by Jack Vance
Maihac and Garlet halted in front of the Adjudicators. There was silence in the chamber. Asrubal stared aghast at Garlet. Ooscah called out in a high quavering voice of simulated joy: “Here he is now. The missing child, safe at last! Let us all cry out our glad welcomes!”
In a sharp voice the Magister demanded, “What has happened? Please inform the panel.”
Jaro spoke, “I can tell you what happened. When Asrubal left this chamber, he instructed the grichkin Pood to go down to the fourth level, where he should ensure Garlet’s disappearance. I followed him down the stone steps, to the dungeon where Garlet was imprisoned. The jailers brought Garlet from his dungeon and started to give him to the houseghouls. I interfered and killed the jailers. Then I brought Garlet up the many levels. He has been in the dark dungeon for twenty years. Asrubal did not treat him well.”
The Magister looked at Asrubal, who returned a blank stare.
The Magister asked, “Did you treat Garlet well?”
“Adequately well.”
The Magister turned to Garlet. “This is a court of justice. Do you know what that means?”
“No. The light is bright.”
The Magister gave orders to the Regulators: “Find some dark glasses, and bring them here, quickly.” Again he spoke to Garlet: “When people do bad things, they are brought to a court of justice; and if they have committed crimes, they are punished.”
Garlet squinted uneasily from right to left. “I spilled water from the dish; for punishment Shim gave me no more water. Will you send me back down without water? Is that my punishment? I will try not to spill water again.”
“You are not to be punished,” said the Magister. “You have done nothing wrong, so far as I know. How long have you been down in the dark?”
“I don’t know. I remember nothing else.”
“Look yonder at the man sitting in the chair; do you know him?”
Garlet looked toward Asrubal. “I have seen him three times. He came to my place in the dark. Oleg brought me out and the man looked at me. Then he went away.”
The Magister turned back to Asrubal. “Do you have anything to say? You have a right to speak in your own behalf.”
“I will say this. The off-worlder and the Ramy woman victimized me terribly! They pillaged my fortune and ransacked my Lorquin offices. I kept the child as a hostage pending their return to Romarth. But they failed to come; they shirked their duty! They are trifling creatures, devoid of fortitude. In a word, they are disgusting! Examine them. Yonder sits the son of Tawn Maihac and a flighty woman of Ramy House. He is young and handsome, as a toy animal is handsome. He is the darling of Fortune, but he is flawed! He has a sour soul, like a thing molded of bad cheese. Those who know him best call him a ‘nimp.’ ” Asrubal paused, smiling coldly. Jaro stared back, shocked and incredulous.
Asrubal went on. “Long ago, I suffered a great wrong. I was disheartened. An off-world trickster had come to cheat me, to pilfer my goods, meanwhile groveling and wheedling. How could I deal with this sly rodent? I maintained full rashudo and all the dignity of my sept! I am a straightforward man! I deviate never from the course! And in the end the thieves paid dearly for their thefts. I tasted a rich vengeance. The off-worlder’s child was immured in the dark. The off-worlder was given to the Loklor. I found the Ramy woman at Point Extase and punished her severely, inflicting so much fear upon her that she chose death rather than confront me face to face, especially since she knew that I would strangle her child before her eyes.
“I have enjoyed my victories for many years; no one can take this joy from me. Even now my enemies cringe when I look at them! Kill me if you like; all men die. But in my case, not until equipoise was satisfied. And who is to blame? Who else but Tawn Maihac, the faithless father who never returned to claim his lost son. There is the answer: twenty years the child has waited in the dark to pay for the avarice of his father and the stealth of his mother. Such is the interplay of karma. I will impart a final irony: The child’s dungeon lies directly below the chair where now his father sits in bloated pomp. The man is an off-worlder; he is detestable.”
The Magister held up his hand. “Enough, Asrubal! You have ranted only to your own shame. Tonight we will all have bad dreams, I grant you that! Barwang, do you care to plead mercy for your kinsman?”
Barwang, sprawling in his chair, muttered, “I have nothing to say.”
