Throy Read online

  Glawen’s jaw dropped. He turned to stare at Chilke, who shrugged and grinned. Glawen turned back to Bodwyn Wook. “If Chilke becomes a ‘Sub-Commander,’ he outranks a ‘Captain,’ such as me.”

  “True, of course.”

  “And if we go out together on a mission, Sub-Commander Chilke will be the officer in authority.”

  “That is inherent in the concept of ‘rank.’”

  “Do you recall that yesterday I suggested a promotion, and you told me that I needed another ten years of seasoning?”

  “Of course I remember!” snapped Bodwyn Wook. “Do you consider me senile?”

  “And today, instead of ten years, ten minutes is enough seasoning for Eustace Chilke?”

  “Such are the exigencies of the moment,” said Bodwyn Wook.

  “Here is another exigency,” said Glawen. He rose to his feet, brought out his warrant card, tossed it upon Bodwyn Wook’s desk. “There you have it; my resignation. I am no longer associated with Bureau B.” He turned to go.

  ‘Just a moment!” cried Bodwyn Wook. “This is an irresponsible act, in view of our personnel problems!”

  “Not at all! I have learned my lesson. The last two times you sent me out in this style I barely escaped with

  my life.”

  “Bah,” muttered Bodwyn Wook. “It was your mad Clattuc rashness which prompted you to play the cock-a-hoop bravo at all costs. You must blame only the flaw in your own personality.”

  Glawen, halfway to the door, stopped short. “Tell me this: how can I be at once timid and diffident, and sweating with fear, while still indulging in these escapades you describe.”

  “Clattucs are all mad,” said Bodwyn Wook. “That is well known. This is how the disease affects you, and it is truly pitiful that you should blame me, a tired old man, for your trouble.”

  Chilke spoke in a gentle voice: “Let me make a suggestion. If you promote Glawen to ‘Commander’, as he probably deserves, everyone would be happy.”

  Bodwyn Wook sank back aghast into his seat. “He would be the youngest man ever to use such a rank! It is

  unthinkable!”

  “I thought it,” said Chilke modestly. “What about you, Glawen? Can you think it?”

  ‘Just barely, after what I have been through. But I can think it.”

  “Very well,” said Bodwyn Wook hollowly. “So be it!” He leaned forward and spoke into the communicator. “Hilda! Bring in a bottle of the best Averly Sergence, along with three glasses! Commander Clattuc, Sub-commander Chilke and I wish to celebrate a happy occasion.”

  “Sir?” asked Hilda. “Did I hear you rightly?”

  “You did indeed! Make sure of the vintage; we drink no paltry stuff today!”

  Hilda brought in the wine and the goblets. She listened frozen-faced as Bodwyn Wook notified her of the promotions. Wordlessly she poured wine into the goblets, then turned away and marched toward the door. As she passed Glawen she spoke a single word in a clenched and sibilant mutter: “Madness!”

  Hilda left the room and shut the door. Bodwyn Wook gave his head a wry shake. “I suspect that the news took her by surprise, but after she rests a few minutes, she too will rejoice, in her own quiet way.”

  * * *

  Chapter 2, Part IV

  Goblets had been emptied, not once but several times, and a number of congratulations had been exchanged. Bodwyn Wook was especially gratified to hear Glawen’s salute: “- to Bodwyn Wook, undoubtedly the keenest and most competent supervisor to sit in this office for many, many years!”

  “Thank you, Glawen!” said Bodwyn Wook. “This is good to hear, even though it has been many, many years since anyone else has sat here.”

  “I had a more extended period in mind.”

  “Just so.” Bodwyn Wook leaned forward, pushed bottle and goblets aside, took up a sheet of yellow paper. “Now then: to business! Before issuing specific orders, I will indicate our general strategy in connection with the LPF and Lutwen Atoll. It includes a ‘North Phase’ and a ‘South Phase.’ Since we cannot cope with both phases together, we intend to hold the Yips static in the north while we deal with the LPF in the south. The program is already underway; in fact it started three days ago when the Conservator issued his ultimatum: obey the law or depart the planet. As of now, the LPFers are no doubt taking stock, conniving and conspiring and wondering what to do next.” Bodwyn Wook hitched himself forward in his chair. “Their only hope is to procure a force of armed flyers strong enough to counteract our own deterrent force - and enough transport capacity to move the Yips. So far they seem to have made no progress. However, we should not disregard rumor, no matter how unreliable its source. I refer of course to remarks recently made by Rufo Kathcar.”

