The fire burned down to embers. Jantiff rose stiffly to his
feet. His bed was only a heap of leaves, but for tonight, at least, it would
have to serve. Jantiff made a final survey of the beach, then took
shelter in his hut. Burrowing into the leaves, he contrived to make himself
tolerably comfortable and presently fell asleep.
At sunrise Jantiff crawled out into the open air. He washed
his face in the stream, and ate a few mouthfuls of bread and cold percebs, by
no means a heartening breakfast. If he were to stay here even so long as a week
he would need pot, pan, cup, cutlery, salt, flour, a few gills of oil, perhaps
an ounce or two of tea—at considerable damage to his meager store of ozols. But
where was any rational alternative? Sleep had clarified his thinking: he would
make a temporary sojourn in the but and telephone Alastor Centrality at regular
intervals; sooner or later he must reach the cursar: perhaps today!
Jantiff rose to his feet, brushed the chaff and twigs from
his clothes, and set out toward Balad. Arriving at the Old Groar, he went
around to the back and knocked at the kitchen door.
Palinka looked forth. “Well, Jantiff, what do you want?”
“I came for my money; what else?”
Palinka threw back the door and motioned him within. “Go
talk to Fariske; there he sits.”
Jantiff approached the table. Partake puffed out his cheeks
and, raising his eyebrows, looked off to the aide as if Jantiff thereby might
be persuaded to go away. Jantiff seated himself in his old place and Fariske
was obliged to notice him. “Good morning, Jantiff.”
“Good morning,” said Jantiff. “I have come for my money.”
Fariske heaved a weary sigh. “Come back in a few days. I
bought various necessities at the market and now I am short of cash.”
“I am even more short than you,” cried Jantiff. “I intend to
sit in this kitchen and take my meals free of charge until you pay me my wages.”
“Now, then!” said Fariske. “There is no cause for acrimony.
Palinka, pour Jantiff a cup of tea.”
“I have not yet taken breakfast; I would be glad to accept
some porridge, were you to offer it.”
Fariske signaled Palinka. “Serve Jantiff a dish of the
coarse porridge. He is a good fellow and deserves special treatment.
What is the sum due you?”
“Twenty-four ozols.”
“So much?” exclaimed Fariske. “What of the beer you took and
the other extras?
“I took no beer, and no extras, as you well know.”
Partake glumly brought out his wallet and paid over the
money. “What must be must be.”
“Thank you,” said Jantiff. “Our relationship is now on an
even balance. I assume that the situation is like that of yesterday? You still
have no need for my services?”
“Unfortunately true. As a matter of fact, I have come to ,
regret your departure. Voris suffers a distension of the leg veins, and is
unable to collect percebs. The task therefore devolves upon Palinka.”
“What!” cried Palinka, in a passion. “Can I believe my ears?
Am I suddenly so underworked that I can now while away my hours among the
frigid waves? Think again!”
“It is only for today,” said Fariske soothingly. “Tomorrow
Voris will probably feel fit.”
Palinka remained obdurate. “Voris does not lack ingenuity;
when his leg veins heal, he will contrive new excuses: the counter needs
waxing; ale has soured his stomach; the waves thrash too heavily on the rocks!
Then once more the cry will ring out: ‘Palinka, Palinka! Go out for percebs!
Poor Voris is
Palinka struck a pan down upon the table in ringing emphasis.
“For all Jantiff’s oddities, at least he fetched the percebs. Voris must learn
from the example.”
Fariske attempted the cogency of pure logic. “What, after
all, is the fetching of a few percebs? The day contains only so many minutes;
it passes as well one way as another.”
“In that case, go fetch them yourself!” Palinka took herself
off to indicate that the subject was closed.
Fariske pulled at his chin, then turned toward Jantiff. “Might
you oblige me
,
for today only, by bringing in a few percebs?”
Jantiff sipped his tea. “Let us explore the matter in full
detail.”
Fariske spoke pettishly: “My request is modest; is your response
so hard to formulate?”
“Not at all,” said Jantiff, “but perhaps we can proceed further.
As you know, I am now unemployed. Nevertheless I am anxious to earn a few
ozols.”