“In that case the Adjudicators will now adjourn. In a week we will announce the sentence to be imposed upon the criminal. Regulators! Shackle the prisoner, take him to a dungeon secure from the houseghouls. Serve him bread and water; allow him no visitors.”
Morlock asked, “What of Ooscah?”
The Magister gave the slightest of shrugs. “Ooscah is probably no more venal than any other grichkin; still, he is an accomplice to a hideous crime. Regulators! This very moment, take Ooscah to the Foundance, apply a wire noose and drop him into the corpse-bin.”
Ooscah melted into his chair as if he were molded of warm wax. A pair of Regulators gripped his arms and pulled him to his feet; sagging on uncoordinated legs, Ooscah was led from the hall.
The Magister said, “Proceedings are at an end; they have been taxing; they weigh upon us all. In a week the final judgment upon Asrubal will be pronounced. That is all for today.”
Nineteen
1
Jaro brought the flitter down from the sky and with Skirl and I Garlet aboard, flew across the city of Carleone. Ardrian, with Maihac, Morlock and others, trooped back through the evening.
Garlet sat stiffly on the seat and looked wildly in all directions, but made no protest. Skirl tried to soothe him: “There will be many things new to you, and some will make you nervous. But you’ll soon adapt, and suddenly everything will seem familiar. Think! You’ll be just like Jaro.”
Garlet made a rasping sound which Skirl took to be a sardonic chuckle. Clearly, any program involving Garlet would require both patience and unremitting good humor. If she were to be involved, she could only do her best, though she was not sure that her patience would be adequate to the task. Covertly she studied the huddled bad-smelling creature with hairy face and glittering eyes. She shifted her gaze to Jaro, then back to Garlet: incredible that these two were the same stuff! She spoke, trying to sound confident. The eyes in the hairy face swung around to fix upon her. Despite all efforts for control, her voice trembled. “If anything happens which you don’t understand, ask, and we will explain as best we can.”
Garlet’s eyes gleamed at her through the thicket of hair. He blurted: “Who are you?”
“My name is Skirl Hutsenreiter; I am not a Roum. I am what they call an off-worlder.”
Jaro told Garlet: “You and I both are half Roum and half off-worlder. It doesn’t seem to be a bad combination.”
Skirl pointed to the eastern sky, where the immense shape of the galaxy was pushing above the horizon. “If you look closely, you can see some of the individual stars.” She pointed. “Out there to the left is the Gaean Reach. The world Gallingale is out there. My home is at Thanet on Gallingale. When we leave here, perhaps we will return to Gallingale, at least for a time.”
Garlet showed scant interest in the stars. He continued to stare at Skirl. He said at last, “You are different from Jaro.”
“Yes, quite different.”
“I like the difference. But I can’t understand what you are thinking.”
Skirl laughed uneasily. “That’s just as well. I’m different because I’m female. Jaro is male, like you. Can you understand what he is thinking?”
Garlet gave an ambiguous grunt. “It is not the same now.” Garlet turned his head to the window and peered off toward the luminous shape in the east. He asked, “You said you are leaving this place?”
“As soon as Asrubal is properly dead. Then we will fly back to the Gaean Reach—the sooner the better.” Skirl looked from the window. “We’ve arrived at Carleone. You’ll soon be bathed and dressed in new clothes, and you’ll f
eel much better.”
Garlet said nothing. Skirl wondered if he had comprehended anything she had told him.
The flitter landed upon the Carleone terrace. The three alighted and Garlet watched half-suspiciously as Jaro sent the flitter aloft. Ardrian and Maihac arrived and the group entered the palace. Ardrian summoned his major-domo Fancho and gave instructions.
Fancho turned to Garlet. “Come, sir! We’ll make all well with you.”
Garlet shrank back. “Is it to be the crypts?”
“No more crypts,” said Maihac. “Only a bath and some general sanitation which you badly need. Fancho will find decent clothes for you, and you will feel a new man.”
Fancho called winningly, “Come, sir! There is a nice perfume in the bath, just for you.”
Garlet still hung back. He pointed toward Skirl. “I want her to come with me.”
