by Vance, Jack
Wayness kissed his cheek. “You’ll make me vain, Uncle Pirie.”
Pirie Tamm gave a snort of amusement. “I’m sure that you have no illusions about yourself.”
“I try to be practical,” said Wayness.
The guests arrived and were received at the door by Pirie Tamm. For a time there was a flurry of greetings and counter-greetings, then a new set of exclamations as Wayness was discovered. Moira and Challis gave her quick head-to-toe inspections, followed by a spate of enthusiastic comments: “My, how you have grown! Challis, would you have recognized the child?”
“It’s hard to think back to that funny little waif who found Earth such a strange and frightening place!”
Wayness smiled pensively. “Time works changes, for better or worse. You both seem far older than as I remember you.”
“They are relentless socialites and have led fast hard lives,” said Pirie Tamm.
“Father! What a thing to say!” cried Moira.
“Pay no attention, Wayness dear!” said Challis. “We are quite ordinary upper class folk.”
Varbert and Ussery came forward and were introduced: Varbert, tall and lean as a pickerel with a beak of a nose, ash-blond hair, a receding chin; Ussery somewhat shorter, plump of cheek, soft of midriff, with a mellow voice and a sententious style of speaking. Varbert used the critical manner of a discriminating aesthete who could be satisfied with nothing less than perfection; Ussery somewhat more tolerant in his judgments, was both easy and jovial in his remarks. “So this is the notable Wayness: equal parts tomboy and bookworm! I say, Varbert! She is not at all what I expected!”
“I try to avoid preconceptions,” said Varbert indifferently.
“Aha!” said Pirie Tamm. “That is the mark of a disciplined mind!”
“Quite so. I am thereby ready for anything, at all times and on all occasions, and who knows what might blow in from the outer worlds?”
Wayness said: “Tonight, since it is a special occasion, I am wearing shoes.”
“What an odd girl!” murmured Varbert to Moira, just at the edge of audibility.
“Come,” said Pirie Tamm briskly. “Let us all have a glass of sherry before dinner.”
The party trooped into the drawing room, where Agnes served sherry and where Wayness again became the focus of attention.
“Why are you visiting Earth this time?” asked Moira. “Is there any special reason?”
“I’m doing some research on the early Naturalist Society. I may also take a few trips here and there.”
“Alone?” demanded Challis, eyebrows raised. “It’s not wise for an inexperienced young girl to travel alone on Earth.”
Ussery said in reasonable tones: “She probably won’t be alone for very long.”
Challis chilled her over-jovial husband with a glance. “Moira is quite right. This is a wonderful old world, but for a fact we breed some strange creatures in the dark places.”
“I see them often,” said Pirie Tamm. “They hide in the Faculty Club at the University.”
Varbert felt impelled to remonstrate. “Come now, Pirie! I’m at the Faculty Club every day! We have a distinguished membership!”
Pirie Tamm shrugged. “I may be a trifle extreme in my views. My friend Adrian Moncurio is far more uncompromising. He asserts that all the honest folk are gone from Earth, leaving a residue of deviates, freaks, nincompoops, hyper-intellectuals and sweet-singers. “
“That’s utter nonsense,” snapped Moira. “None of us fit these categories!”
Ussery spoke mischievously: “Speaking of music, are you performing at the lawn party?”
Moira spoke with dignity: “I have been asked to participate in the program, yes. I shall do either ‘Requiem for a Dead Mermaid’ or ‘Bird Songs of Yesteryear.’”
“I especially like your ‘Bird Songs.’” said Challis. “The piece is ever so plaintive.”
“It seems that we are in for a treat,” said Ussery. “I believe I will have another taste of that excellent sherry. Challis, have you invited Wayness to the party?”
“Naturally, she is welcome to come. But there won’t be any young people on hand, and I doubt if she’ll find much excitement, or anyone to interest her.”
“No matter,” said Wayness. “If I wanted excitement, or interesting company, I could have stayed home on Cadwal.”