  Glawen held his tongue. Bodwyn Wook continued. “The name ‘Lewyn Barduys’ was mentioned, and compels our attention, since he is a magnate involved in both construction and transport. He visited Cadwal some months ago with the stated purpose of studying the wilderness lodges. This may be true. He and his companion, a certain ‘Flitz,’ visited a number of these lodges. They were also guests of Dame Clytie at Stroma. We do not know what business, if any, was transacted, but it is only prudent that we should suspect the worst. This concept dictates the broad scope of your mission. You are to locate Lewyn Barduys and investigate his activities. Specifically, we want to know what arrangements, if any, he has made with the LPF. Thereafter, your procedures must be guided by circumstance. ‘Flexibility, first, last and always!’ will be your slogan. For instance, if commitments with the LPF have been made, you must circumvent them as best you can. Am I clear so far?”

  Chilke and Glawen agreed that Bodwyn Wook had expressed himself lucidly. Glawen started to make an additional comment, then remembered his new promotion and remained silent.

  “Good. There are also secondary considerations. You will keep in mind our own need for transport, when it comes time to move Yips off-world. During your dealings with Barduys you might explore this subject with him, though financial terms must be validated at Araminta Station.” Bodwyn Wook again glanced back and forth between his two commanders. “There are still no questions?”

  “None whatever!” said Chilke. “Our mission is simple. We locate Barduys, look into his affairs, disrupt all his dealings with Dame Clytie. Then, if he is still in a good humor, we arrange for two or more transports on our own account. So far it is a handshake deal. The final terms will be arranged later, the next time he visits Araminta Station. There was also some talk about Namour. I think you said you wanted him captured and brought back to Cadwal. That’s the lot of it, or so I believe.”

  Bodwyn Wook blew out his cheeks. “Ha ahem. Your statement is accurate, in every detail. It is a pleasure to work with you, Commander Chilke!”

  Glawen said in a pained voice: “I am embarrassed to admit that I have a question or two.”

  “No matter,” said Bodwyn Wook in kindly tones. “Let us hear your question.”

  “What is officially known of Lewyn Barduys?”

  “Next to nothing. The IPCC has no file on him. He is quiet and unobtrusive, and travels without display, though in one respect he cannot avoid attracting attention. I refer to his companion and business associate Flitz. She is supremely eye-catching, though her personality is less than effusive. I have this on the authority of both Egon Tamm and Warden Ballinder.” Bodwyn Wook picked up the yellow paper and studied it for a moment. “Barduys seems to have no permanent address, though he is often to be found at one of his construction sites.

  “Now then: the question arises. Where did Lewyn Barduys first learn of Yip labor? Did Namour approach him at a construction site? Or did Barduys learn of the Yips on Rosalia where he is unlisted in the Rosalia Directory as a rancher? Our own first meeting with Barduys and Flitz is at Riverview House, where they were in company with Dame Clytie and Julian.

  “As to the sequence of events on Rosalia, we have no clues. I theorize that Namour first met Barduys and supplied him with Yip labor,
then introduced him to Smonny – perhaps at Smonny’s insistence, when she found that Barduys controlled transport equipment. Smonny in turn introduced him to Dame Clytie. This is a reasonable sequence of events. In short, Rosalia becomes a primary are of investigation. Chilke, did you speak?”

  “Not really. I made a sick sound.”

  Bodwyn Wook leaned back in his chair. “The memory of your employment on Rosalia still disturbs you?”

  “Yes and no,” said Chilke frankly. “During the day I am never troubled. It is only at night that I wake up in a cold sweat. I cannot deny that the events made their impression. Do you care to hear the particulars?”

  “Yes, within limits imposed by brevity and pertinence.”

