Marune: Alastor 933 (7 page)

A clerk of advanced age rose to his feet and approached the counter; despite age, a bald head, and unctuous wattles, his manner was alert and punctilious. In an instant he assessed Pardero, his garments and mannerisms, and performed a bow of precisely calibrated courtesy. “How may we oblige you, sir?” As he spoke a trace of uncertainty seemed to enter his manner.

“Several months ago,” said Pardero, “about the first of Ferario to be more precise, I was a guest at this hotel, and I wish to refresh my recollections.

Will you be so good as to show me the records for this date?”

“As you require, Your Dignity.”
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The clerk turned Pardero a second half-surreptitious side-glance, and his manner altered even further, becoming tinged with doubt, or uneasiness, or even anxiety. He bent with an almost audible creaking of vertebrae and elevated a leather-bound ledger to the counter. With a reverential flourish he parted the covers, and one by one turned the pages, each of which. displayed a schematic chart of the hotel’s accommodations, with notations in inks of various colors. “Here, Dignity, is the date you mention. If you choose to advise me, I will assist you.”

Pardero inspected the ledger, but could not decipher the archaic calligraphy.

In a voice meant to convey an exquisite and comprehensive discretion the clerk spoke on. “On this phase our facilities were not overextended. In our ‘Sincere Courtesy’ wing, we housed the trismets
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of various gentlefolk. You will notice the chambers so indicated. In our ‘Approbation’ accommodations we served the Eiodark Torde and the Wirwove Ippolita, with their respective trismets. The ‘Altitude’ suite was occupied by the Kaiark Rianlle of Eccord, the Kraike Dervas, the Lissolet Maerio. In the ‘Hyperion’ suite we entertained the late Kaiark Jochaim of Scharrode, may his ghost be quickly appeased, with the Kraike Singhalissa, the Kangs Efraim and Destian, and the Lissolet Sthelany.” The clerk turned his trembling and dubious smile upon Pardero. “Do I not now have the honor of addressing His Force the new Kaiark of Scharrode?”

Pardero said somewhat ponderously: “You recognize me then?”

“Yes, Your Force, now that I have spoken with you. I admit to confusion; your presence has altered in a way which I hardly know how to explain. You seem, shall we say, more mature, more controlled, and of course your foreign garments enhance these differences. But I am certain that I am right.” The clerk peered in sudden doubt. “Am I not, Your Force?”

Pardero smiled coolly. “How could you demonstrate the fact one way or the other without my assurance?”

The clerk muffled an exclamation. Muttering under his breath he brought to the counter a second leather-bound volume, twice the size of the ledger. He glanced peevishly toward Pardero, then turned thick pages of pale brown parchment.

Pardero asked: “What book is that?”

The clerk looked up from the pages, and now his gray old lips sagged incredulously. “I have here the Great Rhune Almanac. Are you not familiar with it?”

Pardero managed a curt nod. “Show me the folk who occupied the Hyperion suite.”

“Inexorable Force, I was about to do so.” The clerk turned pages. On the left were genealogical charts, ladders, linkages, and trees, indited in rich inks of various colors; on the right photographs were arranged in patterns relative to the charts: thousands upon thousands of names, an equal number of likenesses.

The clerk turned pages with maddening deliberation. At last he halted, pondered a moment, then tapped the page with his finger. “The lineage of Scharrode.”

Pardero could restrain himself no longer. He turned the volume about and studied the photographs.

Halfway down the page a pale-haired man of middle maturity looked forth. His face, angular and bleak, suggested an interesting complexity of character. The forehead might have been that of a scholars the wide mouth seemed composed against some unwelcome or unfashionable emotion, such as humor. The superscription read: Jochaim, House of Benbuphar, Seventy-ninth Kaiark.

A green linkage led to the still face of a woman, her expression unfathomable.

The caption read: Alferica, House of Jent. Below, a heavy maroon line led to the countenance of an unsmiling young man: a face which Pardero recognized as his own. The caption read: Efraim, House of Benbuphar, Kang of the Realm.

At least I now know my name, thought Pardero. I am Efraim, and I was Kang, and now I am Kaiark. I am a man of high rank! He looked up at the clerk, surprising a shrewd and intent scrutiny. “You are curious,” said Efraim. “There is no mystery. I have been off-planet and have just returned. I know nothing of what has happened in my absence. The Kaiark Jochaim is dead?”