Fariske grimaced and started to speak, but Jantiff held up
his hand. “Let us consider a bucket of percebs. When shelled and fried a bucket
yields twenty portions, which you sell for a dinket per portion. Thus, a bucket
of percebs yields two ozols. Two buckets: four ozols, and so forth. Suppose
every day I were to deliver to you the percebs you require, shelled and
cleaned, at a cost to you of one ozol per bucket? You would thereby gain your
profit with no inconvenience for Palinka, or yourself, or even Voris.”
Fariske mulled over the proposal, pulling at his mustache. Palinka,
who had been listening from across the kitchen, once again came forward. “Why
are you debating? Voris will never fetch percebs! I also refuse to turn my legs
blue in the swirling water!”
“Very well, Jantiff,” said Fariske. “We will test the system
for a few days. Take another cup of tea, to signalize the new relationship.”
“With pleasure,” said Jantiff. “Also, let us agree that payments
will be made promptly upon delivery of the percebs.”
“What do you take me for?” Fariske exclaimed indignantly. “A
man is only as large as his reputation; would I risk so much for a few paltry
mollusks?”
Jantiff made a noncommittal gesture. “If we settle accounts
on a day-to-day basis, we thereby avoid confusion.”
“The issue is inconsequential,” said Fariske. “A further
matter: since you evidently intend to pursue this business in earnest, I will
command four buckets of percebs from you, rather than the usual two.”
“I intended to suggest something of the sort myself,” said
Jantiff. “I am anxious to earn a good wage.”
“You will of course provide your own equipment?”
“For the next few days, at least, I will use the buckets,
pries and forceps which you keep in the shed. If there is any deterioration, I
will naturally make good the loss.”
Fariske was not inclined to let the matter rest on a basis
so informal, but Palinka made an impatient exclamation. “The day is well
advanced! Do you expect to serve percebs tonight? If so, let Jantiff go about
his business.” Fariske threw his hands into the air and stalked from the
kitchen. Jantiff went to the shed, gathered buckets and tools, and went off
down the beach.
The day before he had marked a ledge of rock twenty yards
offshore which he had never previously explored, because of the intervening
water. Today he contrived a raft from dead branches and bits of driftwood, upon
which he supported the buckets. Immersing himself to the armpits, with a
shuddering of the knees and a chattering of the teeth, Jantiff pushed the raft
out to the ledge and tied it to a knob of rock.
His hopes were immediately realized: the ledge was thickly
encrusted with percebs and Jantiff filled the buckets in short order.
Returning to the shore he built a fire, at which he warmed
himself while he shelled and cleaned the percebs.
The sun had hardly reached the zenith when Jantiff made his
delivery to the Old Groar. Fariske was somewhat puzzled by Jantiff’s
expedition. “When you worked for me, you used as much time to gather two
buckets, and they were not even shelled.”
“The conditions are not at all comparable,” said Jantiff. “Incidentally,
I notice that the shed is cluttered with broken furniture and rubbish. For
three ozols I will order the confusion and carry the junk to the rubbish dump.”
By dint of furious argument, Fariske reduced Jantiff’s price
to two ozols, and Jantiff set to work. From the discards Jantiff reserved two
old chairs, a three-legged table, a pair of torn mattresses, a number of pots,
canisters and dented pans. The ownership of these items, in fact, had been his
prime goal, and he suspected that Fariske would have put an inordinate value
upon the items had he requested them directly. With considerable satisfaction
Jantiff calculated the yield of his day’s employment: six ozols and the
furnishing of his hut.
On the following day, Jantiff went early to work. He gathered,
shelled and cleaned seven buckets of percebs. After delivering the stipulated
quota to Fariske, he took the remaining percebs to the Cimmery, where he found
no difficulty in selling them to Madame Tchaga for three ozols.
Madame Tchaga was notable for her verbosity. Lacking any
better company, she served Jantiff a bowl of turnip soup and described the
vexations inherent in trying to gratify the tastes of a fickle and
unappreciative clientele.
Jantiff agreed that her frustrations verged upon the insupportable.
He went on to remark that the prosperity of an inn often depended upon its
cheerful ambience. Possibly a profusion of floral designs upon the Cimmery’s
façade and a depicted procession of jolly townsfolk on a long panel, perhaps
to be hung over the door, might enhance the rather bleak atmosphere of the establishment.
Madame Tchaga dismissed the idea out of hand. “All very well
to talk about designs and depictions, but who in Baled is capable of
such cleverness?”
