Ecce and Old Earth Page 11

  * * *

  Chapter II, part 4

  At Araminta Station the Conservator, in company with Bodwyn Wook and Scharde Clattuc, subjected Kathcar to a long and careful inquisition.

  Egon Tamm thereupon summoned the six Wardens of Stroma to Riverview House, to confer upon a matter of grave importance.

  The meeting took place in the parlor at Riverview House, immediately upon arrival of the six Wardens. Also present at the meeting were Bodwyn Wook, Scharde and Glawen, at the insistence of Egon Tamm. Wardens Ballinder, Gelvink and Fergus sat to one side, facing Dame Clytie Vergence, Jory Siskin - both LPFers - and Lona Yone, who professed neutrality, on the other.

  The Conservator, wearing formal robes, called the meeting to order. “This is perhaps the most important session you will have ever attended,” he told the Wardens. “A disaster of enormous dimension had threatened us, which we have averted, but only for the nonce. I refer to an armed attack by Yips upon Araminta Station, followed by an invasion of the Marmion Foreshore by thousands of Yips, which of course would signal the end of the Conservancy.”

  “As I say, we thwarted this action, and captured seven Yip aircraft along with a quantity of weapons.”

  “In this connection, I am sorry to report that one of your number is guilty of conduct which is very close to traitorous, though I am sure that she will claim that her acts are motivated by idealism. Dame Clytie Vergence is the person in question and I now expel her from the Board of Wardens.”

  “That is impossible and illegal as well,” snapped Clytie. “I am duly elected by the people’s vote.”

  “Nevertheless, the office is established by the Charter. You cannot work to destroy the Charter and derive your franchise from it at the same time. The same considerations apply to Jory Siskin, also an LPFer; I order his immediate resignation from the Board. And now, Warden Yone, I must ask if you support the Charter without reservation, in all of its aspects. If not, then you too must resign. We can no longer afford the luxury of divisiveness and controversy. The Charter is in danger, and we must act with decision.”

  Lona Yone, a tall thin woman of late middle years, with white hair cut short to frame a sharp bony face, said: “I dislike the authoritarian posture you have assumed, and I resent the need for defining what I consider my private habits of thought. However I appreciate that this is not a normal occasion and that I must range myself either to one side or the other. Very well, then. I consider myself independent and uncommitted to partisan intrigue, but I state with conviction that I support the Charter and the concept of Conservancy. I believe, however, that the precepts of the Charter are not being rigorously applied, nor has this ever been more than approximately the case.”

  Lona Yone drew a deep breath and was about to speak further, but Egon Tamm intervened. “That is good and sufficient.”

  Dame Clytie spoke with scorn: “You can issue as many fiats as you like. The fact remains that I represent a large constituency of Naturalists, and we defy your harsh and ultimately inhumane principles.”

  “Then I must warn you and your constituents that if you attempt to interfere with, or circumvent, the implementation of Conservancy law, you all will be considered criminals. This includes consorting with Simonetta Zigonie, and any facilitation of her activities.”

  “You cannot dictate my choice of companions.”

  “She is a kidnapper and worse. Scharde Clattuc, who sits yonder, is one of her victims. Your associate Rufo Kathcar is another.”

  Dame Clytie laughed. “If she is such a villain, why do you not apprehend her and bring her to justice?”

  “If I could extricate her from Yipton without violence or bloodshed, I would do so on the instant,” said Egon Tamm. He turned to Bodwyn Wook: “Do you have any ideas on the subject?”

  “If we start deporting Yips to Chamanita Planet where their labor is in demand, sooner or later we will come upon Smonny.”

  “That is a heartless statement,” said Dame Clyde. “How will you persuade the Yips to leave Yipton?”

  “’Persuasion’ is perhaps is the wrong word,” said Bodwyn Wook. Incidentally, where is your nephew? I expected to find him among those present.”

  “Julian is off-world, on important business.”

  “I advise both of you to obey the Charter,” said Bodwyn Wook. “Otherwise you too will be persuaded off-world.”

  “Bah!” sneered Dame Clytie. First you must demonstrate that this decrepit old shibboleth has a real existence, and is not merely a rumor.”