“Yes, Your Force. There has been uncertainty and confusion, so I understand. You have been the subject of concern, since now, of course, you are the Eightieth Kaiark, and the allowable lapse has almost transpired.”

Efraim nodded slowly. “So now I am Kaiark of Scharrode.” He returned to the almanac, conscious of the clerk’s gaze.

The other faces on the page were three. From Jochaim a second green line descended to the face of a handsome dark-haired woman with a pale high forehead, blazing black eyes, a keen high-bridged nose. The caption identified her as Kraike Singhalissa. From Singhalissa vermilion lines led first to a dark-haired young man with the aquiline features of his mother: Kang Destian, and a girl, dark-haired and pale, with pensive features and a mouth drooping at the corners, a girl in fact of rather remarkable beauty. The caption identified her as the Lissolet Sthelany.

Efraim spoke in a voice he tried to keep matter-of-fact: “What do you recall of our visit here to Port Mar?”

The clerk reflected. “The two trismets, of Scharrode and Eccord, arrived in concert, and in general conducted themselves as a single party. The younger persons visited New Town, while their elders transacted business. Certain tensions became evident. There followed a discussion of the visit to New Town, of which several of the older persons disapproved. Most exercised were the Kraike Singhalissa, and the Kaiark Rianlle, who thought that the expedition lacked dignity. When you failed to appear by isp 25 of the Third Cycle, everyone felt concern; evidently you had failed to apprise anyone of your departure.”

“Evidently,” said Efraim. “Did mirk occur during our visit?”

“No; there was no mirk.”

“You heard no remarks, you recall no circumstances which might explain my departure?”

The clerk looked puzzled. “A most curious question, Your Force! I remember nothing of consequence, though I was surprised to hear that you had acquainted yourself with that off-world vagabond.” He sniffed. “No doubt he took advantage of your condescension; he is known as a persuasive rogue.”

“Which off-world vagabond is this?”

“What? Do you not remember exploring New Town with the fellow Lorcas?”

“I had forgotten his name. Lorcas, you say?”

“Matho Lorcas. He consorts with New Town trash; he is fugleman for all these sebal cretins at the university.”

“And when did Kaiark Jochaim die?”

“Soon after his return to Scharrode, in battle against Gosso, Kaiark of Gorgetto. You have returned opportunely. In another several days you would no longer be kaiark, and I have heard that Kaiark Rianlle has proposed a trisme to unite the realms of Eccord and Scharrode. Now that you are returned, conditions may be altered.” The clerk turned pages in the almanac. “Kaiark Rianlle is an intense and determined man.” The clerk tapped a photograph. Efraim saw a handsome distinguished face, framed by a casque of shining silver ringlets. The Kraike Dervas, looked forth blankly; her face seemed to lack distinctive character. The same was true of the Lissolet Maerio, who stared forth expressionlessly, but who nonetheless displayed a youthful if rather vacuous prettiness.

The clerk asked cautiously: “Do you plan to stay with us, Force?”

“I think not. And I wish you to say nothing whatever of my return to Marune. I must clarify certain circumstances.”

“I quite understand, Force. Thank you very much indeed!” - this last for the ten ozols which Efraim had placed on the counter.

Efraim emerged from the hotel into a melancholy umber. He walked slowly back down the Avenue of Black Jangkars, and coming once more to the square he now took time to walk around, and with awe and wonder investigated the shops. Could there exist anywhere in all Alastor Cluster a richer concentration of the arcane, the esoteric, the special? And Efraim wondered what had been his own fields of erudition, his own unique virtuosities. Whatever they were, he retained none of them; his mind was a blank.

Somewhat mournfully he proceeded down the Street of Brass Boxes to the river.

New Town appeared quiet. Festoons of lights still glowed along the riverfront, but the beer gardens and cafes lacked animation. Efraim turned away, walked up the Avenue of Strangers to the Outworld Inn. He went to his chamber and slept.

He dreamt a series of vivid dreams and awoke in a flush of excitement. After a moment he tried to reform the shattered images into focus so that he might grasp the meanings which had marched across his sleeping mind. To no avail. Composing himself, he slept once more until a gong announced the hour of breakfast.

1. These are the modes recognized by the folk of Port Mar. Both the Majars and the Rhunes make more elaborate distinctions.