“As a matter of fact, I am gifted with such talent,” said
Jantiff. “Possibly I might find time to do certain work along these lines.”
During the next hour and a half Jantiff discovered that
Madame Tchaga, as a shrewd and relentless negotiator, far surpassed even Fariske.
Jantiff, however, maintained a detached and casual attitude, and eventually
won a contract on essentially his own terms, and Madame Tchaga even advanced
five ozols for the purchase of supplies.
Jantiff went immediately to the general store where be
bought paint of various colors and several brushes. Returning to the street he
noticed a plump heavy-faced man in fawn-colored garments approaching at a leisurely
splay-footed gait. “Eubanq! Just the person I want to see!” called Jantiff in a
jovial voice. “We now return to our original plan!”
Eubanq halted and stood in apparent perplexity. “What plan
is this?”
“Don’t you remember? For a hundred ozols—an exorbitant sum,
incidentally—you are to convey me to Uncibal spaceport in time for me to board
the
Sereniac.”
Eubanq gave a slow thoughtful nod. “The hundred ozols
naturally are to be paid in advance: You understand this?”
“I foresee no difficulty,” said Jantiff confidently. “I have
on hand something over thirty ozols. My arrangement with Madame Tchaga will net
another twenty-two ozols, and I regularly earn six or seven owls a day.”
“I am pleased to hear of your prosperity,” said.
Eubanq courteously. “What is your secret?”
“No secret whatever! You could have done the same! I simply
wallow around the ocean until I have gathered seven buckets of percebs, which I
clean and shell and deliver to the Cimmery and the Old Groar. Might you need a
bucket or two for your own use?”
Eubanq laughed. “My taste is amply satisfied at the Old
Groar. You might make your proposal to Grand Knight Shubart. He is back
in residence with a houseful of guests. He’ll certainly require a supply of percebs.”
“A good idea! So then it’s all clear for the
Serenaic!
”
Eubanq smiled his somewhat distant smile and went his way.
Jantiff paused to consider a moment. The sooner he earned a hundred ozols the
better. The Grand Knight’s ozols were as good as any, so why not hazard a try?
Jantiff left off his paints in Fariske’s shed, then set out
along the northern shore of Lulace Sound to the Grand Knight’s manor.
Approaching Lulace he sensed bustle and activity where before there had been
somnolence. Keeping a wary eye open for Booch, Jantiff went to the service entrance
at the back of the building. A scullion fetched the chief cook, who made no
difficulty about placing a continuing order for two buckets every third day, at
two ozols the bucket; double Jantiff’s usual price, for a period of
twenty-four days. “The Grand Knight entertains important guests until the
Centenary at Uncibal,” explained the cook. “Thereafter, all will return to normal.”
“You can rely upon me to satisfy your needs,” said Jantiff.
In a mood almost buoyant, Jantiff returned up the road to
Balad. The hundred ozols were well within his, reach; he could confidently look
forward to a comfortable passage home… He heard the whir of driven wheels
and jumped to the side of the road. The vehicle, guided by Booch, approached
and passed. Booch’s expression was rapt and glazed, his ropy lips drawn back in
a foolish grin.
Jantiff returned to the road and watched the vehicle recede
toward Balad. Where would Booch be going in such a fervor of anticipation?
Jantiff proceeded thoughtfully into town. He went directly to the telephone and
once again called the Alastor Centrality of Uncibal.
Upon the screen appeared the face of Aleida Gluster. Her
cheeks, once plump and pink, sagged; Jantiff thought that she seemed worried
and even unwell. He spoke apologetically. “Once again it’s Jantiff Ravensroke,
and I fear that I’m a great nuisance.”
“Not at all,” said Aleida Cluster. “It is my duty to serve
you. Are you still at Balad?”
“Yes, and temporarily at least all seems to be going well.
But I must speak to the cursar. Has he returned to Uncibal?”
“No,” said Aleida in a tense voice. “He has not yet returned.
It is most remarkable.”
Jantiff could not restrain a peevish ejaculation. “My business
is absolutely vital!”
“I understand as much from our previous encounters,” said
Aleida tartly. “I cannot produce him by sheer effort of will. I wish I could.”
“I suppose that you’ve tried the Waunisse office again?”