  “Eh? That is easy enough. Look over at the wall yonder. That is a facsimile of the Charter. There is one in every household.”

  “I will say no more.”

  * * *

  Chapter II, Part 5

  Evening had come to Riverview House. The Wardens and ex-Wardens had made departure for Stroma. Rufo Kathcar had wished also to return to Stroma, but Bodwyn Wook was not yet satisfied that Kathcar had revealed all he knew, and certainly not all of what he suspected. In the dining room Bodwyn Wook, Scharde, Glawen and the Conservator lingered at the table over wine, discussing the events of the day. Bodwyn Wook mentioned that Dame Clytie had shown no great agitation at the turn of affairs. “And, certainly, very little remorse.”

  “The position of Warden is a largely symbolic honor,” said Egon Tamm. “There are few real benefits. Dame Clytie was one of the Stroma Wardens because she seemed to define the post; also, it regularized her penchant for meddling into everyone else’s affairs.”

  “She made a rather curious remark,” said Scharde.” I have the impression that she said more than she intended, but could not resist the thrust.”

  Egon Tamm frowned in puzzlement. “Which remark was this?”

  “She implied that the Charter was imaginary: a rumor, a legend, a disembodied shibboleth - whatever that might be.”

  Bodwyn Wook grimaced and poured wine down his scrawny throat with a grand flourish. “This extraordinary woman seems to believe that she can expunge the document from existence by the sheer exercise of her will.”

  Glawen started to speak then fell silent. He had undertaken to reveal nothing of Wayness’ discovery that the Charter had disappeared from the Society vault, but now it appeared that the knowledge was not as secure as Wayness had hoped. Smonny’s efforts to gain control of Chilke’s property and now Dame Clytie’s angry remarks suggested that the news was secret only from the loyal Conservationists themselves.

  Glawen decided that the Station’s best interests would be served if he now shed light on the situation. He spoke in a tentative voice: “It may be that Dame Clytie’s remarks are more significant than you suspect.”

  Bodwyn Wook glanced at him sharply. “Indeed! What do you know of the situation?”

  “I know enough to find Dame Clytie’s remarks troublesome. I worry even more to find that Julian Bohost has taken himself off-world.”

  Bodwyn Wook sighed. “As usual, all the world revels on full knowledge regarding dire emergencies and imminent disasters, save only the dozing Bureau B officials.”

  Egon Tamm said: “Allow me to suggest, Glawen, that you explain to us what is going on.”

  “Certainly,” said Glawen. “I have not done so previously because I was pledged to secrecy.”

  “Secrecy from your own superiors?” roared Bodwyn Wook. “Is it your theory that you know better than the rest of us?”

  “Not at all, sir! I simply agreed with my informant that secrecy was to everyone’s advantage.”

  “Aha! And who is this infinitely cautious informant?”

  “Well, sir, it is Wayness.”

  “Wayness!”

  “Yes. She is now on Earth, as you know.”

  “Proceed.”

  “To make a long story short, she discovered, during a previous sojourn on Earth with Pirie Tamm, that the Charter and the Grant in Perpetuity was nowhere to be found. Sixty years before a certain Secretary of the Society named Frons Nisfit quietly plundered the Society and sold everything of val
ue to document collectors - including, so it seems, the Charter. Wayness hoped to trace the sale of the Charter, and thought that she could function better if no one knew that the Charter was missing.”

  “That seems reasonable enough,” said Scharde. “But is she not taking a great responsibility upon herself?”

  “Rightly or wrongly, that was her decision. But it appears that Smonny is also aware of the situation, and perhaps knows more about it than does Wayness.”

  “Why, do you say that? “

  “A collector by the name of Floyd Swaner might have ended up with some of the Society documents. He died and left everything to his grandson, Eustace Chilke. Smonny traced down Chilke and took him to the planet Rosalia. Namour brought him here, and Smonny meanwhile attempted to find where either Chilke or Grandpa Swaner had hidden the Charter; she had no success. Smonny then ordered Chilke kidnapped, took him to Shattorak and forced him to sign over all his possessions. It seems that Smonny and her allies, the Yips, are serious.”

