Jack Vance - Gaean Reach 01

by Gray Prince

  “Strange that the Aos know nothing about the shrine,” said Gerd Jemasze. “I’ve checked the map; it’s on Ao tribal land.”

  “It’s also next to the Retent,” said Kelse. “The Garganche might know about it.”

  “Aha!” cried Schaine. “All is clear. Jorjol has learned of the shrine; he wants to build a hotel; and that’s why he wants to kick us out of Morningswake!”

  “I wouldn’t put anything past Jorjol,” said Kelse.

  “You wrong poor Muffin,” said Schaine. “He’s really very simple, very straightforward, very open. I understand him completely.”

  “Then you’re the only one,” said Kelse.

  “I also disagree,” said Elvo. “Jorjol is a very complex person. He has no choice. Let’s view him from the standpoint of the psychologist. He’s an Outker and an Uldra at the same time: two sets of ideas work in his one brain. He can’t have a thought without finding an instant contradiction. It’s a wonder he’s as effective as he is!”

  “No puzzle there,” said Kelse. “Outker or Uldra, first and last, backward and forward, Jorjol is an egotist. He switches back and forth between roles as it suits him. At this moment he’s a Garganche bucko: the swashbuckling Gray Prince. Do you know, it’s quite likely that he drove the sky-shark that shot down Father, and the Apex as well!”

  Schaine produced an indignant refutal. “What utter nonsense! You know Jorjol better than that! He’s proud and gallant! A ruthless assassin? Never!”

  Kelse was not convinced. “By Garganche theories, ruthless assassination is equivalent to pride and gallantry.”

  “You’re not at all fair to Jorjol,” said Schaine. “His ‘pride and gallantry’, or however you want to put it, saved your life. He deserves at least credit for bravery.”

  “I’ll concede him that,” said Kelse. “Still, I don’t think much of his loyalty.”

  Schaine laughed. “Loyalty to whom? To what? I never had reason to complain.”

  “Naturally not; you were in love with him.”

  Schaine heaved a patient sigh. “I’d prefer to call it infatuation.”

  “Father, it would seem, is now vindicated.”

  With an effort Schaine decided not to quarrel with Kelse. She responded quietly and, she hoped, rationally. “Father meant well. He gave Muffin a great deal, up to a carefully defined limit. Muffin naturally resented the limit more than he appreciated the generosity. And why not? Put yourself in his place: half part of the family, half a Blue ragamuffin who ate his meals in the kitchen. He was allowed to look at the cake and even taste it, but never eat any of it.”

  Elvo Glissam ventured a facetious quip: “And you were the cake?—I hope not!”

  Schaine raised her eyebrows and looked away with pointed coolness. The remark seemed in poor taste—especially in view of the fact that immediately following Jorjol’s rescue of Kelse, she had allowed Jorjol considerably more than a taste. The discovery of the affair had provoked a wrathful explosion in Uther Madduc, which had sent Jorjol flying in one direction and Schaine thirty-two light years in another.

  Schaine said evenly: “Those times are quite remote.” She rose to her feet. “The conversation is becoming dull.”

  Chapter 12

  Gerd Jemasze, with his younger brother Adare, two cousins and a nephew, flew the Standard utility up to the Palga across to where the sarai broke against the Volwode foothills. They found the land-yawl undisturbed. Gerd and Adare Jemasze and the nephew sailed the yawl east, while the cousins flew overhead in the sky-car.

  A day’s brisk sail brought them to No. 2 Depot. Jemasze paid rent for the use of the land-yawl and examined the Dacy sky-boat, which Moffamides’ fiaps had kept inviolate. A new priest was on hand, a thin young man with burning eyes and a thin quivering mouth, who watched intently but spoke not a word. Jemasze wondered if Moffamides had gone to sit high in the Aluban, but forbore to question the young priest, who stood glowering at them from across the compound.

  No sooner had Gerd Jemasze returned to Suaniset than news arrived from Morningswake of an extraordinary incursion from the Retent. The raiders numbered over four hundred elite warriors, mixed Hunge, Garganche, Aulk and Zeffir: an amazing circumstance in itself to discover traditional enemies acting in concert. A few Ao scouts skirmished with the outriders, then fell back before the main force, which proceeded to Lake Dor where three Ao kachembas were discovered and defiled.

