Rhialto the Marvellous

by Jack Vance

  In the belvedere Vermoulian indited symbols on the mandate-wheel. He struck them off, then put double fire to the speed-incense. The palace glided away, back towards the star-clouds.

  Morreion turned away from the balustrade and went into the great hall, where he sat deep in thought.

  Gilgad presently approached him. “Perhaps you have recalled the source of the IOUN stones?”

  Morreion rose to his feet. He turned his level black eyes upon Gilgad, who stepped back a pace. The pink and green stones had long become pallid, and many of the pink as well.

  Morreion’s face was stern and cold. “I recall much! There was a cabal of enemies who tricked me — but all is as dim as the film of stars which hangs across far space. In some fashion, the stones are part and parcel of the matter. Why do you evince so large an interest in stones? Were you one of my former enemies? Is this the case with all of you? If so, beware! I am a mild man until I encounter antagonism.”

  The diabolist Shrue spoke soothingly. “We are not your enemies! Had we not lifted you from Sahar Planet, you would now be with ‘Nothing’. Is that not proof?”

  Morreion gave a grim nod; but he no longer seemed the mild and affable man they had first encountered.

  To restore the previous amiability, Vermoulian hastened to the room of faded mirrors where he maintained his vast collection of beautiful women in the form of matrices. These could be activated into corporeality by a simple antinegative incantation; and presently from the room, one after the other, stepped those delightful confections of the past which Vermoulian had seen fit to revivify. On each occasion they came forth fresh, without recollection of previous manifestations; each appearance was new, no matter how affairs had gone before.

  Among those whom Vermoulian had called forth was the graceful Mersei. She stepped into the grand salon, blinking in the bewilderment common to those evoked from the past. She stopped short in amazement, then with quick steps ran forward. “Morreion! What do you do here? They told us you had gone against the archveults, that you had been killed! By the Sacred Ray, you are sound and whole!”

  Morreion looked down at the young woman in perplexity. The pink and red stones wheeled around his head. “Somewhere I have seen you; somewhere I have known you.”

  “I am Mersei! Do you not remember? You brought me a red rose growing in a porcelain vase. Oh, what have I done with it? I always keep it near … But where am I? Where is the rose? No matter. I am here and you are here.”

  Ildefonse muttered to Vermoulian, “An irresponsible act, in my judgment; why were you not more cautious?”

  Vermoulian pursed his lips in vexation. “She stems from the waning of the 21st Aeon but I had not anticipated anything like this!”

  “I suggest that you call her back into your room of matrices and there reduce her. Morreion seems to be undergoing a period of instability; he needs peace and quietude; best not to introduce stimulations so unpredictable.”

  Vermoulian strolled across the room. “Mersei, my dear; would you be good enough to step this way?”

  Mersei cast him a dubious look, then beseeched Morreion: “Do you not know me? Something is very strange; I can understand nothing of this — it is like a dream. Morreion, am I dreaming?”

  “Come, Mersei,” said Vermoulian suavely. “I wish a word with you.”

  “Stop!” spoke Morreion. “Magician, stand back; this fragrant creature is something which once I loved, at a time far gone.”

  The girl cried in a poignant voice: “A time far gone? It was no more than yesterday! I tended the sweet red rose, I looked at the sky; they had sent you to Jangk, by the red star Kerkaju, the eye of the Polar Ape. And now you are here, and I am here — what does it mean?”

  “Inadvisable, inadvisable,” muttered Ildefonse. He called out: “Morreion, this way, if you will. I see a curious concatenation of galaxies. Perhaps here is the new home of the Sahars.”

  Morreion put his hand to the girl’s shoulder. He looked into her face. “The sweet red rose blooms, and forever. We are among magicians and strange events occur.” He glanced aside at Vermoulian, then back to Mersei. “At this moment, go with Vermoulian the Dream-walker, who will show you to your chamber.”

  “Yes, dear Morreion, but when will I see you again? You look so strange, so strained and old, and you speak so peculiarly —”

  “Go now, Mersei. I must confer with Ildefonse.”