  “So then, what of Dame Clytie. How would she know?”

  “I suggest that we talk once again to Kathcar,” said Glawen.

  Egon Tamm summoned the maid and instructed her to fetch Kathcar from the room which had been put at his disposal.

  Kathcar presently appeared and for a moment stood in the doorway, appraising the persons in the room. He had carefully trimmed his black hair and his beard and had dressed himself in somber black and brown garments, in the conservative style of old Stroma. His black eyes darted back and forth, then he came forward. “What is it now, sirs? I have told you everything I know; any further questioning is sheer harassment.”

  Egon Tamm said: “Sit down, Rufo; perhaps you will take a glass of wine?”

  Kathcar seated himself but brushed away the wine. “I consume very little vinous liquor.”

  “We are hoping that you may illuminate a puzzling circumstance in relation to Dame Clytie.”

  “I can’t imagine what more I could tell you.”

  “When she conferred with Smonny Zigonie, did the subject of Eustace Chilke arise?”

  “The name was not mentioned.”

  “What of the name Swaner”?

  “I heard no such name.”

  “Odd,” said Bodwyn Wook.

  Glawen spoke: “Either Dame Clytie or Julian Bohost made contact with Smonny’s sister Spanchetta, here at Araminta Station. Were you aware of this?”

  Rufo Kathcar showed a petulant frown. “Julian spoke with someone at the Station; I am not certain as to whom it might have been. He reported the occurrence to Dame Clytie and I seem to recall that he used the name ‘Spanchetta.’ His mood was one of excitement, and Dame Clytie said: ‘I think you should investigate this matter; it might prove of the greatest importance’ or words to that effect. Then she noticed that I was within earshot and said no more.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Julian went off somewhere immediately afterward.”

  “Thank you, Rufo.”

  “Is that all you wish?”

  “For now yes.”

  Kathcar stalked from the room. Glawen told the others: “Spanchetta showed Julian the letters Wayness wrote me. She did not refer to the Charter directly but she probably said enough to set Spanchetta thinking.”

  Egon Tamm asked: “Why should Spanchetta show the letters to Julian? This is a puzzle.”

  Scharde said: “If Spanchetta had wanted to inform Smonny she would have notified Namour. She might well prefer Dame Clytie’s plans for the future to those of her sister.”

  Glawen rose to his feet. He addressed Bodwyn Wook. “Sir, I request a leave of absence starting now.”

  “Hmf. Why this sudden whim?”

  “It is not sudden, sir. The Shattorak operation has been successful and I am anxious to see to another matter.”

  “Your request is denied,” said Bodwyn Wook. “I am assigning you to a special mission. You must proceed to Earth at best speed and there clarify this matter we have been discussing to the best of your ability.”

  “Very good, sir.” said Glawen, “I withdraw my request.”

  “Quite so,” said Bodwyn Wook.

  * * *

  Chapter III

  * * *

  Chapter III, Part 1

  Wayness arrived at the Grand Fiamurjes Spaceport on Old Earth aboard the starship Zaphorosia Naiad and went directly to Fair Winds, the residence of her uncle Tamm at Yssinges, near the village Tierens, fifty miles south of Shillawy.

  Wayness approached the entrance to Fair Winds in a mood of uncertainty, not quite sure of what might be the current circumstances, nor even what kind of welcome she might expect. Her recollections, from a previous visit, were vivid. Fair Winds was an ancient manor built of dark timbers, commodious, comfortably shabby, surrounded by a dozen massive deodars. Here lived Pirie Tamm, a widower with his daughters Challis and Moira: both older than Wayness and active in county society. Fair Winds had resounded with comings and goings, luncheons, garden fetes, dinner parties and an annual masquerade ball. Pirie Tamm at that time had been a large hearty man, erect and stalwart, brisk and positive, punctiliously correct in his manners. Milo and Wayness had found him a generous host, if somewhat formal.