  Kelse immediately broadcast a call for assistance, and the Order of Uaia found itself required to fight before it had fully defined itself as an entity. A heterogeneous and rather casual assortment of utility flyers, passenger saloons, sky-cars, runabouts and inspection drifters, to the number of sixty, each with a complement of from two to eight armed men, assembled at Morningswake, then flew down to Lake Dor, to discover that the Uldra raiders were already retreating across the rocky barrens west of the lake. The aircraft from the domains attacked with guns and energy-projectors; the Uldras dispersed in all directions. On their lunging mounts they made the poorest of targets and the punitive fleet inflicted minimal damage…A score of sky-sharks dropped from the upper atmosphere and in the twinkling of an eye a dozen aircraft were disabled and sent plunging to the ground. Then, before adequate retaliation could be effected, the sky-sharks dashed away to the west.

  In a dour mood the land-barons rescued those who had been shot down and returned to their domains. The foray had been ineffectual; they had been defeated by tactics more clever than their own.

  A number of land-barons gathered at Morningswake to discuss the cheerless events of the day. They had ventured forth overconfidently; they had been tricked; they had paid the price of vanity.

  Dm. Ervan Collode, a portly and rather bombastic man whom Schaine had always disliked, was one of those who had been shot down by the sky-sharks. He had escaped with a severe jolting and various bruises, but the experience had stimulated him to a vindictive rage. “We’ll never have peace until we absolutely break the Retent tribes. We must put them in such fear that they’ll never again attack us!”

  Dm. Joris made a wry observation: “I fear that we lack capacity to cow them. For thousands of years they’ve been cutting up each other, and it only whets their appetite for more.”

  “They don’t go far enough,” declared Dm. Collode. “They never press to a decision! If we destroy their herds, poison their water, we’ll force their submission.”

  Dm. Joris demurred. “I don’t believe such tactics would work; they live too easily off the land, and we’d simply have our trouble for nothing.”

  “There is an important first step we should undertake,” said Jemasze. “The Retent tribes are theoretically wards of the Mull, and we should demand that the Mull assert control.”

  Dm. Collode blew through his teeth. “What good will that do? The Mull is dominated by Redemptionists! Have you forgotten their manifesto?”

  Kelse likewise took exception to the proposal. “We can’t declare ourselves independent, then in the next breath appeal for help.”

  “I suggest no appeal, but a formal notice, from one sovereign entity to another,” said Jemasze. “I would notify them that the Retent Uldras are molesting not only us but the tribes under our protection; that we plan decisive action which might include seizure and permanent control of the Retent, unless they take steps to restrain their wards. Then, if the Mull doesn’t act, and we do, they can’t say that they haven’t been warned. If finally we’re forced to subdue the Garganche, we at least have a basis of legality.”

  “What good is legality to the Garganche?” grumbled Dm. Collode. “To an Uldra, might is right.”

  Schaine could not restrain a sardonic chuckle. “To avoid making fools of yourselves, I suggest that you forgo hypocrisy. For two hundred years the land-barons have asserted the right of might, so now, when the shoe is on the other foot, don’t look askance at the maxim.”

  “Hypocrisy isn’t an issue,” Jemasze responded. “Whenever there’s conflict the weaker side loses;
and all else being equal, it’s better to win than to lose.”

  “It depends on the company you keep,” said Schaine, darting a glance toward Dm. Collode.

  Dm. Joris said: “Undoubtedly Gerd Jemasze is right. To prepare a position, we first must notify the Mull.”

  Dm. Thanet of Balabar said, “Let us do so at this very moment. We are not precisely an official body, but surely we can function as an instrument to this particular end.”

  The group moved into the study. Kelse telephoned Holrude House in Olanje. The face of a secretary appeared on the screen. Kelse identified himself. “I am Dm. Kelse Madduc, and I represent the provisional executive committee of the Uaian Order. I have an important message to transmit to the Chairman of the Mull.”

  “The Chairman, Dm. Madduc, is currently Dm. Erris Sammatzen, and it so happens that he is at hand.”

