Night Lamp

by Jack Vance

  The chances were clearly nonexistent. Asrubal slowly returned across the entry hall, past Jaro, back into the chamber where the Adjudicators awaited him. The Regulators followed.

  Jaro watched as the grichkin picked up a telephone and spoke a sentence or two, evidently notifying Ooscah that his presence was commanded in the grand hall.

  Jaro remained in the shadows. Asrubal’s conduct had been most peculiar, and almost certainly directed to his own advantage.

  The grichkin hoisted himself to his feet and trotted across the entry hall, around the stairs to a low stone archway, through which he disappeared. Jaro’s suspicion was reinforced. He crossed the chamber on long strides. As he expected, the archway opened upon a flight of rough stone steps, leading down to the crypts below Varcial Palace. The grichkin had gone from sight. Jaro hesitated. The prospect of following the grichkin down into the crypts was most unappealing, but still—Jaro upbraided himself for his own cowardice. He looked over his shoulder. No one was in sight. There was no help for it; he screwed up his face in a grimace of utter distaste and followed after the grichkin, through the low archway and down the stone steps, lit by the dimmest of lights.

  At the first landing Jaro paused and looked down the steps; these were the precincts of the white houseghouls. He felt for the bulk of the power-gun at his hip; the contact was reassuring. He continued down the steps to the next landing, then around and down to the left, to another landing, and down again. Arriving at the first level, Jaro found it opened upon a small bleak chamber, furnished with a wooden table, a chair and a cupboard, all in a state of neglect. The chamber was empty. The air had become dank and smelled of ancient mold.

  Jaro listened; the grichkin’s footsteps still sounded in the dark. He drew a deep breath, touched his power-gun once again and ran down the steps—down, down, down, past landings, and two more levels, each opening into a small sparsely furnished and deserted chamber. Passageways led away from these chambers, but to what purpose Jaro cared not to speculate.

  The steps had become narrow and crude, as if the areas below were remote in every way from the upper world. Down flight after flight went Jaro, the dim bulbs casting wavering shadows ahead of him.

  The grichkin’s shuffling footsteps sounded more distinctly now and Jaro slowed his descent. The fourth level was close below. Suddenly the footsteps no longer could be heard. In their place was the sound of muted voices. Jaro moved quietly forward and peered around the last corner, into the fourth-level chamber. Like the others it was furnished with a table, chair, shelves, a sink and a cupboard. A grichkin wearing a gray smock and a dull yellow hat sat at the table. The grichkin who had arrived from above leaned over the table, much as Asrubal had leaned over his own desk. The grichkin in the yellow hat scowled at him resentfully, and muttered complaints under his breath. He was wrinkled and very old, with a gray skin, huge pouches under his eyes, a long nose hooking over the tiny gray bud of his mouth. He made an angry gesture and cried out in a shrill voice: “What about me? Has anyone thought for my convenience? Or is it to be the bin, for wasted old Shim.”

  “No matter! You have heard the orders.”

  The old grichkin rose to his feet and called: “Oleg! Come! Oleg? Wake yourself! There is work to be done.”

  From a side-chamber came a man of great size, with massive shoulders and torso, wide hips, and a big belly. A tuft of dirty brown hair raised above his scalp, a ragged beard surrounded his loose wet mouth. He halted in the middle of the chamber, yawned, scratched at his armpits and looked suspiciously at the grichkin from above. “What do we have here, all swivets and sashes? Speak, little twinkle-toes; did you bring down our laundry?”

  The grichkin responded with dignity: “You may know me as Overkin Pood, assistant to the major-domo. I am here with important instructions, to be obeyed at once.”

  “Instruct away, then, and we will listen. Down here we do our duty!”

  Pood prepared to speak, but was distracted by a sibilant sound from across the room. He looked over his shoulder and gave a sudden squeak of distaste. He pointed a long trembling finger. “Look yonder! Do you let them peer in at you like that?”

  Oleg chuckled. “Why not? They are my little pets! Shim is never convivial and I must seek amusement elsewhere.”

  Shim, Pood and Oleg all looked across the room toward an iron-barred door which closed off a dark corridor. Behind the bars there was a stirring of dark shapes and a glimmer of white faces.