  Chilke nodded. “I won’t go too deeply into philosophical analysis, except to mention that I was never quite sure what was going on. It was as if the real and the unreal had somehow been mixed together, so that I was continually baffled.”

  “Ha hum,” said Bodwyn Wook. “Quite so. Your mental state was confused; we accept this. Please proceed.”

  “When Madame Zigonie hired me to supervise Shadow Valley Ranch, I thought that I had secured a high-class position, even though I did not care much for Madame Zigonie. I expected a good salary, prestige, a nice house with a staff of Yip maidens. I intended to spend a lot of time on the front porch, drinking rum punch and giving the staff orders about dinner and how I wanted my bed made. Disillusion came fast. I was assigned an old shack without hot water and no Yips whatever. The scenery was strange and wild, but I had no time to notice, since almost at once I became a nervous wreck. I had two principal concerns: how to get paid my salary and how not to marry Madame Zigonie. These were both real challenges and I had little time left for anything else. As for the rum punch, Madame Zigonie allowed me neither gin nor rum for fear I’d use them to bait the maidens.”

  “Your work was the supervision of indentured Yips?”

  “That is correct, as far as it goes. By and large I got along quite well with the help, although it took a week or so before we sorted out our priorities. After that, I had no complaints. I understood them; they understood me. While I was watching they would pretend to work. As soon as I went off for a nap, they did the same. Occasionally Namour showed up with new gangs from Yipton. By and large, the Yips seemed to like the change. They got along well among themselves, since there was nothing to steal and they were too lazy to fight. The big problem was runaways. Once I asked Namour how he could tolerate so many defectors, bur he just laughed. After he got his commission, what the Yips were up to next meant nothing to him.”

  Bodwyn Wook again referred to the yellow paper. “As I mentioned, Barduys is not a registered landholder, though he might be in the process of buying a parcel.”

  “Perhaps that parcel known as Shadow Valley Ranch?” suggested Glawen.

  Bodwyn Wook blinked. “No evidence points in this direction. Commander Chilke is our Rosalia expert; perhaps he has better information on the subject.”

  Chilke shook his head. “I don’t think that either Zigonie or Smonny wanted to sell. The ranch certified them as aristocrats, even though it was relatively small - about seventy thousand square miles, as I recall, which included mountains, lakes and forests. On Rosalia the trees grow big: six or seven hundred feet tall. I measured a featherwood at Shadow Valley which topped off at over eight hundred feet, with tree-waifs living on three different levels. Featherwoods are gray, with lacy white and black foliage. Pinkums are black and yellow, with pink strings dangling from the branches. The tree-waifs use these strings to make rope. Blue mahogany is blue; black chulka is black. Lantern trees are thin and yellow and shine at night; for some reason the tree-waifs won’t go near them, which is good news, if you are strolling through the forest, since you are out of range of the stink-balls.”

  Bodwyn Wook raised high his sparse eyebrows. “What are ‘stink-balls’?”

  “I won’t even guess. Some old friends of Titus from off-world came to visit. One of the ladies, who belonged to the Botanical Society, went out to look for wild flowers. She came back a mess, and Smonny refused to let her in the house. It was a sorry situation; the lady left at once. She said she would never return if that was the way they were going to treat her.”

  Bodwyn Wook grunted. “These ‘tree-waifs,’ I take it are some sort of arboreal animal, like a sylvester, or a slayvink?”

  “I don’t know much about the creatures,” said Chilke. “I lived on the ground; they lived in the trees, which was quite close enough. Sometimes you could hear them singing but when you went to look, they seemed to flicker away and out of sight. If you were quick, you might catch a glimpse of freakish beings with long black arms and legs. I never could figure out which part of them was a head, if any, although they were ugly enough. If you stood peering up through the leaves, they dropped a stink-ball on your head.”

  Bodwyn Wook frowned and touched the top of his bald pate. “These habits suggest a degree of mischievous intelligence.”