  Arriving this second time at Fair Winds, Wayness discovered many changes. Challis and Moira had married and moved away; Pirie Tamm now lived alone, save for a pair of servants, and the vast old house seemed unnaturally silent. Pirie Tamm, meanwhile, had become thin and white-haired; his once ruddy cheeks were waxen and hollow; his bluff positive mannerisms were muted and he no longer walked with a brisk confident stride. He maintained a stiff reticence on the subject of his health, but Wayness eventually learned from the servants that Pirie Tamm had fallen from a ladder, broken his pelvis, and owing to complications had lost much of his strength and was incapable of prolonged exertion.

  Pirie Tamm greeted Wayness with unexpected warmth. “What a pleasure to see you! And how long will you stay? You will be in no hurry to leave, or so I hope; Fair Winds is much too quiet nowadays!”

  “I have no definite schedule,” said Wayness.

  “Good, good! Agnes will show you to your room where you can freshen up before dinner.”

  Wayness remembered from her last visit that dinner at Fair Winds was always a formal occasion. She dressed accordingly in a pale brown pleated skirt, a dark gray orange shirt and a square-shouldered black jacket; garments which admirably suited her dark hair and pale olive complexion.

  When she appeared in the dining room, Pirie Tamm looked her up and down with grudging approval. “I remember you as a pretty young lass; you certainly have not altered for the worse — though I doubt if anyone would describe you as ‘buxom.’”

  “I lack a bit here and there,” said Wayness demurely. “But I make do with what I have.”

  “It might well be enough,” said Pirie Tamm. He seated Wayness at one end of the long walnut table and took himself to the other.

  Dinner was served in ritual fashion by one of the maids: a rich rosy pink lobster bisque, a salad of cress and sweet parsley dressed with cubes of chicken marinated in garlic oil, cutlets of wild boar from the Great Transylvanian Preserve. Pirie Tamm inquired after Milo and Wayness told of the terrible manner of Milo’s death. Pirie Tamm was shocked. “It is particularly disturbing that such deeds should be done on Cadwal, a conservancy and, theoretically, a place of tranquility.”

  Wayness laughed sadly. “That does not sound like Cadwal.”

  “Perhaps I am an impractical idealist; perhaps I expect too much of my fellow men. Still cannot avoid a profound disappointment whenever I look back across the years of my life. Nowhere do I discover the fresh, or the clean, or the innocent. Society is in a condition of rot. I cannot even trust the shopkeepers to give me my correct change.”

  Wayness sipped wine from her goblet, not quite sure how to respond to Pirie Tamm’s remarks. It seemed as if the years might have affected Pirie Tamm’s mental processes as well as his physica
l condition.

  Pirie Tamm, apparently expecting no comment, sat brooding off across the room. After a moment Wayness asked: “What of the Naturalist Society? Are you still Secretary?”

  “I am indeed! It is a thankless task, in the most literal sense of the words, since no one either appreciates my efforts or tries to assist me.”

  “I am sorry to hear that! What of Challis and Moira?”

  Pirie Tamm made a curt gesture. “They are caught up in their own affairs, to the exclusion of all else. I suppose that it is the usual way of things - though I could wish for something different.”

  Wayness asked cautiously: “Did they marry well?”

  “Well enough, I suppose, depending upon one’s point of view. Moira picked herself a pedant, impractical as they come. He teaches some footling course at the university: ‘The Psychology of the Uzbek Tree Flog,’ or perhaps it’s ‘Creation Myths of the Ancient Eskimos.’ Challis did no better; she married an insurance agent. None of them have set foot off the planet Earth, and none care a counterfeit coprolite for the Society. They flitter and change the subject when I mention the organization and its great work. Varbert - that’s Moira’s husband - calls it a ‘geriatric mumble-club.’”

  “That is not only unkind but foolish, as well!” declared Wayness indignantly.

  Pirie Tamm hardly seemed to hear. “I have discussed their parochialism at length, but they do not even trouble to disagree, which I find most exasperating. As a consequence I see little of them nowadays.”

  “That is a pity,” said Wayness. “Evidently none of their activities interest you.”

  Pirie Tamm gave a grunt of disgust. “I have no taste for trivial banter nor excited discussion of some celebrity’s misconduct, nor would I wish to waste the time. I must research my monograph, which is a tedious business and I must also keep up with Society business.”