  Oleg said judiciously: “Still, I allow no liberties.” He took up a staff and thrust the end through the iron bars, to jab into one of the white faces. The houseghoul gave a chittering sound of rage and seized the end of the staff. Oleg chortled and pulled the staff back. “That is a naughty trick, my poppin! Be grave; be kind! There is more to life than simple frightfulness!”

  For a moment Oleg stood grinning at the houseghoul, which in a sudden fit of energy shook the iron bars so that the door rattled in the frame. Oleg took up the staff and worked it energetically through the bars. The creature, hissing and moaning, retreated into the shadows, where it continued to make soft rasping sounds.

  The grichkin Shim called out peevishly: “Come, Oleg! To the task!”

  Oleg reluctantly turned away from the door. The two grichkins, followed by Oleg, set off along a corridor opposite to the iron-barred door. They disappeared from sight. Jaro brought out his gun, stepped down into the chamber and crossed to where he could look down the corridor. The dim light revealed the three forms where they halted, beside a heavy door with an iron-barred inspection window. Oleg glanced through the window, then unbarred the door and threw it open. He looked into the cell, and called out: “Are you awake, my dearie? I see that, as usual, you are brisk and dapper! Come out now; there are changes to be made! So it’s hop, skip and jump, with far miles to travel! Where do we go? To the land of dreams; where else?”

  Pood spoke impatiently, “Be quick; less foolish talk! Haste is a priority!”

  Oleg ignored him, and continued in a soothing voice: “Why do you wait? It is not yet time for your glunk; you are far too avid for your luxuries, but then, who can blame you, since it is all so good! Ah, the tasty gruel! The tidbits which you relish so keenly. I am tired, and henceforth you must fetch them yourself. That will be the new way.”

  Once again Pood made a pettish protest: “Get on with the work; enough of this gabble!”

  Oleg turned his head and spoke to the grichkin, “If you are so hot for action, go into the cell yourself and bring him out! You will find he is as agile as a spider; he jumps high; he walks around the walls; he is everywhere at once! If you had a beard, he would pull it well. As it is, he must content himself with your nose.”

  Pood responded sulkily, “That is not my job. You must do the work, and quickly! Those are the commands!”

  Oleg shrugged and turned back to the cell. “Come now! Out with you! There is no time to waste!”

  From within the cell came a mutter which Jaro was unable to make out.

  Oleg called sweetly: “Will you come? I would enter your cell were I not dainty as to where I place my feet. So come, my good one! Up and away, to fly the far spaces and up to the moon-palaces, where wine flows from crystal spouts and the lunar damsels dance!”

  Pood made further fretful sounds. Shim called through the doorway: “Come now, and out with you! No more sulking! Must Oleg go tinkly-tinkly-tinkly with the spanker?”

  From within came a grumble. Shim called approvingly: “That’s the way! Step by step; come along now! Faster still; we must hurry!”

  Into the corridor shuffled a dark shape which Jaro could not see clearly.

  Oleg gave a hoarse call of encouragement. “Forward now! It’s goodbye to your beloved home, and all your favorite nooks and crannies. But no regrets, since it’s all for the best! Oh what fine things await you!”

  Jaro backed across the chamber and up into the shadows of the staircase; he watched with a pounding heart. Into the room came the two grichkin
s, followed by Oleg and a person of indeterminate age. A loose brown smock covered his thin body; dank buskins, improvised from rags, were wound around his feet. A tangle of black hair and a black beard concealed most of his face. Jaro searched for resemblance to himself, and saw a likeness in the spacing of the eyes and the shape of the nose.

  “Now then,” said Oleg. “Hold hard a moment; I must light the way!”

  Oleg went to a shelf and fitted a tubular device to the end of his staff. Behind the iron-barred door black robes fluttered and a pair of white faces jerked and bobbed. Oleg approached the door and pointed his staff toward the bars. He touched a trigger; the tube spurted a long flame through the bars. Hissing, spitting, moaning imprecations the houseghouls tumbled backward down the corridor while Oleg gurgled in glee. “So then, my good fellows! When Oleg speaks for patience, he expects close attention! Now, stand back! There will be time enough for your treat.” Oleg peered through the bars. “No tricks or sudden starts; the flame is ready!”

