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  association, consulting during each degradation, but she said no, her grandmother would make this sacrifice. I told her that I would think things over, and there the matter rested.”

  The public address system announced embarkation for passengers to Soumjiana. The Mascarene Evangel rose and, hunched crookedly forward, hobbled to the exit. Glawen and Chilke followed - across the field to the spaceship, up an entry ramp into a small saloon, where the purser directed them to their compartments. As the Evangel departed the saloon, her glittering black eyes chanced to fall upon Glawen and Chilke, both of whom were regarding her somberly at the time. She seemed to jerk and blink, then, lowering her head and hunching forward, she marched at best pace from the saloon.

  “Most peculiar,” said Glawen.

  Chilke agreed. “I never gave Kathcar credit for so much flair.”

  “It is truly impressive,” said Glawen.

  * * *

  Chapter 3

  * * *

  Chapter 3, Part I

  Glawen halted in the corridor outside the compartment numbered 3-22. He rapped softly against the door panel.

  A minute passed without response. Glawen tapped again and waited, head cocked, ear to the door. He felt, rather than heard, a stir of cautious movement. The door opened a crack and a heavy half-muffled voice spoke. “What is it?”

  “Open up. I want to talk with you.”

  “This is Madame Furman’s cabin. You have made a mistake; go away.”

  “I am Glawen Clattuc. Ask Kathcar if he can speak with me.”

  There was another pause. The voice inquired: “You are alone?”

  “Quite alone.”

  The door opened another few inches. A bright black eye surveyed Glawen from head to foot. The door slid back a few more inches, sufficient for Glawen to sidle through. Kathcar, lips drawn back in a humorless grin, closed the door. He wore ordinary garments: a loose black shirt, grey trousers, open-work sandals which dramatized the dimensions of his long limp white feet. On a rack to the side hung his disguise: gown, bonnet and narrow high-buttoned boots with hobheels, which must have caused him considerable discomfort.

  Kathcar asked in a sharp voice: “Why do you follow me? What do you want? Or is it sheer persecution?”

  “We were aboard the ship first,” said Glawen. “Who is following whom?”

  Kathcar grunted. “I follow no one and I precede no one. At last I am my own man and all I ask is that you ignore my existence.”

  “That is easier said than done.”

  “Bosh!” snapped Kathcar. He fixed Glawen with a glittering black gaze. “My commitments are absolute! I have renounced the past, and you must take me at my word. Henceforth, we are strangers, and you may purge all thought of Rufo Kathcar from your memory. Leave at once.”

  “It is not so easy as all that. We have much to discuss.”

  “Wrong!” declared Kathcar. “The time for discussion has come and gone! And now -”

  “Not so fast. Do you remember your last evening at Stroma? You sat at a table with your friend Roby Mavil. Why did you leave so abruptly?”

  Kathcar’s eyes glittered. “Roby Mavil is not my friend. He is a dung beetle in human form. You ask, why did I leave him? Because he told me that Sir Denzel wanted to see me at once. I knew he was lying, since I had only just parted from Sir Denzel, after receiving his definite instructions. When I looked into Roby Mavil’s face and listened to his soft voice, I knew that evil was waiting for me. A lesser man might have panicked, but I merely left the inn hastily and flew to Araminta Station in Sir Denzel’s flitter. There is no more to tell and no more to know. Now you may leave.”

  Glawen ignored the suggestion. “You are aware that Sir Denzel is dead?”

  “The news reached me at the hotel. It is a great loss for Cadwal; he was a patrician of full degree, noble in every respect. We had much in common, and I mourn his passing.” Kathcar made an abrupt gesture. “I have said enough. Words are insipid; emotion spends its force against nothing. The truth is simple, yet terrible and sweet. It can never be known to you, since you have never studied wisdom.”

  Glawen considered the remark, but for a fact could resolve little of its meaning. “In any case, why the disguise?”

  Kathcar curled his lip. “My conduct has been motivated by logic: a human process unknown at Araminta Station. In short, I am hoping to prolong my life, miserable, deprived and thwarted though it may seem to you. Still, it is my single and only chance among the infinite possibilities of the Gaean worlds, and I cherish my personal little spark of sentience, since after it is gone, I don’t know what will happen to me.”

  “Probably what happens to everyone else.”

  “Aha! But I am not like all the others! I am cast in a stronger mold! Consider the Titans of old, who defied the Norns and their ruthless edicts; they were indomitable! I keep these heroes constantly at the forefront of my mind!”

  “And hence the disguise?”

  “The disguise served me well; It brought me aboard the ship in safety, and I must not fault it, despite the rat-catcher boots.” He darted Glawen a quick glance. “What of you? Why are you here? Is it another of Bodwyn Wook’s hare-brained schemes?”

  “Not altogether. You yourself told us of Lewyn Barduys and his dealings with Dame Clytie.”

  Kathcar gave a sour nod. “So I did.”

  “That is why we are here. We can’t allow off-world support for either the LPF or the Yips.”

  “And you hope to interdict such support?”

  “Reasonable persons will cooperate with us.”

  “You will find many others who are both unreasonable and vicious.”

  “Was Sir Denzel acquainted with Barduys?”

