by Vance, Jack
“Time to close up shop,” said Madame Katrin. “Now I must see about a bite of supper for Leppold. He has been fishing all day and caught not so much as a sparrow. I’ll open a packet of mackerel, which will give him something to think about.”
Wayness left her new friends and returned to the inn. There was no telephone in her room and she was obliged to use a booth in the corner of the lounge. She called Fair Winds; Pirie Tamm’s image appeared on the screen.
Wayness told of her discoveries to date. “Countess Ottilie seems even more of a termagant than I had expected, and I doubt if she will be helpful.”
“Let me think this over,” said Pirie Tamm. “I will call you back shortly.”
“Very well. Still, I wish –” Wayness looked over her shoulder as someone came into the lounge. She checked her speech and at Fair Winds her face left the screen. Pirie Tamm raised his voice. “Wayness? Are you there?” Wayness’ face returned to the screen. “I’m here. For a moment I was –” She hesitated.
“You were what?” Pirie Tamm demanded sharply.
“Nervous. Wayness looked over her shoulder once again. “I think that when I left Fair Winds I was followed – at least for a time.”
“Explain, if you please.”
“There isn’t much to explain, maybe nothing. When I left Fair Winds a vehicle followed my cab to Tierens, and I glimpsed a face with a black mustache. At Shillawy I doubled back and saw him distinctly: a stocky little man, rather meek-looking, with a black mustache. Afterwards, I did not see him again.”
“Ha!” said Pirie Tamm in a dispirited voice. “I can only advise vigilance.”
“That is the same advice I have been giving myself,” said Wayness. “After Shillawy no one seemed to be following me but I was not at all happy. I remember reading of tags and spy-cells and other such intricate devices, and I began to wonder. At Draczeny I took time to examine my cloak, and for a fact I found something suspicious: a little black shell half the size of a ladybug. I took it into the station restaurant and when I hung up my cloak, I tucked the shell under the collar of a tourist’s long coat. I took the omnibus to Tzem and the tourist flew off to Zagreb or some such place.”
“Well done! Though I cannot imagine who would be following you.”
“Julian, if he were dissatisfied with what he found at Croy.”
Pirie Tamm made a dubious sound. “Whatever the case, you seem to have slipped them off handily. I too have been busy, and I think you will approve of my arrangements. You may or may not be aware that Count Raul was a horticulturist of note; indeed, it was for this reason that he became such an ardent Society member. To make a long story short I have ranged far and wide among the few connections I have left, with good result. Tonight Baron Stam, who is Countess Ottilie’s cousin, will make an appointment for you. I will have full details later this evening, but, as it stands now, you will be identified as a student of botany, who wishes to look through Count Raul’s papers on the subject. If you are able to ingratiate yourself with Countess Ottilie, no doubt you will have an opportunity to put other apparently casual questions to her.”
“That sounds reasonable,” said Wayness. “When do I present myself?”
“Tomorrow, since he will telephone Mirky Porod this evening.”
“And my name is still Wayness Tamm?”
“‘We saw no good reason for a false identity. However, do not stress your connection with the Naturalist Society.”
“I understand.”
* * *
Chapter VI, Part 3
Halfway through the morning Wayness climbed aboard the rickety old conveyance which connected Tzem with a few even more remote villages to the east. After a ride of three miles up and down hills, through a dark deep forest, for a space beside the River Sogor, Wayness was discharged in front of a massive iron portal which guarded the avenue leading to Mirky Porod. The gates were open and the gatekeeper’s lodge was deserted; Wayness set off up the avenue, which after two hundred yards swung around a copse of firs and hemlock to reveal the façade of Mirky Porod.
Wayness had often noticed in old buildings a quality which transcended character to become something close to sentience. She had wondered about this trait: was it real? Had the structure absorbed vitality over the years, perhaps from its occupants? Or was the condition imaginary: a projection of the human mind?
Mirky Porod, basking in the morning sunlight, seemed to demonstrate such a sentience: a reflective and tragic grandeur, enlivened by a certain frivolous insouciance, as if it felt neglected and tired but was too proud to complain.
