Wyst: Alastor 1716 (9 page)

The group halted, panting and triumphant in the lane. “We
should have stayed longer,” Rehilmus protested. “I saw a really choice melon.”

“Not with that alarm going! We were away in good time; let’s
be gone before their reinforcements arrive. This way down the trail!”

In a clearing beside a small stream the group halted. Thworn
and Uwser plucked and eviscerated the fowl while Garrace built a fire; the meat
was skewered upon sharp sticks and toasted.

Kedidah looked this way and that. “Where is Jantiff?” No one
seemed interested.

“He seems to have gotten lost,” said Rehilmus.

Garrace glanced down the path. “Nowhere in sight. He’s back
there somewhere gazing raptly at an old stump.”

“Well, no great loss,” said Thworn. “So much more for the
rest of us.”

The foragers began their feast.

“Ali! This is good stuff!” declared Garrace. “We should do
this more often.”

“Ah!” sighed Rehilmus. “Marvelous! Throw a few of those
radishes this way; they’re ideal!”

“The Connatic himself never ate better,” declared
Sunover.

“A pity there’s not just a bit more,” said Rehilmus. “I could eat
on for hours and never stop; I love it so!”

Thworn reluctantly rose to his feet. “We’d better be starting
back; it’s a long march over the hills.”

On the following day Kedidah, entering the refectory, discovered
Jantiff sitting unobtrusively alone in a far corner. She marched across the
room and plumped herself down beside him. “What happened to you yesterday? You
missed all the fun.”

“Yes, I suppose so. I decided that I wasn’t all that hungry.”

“Oh, come now, Jantiff. I can see through you. You’re annoyed
and sulky.”

“Not really. I just don’t feel right stealing from other people.”

“What nonsense!” declared Kedidah loftily. “They’ve got
plenty; why can’t they share a bit with us?”

“There wouldn’t be much to share among three billion people.”

“Perhaps not.” She reached out and took his hand. “I must
say that you acted very nicely yesterday. I was quite pleased _ with you.”

Jantiff flushed. “Do you really mean that?”

“Of course!”

Jantiff said haltingly, “I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?”

“That old man in, your apartment; what’s his name?”

“Sarp.”

“Yes. I wonder if he would trade apartments with me. Then,
we could be together constantly.”

Kedidah laughed. “Old carp wouldn’t dream of moving, and
anyway, there’s no fun when people live together and see each other at their
worst. Isn’t that really true?”

“Oh, I don’t know. If you’re fond of someone, you like to be
with him or her as much as possible.”

“Well, I’m fond of you and I see you as much as possible.”

“But that isn’t enough!”

“Besides, I’ve got lots of friends, and all of them make demands
upon me.”

Jantiff started to speak, then decided to hold his tongue.
Kedidah picked up his portfolio. “What have you here? Pictures? Oh, please,
may I look?”

“Of course.”

Kedidah turned the sketches exclaiming in pleasure. “Jantiff,
how exciting! I recognize this; it’s our foraging group on the trail. This is
Thworn, and here’s Garrace, and—this is me! Jantiff! Do I look like that? All
stiff and pale and staring, as if I’d seen a goblin? Don’t answer me; I’ll only
be annoyed. If only you’d do a nice drawing of me that I could hang on the
wall!” She returned to the sketch. “Sunover—Uwser—Rehilmus—everybody! And this
glimpse of a person at the rear—that’s you!”

Skorlet and Esteban came into the refectory, and with them
that sprite of contradictory moods who was their daughter Tanzel. Kedidah
called out: “Come look at Jantiff’s wonderful pictures! Here’s our forage
party; we’re on the trail! It’s so real you can smell the kerkash balm!”

Esteban examined the sketch with an indulgent smile. “You
don’t seem overloaded with boater.”

“Naturally—not! It’s still morning and we’re on our way south.
And don’t worry about bonter; we dined in style, all of us. Roast fowl, a salad
of fresh herbs, buckets of fruit—all magnificent!”

“Oh!” exclaimed Tanzel. “I wish I’d been there!”

“Moderation, please,” said Esteban, “I’ve gone foraging
myself.”

Kedidah said with dignity: “Next time come along with us and
make certain how we fare.”

“Which reminds me,” mused Jantiff. “Did Colcho ever find his
way home?”

No one troubled to answer. Esteban said: “I’m as keen for
bonter as the next, but nowadays I pay the tokens and the gypsies provide the
feast. Indeed, I have plans afoot at this very moment. Join the group, if you
like. You’ll have to pay your share, of course.”

“How much? I just might go.”

“Five hundred tokens, which includes air transport into the
Weirdlands.”

Kedidah clapped at her golden brown ear-puffs in shock. “Do
you take me for a contractor? I can’t fetch any such sum!”

Tanzel said sadly, “I don’t have five hundred tokens either.”