  Vermoulian led Mersei back towards the room of matrices. At this door she hesitated and looked back over her shoulder, but Morreion had already turned away. She followed Vermoulian into the room. The door closed behind them.

  Morreion walked out on the pavilion, past the dark lime trees with their silver fruit, and leaned upon the balustrade. The sky was still dark, although ahead and below a few vagrant galaxies could now be seen. Morreion put his hand to his head; the pink stones and certain of the red stones lost their color.

  Morreion swung around towards Ildefonse and those other magicians who had silently come out on the pavilion. He stepped forward, the IOUN stones tumbling one after the other in their hurry to keep up. Some were yet red, some showed shifting glints of blue and red, some burnt a cold incandescent blue. All the others had become the color of pearl. One of these drifted in front of Morreion’s eyes; he caught it, gave it a moment of frowning inspection, then tossed it into the air. Spinning and jerking, with color momentarily restored, it was quick to rejoin the others, like a child embarrassed.

  “Memory comes and goes,” mused Morreion. “I am unsettled, in mind and heart. Faces drift before my eyes; they fade once more; other events move into a region of clarity. The archveults, the IOUN stones — I know something of these, though much is dim and murky, so best that I hold my tongue —”

  “By no means!” declared Ao of the Opals. “We are interested in your experiences.”

  “To be sure!” said Gilgad.

  Morreion’s mouth twisted in a smile that was both sardonic and harsh, and also somewhat melancholy. “Very well, I tell this story, then, as if I were telling a dream.

  “It seems that I was sent to Jangk on a mission — perhaps to learn the provenance of the IOUN stones? Perhaps. I hear whispers which tell me so much; it well may be … I arrived at Jangk; I recall the landscape well. I remember a remarkable castle hollowed from an enormous pink pearl. In this castle I confronted the archveults. They feared me and stood back, and when I stated my wishes there was no demur. They would indeed take me to gather stones, and so we set out, flying through space in an equipage whose nature I cannot recall. The archveults were silent and watched me from the side of their eyes; then they became affable and I wondered at their mirth. But I felt no fear. I knew all their magic; I carried counter-spells at my fingernails, and at need could fling them off instantly. So we crossed space, with the archveults laughing and joking in what I considered an insane fashion. I ordered them to stop. They halted instantly and sat staring at me.

  “We arrived at the edge of the universe, and came down upon a sad cinder of a world; a dreadful place. Here we waited in a region of burnt-out star-hulks, some still hot, some cold, some cinders like the world on which we stood — perhaps it, too, was a dead star. Occasionally we saw the corpses of dwarf stars, glistening balls of stuff so heavy that a speck outweighs an Earthly mountain. I saw such objects no more than ten miles across, containing the matter of a sun like vast Kerkaju. Inside these dead stars, the archveults told me, were to be found the IOUN stones. And how were they to be won? I asked. Must we drive a tunnel into that gleaming surface? They gave mocking calls of laughter at my ignorance; I uttered a sharp reprimand; instantly they fell silent. The spokesman was Xexamedes. From him I learned that no power known to man or magician could mar stuff so dense! We must wait.

  “‘Nothing’ loomed across the distance. Often the derelict hulks swung close in their orbits. The archveults kept close watch; they pointed and calculated, they carped and fretted; at last one of the shining balls struck across ‘Nothing’,
expunging half of itself. When it swung out and away the archveults took their equipage down to the flat surface. All now ventured forth, with most careful precaution; unprotected from gravity a man instantly becomes as no more than an outline upon the surface. With slide-boards immune to gravity we traversed the surface.

  “What a wonderful sight! ‘Nothing’ had wrought a flawless polish; for fifteen miles this mirrored plain extended, marred only at the very center by a number of black pock-marks. Here the IOUN stones were to be found, in nests of black dust.