The architecture – so it appeared to Wayness – neither obeyed nor defied convention, but, rather, seemed innocently oblivious to aesthetic norms. Exaggerations and excesses of mass were countered by playful elongations of form; subtle surprises were everywhere. The towers, north and south, were too squat and too heavy, with roofs too tall and too steep. The roof of the main structure showed three gables, each with its balcony. While the gardens were not impressive, a vast lawn extended from the terrace to a far line of sentinel cypress trees. It was as if someone of a romantic temperament had made a quick sketch on a scrap of paper and had ordained a structure with proportions exactly as sketched, or perhaps the inspiration had been a picture in a child’s book of fairy tales.
Wayness pulled at the bell chain. The door was presently opened by a plump young maid, not much older than herself. She wore a black uniform with a white lace cap to confine her blonde hair Wayness thought that she seemed a trifle surly and out of sorts, though she addressed Wayness politely enough. “Yes, miss?”
“My name is Wayness Tamm. I have an appointment with Countess Ottilie for eleven o’clock.”
The maid’s blue eyes widened in mild surprise. “Do you now? We haven’t had too many visitors of late. The Countess thinks that everyone is out to steal her, or sell her fake jewels, or steal her things. In the main, of course, she is right. That is my view of it, at least.”
Wayness laughed. “I’ve nothing to sell and I’m too timid to steal.”
The maid smiled wanly. “Very well, I’ll take you to the old creature, for all the good it will do you. Just mind your manners and praise her dogs. What was your name again?”
“Wayness Tamm.”
“This way, then. She’s taking her elevenses out on the lawn.”
Wayness followed the maid across the terrace and down to the lawn. Fifty yards away, solitary as an island in a green ocean, the Countess sat at a white table, in the shade of a green and blue parasol. She was surrounded by a band of small fat dogs, all sprawled in attitudes of repose. Countess Ottilie herself was tall and gaunt, with a long sharp face, haggard cheeks, a long crooked nose with large nostrils, and a long jaw. Her white hair, parted in the middle, had been drawn to the nape of her neck and tied into a knot. She wore an ankle-length blue gown of filmy stuff and a pink jacket.
At the sight of Wayness and the maid the Countess cried out: “Sophie! Here at once!”
Sophie made no reply. The Countess silently watched them approach.
Sophie spoke in a sullen voice: “This is Miss Wayness Tamm, Your Ladyship. She says that she has an appointment with you.”
Countess Ottilie ignored Wayness. “Where have you been? I called you, to no avail!”
‘“I was answering the door.”
“Indeed! You took your time about it! Where is Lenk, who should look after such things? “
“Madame Lenk’s back was taken bad this morning. Mr. Lenk is applying a salve.”
“That is all pooh-bah! Madame Lenk always chooses to suffer at the most inconvenient times! Meanwhile I am not attended! I might as well be a bird on the fence, or the painting in a picture!”
“Sorry, Your Ladyship.”
“The tea was thin and barely warm! What of that?”
Sophie’s round face became sullener than ever. “I did not brew the tea; I only brought it out!”
“Take the pot away, and bring out a fresh pot on
the instant!”
“It won’t be on the instant,” said Sophie grimly. “You’ll have to wait, like anyone else, while it steeps.”
Countess Ottilie face became mottled and she prodded the lawn with her cane. Sophie took the tray with the cup and teapot. In so doing, she trod on the tail of one of the dogs, which uttered a shrill cry. Sophie also cried out, jerked backwards and dropped the tray; pot and cup fell to the lawn, with a few drops splashing on Countess Ottilie’s hand, which caused her to bellow a hoarse curse. “You have scalded me!” She swung her cane but Sophie already had jumped back and trusted her pelvis to the side, so that the cane struck only empty air. “I thought you said the tea was cold!” Sophie called. Countess Ottilie had sprained her wrist, and was more vexed than ever. “Ah, you slut, to stamp poor Mikki, and then feign innocence! It is monstrous! Come here at once!”
