Wyst: Alastor 1716 (26 page)

And it seemed that Glisten gave a nod of endorsement for
Jantiff’s opinions.

“If only you could speak!” sighed Jantiff. “The local folk
wouldn’t dare to chase you, since you could go to the telephone and notify the
cursar. Ah, that music! where can he be? He is duty bound to hear
petitions, but he has become thin air!”

Jantiff finished the Cimmery decorations and even Madame
Tchaga was pleased with the effect. At the Old Groar, Jantiff began to paint
his panels. Not a few of Fariske’s patrons paid two ozols each to gain Jantiff’s
version of immortality. Eubanq declined to lend his own visage to the decorations.
“I’ll spend my two owls on ale and percebs. I have no desire to see myself as
others see me.”

Jantiff took him aside. “Another hypothetical question.
Suppose one of my friends decided to visit Zeck: what might be the fare aboard
the
Serenaic
?”

“Sixty or seventy ozols, or in that general area. Who is
this friend?”

“Just one of the village girls; it’s no great matter. But I’m
surprised that the interstellar voyage to Zeck comes so much cheaper than the
hop, skip and jump to Uncibal.”

“Odd indeed, on the face of it,” Eubanq agreed. “Still, what
is money to you, prosperous perceb merchant that you are?”

“Ha! When, or if, I pay you your two hundred and seventy
ozols, I will consider, myself fortunate. By the way, I’m sure that passage
aboard the
Serenaic
has now been confirmed?”

“Not quite yet. I must jostle them along.”

“I would hope so! Perhaps I should call them myself!”

“Leave it to me. Do you seriously plan to take someone else
to, Zeck?

“It’s just a notion. But surely there would be no
difficulty, if I were to pay over the ozols?”

“None that I can envision.”

“I must give the matter serious thought” Jantiff
returned to his panels.

As he worked he heard talk of the Fair, an occasion which
this year would Nair only a week before the Arrabin Centenary. Jantiff’
suddenly saw how he might earn a goodly sum of money, perhaps enough to pay
Eubanq his requirements.

That night, as he sat by the fire with Glisten, he
explained his scheme. “Hundreds of folk come to the fair, agreed? All will be,
hungry; all want percebs, so why not, satisfy this need? It will mean a great
deal of work for both of us, but think! Perhaps we can pay your passage to
Zeck! What do you think of that?” Jantiff searched Glisten’s face as he was
wont to do, and she responded with her glimmer of a smile.

“You’re so pretty when you smile,” said Jantiff with feeling.
“If only I weren’t afraid that I’d frighten you and drive you away…”

Toiling long hours Jantiff gathered twenty buckets of percebs
and penned them into a quiet pool near his hut. On the day before the fair he
set up a booth not far from the Old Groar and provided himself with a kettle,
salt and cooking oil. Early on the morning of the fair he delivered his usual
quota of percebs to the Cimmery and the Old Groar, then, starting his fire and
warming the oil, he began to sell percebs to the farm folk arriving from the
outer districts.

“Come buy, come buy!” called Jantiff. “Fresh percebs from
the briny, deep, cooked to a crisp and appetizing succulence! Come buy! A
dinket for a portion, percebs to your taster”‘

Jantiff became very busy, so that he found time to cry his
wares only at odd intervals. Halfway through the morning

Eubanq stopped by the booth. “Well, Jantiff, I see that you
intend to prosper one way or another.”

“I hope so! If business continues I’ll be able to pay you
off either today or tomorrow, as soon as I collect from Fariske. And
then, mind you, I want the tickets, all confirmed, most definitely with a
written guarantee of passage to Uncibal.”

Eubanq put on his easy grin. “These are meticulous precautions.
Don’t you trust me?”

“Did you trust me to pay after I arrived home on Zeck? Am I
less honorable than you?”

Eubanq laughed. “A good point! Well, we’ll arrange the
matter one way or another. In the meantime, give me a clinkers worth of those
percebs. They look to be exquisite; where do you find such excellent quality?”

“Aha! That’s my little secret!” To a farmer: “Yes,
sir; three packets, three dinkets!” Back to Eubanq: “I’ll say this, that we
came upon, that is to say, I came upon a ledge that has obviously lain fallow
for years. And here you are; one dinket, if you please.”

Eubanq, taking the packet, chanced to notice Jantiff’s
hands. He became rigid, as if arrested by a startling thought. Slowly he raised
his eyes to Jantiff’s face. “One dinket,” said Jantiff. “Hurry, please! Others
are waiting.”