  Oleg unbarred the door and, with flame-staff ready, threw the door open on squealing hinges. He turned to the prisoner. “Now we must say goodbye, since we travel in separate directions. Your way is yonder, into the country of the unknown, where you will arrive after perhaps some small tribulation. So step lively now; in with you, and our good wishes go with you.”

  The prisoner stood motionless. The two grichkins each took one of his arms and urged him toward the open door. The prisoner held back, his eyes bulging. The grichkins pulled more insistently. “Come along with you! We all must obey orders!”

  Jaro stepped down into the chamber and, aiming his gun, destroyed the legs first of Shim, then of Pood. Both fell screaming to the floor. Jaro waved his gun toward Oleg. “Drag them into the corridor; be quick with you, before I shoot again.”

  Oleg roared in mindless outrage. He flung the staff; it whirled through the air and struck Jaro on the chest, to send him reeling. Oleg lurched forward, seized Jaro and hugged him to his enormous chest. He grinned down into Jaro’s face, his great maw hanging loose and wet. “This is a surprise! But you have hurt poor old Shim, and also the popinjay Pood. That was not nice, and you shall not gain by your cruelty! Make ready! You must walk in tandem with Garlet, down that avenue into the unknown! Now we will go. If you struggle I will squeeze your head.” He started to drag Jaro toward the corridor. Jaro let his legs go limp, hoping to sag to the floor, but Oleg only hugged tighter and Jaro’s ribs creaked. He tried to use his elbows, to kick and butt with his head; Oleg’s great frame was sheathed with thick pads of fat and muscle and Jaro’s efforts came to nothing. He tried to point the gun at Oleg’s foot, but Oleg struck his wrist and the gun dropped to the stone floor. Jaro thought desperately of the months and years of Gaing’s training, and the endless exercises. Now the reflexes built into his body would save his life. Even so it was touch and go, for Oleg was a behemoth and his great mass made most techniques useless.

  But not so for one tried and true procedure. Jaro jerked up his knee with all his force. He felt the great testicles crush and squirm, and heard Oleg’s instant howl of agony. Jaro dropped from Oleg’s embrace, seized his gun and also the staff. He pointed the tube toward Oleg and pressed the trigger. Flame sprayed against Oleg’s chest and he fell back, turning Jaro a look of plaintive surprise. “You burned me.”

  “I will burn you again,” panted Jaro. “Drag those grichkins into the corridor beyond the door.”

  “They are thrashing about! They are howling in pain!”

  Jaro pointed the fire-tube. Wheezing and sobbing, Oleg obeyed, ignoring the horrified protests.

  “Now then,” said Jaro. “You too! After them!”

  Oleg turned him a frantic look. “They are waiting. They do not like me; I have burned them.”

  Jaro pressed the trigger. With bursts of flame he drove Oleg moaning and crying into the corridor, then slammed and barred the door. Strange sounds came from the corridor: cries of pain and clacking sounds of insane glee.

  Jaro turned to the erstwhile prisoner, who sat in the comer, slumped against the wall. Jaro appraised him for a moment, struggling between disgust and pity. Garlet watched him with stony detachment.

  “Garlet! I am your brother! My name is Jaro.”

  “I know.”

  “Come then; on your feet, and we will leave this awful place.” Jaro reached to take Garlet’s arm. Garlet gave a hoarse cry and, springing to his feet, hurled himself upon Jaro, who was totally unprepared for such an act, and was buffeted back against the wall. Garlet’s hair was thrust into his face, choking him; the hair smelled of filth and Garlet’s body was fetid. Jaro struggled, squirmed, ducked, turned his head away from the hair and gasped for air. Despite Garlet’s clutching fingers, he tore loose from the rancid body and jumped back. He cried out: “Garlet! Don’t fight me! I am your brother! I came to rescue you.”

  Garlet leaned against the wall, panting, his face convulsed. “I know of you and your life; for a time I could push myself into your soul. That was long ago and you cut me off to isolate me in the dark! It was a bad thing to do. You lived the life of a prince; dancing and basking and sucking sweet juices while I paid the price, moaning here in the dark! But you did not care. You would not listen! You stopped off my small glimpse of your wonderful life! You left me nothing.”