  Erris Sammatzen’s face appeared on the screen. “Kelse Madduc? We have met, at Villa Mirasol.”

  “Quite true. My purpose in calling you, however, is not social, but official. I speak for the provisional executive committee of the Uaian Order, and I inform you that a large group of Uldras from the Retent, nominally wards of the Mull, yesterday invaded our lands, specifically Morningswake Domain, and there committed acts of murder and vandalism. We have driven them back into the Retent and we now look to you to prevent any further incursions.”

  Erris Sammatzen reflected a moment. “Such raids, if they have in fact occurred, are a serious matter, and certainly cannot be condoned.”

  “‘If’ they have occurred?” cried Kelse angrily. “Of course they have occurred! I just now told you about them!”

  Erris Sammatzen said, “Please, Dm. Madduc, don’t take offense. As a private individual, of course I believe you. As Chairman of the Mull, I must take a more measured approach.”

  “I don’t follow your distinctions,” said Kelse. “The Order of Uaia notifies you, through me, that these raids have occurred, and requires that you ensure their permanent cessation; otherwise we must protect ourselves.”

  Erris Sammatzen spoke in a ponderous voice: “I must put certain matters into perspective. I remind you that the Mull is the organ of all the folk of Koryphon and must act in the best interests of all the folk. The land-barons of the Alouan are a minority even upon the so-called ‘domains’; they therefore can claim neither autonomy nor any wide representative function. I also remind you of the recent ordinance proclaimed by the Mull which reconstructs the so-called Domains of Koryphon, regarding which we have received no acknowledgment.”

  Dm. Joris, perceiving that Kelse was about to make an immoderate reply, stepped forward. “The points you raise are at issue. We hope they may be resolved in a reasonable manner. Your remarks, however, are not responsive to the notification just made to you by Dm. Kelse Madduc.”

  “They are not responsive,” said Erris Sammatzen, “because the Mull does not recognize the premises upon which they are based. Further, we have received information which contradicts your assertions. I therefore order you to desist from any further acts hostile to tribes of the Retent.”

  Kelse made a strangled sound of astonishment and displeasure. “Do you suggest that I have made a false report to you?”

  “I state only that contradictory information has been put before the Mull.”

  Dm. Joris once more interposed himself. “In that case, we suggest that you come here to Morningswake and make your own investigations. Then, should you discover, as you surely will, that we have reported the facts accurately, you can make appropriate representation to the Retent tribes.”

  Erris Sammatzen reflected thirty seconds. Then he said: “I will do as you suggest, in company with other members of the Mull. In the meantime I ask that you refrain from any further attacks or reprisals, and I will transmit similar instructions to the other parties at contention.”

  Dm. Joris smiled a cool thin smile. “We will be most happy to meet with the Mull and work out a mutual accommodation: from our point of view the sooner the better. In the meantime, while we do not concede your authority either to instruct or to advise us, we intend to refrain from attacking the tribes of the Retent, except in defense of our sovereign territory.”

  Kelse asked: “When may we expect you at Morningswake?”

  “The day after tomorrow will be convenient.”

  Chapter 13

  The land-barons, all except Gerd Jemasze, had returned to their respective domains, and night had fallen over the Alouan. Schaine went to sit on the front lawn overlooking the starlit landscape. The knots in her mind began to unravel, and her conflicts resolved themselves in the simplest possible manner.

  She loved Morningswake: this was the elemental fact; nothing was more real. Morningswake, with its history and traditions, breathed a life of its own; Morningswake was an entity yearning for survival. If she intended to live at Morningswake, then she must protect it. If she felt that she must advance a hostile cause, then she must leave and go elsewhere, which of course was unthinkable.

  She thought of Elvo Glissam and smiled. Today, after the land-barons had gone off to punish the Uldras, Elvo had urged that he and she return to Olanje and there espouse each other, to which suggestion Schaine had given an offhand, almost absentminded, refusal. Elvo had accepted her decision without surprise and had voiced his intention of returning to Olanje as soon as possible. Ah well, thought Schaine, life went on.

  She went back into the house. In the study lights still glowed; Gerd Jemasze and Kelse conferred late. Schaine went upstairs to her bedroom on the west verandah.