“Really!” said Moira. “I thought Cadwal was a nature preserve, where the only activity was nursing sick animals.”
“You should visit Cadwal and see for yourself” said Wayness. “I think that you would be surprised.”
“No doubt, but I am not up to such adventures. I have little tolerance for discomfort and bad cooking and nasty insects.”
“I share your sentiments,” said Varbert. “One could make a nice philosophical case that the outer worlds were never intended for our habitancy, and that the Gaean Reach is an unnatural construct.”
Ussery gave a jocular laugh. “If nothing else, we Earthlings avoid a number of very picturesque diseases, such as Daniel’s Number Three Dengue and the Big-eye, Shake-leg and Chang-chang.”
“Not to mention pirates and slavers and all the wild things that happen Beyond.”
Agnes appeared in the doorway. “Dinner is served.”
The evening ended on a note of careful politeness. Ussery gallantly reiterated his invitation to the lawn party, but before Wayness could respond, Challis snapped: “Ussy, have mercy! You must allow the poor girl to make up her own mind. If she wants to come, I’m sure she will let us know.”
‘“That seems a sensible arrangement,” said Wayness. “Goodnight to all!”
The guests departed; Pirie Tamm and Wayness were left alone in the drawing room. “They are not bad people,” said Pirie Tamm gruffly, “and not even typical Earth folk – but don’t ask me to define this typical creature since he is far too variable, and sometimes surprising. Also, he can be gloomy and dangerous, as Moira hinted. Earth is an old planet, with pockets of rot here and there.”
Days passed, and weeks. Wayness read documents of every description, including the Society’s by-laws, along with those amendments which had been added across the centuries. The by-laws were almost naive in their simplicity and seemed to be based on a hypothesis of universal altruism.
Wayness discussed the by-laws with Pirie Tamm. “They are wonderfully quaint, and almost seem to urge the secretary to become a swindler. I marvel that anything was left for Nisfit.”
“The Secretary is, first of all, a member of the Society,” said Pirie Tamm in lofty tones. “Almost by definition he is a gentleman and a person of probity. We Naturalists, now and always, have considered ourselves an elite element of the general population. We were never mistaken in this belief – until Nisfit.”
“Something else puzzles me. Why has interest in the Society declined so dramatically over the years?”
“There has been a great deal of soul-searching done on this point,” said Pirie Tamm. “Many reasons have been advanced: complacency, a failure of new ideas with an attendant waning of enthusiasm. The public began to think of us as a group of fusty old bug-collectors, and we did nothing adventurous or startling to dispel the idea, nor did we make membership any easier or any more appealing. A candidate needed the endorsements of four active members, or falling this – as might be the case of a candidate from off-world – he must submit a thesis, a biographical précis, and a police report attesting to his identity, correct name and lack of criminal record. A discouraging route.”
“I wonder that Nisfit was accepted as a member.”
“On this occasion the system failed us.”
Wayness continued her research. She came upon a list of the items Nisfit had sold. The list had been compiled by the new secretary Nils Myhack, and included the comment: “The rascal has hoodwinked us in fine style! What in the name of everything naughty is ‘Engenderment’s adapted into Asset assignment Account BZ-2’? I could laugh if it were not a crying shame! Luckily, Charter and Gra
nt are safe in the vault.”
Here, thought Wayness, was probably the source of the mysterious Monette’s conviction – perhaps more accurately, hope – that the Charter still resided in the bank vault.
The properties sequestered by Nisfit were various: drawings and sketches created by Naturalists during off-world expeditions; curios, objects of virtu or aesthetic consequence fabricated by non-Gaean life forms, including tablets in the still undeciphered Myrrhic script, statues from a world at the back of Ursa Minor; vases, bowls and other receptacles found among the Ninarchs. There were collections of small life forms; a case of a hundred magic stone spheres and tablets wrought by the banjees of Cadwal; trinkets worn by the bog-runners of Gemini 333 IV. In another category were Society archives of interest to collectors of ancient documents, in folders, folios, and fused black litholite, incised in microscopic symbols; ancient books and photographs, all manners of chronicles, notations, biographical records.