  “To win the stones is no small task. The black dust, like the slide-boards, counters gravity. It is safe to step from the slide-boards to the dust, but a new precaution must be taken. While the dust negates the substance below, other celestial objects suck, so one must use an anchor to hold himself in place. The archveults drive small barbed hooks into the dust, and tie themselves down with a cord, and this I did as well. By means of a special tool the dust is probed — a tedious task! The dust is packed tightly! Nevertheless, with great energy I set to work and in due course won my first IOUN stone. I held it high in exultation, but where were the archveults? They had circled around me; they had returned to the equipage! I sought my slide-boards — in vain! By stealth they had been purloined!

  “I staggered, I sagged; I raved a spell at the traitors. They held forward their newly won IOUN stones; the magic was absorbed, as water entering a sponge.

  “With no further words, not even signals of triumph — for this is how lightly they regarded me — they entered their equipage and were gone. In this region contiguous with ‘Nothing’, my doom was certain — so they were assured.”

  As Morreion spoke the red stones went pale; his voice quavered with a passion he had not hitherto displayed.

  “I stood alone,” said Morreion hoarsely. “I could not die, with the Spell of Untiring Nourishment upon me, but I could not move a step, not an inch from the cavity of black dust, or I would instantly have been no more than a print upon the surface of the shining field.

  “I stood rigid — how long I cannot say. Years? Decades? I cannot remember. This period seems a time of dull daze. I searched my mind for resources, and I grew bold with despair. I probed for IOUN stones, and I won those which now attend me. They became my friends and gave me solace.

  “I embarked then upon a new task, which, had I not been mad with despair, I would never have attempted. I brought up particles of black dust, wet them with blood to make a paste; this paste I molded into a circular plate four feet in diameter.

  “It was finished. I stepped aboard; I anchored myself with the barbed pins, and I floated up and away from the half-star.

  “I had won free! I stood on my disk in the void! I was free, but I was alone. You cannot know what I felt until you, too, have stood in space, without knowledge of where to go. Far away I saw a single star; a rogue, a wanderer; toward this star I fared.

  “How long the voyage required, again I cannot say. When I judged that I had traveled half-way, I turned the disk about and slowed my motion.

  “Of this voyage I remember little. I spoke to my stones, I gave them my thoughts. I seemed to become calm from talking, for during the first hundred years of this voyage I felt a prodigious fury that seemed to overwhelm all rational thought; to inflict but a pin prick upon a single one of my adversaries I would have died by torture a hundred times! I plotted delicious vengeance, I became yeasty and exuberant upon the imagined pain I would inflict. Then at times I suffered unutterable melancholy — while others enjoyed the good things of life, the feasts, the comradeship, the caresses of their loved ones, here stood I, alone in the dark. The balance would be restored, I assured myself. My enemies would suffer as I had suffered, and more! But the passion waned, and as my stones grew to know me they assumed their beautiful colors. Each has his name; each is individual; I know each stone by its motion. The archveults consider them the brain-eggs of fire-folk who live within these stars; as to this I cannot say.

  “At last I came down upon my world. I had burned away my rage. I was calm and placid, as now you know me. My old lust for revenge I saw to be futility. I turned my mind to a new existence, and over the aeons I built my buildings and my cairns; I lived my new life.

  “The Sahars excited my interest. I read their books, I learned their lore … Perhaps I began to live a dream. My old life was far away; a discordant trifle to which I gave ever less importance. I am amazed that the language of Earth returned to me as readily as it has. Perhaps the stones held my knowledge in trust, and extended it as the need came. Ah, my wonderful stones, what would I be without them?

  “Now I am back among men. I know how my life has gone. There are still confused areas; in due course I will remember all.”

  Morreion paused to consider; several of the blue and scarlet stones went quickly dim. Morreion quivered, as if touched by galvanic essence; his cropped white hair seemed to bristle. He took a slow step forward; certain of the magicians made uneasy movements.

  Morreion spoke in a new voice, one less reflective and reminiscent, with a harsh grating sound somewhere at its basis. “Now I will confide in you.” He turned the glitter of his black eyes upon each face in turn. “I intimated that my rage had waned with the aeons; this is true. The sobs which lacerated my throat, the gnashing which broke my teeth, the fury which caused my brain to shudder and ache: all dwindled; for I had nothing with which to feed my emotions. After bitter reflection came tragic melancholy, then at last peace, which your coming disturbed.