The progression of the modes is rendered complex by reason of the diurnal rotation of Marune, the revolution of Marune around Furad,the motion of Furad and Osmo around each other, the orbital motions of Madder and Cirse, around each other and jointly around the Furad-Osmo system. The planes of no two orbiting systems are alike.

The Fwai-chi, who lack all knowledge of astronomy, can reliably predict the modes for as far in the future as anyone cares to inquire.

Among the low mountains south of Port Mar live a ‘lost’ community of about ten thousand Majars, decadent, inbred, and gradually diminishing in numbers. These folk are slavishly affected by the modes of day. They regulate their moods, diet, attire, and, activities by the changes. During mirk, the Majars lock themselves in their huts, and by the light of oil lamps chant imprecations against Galula the Goblin who mauls and eviscerates anyone unlucky enough to be abroad after dark. Some such entity as Galula indeed exists, but has never been satisfactorily identified.

The Rhunes, as proud and competent as the Majars are demoralized, are also strongly affected by the changing modes. Behavior proper during one mode may be considered absurd or in poor taste during another. Persons advance their erudition and hone their special skills during aud, isp, and amber. Formal ceremonies tend to take plane during isp, as well as during the remarkable Ceremony of Odors. It may be noted that music is considered hyperemotional and inducive to vulgar conduct; it is never heard in the Rhune Realms. Aud is the appropriate time to go forth to battle, to conduct litigation, fight a duel, collect rent. Green rowan is a time for poetry and sentimental musing; red rowan allows the Rhune slightly to relax his etiquette. A man may condescend to take a glass of wine in company with other men, all using etiquette screens; women similarly may sip cordials or brandy. Chill isp inspires the Rhune with a thrilling ascetic exultation, which completely supersedes lesser emotions of love, hate, jealousy, greed. Conversation occurs in a hushed archaic dialect; brave ventures are planned; gallant resolves sworn; schemes of glory proposed and ratified, and many of these projects become fact, and go into the Book of Deeds.

2. The all-purpose honorific, somewhat more respectful than a simple ‘sir,’ to be applied to Rhunes of indeterminate status.

3. Trismet: The group of persons resulting from a ‘trisme,’ the Rhune analog of marriage. These persons might be a man and leis trismetic female partner; or a man, the female partner, one or more of her children (of which the man may or may not be the sire). ‘Family’ approximates the meaning of ‘trismet’ but carries a package of inaccurate and inapplicable connotations. Paternity is often an uncertain determination; rank and status, therefore, are derived from the mother.

Efraim emerged from the hotel into that phase sometimes known as half-aud. Furad and Osmo ruled the sky, to produce a warm yellow light, which connoisseurs of such matters considered fresh, effervescent, and gay, but lacking the richness and suavity of full aud. He stood for a moment breathing the cool air. His melancholy had diminished; better to be Kaiark Efraim of Scharrode than Efraim the butcher, or Efraim the cook, or Efraim the garbage collector.

He set off along the Avenue of Strangers. Arriving at the bridge, instead of veering left into the Street of Brass Boxes he crossed into New Town, and discovered an environment totally different from that of Old Town.

The geography of New Town, so Efraim would discover, was simple. Four thoroughfares paralleled the river: the Estrada, which terminated at the university; the Avenue of the Agency; then the Avenue of Haune and the Avenue of Douaune, after Osmo’s two small dead planets.

Efraim walked westward along the Estrada, examining the cafes and beer gardens with wistful interest. To his present perspective they seemed almost flagrantly innocent. He stepped into one of the beer gardens and glanced toward the young man and girl who sat huddled so closely together. Could he ever feel so easily licentious in full view of everyone? Perhaps even now he had not escaped the strictures of his past, which after all was less than six months gone.

He approached a portly man in a white apron who seemed to be the manager. “Sir, are you acquainted with a certain Matho Lorcas?”

“Matho Lorcas? I do not know the gentleman.”

Efraim continued west along the Estrada and presently at a booth devoted to the sale of off-world periodicals the name ‘Matho Lorcas’ sparked recognition. The girl attendant pointed along the avenue: “Ask there, in the Satyr’s Cave. You might find him at work. If not, they know his dwelling.”

Matho Lorcas was indeed at work, serving mugs of beer along the bar. He was a tall young man with a keen vivacious face. His dark hair was cut short in a casual and unassuming style. When he spoke his thin crooked mouth worked dozens of changes across his face. Efraim watched him a moment before approaching.