“So you can beat me? Never!”
The Countess struggled to her feet and swung the cane again, but Sophie, dancing back a safe distance, stuck her tongue out at Countess Ottilie. “That is what I think of you, stupid old crow that you are!”
Countess Ottilie panted, “As of this instant you are discharged! Leave at once!”
Sophie marched off two paces, then, bending, flung up her skirts to show Countess Ottilie the expanse of her buttocks, then strolled triumphantly away.
Wayness stood to the side, shocked, worried and amused. She came cautiously forward, picked up tray, pot and cup and set them on the table. The Countess glared at her. “Go! I have no need for you either.”
“If you wish, but I had an appointment to see you at this time.”
“Hmf.” Countess Ottilie settled back into her chair. “Naturally you want something of me, like all the rest!”
Wayness saw that she had not made an auspicious beginning. “It is a pity that you have been disturbed. Should I come back when you have had time to rest?”
“Rest? It is not I who needs rest; it is poor little Mikki with his sore tail. Mikki? Where are you?”
Wayness peered underneath the chair. “He seems to be doing quite nicely.”
“Then that is one worry I am spared.” She examined Wayness coldly, with eyes behind folds and layers of loose skin, like the eyes of a turtle. “Now that you are here, what do you want? I think Baron Stam said something about botany?”
“Yes, that is correct. Count Raul, of course, was well known in the field and some of his findings have never been fully documented. With your permission, I would like to look over his papers. I will cause you as little inconvenience as possible.”
Countess Ottilie set her lips in a hard line. “Botany was another of Count Raul’s expensive triflings. He knew a thousand ways to spend money. They called him a philanthropist, but he was something else: he was a fool!”
“Surely not!” said Wayness, once again shocked.
Countess Ottilie tapped the lawn with her cane. “That is my opinion. You are convinced otherwise?”
“Of course not! But –”
“We were never left in peace because of whiners and solicitors. Each day would see more of them, with their big teeth and unctuous grins. Worst of all was the Nature Society.”
“The Naturalist Society?”
“Those are the ones! I detest the sound of the name: They were beggars, thieves, carnivores! They never desisted, never relented; always a plea here and a wheedle there! Would you believe it? One time they wanted to build a grand palace for their comfort upon our ancient lands!”
“Extraordinary!” said Wayness, feeling a hypocrite and a traitor. “Incredible!”
“I set them right, I can tell you! They got nothing!”
Greatly daring, Wayness said thoughtfully: “‘Count Raul did some very interesting work on Naturalist Society data. Do you know of any papers pertaining to the Naturalist Society?”
“Nothing! Have I not described these people? I emptied the file into a box and sent it away where I will never be reminded of money spent so foolishly.”
Wayness smiled in polite agreement. The interview was going poorly. “As for me, I will cost you nothing, and in the end the Count’s reputation may well be enhanced.”
Countess Ottilie made a scornful sound. “Reputation? A joke! I care nothing for my own, even less for that of Count Raul.”
Wayness forged grimly ahead. “Still, Count Raul’s name is honored at the university. No doubt he owes much of his stature to your encouragement.”
“No doubt.”
“Perhaps then I might dedicate my thesis to “Count Raul and Countess Ottilie de Flamanges!”
“As you like. If that is all you came for, you may go.”
Wayness ignored the remark. “Count Raul kept records of his collections and acquisitions, as well as his researches?”
“Of course. If nothing else, he was meticulous.”
“I would like to look through his records, so that I might clear up certain puzzles.”
“Impossible. We keep such things locked up nowadays.”
Refusal was no more than Wayness had been expecting. “It would of course be in the interests of science, and of course I would be helped in my career. I assure you that I would be no trouble to you.”
Countess Ottilie prodded the lawn with her cane. “Not another word! Yonder is the gate; go the way you have come, and at once!”
Wayness hesitated, reluctant to accept so devastating a defeat. “May I come again, when you are feeling better?”