Skorlet turned a sharp glance toward Esteban, another at Jantiff.
“Don’t worry, dear. You’ll be included.”

Esteban, ignoring the remarks, continued to turn through Jantiff’s
sketches. “Very good… A bit over-ambitious, this one. Too many faces…
Ma! I recognize someone here.”‘

Kedidah looked. “That’s myself and Sarp sitting in our
chairs. Jantiff, when did you do this?”

“A few days ago. Skorlet, would you trade apartments with
Kedidah?”

Skorlet gave an ejaculation of startled amusement. “Whatever
for?”

“I’d like to share an apartment with her.”

“And I’d share with that muttering old madman? Not on your
life!”

Esteban offered advice: “Never share with someone you fancy;
when the edge wears off, irritation wears on.”

“It’s not sensible to copulate too much with one person,”
said Kedidah.

“In fact, I, don’t like copulation,” said Tanzel. “It’s
quite tiresome.”

Esteban turned over the sketches. “Well, well! Whom do we:
have here?”

Tanzel pointed excitedly. “That’s you and that’s Skorlet,
and that’s old .Sarp. I don’t know that big man.”

Esteban laughed. “Not quite. I see a resemblance, but
only because Jantiff draws all his faces with the same expression.”

“By no means,” said Jantiff. “A face is the symbol—the
graphic image—of a personality. Consider! Written characters represent spoken
words. Depicted features represent personalities! I depict faces still and at
rest so as not to confuse their meaning.”

“Far, far beyond my reach,” sighed Esteban.

“Not at all! Consider once morel I might depict two men
laughing at a joke. One is really cantankerous, the other is good-natured.
Since both are laughing, you might believe both to be good-natured. When the features
are still, the personality is free to reveal itself.”

Esteban held up his hands. “Enough! I submit! And I’ll be
the last to deny that you’ve a great knack for this sort of stuff.”

“It’s not a knack at all,” said Jantiff. “I’ve had to
practice for years.”

Tanzel said brightly: “Isn’t it elitism when someone tries
to do something better than everyone else?”

“Theoretically, yes,” said Skorlet, “but Jantiff is an Old
Pinker and certainly not an elitist.”

Esteban chuckled. “Any other crimes we can lay upon Jantiff’s
head?”

Tanzel thought a moment. “He’s a monopolist who hoards his
time and won’t share with me, and I like him very much.”

Skorlet snorted. “Jantiff’s tit-willow mannerisms are actually
arrant sexivation. He even affects poor little Tanzel.”

“He’s also an exploiter, because he wants to use up Kedidah.”

Jantiff opened his mouth to roar an indignant rebuttal, but
words failed him. Kedidah patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Tanzel; I
like him too and today he can monopolize me all he likes, because I want to go
to the games and we’ll go together.”

“I’d like to go myself,” said Esteban. “That great new
Shkooner is fighting the piebald Wewark: both awesome beasts.”

“Perhaps so, but I’m mad for Kizzo in the second event. He’s
mounted on the blue Jamouli, and he’s so absolutely gallant I swoon to watch
him.”

Esteban pursed his lips. “He’s really too exuberant in his flourishes,
and I can’t approve of his knee action. Still, he’s reckless to a fault, and
makes poor Lamar and Kelchaff seem a pair of fearful old ladies.”

“Oh, dear,” said Skorlet. “I’ve got drudge and can’t go!”

“Save your tokens for the gypsies,” said Esteban. “If you’re
planning to join the feast, that is to say.”

“True. I must work on my globes. I wonder where I can find
more pigment?” Her gaze rested speculatively on Jantiff, who said hurriedly, “I
can’t possibly spare any more. I’m very low on everything.”

Esteban spoke to Jantiff: “What of you? Are you for this bonterfest?”

Jantiff hesitated. “I’ve just been foraging, and I’m not
sure I enjoy it.”

“My dear fellow, it’s not the same thing at all! Do you have
ozols?”

“Well, a few. Safely locked away, of course.”

“Then you can afford the bonterfest. I’ll mark you down for
a place.”

“Oh—very well. Where and when does the event take place?”

“When? As soon as I make proper arrangements. Everything
must be right! Where? Out in the Weirdlands where we can enjoy the countryside.
I have recently become acquainted with Contractor Shubart; hell allow us use of
an air-car.”

Jantiff gave a hollow laugh. “Who now is the exploiter,
monopolist, elitist tycoon and all the rest? What of egalism now?”

Esteban retorted in a debonair, if somewhat edgy, voice: “Egalism
is all very well, and I subscribe to it! Still: why deny the obvious? Everyone
wants to make the most of their life. If I were able, I’d be a contractor;
perhaps I’ll become one yet.”

“You’ve picked the wrong time,” said Kedidah. “Did you read
the
Concept?
The Whispers insist that the contractors cost too much and
that changes must be made. Perhaps there’ll be no more contractors.”