  Schaine awoke. The night was dark, and all was quiet. Yet something had aroused her.

  A softtap tapat the door.

  Schaine climbed drowsily from bed, stumbled to the door and slid it ajar. On the verandah a tall shape darker than the shadows awaited her. Recognition came instantly, and she was no longer half-asleep. She turned on the lights in her room. “Jorjol! What in the world are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you.”

  Schaine peered in bewilderment up the dark verandah. “Who let you in?”

  “No one.” Jorjol gave a soft chuckle. “I arrived by the old route—up the corner column.”

  “Sheer insanity, Jorjol! What could you have in mind?”

  “Need you ask that?” Jorjol leaned forward as if to enter the room but Schaine slipped past and stepped out upon the verandah.

  The night was absolutely still. The arabella vine climbing the columns to the roof hung in festoons, and the white blossoms gave off a sweet perfume.

  Jorjol stepped a trifle closer; Schaine went to the balustrade and looked out over the landscape, which was dark except for a few glints of starlight reflected from Wild Crake Pond. Jorjol put his arm around her waist and lowered his head to kiss her. Schaine turned away. “Stop it, Jorjol, I’m not at all interested. I haven’t the faintest notion why you’re here, and, really, you’d better go.”

  “Come now, don’t be prim,” whispered Jorjol. “You love me and I love you; it’s been that way all our lives, and now more than ever!”

  “No, Jorjol, not at all. I’m not the person I was five years ago, and you’re not either.”

  “Quite true! I’m a man, a person of consequence! For five years I’ve burned for you, and longed for you, and since I saw you at Olanje I’ve thought of nothing else.”

  Schaine laughed uneasily. “Please be sensible, Jorjol! Go away and call tomorrow morning.”

  “Hah! I don’t dare! I’m now the enemy; have you forgotten?”

  “Well then, you’d better mend your ways and behave yourself. Now good night! I’m going back to bed.”

  “No!” Jorjol spoke with great earnestness. “Listen, Schaine! Come away with me! My dear girl Schaine! You’re not one of these pompous tyrants who calls himself a land-baron! You’re a free soul, so come with me now and be free! We will live as happy as birds, with the best of everything the world affords! You don’t belong here; you know that as well as
I do!”

  “You’re totally and absolutely wrong, Jorjol! This is my home and I love it dearly!”

  “But you love me more! Tell me so, my dearest Schaine!”

  “I don’t love you, not in the slightest. In fact, I love someone else.”

  “Who? Elvo Glissam?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Then it must be Gerd Jemasze! Tell me! Is it he?”

  “Isn’t this a personal matter, Muffin?”

  “Don’t call me Muffin!” Jorjol’s voice rose in pitch and intensity. “And it’s not private because I want you for myself. You haven’t denied it! So your new lover is Gerd Jemasze!”

  “He’s not my lover, Jorjol, new or old. And please take your hands off of me.” For Jorjol, in his excitement, had clenched his fingers upon her two arms.

  He whispered huskily: “Please, darling Schaine, tell me it isn’t true; that you love me!”

  “I’m sorry, Jorjol, it is true, and I don’t love you. And now, good night. I’m going back to bed.”

  Jorjol gave a small ugly laugh. “Do you think I so easily accept defeat? You know me better! I came to get you and you’re coming away with me. Very soon you’ll learn to love me. I warn you, don’t try to fight me!”

  Schaine shrank back appalled, as Jorjol’s fingers gripped her arms like steel tongs. She drew in her breath to scream; with one long-fingered hand, Jorjol seized her throat; with his other fist he struck her in the side at the bottom of the rib-cage in a clever way to cause an agony of pain, and Schaine’s knees sagged…The porch lights went on; she felt a confused scuffle, saw a blur of movement, heard a grunt of shock and dismay.

  Schaine staggered to the wall. Jorjol lay crumpled, half against the balustrade. A knife hung in a scabbard against his leg; in his sash gleamed the ivory handle of a pistol. His hands twitched, then jerked for the pistol. Gerd Jemasze stepped forward, struck down at Jorjol’s arm, and the pistol went clattering across the floor. Schaine swiftly stooped and picked it up, even while she tingled with embarrassment. How much had Gerd Jemasze heard?”