Countess Ottilie stood erect, showing herself to be a woman taller than Wayness had assumed. “Did you not hear me? I want none of you about, prying and picking, always reaching with your fingers, nibbling at my things.”
Wayness turned away and marched in a rage of her own to the gate.
* * *
Chapter VI, Part 4
The time was noon. Wayness stood in the road outside the gates to Mirky Porod, waiting for the omnibus which, according to the schedule, passed each hour. She looked up the road; no bus was in sight and no sound could be heard save the singing of insects.
Wayness went to sit on a stone bench. Her circumstances were more or less as she had expected them to be; nevertheless, she felt deflated and depressed. What now? Wayness forced herself to ponder. Several schemes suggested themselves, all either impractical, illegal, immoral or dangerous. Wayness liked none of them, especially all variations on the theme of kidnapping one or more of the dogs.
Down the avenue from Mirky Porod came Sophie the erstwhile maid, carrying a pair of bulging suitcases. She looked at Wayness. “Here we are again. How did your interview go?”
“Not well.”
“I could have told you that from the start.” Sophie put down her suitcases and joined Wayness on the bench. As for me, I am finished, definitely and forever. I have suffered enough from that old reptile and her curs.”
Wayness gave rueful assent. “She has an uncertain temper.”
“Oh, her temper is certain enough,” said Sophie. “It is always bad, and niggardly to boot. She pays as little as she can and she wants attention at all hours. No wonder she has trouble keeping staff.”
“How many folk work for her?”
“Let me see. Mr. Lenk and Madame Lenk, a cook and a scullion, four maids, a footman who serves as chauffeur, two gardeners and a boy. I will say this; Mr. Lenk makes sure there’s a good table, and no one is truly over-worked. Lenk is sometimes a bit amorous, but he can be controlled by means of a hint to Madame Lenk, who then makes Lenk so miserable that one almost takes pity on the poor man. He is surprisingly quick and one must be agile enough to keep from being backed into a corner, in which case there is often no help for it.”
“It would seem that Lenk keeps everyone happy at Mirky Porod.”
“He tries his best, for a fact. In the main he is easy enough, and holds no grudges.”
“Are there truly ghosts at the castle?”
“That is a serious question. Everyone who has heard them claims that he has heard them,
you get my meaning. As for me, you would not find me anywhere near North Tower when the moon is at the full.”
“What does Countess Ottilie say about the ghosts?”
“She says it was ghosts who pushed Count Raul from the window, and I suppose that she would know best.”
“So it would seem.”
The omnibus arrived and the two rode to Tzem. Wayness went directly to the telephone in The Iron Pig and called Mirky Porod. The face of a middle-aged man, sleek and suave, with plump jowls, lank black hair, drooping eyelids and a neat little mustache appeared on the screen. Wayness asked: “Am I addressing Mr. Lenk?” From his end of the connection, Lenk observed Wayness’ image with approval and touched back his mustache. ‘“True enough! I am Gustav Lenk. How may I oblige you, and be assured that I will make every effort to do so!”
“It is simple enough, Mr. Lenk. I have been talking with Sophie, who has just resigned her position at Mirky Porod.”
“That is unfortunately the case.”
“I wish to apply for the position, if it is still open.”
“It is still open, right enough. I have barely had time to learn of the vacancy myself.” Lenk cleared his throat and examined Wayness’ image with even greater interest. “You have had experience at this kind of work?”
“Not a great deal, but I am sure that with your help I will have no problems.”
Lenk said cautiously: “In ordinary circumstances this would be correct. However, if Sophie had anything to say about Countess Ottilie –”
“She spoke at length, and with emotion.”
“Then you must know that the difficulties are not the work itself, but Countess Ottilie and her pets.”
“I understand this clearly, Mr. Lenk.”
“I must point out, also, that the pay is not large. You would start at twenty sols a week. However, your uniform is furnished, and there are no deductions. If I may say so, the staff is congenial, and all of us realize that dealing with the Countess is difficult. Nevertheless, it must be accomplished, and in fact this is the basis for all our employments.”