“Ridiculous!” snorted Skorlet. “Who’ll do the work?”

“I’ve no idea,” said Kedidah. “I’m neither a Whisper nor a
contractor.”

“I’ll ask my friend Shubart,” said Esteban. “He’ll know all
about it.”

“I don’t understand!” said Tanzel plaintively. “I thought
contractors were all ignorant outsiders, vulgar and mean, who did our nasty
work for us. Would you really want to be someone like that?”

Esteban gave a gay laugh. “I’d be a very nice contractor, as
polite and clever as I am now!”

Kedidah jumped to her feet “Come, Jantiff! Lees be off, if
we’re to get good seats. And bring along a few extra tokens; this week I’m
totally bankrupt.”

Late in the afternoon Jantiff returned home along Disselberg
River. The shunk contests
[19]
had exceeded all his expectations; his mind seethed with sensations and
images.

The crowds had early obtruded themselves, choking all
man-ways leading to the stadium. Jantiff had noted the vivacity of their
faces, the wet shine of their eyes, the tremulous flexibility of their mouths
as they talked and laughed: these were not the folk, serene and bland, who
promenaded along Uncibal River! The stadium itself was a gigantic place, rearing
high in a succession of levels: bank on bank, buttress over buttress, balcony
after balcony, closing off the sky, with the spectators a crusted blur. From
everywhere came a pervasive whisper, hoarse as the sea, waxing and waning to
the movement of events.

The preliminary ceremonies Jantiff found rather tedious: an
hour of marching and countermarching by musicians in purple and brown uniforms
to music of horns, grumbling bass resonators and three-foot cymbals. At last
eight portals slid aside; eight men rode forth, erect and somber on the
pedestals of power-chariots. They circled the field, gazing straight ahead, as
if oblivious to all but their own fateful thoughts. Staring directly ahead, the
riders departed the field.

The stadium-sound rose and fell, reflecting the consonance
of moods of half a million people in close proximity, and Jantiff wondered at
the psychological laws governing such phenomena.

Abruptly, responding to an influence beyond Jantiff’s perception,
the sounds halted and the air became tense with silence.

The portals to east and west slid apart; out lurched _a pair
of shunk. They rumbled in rage, stamped the turf, reared thirty feet into the
air as if to fling, away those calm and indomitable riders who stood on their
shoulders. So began the contests,

The hulks collided with awesome impacts; the poise of the riders
transcended belief. Even though the fact occurred before Jantiff’s eyes. Time
and time again they evaded the great pads, to remount with calm authority as
the shunk lurched to its feet. He communicated his wonder to Kedidah: “What a
miracle they stay alive!”

“Sometimes two or even three are killed. Today—they’re
lucky.” Jantiff turned her a curious side glance; was the wistful note, in her
voice for the crushed riders or for those who managed to evade death?

“They train for years and years,” Kedidah told him as they
left the stadium. “They live in the stink and noise and feel of the beasts;
then they come to Arrabus and hope to ride at ten contests; then they can
return to Zonder with their fortunes.” Kedidah fell silent and seemed to become
distrait. Where the lateral joined Disselberg River she said abruptly: “I’ll
leave you here, Janty; there’s an appointment I simply must keep.”

Jantiff’s jaw sagged. “I thought we could spend the evening
together; maybe at your apartment—”

Kedidah smilingly shook her head. “Impossible, Janty. Now
excuse me, please; I’ve got to hurry.”

“But I wanted to discuss moving in with you!”

“No, no, no! Janty, behave yourself! I’ll see you in the
wumper.”

Jantiff returned to Old Pink with hurt feelings. He found
Skorlet busy with her globes, daubing the last of his blue, black, dark green
and umber pigments upon the paper contrivances.

Jantiff stared in shock. “Whatever are you up to? Really, Skorlet,
that isn’t a decent thing to do!”

Skorlet flung him a glance, and in her white face he saw a
desperation he had never previously noticed. She turned back to her work, then
after a moment found words and spoke through gritted teeth. “It’s not fair that
you should have everything and me nothing.”

“But I don’t have everything!” Jantiff bleated. “I have
nothing! You’ve taken them all! Brown, black, green, blue! I have a few reds,
true, and orange and ocher and yellow—no, now you’ve deprived me of my yellow as well—”

“Listen, Jantiff! I need tokens to take myself and Tanzel on
the bonterfest. She’s never been anywhere and seen nothing, much less tasted
boater. I don’t care if I use all your pigments! You are so rich, you can get
more, and I must make these cult-globes, dog defile them!”

“Why doesn’t Esteban pay for Tanzel? He never seems to lack
tokens.”

Skorlet gave a bitter snort. “Esteban is too
self-important to spare tokens for anyone. In all candor, he should have lived
out in the Bad Worlds where he could be a tycoon. Or an exploiter. For certain
he’s no egalist. And you’d never imagine the wild schemes that throng his mind.”