“Yes, of course,” said Eubanq in an odd choked voice. “And
cheap at the price!” He paid over his coin and turned away, carrying the packet
gingerly between forefinger and thumb. Jantiff watched him go with a puzzled
frown. What had come over Eubanq?

Outside the Old Groar, Eubanq met Booch. They talked
earnestly for a period. Jantiff watched them from the corner of his eye as he
worked. Something, so his sensitive instincts assured him, was in the wind.

One of Eubanq’s remarks startled Booch. He swung around and
stared toward Jantiff. Eubanq quickly took his arm and the two men entered the
Old Groar.

Business became even brisker. An hour later his stock of
percebs ran out. He hired a boy to stand by the booth; then, chinking up his
earnings and taking his sacks, he set off toward his but for fresh stock.

Halfway along the beach he noticed Eubanq approaching at a
rapid stride, his loose fawn shoes scuffing up little eruptions of sand. A
parcel dangled from his right hand.

Eubanq swerved aside and vanished momentarily from sight
behind a granat tree. When he reappeared he walked at his usual saunter and
carried no parcel.

The two drew abreast; Jantiff asked in an edgy
voice: “What are you doing out here? Just an hour ago I saw you go into the Old
Groar.”

“Occasionally I take a stroll to ease my lungs of the town
air. Why aren’t you tending business?’

“I sold out of percebs.” Jantiff looked Eubanq up and down
without cordiality. “Did you pass by my hut?”

“I went nowhere near so far… Well, I’ll be getting
along.” Eubanq strolled back toward Balad.

Jantiff hastened along the beach, and presently broke into a
trot. There ahead, his hut. Glisten was nowhere to be seen. Near the water’s
edge a pair of buckets indicated where she had been working; one of the buckets
was half full of cleaned percebs. But no Glisten.

Jantiff looked up and down the beach, then went to his hut.
Glisten was not within, which caused him no surprise. In the corner of the but
stood the old pot where he kept his money. He crossed the room to unburden
himself of the—morning’s take. The pot was quite empty.

Jantiff stared at the cracked old vessel with shoulders sagging
and mouth agape.

Jantiff went outside to stand in the pale sunlight. Serene
detachment blanketed his mood: a fact which puzzled and disturbed him. “Why am
I not more shocked?” he asked himself. “Very odd! I would expect to be sick
with anguish, yet I seem quite unmoved. Evidently I have transcended ordinary
emotion. This, of course, is remarkable. A notable achievement, I should say.
I have instantly seized upon the proper way to deal with catastrophe, which is
to ignore it. And meanwhile, my customers wait for percebs. By all precepts, of
decency I ought not deny them their treat because of a personal matter, which
in any event I have dealt with most efficiently. Yes, must curious. The world seems
far away.”

Jantiff loaded himself with percebs from the pool and
marched stiff-legged back up the beach and to his booth. Once more he began to
serve his customers.

“Percebs!” cried Jantiff to the passersby. “Choice morsels
direct from the ocean! I guarantee quality! A dinket for a generous portion!
Come buy these excellent percebs!”

From the Old Groar came Eubanq. He turned a smiling glance
toward Jantiff and started up the street. Words burst up Jantiff’s throat of
their own volition; Jantiff was surprised to hear them. “Eubanq! I say, Eubanq!
Step over here, if you please!”

Eubanq paused and looked back with an expression of polite
inquiry. “You called to me, Jantiff?”

“Yes. Bring me my money at once. Otherwise I, will notify
the Grand Knight, and lay all particulars before him.”

Eubanq turned his smiling glance around the circle of onlookers.
He muttered a few quiet words to a strapping young farmer who a moment before,
had purchased a packet of Jantiff’s percebs. The farmer gaped down at the half-empty
packet, then shouldered through Jantiff’s waiting customers to the booth. “Show
me your hands!”

‘What’s wrong with my hands?” demanded Jantiff.

The farmer and the customers stared at Jantiff’s fingernails.
Jantiff looked also and saw a glint of that golden sheen which he had often
noted upon Glisten’s fingernails.

“The yellows!” roared the farmer. “He’s given us all the yellows!”

“No, no!” cried Jantiff. “My fingernails are stained because
‘ of working in the cold water with the percebs .. Or perhaps my gamboge
pigment…”

“Not true,” Eubanq explained. “You have eaten witches’ food,
and now we have, eaten your food and all of us are infected, and all of us
must undergo the treatment. I assure you that any money which might have
changed hands is no compensation.”

