Despoire; evening was close at hand. This was the most pleasant time of the Aerlith day, when the winds ceased, leaving a vast velvet quiet. Skene’s blaze softened to a smoky yellow, with a bronze aureole; the clouds of the approaching evening storm gathered, rose, fell, shifted, swirled; glowing and changing in every tone of gold, orange-brown, gold-brown and dusty violet.
Skene sank; the golds and oranges became oak-brown and purple; lightning threaded the clouds and the rain fell in a black curtain. In the barracks men moved with vigilance, for now the dragons became unpredictable: by turns watchful, torpid, quarrelsome. With the passing of the rain, evening became night, and a cool quiet breeze drifted through the valleys. The dark sky began to burn and dazzle with the stars of the cluster. One of the most effulgent twinkled red, green, white, red, green.
Ervis Carcolo studied this star thoughtfully. One idea led to another, and presently to a course of action which seemed to dissolve the entire tangle of uncertainties and dissatisfactions which marred his life. Carcolo twisted his mouth to a sour grimace; he must make overtures to that popinjay Joaz Banbeck — but if this were unavoidable: so be it!
Hence, the following morning, shortly after Phade the minstrel-maiden discovered the sacerdote in Joaz’s study, a messenger appeared in the Vale, inviting Joaz Banbeck up to Banbeck Verge for a conference with Ervis Carcolo.
Chapter IV
Ervis Carcolo waited on Banbeck Verge with Chief Dragon Master Bast Givven and a pair of young fuglemen. Behind, in a row, stood their mounts: four glistening Spiders, brachs folded, legs splayed at exactly identical angles. These were of Carcolo’s newest breed and he was immoderately proud of them. The barbs surrounding the horny visages were clasped with cinnabar cabochons; a round target enameled black and studded with a central spike covered each chest. The men wore the traditional black leather breeches, with short maroon cloaks, black leather helmets with long flaps slanting back across the ears and down to the shoulders.
The four men waited, patient or restless as their natures dictated, surveying the well-tended length of Banbeck Vale. To the south stretched fields of various food-stuffs: vetch, bellegarde, moss-cake, a loquat grove. Directly opposite, near the mouth of Clybourne Crevasse, the shape of the crater created by the explosion of the Basic ship could still be seen. North lay more fields, then the dragon compounds, consisting of black-brick barracks, a brooder, an exercise field. Beyond lay Banbeck Jambles — an area of wasteland where ages previously a section of the cliff had fallen, creating a wilderness of tumbled rock similar to the High Jambles under Mount Gethron, but smaller in compass.
One of the young fuglemen rather tactlessly commented upon the evident prosperity of Banbeck Vale, to the implicit deprecation of Happy Valley. Ervis Carcolo listened glumly a moment or two, then turned a haughty stare toward the offender.
“Notice the dam,” said the fugleman. “We waste half our water in seepage.”
“True,” said the other. “That rock facing is a good idea. I wonder why we don’t do something similar.”
Carcolo started to speak, thought better of it. With a growling sound in his throat, he turned away. Bast Givven made a sign; the fuglemen hastily fell silent.
A few moments later Givven announced: “Joaz Banbeck has set forth.”
Carcolo peered down toward Kergan’s Way. “Where is his company? Does he ride alone?”
“So it seems.”
A few minutes later Joaz Banbeck appeared on Banbeck Verge riding a Spider caparisoned in gray and red velvet. Joaz wore a loose lounge cloak of soft brown cloth over a gray shirt and gray trousers, with a long-billed hat of blue velvet. He held up his hand in casual greeting; brusquely Ervis Carcolo returned the salute, and with a jerk of his head sent Givven and the fuglemen off out of earshot.
Carcolo said gruffly, “You sent me a message by old Alvonso.”
Joaz nodded. “I trust he rendered my remarks accurately?”
Carcolo grinned wolfishly. “At times he felt obliged to paraphrase.”
“Tactful old Dae Alvonso.”
“I am given to understand,” said Carcolo, “that you consider me rash, ineffectual, callous to the best interests of Happy Valley. Alvonso admitted that you used the word ‘blunderer’ in reference to me.”
Joaz smiled politely. “Sentiments of this sort are best transmitted through intermediaries.”
Carcolo made a great show of dignified forbearance. “Apparently you feel that another Basic attack is imminent.”
“Just so,” agreed Joaz, “if my theory, which puts their home by the star Coralyne, is correct. In which case, as I pointed out to Alvonso, Happy Valley is seriously vulnerable.”
“And why not Banbeck Vale as well?” barked Carcolo.
Joaz stared at him in surprise. “Is it not obvious? I have taken precautions. My people are housed in tunnels, rather than huts. We have several escape routes, should this prove necessary, both to the High Jambles and to Banbeck Jambles.”