  “So it may be. I remember a rather strange story about some biologists who drifted a camp module out over the forest and lowered it into the top of a big yonupa tree. Working from inside the module they observed the tree-waifs and the intimate details of life in the treetops. Every day for a month and a half they reported back to the base by communicator; then suddenly the reports stopped coming. On the third day a flyer went out to investigate. They found the module in good order, with all the staff dead, but they had been dead for three weeks.”

  “So what was the upshot?” demanded Bodwyn Wook.

  “They took the module away and never went back. That was the end of it.”

  “Bah!” growled Bodwyn Wook. “Such tales are rife at every back-alley saloon of the Reach. Now then - as to specifics: Hilda will provide you funds and all needful documents. You will proceed aboard the Mircea Wanderling to Soumjiana on Soum. The L-B District Offices are situated on Hralfus Place; you may make your inquiries there.”

  Glawen and Chilke rose to their feet and prepared to leave the office.

  “One final word,” said Bodwyn Wook. “Your Bureau B status confers an equivalent IPCC rank upon you; however, in the present case, since you are prosecuting Conservancy business, you will operate as officers of the Cadwal Constabulary and use IPCC authority only if it becomes absolutely necessary. That is proper protocol. Am I clear on this?”

  “Quite clear, sir.”

  “Clear in every detail.”

  “Good. Be on your way, then.”

  * * *

  Chapter 2, Part V

  Glawen and Wayness took mournful leave of each other; then, returning to Clattuc House, Glawen made final preparations for departure.

  Scharde watched him pack his travel case. Several times he seemed on the verge of speaking, only to stop short.

  Glawen finally took notice of his father’s odd behavior. “You are worried about something.”

  Scharde smiled. “Am I that transparent?”

  “It’s clear that something is troubling you.”

  “You are right, of course. I want you to do something for me. My worry is that you will think me weak-minded, or foolish, or obsessive.”

  Glawen threw his arm around Scharde’s spare shoulders and hugged him. “Whatever you want done, I will do it, weak-minded or not.”

  “It’s something I’ve been living with for a long time. I can’t get it out of my mind.”

  “Tell me.”

  “As you know, your mother was drowned in the lagoon. Two Yips claimed they watched from the shore. They did not know how to swim so could do nothing to help, they explained later, and besides, it was none of their affair.”

  “All Yips know how to swim.”

  Scharde nodded. “I think they turned over the boat and held her underwater. Boats don’t capsize by themselves. On the other hand, the Yips would have done nothing on their own initiative. Someone gave them orders. Before I could investigate, Namour had shipped them back to
Yipton. Their names were Catterline and Selious. Every time I speak with a Yip I ask for news of them, but I have learned nothing and it is possible that Namour has sent them off-world. Therefore, if you meet any Yips, I would like you to inquire for Catterline and Selious.”

  “Namour must have given the orders. This is yet another reason for finding Namour. I will do what I can.”

  Glawen joined Chilke at the space terminal. Passage aboard the Mircea Wanderling had been arranged for them. As they waited at the ticket counter, Glawen chanced to notice a remarkably tall gaunt woman huddled alone in the far corner of the room. She wore a voluminous black gown and the peculiar black bonnet of a Mascarene Evangel. A ribbon of black gauze across her nose and mouth filtered micro-organisms from the air she breathed, thus succoring countless small lives from destruction.

  Many odd folk in extraordinary costumes passed through the spaceports of the Gaean Reach, but here, thought Glawen, was surely one of the more grotesque. The woman was of indeterminate age with a keen beak of a nose, raddled red cheeks, eyebrows painted across the central forehead, so as to join above the root of the nose.

  Chilke nudged Glawen’s elbow. “See yonder, the lady in black? She’s a Mascarene! A long time ago one of them tried to convert me. Partly out of curiosity, and partly because - from what little I could see of her - I sensed youth, a comely exterior and an eager personality. I asked what was involved, and she said it was quite simple: first I must undergo the Seven Degradations, then the Seven Humiliations, then the Seven Penances, then the Seven Outrages, then the Seven Mortifications, and a few more activities which I’ve forgotten. At this time the acolyte was supposed to be in the proper frame of mind to become a good Mascarene, and go out to convert other like-minded souls and collect their money. I asked if she and I would undergo these rites in a close