The purloined material, in its entirety, thought Wayness, would not be conveniently salable to a single individual or institution. With careful attention she studied Nisfit’s letters. She found membership applications, memoranda of delinquent dues and expulsion notices; correspondence in connection with cases at law; scholarship funds; expeditions and research projects; the endowments and investments which provided the income for many Naturalists of Stroma.
The sheer mass of material was almost overwhelming. Initially Wayness sampled items from all the categories, then concentrated upon the items she found most provocative. Using a search procedure which sought references to the word ‘Charter,’ she discovered nothing of interest.
As something of an afterthought, she subjected the entire set of files accumulated during Nisfit’s tenure to the search, and at last, among much that was inconsequential, came upon a case which aroused her interest.
The occasion was the annual conclave during the last year of Nisfit’s office. The minutes of the conclave recorded a dialogue between Jaimes Jamers, Chairman of the Activities Committee and Frons Nisfit, Secretary.
Jamers: Mr. Secretary this is admittedly not my official province, so I address you in the hope that you will clarify some items which I find puzzling. What for instance is a ‘Supersessive’?
Nisfit: Simple enough, sir. It is an article whose use or value to the Society has been superseded.
Jamers: Your verbiage here, I find to be absolute jargon. I wish you would express yourself more intelligibly.
Nisfit: Yes, sir.
Jamers: For example, what does this mean – ‘Engenderments to Asset Group–potentials’?
Nisfit: Much of the terminology, sir, is derived from Accountancy nomenclature.
Jamers: But what does it mean?
Nisfit: In the broadest sense, funds delved from disposal of excessive or unnecessary materials are consigned to a fund of versatile activity. Endowments, scholarships, emergency procedures and the like. Also, payment of taxes and fees, like the annual Stipulative Charge for the Cadwal Charter, which must carefully be observed.
Jamers: I see. You have been scrupulous in this respect?
Nisfit: Of course, sir.
Jamers: And why is the Cadwal Charter not in its usual place?
Nisfit: I transferred it to the Bank of Margravia, along with other documents.
Jamers: Somehow this all seems a bit loose and untidy. I think that we should have an inventory taken of our properties, so that we know where we stand.
Nisfit: Very good, sir. I will arrange for such an inventory.
During the following week Nisfit vacated his office and was seen no more.
A thought came into Wayness’ head which excited her curiosity. Frons Nisfit had become a member of the Society with little regard for the traditional Society stringencies. Who had proposed him for membership? Wayness investigated the files and discovered names which meant nothing to her. What of Monette, who had joined the Society thirty years later? Again Wayness scrutinized the records.
During the relevant period there was no Society member with the surname ‘Monette’.
Odd thought Wayness. She set herself to an even more diligent study, and so made a startling discovery.
Later in the day she reported her findings to Pirie Tamm. “‘Monette,’ as you mentioned, was an off-worlder; when she applied for membership she was required to provide a certified identification, which went into the files. The name was ‘Simonetta Clattuc.’”
* * *
Chapter III, Part 5
Wayness told Pirie Tamm what she remembered from Glawen’s casual anecdotes regarding Simonetta Clattuc. “Apparently she was notorious for her hot temper, and any small slight incurred her furious revenge. When she was still a young woman, she was frustrated in a love affair and almost at the same time ejected from Clattuc House because of low status. She left Araminta Station in a state of rage and was never heard from again.”
“Until she became Nils Myhack’s assistant,” said Pirie Tamm. “I wonder what she had in mind? She could not have known that the Charter and the Grant were missing.”
‘“That is why she wanted to investigate the bank vault.”
“Of course, but she found nothing there or anywhere else, since there is no record of the Grant being reregistered.”