“Very interesting.” Carcolo made an effort to soften his voice. “If your theory is accurate — and I pass no immediate judgment — then perhaps I would be wise to take similar measures. But I think in different terms. I prefer attack, activity, to passive defense.”
“Admirable,” said Joaz Banbeck. “Important deeds are done by men such as you.”
Carcolo became a trifle pink in th
e face. “This is neither here nor there,” he said. “I have come to propose a joint project. It is entirely novel, but carefully thought out. I have considered various aspects of this matter for several years.”
“I attend you with great interest,” said Joaz.
Carcolo blew out his cheeks. “You know the legends as well as I, perhaps better. Our people came to Aerlith as exiles during the War of the Ten Stars. The Nightmare Coalition apparently had defeated the Old Rule, but how the war ended —” he threw up his hands “— who can say?”
“There is a significant indication,” said Joaz. “The Basics revisit Aerlith and ravage us at their pleasure. We have seen no men visiting except those who serve the Basics.”
“‘Men’?” Carcolo demanded scornfully. “I call them something else. Nevertheless, this is no more than a deduction, and we are ignorant as to the course of history. Perhaps Basics rule the cluster; perhaps they plague us only because we are weak and weaponless. Perhaps we are the last men; perhaps the Old Rule is resurgent. And never forget that many years have elapsed since the Basics last appeared on Aerlith.”
“Many years have elapsed since Aerlith and Coralyne were in such convenient apposition.”
Carcolo made an impatient gesture. “A supposition, which may or may not be relevant. Let me explain the basic axiom of my proposal. It is simple enough. I feel that Banbeck Vale and Happy Valley are too small a compass for men such as ourselves. We deserve larger scope.”
Joaz agreed. “I wish it were possible to ignore the practical difficulties involved.”
“I am able to suggest a method to counter these difficulties,” asserted Carcolo.
“In that case,” said Joaz, “power, glory and wealth are as good as ours.”
Carcolo glanced at him sharply, slapped his breeches with the gold-beaded tassel to his scabbard. “Reflect,” he said. “The sacerdotes inhabited Aerlith before us. How long no one can say. It is a mystery. In fact, what do we know of the sacerdotes? Next to nothing. They trade their metal and glass for our food, they live in deep caverns, their creed is disassociation, reverie, detachment, whatever one may wish to call it — totally incomprehensible to one such as myself.” He challenged Joaz with a look; Joaz merely fingered his long chin. “They put themselves forward as simple metaphysical cultists; actually they are a very mysterious people. Has anyone yet seen a sacerdote woman? What of the blue lights, what of the lightning towers, what of the sacerdote magic? What of weird comings and goings by night, what of strange shapes moving across the sky, perhaps to other planets?”
“The tales exist, certainly,” said Joaz. “As to the degree of credence to be placed in them —”
“Now we reach the meat of my proposal!” declared Ervis Carcolo. “The creed of the sacerdotes apparently forbids shame, inhibition, fear, regard for consequence. Hence, they are forced to answer any question put to them. Nevertheless, creed or no creed, they completely befog any information an assiduous man is able to wheedle from them.”
Joaz inspected him curiously. “Evidently you have made the attempt.”
Ervis Carcolo nodded. “Yes. Why should I deny it? I have questioned three sacerdotes with determination and persistence. They answered all my questions with gravity and calm reflection, but told me nothing.” He shook his head in vexation. “Therefore, I suggest that we apply coercion.”
“You are a brave man.”
Carcolo shook his head modestly. “I would dare no direct measures. But they must eat. If Banbeck Vale and Happy Valley co-operate, we can apply a very cogent persuasion: hunger. Presently their words may be more to the point.”
Joaz considered a moment or two. Ervis Carcolo twitched his scabbard tassel. “Your plan,” said Joaz at last, “is not a frivolous one, and is ingenious — at least at first glance. What sort of information do you hope to secure? In short, what are your ultimate aims?”
Carcolo sidled close, prodded Joaz with his forefinger. “We know nothing of the outer worlds. We are marooned on this miserable world of stone and wind while life passes us by. You assume that Basics rule the cluster, but suppose you are wrong? Suppose the Old Rule has returned? Think of the rich cities, the gay resorts, the palaces, the pleasure-islands! Look up into the night sky, ponder the bounties which might be ours! You ask how can we implement these desires? I respond, the process may be so simple that the sacerdotes will reveal it without reluctance.”
“You mean —”
“Communication with the worlds of men! Deliverance from this lonely little world at the edge of the universe!”
Joaz Banbeck nodded dubiously. “A fine vision, but the evidence suggests a situation far different, namely the destruction of man, and the Human Empire.”