  “It could not be helped,” said Jaro. “Come; let us leave this place.”

  Garlet stared blindly across the room. Tears formed in his eyes. “Why should I go from here? Nothing remains for me. All my days are gone, and my golden hours! You cannot pay the debt! All that is precious and mine is gone! I do not care what happens; nothing is left.”

  Jaro tried to speak cheerfully: “From now on your life shall go nicely, and you will make up for the time wasted. So now, will you come?”

  Garlet slowly turned his head. His eyes widened in unreasoning anger. “I will kill you, so that your blood flows across the floor into the drain! Then, and only then, will I be satiated!”

  Jaro protested. “That is not a good thing to say!”

  For response Garlet lunged at Jaro and seized his throat. The two toppled into a writhing heap. Garlet’s thin body, under the stinking smock, was bony and harsh. He tried to pound Jaro’s head against the stone floor. As he strove, he uttered gasping phrases: “I will put you into the cell and lock the door! Then I will sit outside where Shim sat. I have long envied him! Now I, too, can sit at my ease, free to walk either this way or that. I will turn the light off or on as I wish. At every meal I shall eat my fill of salt fish, and no one will interfere.”

  Jaro struggled to protect himself from Garlet’s crazed strength. At last his patience wore thin and he cuffed Garlet smartly. Garlet sat back in shock. He tenderly massaged his cheek. “Why did you do that?”

  “To bring you to your senses.” Jaro rose to his feet. “Please do not attack me again.” He reached down and helped Garlet stand erect. “Now we will leave this place.”

  Garlet made no further protest; the two climbed the steps.

  At the second level Jaro called a halt to catch his breath. Garlet stood, fidgeting, peering first up the steps, then back down the way they had come. Jaro asked, “What are you looking for?”

  “I am afraid that Oleg will find us here, out of our cells, and walk on us; this is his way.”

  “No fear as to that! Have you had enough rest?”

  “I need no rest. In the cell I run across the floor and run up the walls. Someday I want to run up so far that my feet touch the ceiling.”

  The two continued up the steps—past the first level, and at last out through the archway into the entrance hall. Jaro noticed that Garlet was squinting. He asked, “Does the light hurt your eyes?”

  “It is bright.”

  The two crossed the chamber, Garlet shambling behind, eyes half-closed against the glare. At the door into the grand hall, Jaro paused to look in upon the proceedings.

  A grichkin in the splendid regalia of a major-domo stood bef
ore the Adjudicators, giving testimony. This, thought Jaro, would be Ooscah. Asrubal, as before, sat in his massive chair of heavy dark wood.

  The Magister, leaning forward, addressed Ooscah: “Let me review your testimony. Listen carefully. If I speak inaccurately, correct me. Remember, the penalty for purposeful mendacity is the bin.”

  Ooscah bowed his head, smiling a small pursy smile. “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Now then: back to the episode in question. Asrubal gave the child to you, with instructions to see to its safety.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Ooscah spoke in a high clear voice, enunciating as if each word were a choice morsel to be savored. “He handed the child to me with care, as if he felt great pity for the woeful mite.”

  “At this time, so you aver, you were approached by one of the Ratigo holy women, who stated her readiness to care for the child. Since apparently she had come at Asrubal’s behest, you obeyed her request. Am I correct?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “And when next did you see the child?”

  “Never, Your Honor. I assumed that perhaps its parents had returned to do their duty.”

  Maihac had noticed Jaro and came to the doorway. Jaro pointed to Garlet. “I found him on the fourth level of the crypts. They were about to give him to the houseghouls. I arranged that they should not do so.”

  Maihac looked Garlet up and down. “I am your father. These many years I thought you dead.”

  “I don’t know what to think,” said Garlet. “The light hurts my eyes.”

  “You are in bad shape, no doubt about that,” said Maihac.

  “But that’s not your fault, and we’ll set you right as fast as we can.”

  “I don’t want to go down again.”

  “You need not worry. Yonder sits Asrubal, who put you down in the dark. Let us go look at him. He will not be pleased to see you.” Garlet held back, shuffling his feet. Maihac took hold of his arm and led him across the hall.

  Ooscah was speaking. “I can tell you no more. Time comes and goes; who knows what the future holds.”