“That, at least, is a comfort. On the other hand, she must have searched the files just as I am doing – and probably to the same effect.”
“Not necessarily! She would not trouble to search the files if she expected that the Charter and Grant were in the bank vault.”
“I hope that you’re right,” said Wayness. “Otherwise I’m wasting my time searching where she has already searched.”
Pirie Tamm made no comment; clearly he felt that, in either case, Wayness was wasting her time.
Wayness nevertheless continued her work, but as before found nothing in the Society files which cast even a feeble illumination upon Nisfit’s dealings.
Days passed, and weeks. Wayness began to encounter moods of discouragement. Her most interesting discovery was a photograph of Nisfit which depicted a thin blond man of indeterminate age, with a high narrow forehead, a trifle of a mustache and a thin down-drooping mouth. It was a face to which she took an instant dislike, representing, as it did, the cause of her frustration.
Further weeks went by, and Wayness could not suppress the conviction that her energies might more profitably be applied elsewhere. Nevertheless, she persevered and every day examined new documents: letters, invoices, receipts; suggestions, complaints, inquiries, reports. All to no purpose; Nisfit had efficiently covered his tracks.
Late one afternoon, her eyelids drooping and her mood close to dejection, Wayness came upon a short passage which evidently had escaped Nisfit’s vigilance. The passage occurred toward the end of a routine letter from a certain Ector van Broude, resident of the city Sancelade, two hundred miles to the northwest. He wrote in regard to a special assessment, but added, as a post-script:
“My friend Ernst Faldeker, employed by the local firm Mischap and Doorn, has commented upon the substantial transactions which you, as Secretary of the Society, have initiated. I seriously question the wisdom of this policy; is it truly far-sighted, and in the best interests of the Society? Please explain to me the reasons for these unusual transactions.” In high excitement Wayness ran to Pirie Tamm and told him of her discovery.
“That is interesting information,” said Pirie Tamm. “Mischap and Doorn at Sancelade, eh? I think I have heard the name, but I cannot place it offhand. Let us consult a directory.”
In his study, he instituted a search and presently was accorded information. ‘‘‘Mischap and Doorn: Brokerage, Consignment and Commission Sales.’ The firm is still extant, and they are still situated in Sancelade. So there you have it.”
* * *
Chapter IV
* * *
Chapter IV, Part 1
“Perhaps we can resolve the problem within the next five minutes,” said Pirie Ta
mm. He telephoned the offices of Mischap and Doorn, at Sancelade. The screen flared into luminosity, displaying the red and blue ‘Mischap and Doorn’ insignia across the top and, in the lower right quadrant, the head and shoulders of a thin-faced young woman with a long thin nose and short blonde hair cut squarely around her head in an uncompromising and rather eccentric style, or so thought Wayness. Her eyes glittered and danced with nervous vitality, but she spoke in the flattest of flat voices: “Please state your name, occupation, connection and present concerns.”
Pirie Tamm identified himself, and cited his connection with the Naturalist Society.
“Very well, sir what is your business with us?”
Pirie Tamm frowned, displeased with the receptionist’s manner. Still, he responded politely. “A certain Ernst Faldeker was a member of your firm some forty years ago. I expect that he has retired?”
“As to that, I can’t say. He certainly is not with us now.”
“Perhaps you will inform me as to his present address.”
“Just a moment, sir.” The young woman’s face disappeared.
Pirie Tamm growled aside to Wayness: “Amazing, is it not? These functionaries think of themselves as angels reclining on clouds, while far below the human ruck supplicates from the mire.”
“She seems very self-possessed,” said Wayness. “I suppose that if she were over-sentimental, she might find it a handicap in her work.”
“Possible, possible.”
The young woman’s face returned. “I find that I am not authorized to issue this sort of information.”
“Well then, who is?”
“Berle Buffums is our present office manager. Would you care to speak with him? He has nothing better to do at the moment.”