Carcolo held out his hands in a gesture of open-minded tolerance. “Perhaps you are right. But why should we not make inquiries of the sacerdotes? Concretely I propose as follows: that you and I agree to the mutual cause I have outlined. Next, we request an audience with the Demie Sacerdote. We put our questions. If he responds freely, well and good. If he evades, then we act in mutuality. No more food to the sacerdotes until they tell us plainly what we want to hear.”
“Other valleys, vales, and gulches exist,” said Joaz thoughtfully.
Carcolo made a brisk gesture. “We can deter any such trade by persuasion or by the power of our dragons.”
“The essence of your idea appeals to me,” said Joaz, “but I fear that all is not so simple.”
Carcolo rapped his thigh smartly with the tassel. “And why not?”
“In the first place, Coralyne shines bright in the sky. This is our first concern. Should Coralyne pass, should the Basics not attack — then is the time to pursue this matter. Again — and perhaps more to the point — I doubt that we can starve the sacerdotes into submission. In fact, I think it highly unlikely. I will go farther. I consider it impossible.”
Carcolo blinked. “In what wise?”
“They walk naked through sleet and storm; do you think they fear hunger? And there is wild lichen to be gathered. How could we forbid this? You might dare some sort of coercion, but not I. The tales told of the sacerdotes may be no more than superstition — or they may be understatement.”
Ervis Carcolo heaved a deep disgusted sigh. “Joaz Banbeck, I took you for a man of decision. But you merely pick flaws.”
“These are not flaws, they are major errors which would lead to disaster.”
“Well then. Do you have any suggestions of your own?”
Joaz fingered his chin. “If Coralyne recedes and we are still on Aerlith — rather than in the hold of the Basic ship — then let us plan to plunder the secrets of the sacerdotes. In the meantime I strongly recommend that you prepare Happy Valley against a new raid. You are over-extended, with your new brooders and barracks. Let them rest, while you dig yourself secure tunnels!”
Ervis Carcolo stared straight across Banbeck Vale. “I am not a man to defend. I attack!”
“You will attack heat-beams and ion-rays with your dragons?”
Ervis Carcolo turned his gaze back to Joaz Banbeck. “Can I consider us allies in the plan I have proposed?”
“In its broadest principles, certainly. However I don’t care to co-operate in starving or otherwise coercing the sacerdotes. It might be dangerous, as well as futile.”
For an instant Carcolo could not control his detestation of Joaz Banbeck; his lip curled, his hands clenched. “Danger? Pah! What danger from a handful of naked pacifists?”
“We do not know that they are pacifists. We do know that they are men.”
Carcolo once more became brightly cordial. “Perhaps you are right. But — essentially at least — we are allies.”
“To a degree.”
“Good. I suggest that in the case of the attack you fear, we act together, with a common strategy.”
Joaz nodded distantly. “This might be effective.”
“Let us coordinate our plans. Let us assume that the Basics drop down into Ban
beck Vale. I suggest that your folk take refuge in Happy Valley, while the Happy Valley army joins with yours to cover their retreat. And likewise, should they attack Happy Valley, my people will take refuge in Banbeck Vale.”
Joaz laughed in sheer amusement. “Ervis Carcolo, what sort of lunatic do you take me for? Return to your valley, put aside your foolish grandiosities, dig yourself protection. And fast! Coralyne is bright!”
Carcolo stood stiffly. “Do I understand that you reject my offer of alliance?”
“Not at all. But I cannot undertake to protect you and your people if you will not help yourselves. Meet my requirements, satisfy me that you are a fit ally — then we shall speak further of alliance.”
Ervis Carcolo whirled on his heel, signaled to Bast Givven and the two young fuglemen. With no further word or glance he mounted his splendid Spider, goaded him into a sudden leaping run across the Verge, and up the slope toward Starbreak Fell. His men followed, somewhat less precipitously.
Joaz watched them go, shaking his head in sad wonder. Then, mounting his own Spider, he returned down the trail to the floor of Banbeck Vale.
Chapter V
The long Aerlith day, equivalent to six of the old Diurnal Units, passed. In Happy Valley there was grim activity, a sense of purpose and impending decision. The dragons exercised in tighter formation, the fuglemen and cornets called orders with harsher voices. In the armory bullets were cast, powder mixed, swords ground and honed.
Ervis Carcolo drove himself with dramatic bravado, wearing out Spider after Spider as he sent his dragons through various evolutions. In the case of the Happy Valley forces, these were for the most part Termagants — small active dragons with rust-red scales, narrow darting heads, chisel-sharp fangs. Their brachs were strong and well-developed: they used lance, cutlass or mace with equal skill. A man pitted against a Termagant stood no chance, for the scales warded off bullets as well as any blow the man might have strength enough to deal. On the other hand a single slash of fang, the rip of a scythe-like claw, meant death to the man.