“Not this time,” said Maihac. “Skirl will be busy elsewhere.”
Jaro said, “I’ll be with you, and you need fear nothing.”
“I know you well,” muttered Garlet. “You are as bad as the others.”
“Come along, sir,” called Fancho. “We’ll have you as handsome as any fine cavalier, and you won’t know yourself.”
Garlet made a soft whining sound, but followed Fancho without further complaint. Apathetically he allowed himself to be bathed, barbered, shaved, manicured, pedicured, anointed with a perfumed lotion, then rubbed with a towel moist with an astringent spirit. Garlet scowled and winced at every stage of the proceedings. Jaro was often amused, but took care that Garlet should not notice.
Finally Garlet had been groomed, scented and sanitized to the best of the servants’ abilities. Fancho laid out new clothes; Garlet, standing hunched, still looked graceless and miserable, like a scrawny plucked chicken. Jaro thought soberly: there, but for the caprice of the mad Ratigo women, stood himself, and Jaro smiled no further.
Under Fancho’s direction, the Seishanee dressed Garlet in dark blue trousers, a striped blue and green blouse, a green jacket, and soft green leather ankle-boots.
The transformation was complete. Fancho asked, “Is everything suitable?”
“Very suitable,” said Jaro. “You’ve done a good job. Garlet, what do you think?”
“These boots don’t feel right.”
“They look well on you,” said Jaro. “You’ll get used to them.”
Garlet was not so sure. He looked uneasy and awkward in his new clothes. No surprise, thought Jaro. For Garlet every experience was a novelty of questionable value. Jaro studied him dispassionately. The two were similar in the general cast of their features and stature, though Garlet hunched his shoulders, so that they appeared thin and narrow. He held his bony arms bent at the elbows, with fingers clenched. His skin was notably pallid; his face showed hollow cheeks, deep eye-sockets, a bony chin and jaw. Jaro divined something of Garlet’s miserable state of confusion, and tried to soothe him with words of cheerful encouragement. “You are absolutely a changed man! The difference is remarkable! Do you feel the change?”
Garlet responded in a surly mutter, “I have not thought about it.”
“Would you like to see yourself in a mirror?”
“What is a mirror?”
“It is a bright glass which reflects your image. It shows what you look like to other people.”
“It is the wrong choice!” Garlet complained. “The grichkin put me into water and cut away all my hair; then he put me into these clothes. Let the people look at the grichkin; he is responsible.”
“It’s not the grichkin who interests them; it is you!”
Garlet made a sardonic sound. Jaro asked patiently, “What of the mirror? Do you want to see yourself?”
Garlet said dubiously, “I might not like what I see.”
“That is a chance we all must take,” said Jaro. He led Garlet to the mirror. “There: look.”
For a moment Garlet stared at his image, then turned away.
Jaro asked: “What do you think?”
“It is as I feared. I look like you.”
Jaro had nothing to say. He took Garlet to the drawing room where Ardrian sat with Maihac, Skirl and others of his household.
At the door Garlet stopped short. All present rose to their feet, that they might offer Garlet a polite greeting. Garlet looked from face to face, his mouth drooping. He drew back a step and started to turn away, but Jaro took his arm and led him into the room. “Here is my brother Garlet,” said Jaro. “As everyone knows, he has suffered mistreatment beyond our imagination, and as you see he has survived while retaining his manhood—for which I respect him tremendously. This is a new life for Garlet, and I hope he can forget the past. I will not introduce you all by name at this time, since it would serve no purpose.”
Maihac came to stand beside Jaro and Garlet. “These are my two sons and I am happy that they are together again. You will notice that they are much alike. Garlet obviously will be the better for some good food and time in the sunlight. Jaro and I have a hundred things to teach him, and no doubt Skirl will help. But there is no hurry. We shall remain at Romarth until we are sure that Asrubal has been dealt with as he deserves. I might mention that the funds which have been confiscated from Asrubal belong to the Roum and, at your option, are sufficient to buy a pair of passenger packets, in good repair. You may then travel the Reach as you like; no longer would there be any reason to sequester yourselves out here beside Night Lamp.”