  “A new mood has now come upon me! As the past becomes real, so I have returned along the way of the past. There is a difference. I am now a cold cautious man; perhaps I can never experience the extremes of passion which once consumed me. On the other hand, certain periods in my life are still dim.” Another of the red and scarlet stones lost its vivid glow; Morreion stiffened, his voice took on a new edge. “The crimes upon my person call out for rebuttal! The archveults of Jangk must pay in the fullest and most onerous measure! Vermoulian the Dream-walker, expunge the present symbols from your mandate-wheel! Our destination now becomes the planet Jangk!”

  Vermoulian looked to his colleagues to learn their opinion.

  Ildefonse cleared his throat. “I suggest that our host Vermoulian first pause at Earth, to discharge those of us with urgent business. Those others will continue with Vermoulian and Morreion to Jangk; in this way the convenience of all may be served.”

  Morreion said in a voice ominously quiet: “No business is as urgent as mine, which already has been delayed too long.” He spoke to Vermoulian: “Apply more fire to the speed-incense! Proceed directly to Jangk.”

  Haze of Wheary Water said diffidently, “I would be remiss if I failed to remind you that the archveults are powerful magicians; like yourself they wield IOUN stones.”

  Morreion made a furious motion; as his hand swept the air, it left a trail of sparks. “Magic derives from personal force! My passion alone will defeat the archveults! I glory in the forthcoming confrontation. Ah, but they will regret their deeds!”

  “Forbearance has been termed the noblest of virtues,” Ildefonse suggested. “The archveults have long forgotten your very existence; your vengeance will seem an unjust and unnecessary tribulation.”

  Morreion swung around his glittering black gaze. “I reject the concept. Vermoulian, obey!”

  “We fare towards Jangk,” said Vermoulian.

  12

  On a marble bench between a pair of silver-fruited lime trees sat Ildefonse. Rhialto stood beside him, one elegant leg raised to the bench; a posture which displayed his rose satin cape with the white lining to dramatic advantage. They drifted through a cluster of a thousand stars; great lights passed above, below, to each side; the crystal spires of the palace gave back millions of scintillations.

  Rhialto had already expressed his concern at the direction of events. Now he spoke again, more emphatically. “It is all very well to point out that the man lacks facility; as he asserts, shee
r force can overpower sophistication.”

  Ildefonse said bluffly, “Morreion’s force is that of hysteria, diffuse and undirected.”

  “Therein lies the danger! What if by some freak his wrath focuses upon us?”

  “Bah, what then?” demanded Ildefonse. “Do you doubt my ability, or your own?”

  “The prudent man anticipates contingencies,” said Rhialto with dignity. “Remember, a certain area of Morreion’s life remains clouded.”

  Ildefonse tugged thoughtfully at his white beard. “The aeons have altered all of us; Morreion not the least of any.”

  “This is the core of my meaning,” said Rhialto. “I might mention that not an hour since I essayed a small experiment. Morreion walked the third balcony, watching the stars pass by. His attention being diverted, I took occasion to project a minor spell of annoyance towards him — Houlart’s Visceral Pang — but with no perceptible effect. Next I attempted the diminutive version of Lugwiler’s Dismal Itch, again without success. I noted, however, his IOUN stones pulsed bright as they absorbed the magic. I tried my own Green Turmoil; the stones glowed bright and this time Morreion became aware of the attention. By happy chance Byzant the Necrope passed by. Morreion put an accusation upon him, which Byzant denied. I left them engaged in contention. The instruction is this: first, Morreion’s stones guard him from hostile magic; second, he is vigilant and suspicious; third, he is not one to shrug aside an offense.”

  Ildefonse nodded gravely. “We must certainly take these matters into consideration. I now appreciate the scope of Xexamedes’s plan: he intended harm to all. But behold in the sky yonder! Is that not the constellation Elektha, seen from obverse? We are in familiar precincts once more. Kerkaju must lie close ahead, and with it that extraordinary planet Jangk.”