The farmer began to shout curses. He (kicked over Jantiff’s
booth and tried to seize Jantiff, who backed away and then, turning, walked
quickly off down the street. The farmer and others came in pursuit; Jantiff
broke into a run and so proceeded from town, along the familiar beach road. The
road forked; to avoid being trapped on the headland, Jantiff swung to the left,
toward Lulace Sound and Lulace, the Grand Knight’s manor. Behind came his
pursuers, bawling threats and curses.

Jantiff pushed through the ornate front gate at Lulace, and
ran at a failing lope through the garden. He staggered across the verandah,
leaned against the front door. Along the road came his enemies.

Jantiff tugged at the massive latch. The door swung aside;
Jantiff staggered into the, mansion.

He stood in a tall reception room, paneled in pale wood and
furnished a trifle too elaborately for Jantiff s taste, had he been in a mood
to exercise his faculties.

To the left a pair of wide steps gave upon a salon carpeted
in green and illuminated by high windows facing to the north. Jantiff went to
the steps and looked into the salon. A dark-haired man with heavy shoulders conversed
with two other men and a woman. Jantiff timidly stepped forward. The woman
turned; Jantiff looked into her face. “Skorlet!” he cried, in a voice of
wonder.

Skorlet, sleek and well-fed, froze into an almost comical rigidity,
mouth half open, one, hand aloft in a gesture. The others turned; Jantiff
looked from Sarp to Esteban to Contractor Shubert, as he was known in Uncibal.

Skorlet spoke in a strangled voice, “It’s Jantiff Ravensroke!”

Contractor Shubart marched forward and Jantiff retreated
into the foyer.

The Contractor spoke in a heavy voice: “What do you want?
Why weren’t you announced? Can’t you see—I’m entertaining guests?”

Jantiff responded in a stammer: “Sir, I intend nothing
wrong. My life is threatened by the folk in the road. They say that my percebs
gave them a disease, but it’s not true; at least not purposeful. Eubanq, the
shipping agent, stole my money and incited them to attack me. I didn’t mean to
intrude upon your guests.” Jantiff’s voice faltered as he considered the identity
of these guests. “I will return when you are less busy.”

“Wait a minute. Hooch! Where is Booch?”

A footman stepped forward and murmured a few quiet words.

Contractor Shubart growled: “Be damned to his wurgles and
witch-kits! Why isn’t he on hand when I need him? Take this fellow to the
gardener’s shed and keep him safe until Booch returns.”

“Yes, sir. Come along, please.” But Jantiff lurched backward
to the door, groped for the latch, threw open the door and ran out into the
garden.

The footman came running after, calling: “Here, fellow!
Stop! By the Grand Knight’s orders, halt!”

Jantiff ran around the manor and with a cunning born of
desperation, waited at the corner. When the footman lunged past, Jantiff held
out his foot. The footman sprawled; Jantiff struck him with a stake and the
footman lay limp. Jantiff continued around to the back of Lulace, through the
kitchen garden and out into the park. Behind a tree he caught his breath. No
time now for crafty or complicated planning. “I shall go directly to Eubanq’s
house,” Jantiff told himself. “I will kill and rob Eubanq, or perhaps force him
to provide me an air-car. I will then fly him high over the Sych and throw him
out; then I will continue on to Uncibal and demand protection from the cursar.
If, of course, the cursar has returned. If not, I will hide once more in the
Disjerferact.”

Jantiff set off at once toward Balad. Unfortunately his exaltation
caused him to ignore elementary caution; he was seen and identified as he came
along the river road. Sullen folk surrounded him. The women began to call out invectives;
the crowd pressed closer and Jantiff was backed up against a wall. He cried out
in anguish: “I have done nothing! Leave me be!”

A dockworker named Sabrose, whom Jantiff had often served at
the Old Groar, bellowed him down: “You have given us all the yellows, and we
must now undergo the treatment, unless we want to be deaf and dumb
witches. Do you call that nothing?”

“I don’t know anything about it! Let me pass!”

Sabrose gave a ferocious laugh. “Since all Balad must be
treated, you shall be the first!”

Jantiff was dragged up to the main street and across to the
apothecary’s shop. “Bring out the treatment!” bawled Sabrose. “Here’s the
first patient; we’ll cure him on the cheap, without the headbangers.”

The treatment device was wheeled from the shop. The
apothecary, a mild old man who had frequented neither of the taverns nor
Jantiff’s booth, dropped two pills in a mug of water and held it to Jantiff’s
face. “Here; this will dull the pain.”