Maihac took Garlet’s arm, and led him to a couch. Garlet gingerly settled into the cushions. Fancho immediately served him a goblet of effervescent pink liquid. Garlet looked at it askance. “Drink without fear,” said Ardrian. “You have been served an inoffensive potion known as ‘Fairy Dew.’ It induces only cordiality and a mood of creative tranquility.”
Garlet lifted the goblet to his nose, smelled the contents and put it aside. Maihac raised his eyebrows. “Taste! You may like it!”
“And what if I don’t?”
“Then don’t taste again.”
Garlet gave a curt nod. “I will think it over.”
An hour passed. Garlet spoke little, though he was treated with formal courtesy by the others in the room. He was asked gentle questions, to which he responded in monosyllables. Presently, in an adjoining refectory the group was served a light supper.
It was an uncomfortable meal. Garlet sat staring at the table, showing no disposition either to eat or to talk. Skirl prompted him: “Garlet, you are not eating!”
“I know.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t see anything I like.”
“In that case, try something new—for instance, one of these little pasties. They are filled with all manner of good things. And look at these lovely green grapes? Surely you like grapes?”
“I’ve never had one.”
“Try one now; you can’t help but like it!”
Garlet gave his head a shake. “I’m not so sure.”
“But aren’t you hungry?”
“Oh yes,” said Garlet airily. “I’m hungry. I’ve never been anything else.”
“Then try this nice ragout,” Skirl coaxed.
“What are those white floating things?”
“Those are dumplings. They are light and fluffy and very good.”
Garlet explained in a reasonable manner: “It is new to me. When I am not sure, it is best to go carefully. It may be the yaha will tell me what to do.”
“Indeed? What is a ‘yaha’?”
“It helps me decide in wise ways—especially about new things.”
“Try one small taste; then it won’t be new anymore when next you see it. You’ll know what it’s like and you won’t need the yaha.”
Garlet grudgingly admitted that Skirl’s advice was sound, and gingerly tasted the ragout. “That is quite good,” said Garlet. “I will have more.”
“Of course! You shall have as much as you like. But first, try some of these other things. Then they won’t be new either
, and you will have a variety of choices.”
“There is nothing here I want.” Garlet looked up and down the table. “Does no one eat gruel for their glunk? Is there no salt fish?”
“No salt fish tonight,” said Jaro. “I should think that you’d never want to see gruel or salt fish again.”
Garlet made no response. His silence had a sardonic quality.
“The past is a bad dream,” said Skirl. “You should put it out of your mind and think only of the future. That’s where the good things will happen.”
Garlet glanced at her sidelong. “Where will you be?”
“In the future? Aboard the Pharsang, which means anywhere in the Gaean Reach.”
Garlet made a disapproving sound. “I want you to stay with me.”
Skirl gave an uncomfortable laugh. “You’ll probably be on the Pharsang yourself.”
Garlet gave his head a slow definite shake. “My plans are not yet ready—but I think not. I shall stay here, and you shall stay here, too.”
“That is not possible. Let us talk of something else. This wine, for instance. Have you tasted it? No? Try just a sip.”
Garlet looked at the goblet, but made no move to touch it.
Maihac, from his place across the table, took note of Garlet’s passivity. He asked, “What’s wrong?”
Garlet allowed his mouth to droop, but said nothing. Skirl explained: “Everything is new. Garlet is cautious about trying new things.”
Maihac, half-laughing, said energetically, “Garlet, that is illogical! Everything from now on will be new, at least once! That is how your life will be: a series of new and pleasant experiences!”
“I must think about this,” muttered Garlet.
“You don’t need to think,” declared Maihac. “Let us do the thinking—at least for a time. Meanwhile, eat, drink, relax! Enjoy yourself! If anything confuses you, ask about it.”
“I am not confused,” said Garlet.
Maihac raised his eyebrows. “So much the better! Is there anything you want to know? Anything you want to say?”
“Not just now.”
Skirl said, “I should think that you would find everything so wonderful that you could not stop talking for sheer excitement!”