  “The two met at Dame Clytie’s house. They did not take to one another. Before the evening was over, Sir Denzel had called Barduys a ‘psychic cannibal, a soul-eater.’ Barduys called Sir Denzel a ‘silly old pussycat.’ Neither took the interchanges to heart and parted on relatively good terms. Now: I have no more to tell; you may go.”

  “Since I am unwelcome, I will leave,” said Glawen. “You should have told me sooner.”

  Glawen returned to the aft saloon. Chilke sat by a window watching the stars slide by. Beside him was a tray of salt fish and a globular stoneware jug of Blue Ruin. Chilke asked: “How is our friend Rufo?”

  Glawen settled into a chair beside Chilke. “He lives a very intense life, in which you and I figure only as minor irritants.” He took up the stoneware jug and poured pale blue liquid into a squat goblet. “Kathcar was not communicative. He talked a great deal, but told me nothing I wanted to hear. He explained that both he and Sir Denzel were aristocrats of high degree. He said he was sorry Sir Denzel was dead, but saw no reason to say so, because I wouldn’t understand emotions of such refinement. He explained that he preferred life to death, which was why he fled Stroma and boarded the Wanderling in disguise.”

  “That seems straightforward enough,” said Chilke, “but a mystery remains. He might have taken passage aboard the Leucania for Diogenes Junction in Pegasus, and lost himself; instead he waited an extra day for the Wanderling and took passage to Soum.”

  “An interesting point! I wonder what it means!”

  “It means that he has business which takes him to Soum in spite of his fear. Business means money. So: whose money? LPF money? Sir Denzel’s money?”

  Glawen looked off across space. He said pensively: “Our orders make no reference to Kathcar. On the other hand, we are told that flexibility is an important virtue.”

  “It is more than a virtue,” said Chilke. “It is the difference between up and down.”

  “There is another point to be considered: Kathcar is withholding information which may well be important. He values this information at twenty thousand sols. If for no other reason, I feel that we should take an interest in his affairs. What is your opinion?”

  “I agree. Bodwyn Wook would agree. Kathcar might not agree, but he will certainly take
our interest for granted.”

  “For poor Kathcar we are bad news. In addition to his other worries, now he must deal with these callow Bureau B lollopers, when all he wanted was a relaxing voyage. Kathcar is now pacing his cabin, cursing in all religions at once, and sorting through his options.”

  Chilke drank from his goblet and considered the flowing stars of Mircea’s Wisp.

  “Kathcar must bite the bullet,” said Chilke. “He has no other choice. In a few moments he will come out and try to ingratiate himself, with a show of candor and good fellowship, meanwhile bamboozling us from right to left.”

  “That seems a reasonable program. Still, Kathcar’s mind works in peculiar ways. For instance, out of a thousand disguises, Kathcar chose to confront the world as a Mascarene Evangel.”

  “I will be curious to observe his strategy.”

  “Here is Kathcar now,” said Glawen. “He is not even wearing his disguise.”

  Kathcar approached and, at Glawen’s invitation, seated himself. Chilke poured Blue Ruin into a goblet and pushed it across the table. “This will bring the roses back to your cheeks.”

  “Thank you,” said Kathcar. “I seldom take ardent spirits or balms; I cannot believe that they contribute to good internal hygiene. Still -” he lifted the goblet and tasted the effervescent liquid “- this is not offensive.”

  “Two or three jugs a day will shorten the voyage. Time will go like a flash.”

  Kathcar gave Chilke a glance of austere disapproval. “That is an experiment I am not prepared to make.”

  “Out of curiosity, where are you bound for?”

  “I believe that Soum is the first port of call. I may stop over for a period and visit the rural areas; in fact, I would like to make at least a brief study of the ‘Gnosis1,’ which is based upon a graduated system of ‘Ameliorations.’ Sir Denzel knew the system well.”

  “That sounds interesting,” said Chilke. “And where will you go from Soum?”

  “I have no firm plans.” Kathcar showed his wolfish gap-toothed grin. “My enemies, therefore, will be equally uncertain, which pleases me.”

  “You lead an interesting life,” said Chilke. “What have you done to deserve such revenge?”

  “It is not what I have done but what I am about to do.”

  “And what is that?”

  Kathcar frowned. In a spirit of bravado he had over-spoken himself. He drank from the goblet of Blue Ruin and set the vessel down with a thump. “That is a pleasing beverage. It stimulates the oral cavity and cleanses the sinuses with its invigorating activity. The flavor is mild yet pungent, without rancidity or after-burn. I will take a bit more, with your permission.”

  Chilke refilled the goblets and signaled to the steward.

  “Yes sir?”

  “Another jug of Blue Ruin. We are about to get serious so throw away the cork.” Chilke leaned back in his chair. “What were we talking about?”

  “Kathcar was telling us that he wanted to visit the back country of Soum.”

  “In disguise?” asked Chilke.

  Kathcar frowned. “I think not. Of course I will be cautious.”

  “But first you will fulfill Sir Denzel’s final instructions?”

  Kathcar’s manner became austere. “This is confidential business which I cannot discuss.”

  “You still fear your enemies, even on Soum?”

  “Certainly! There were three days during which they might have hired a space yacht and preceded me to

  Soumjiana.”

  “You expect them to do so?”

  “I expect nothing. I will take precautions against everything.”

  “You would seem to be most vulnerable on the way to the bank.”

  Kathcar’s black eyebrows lofted high. “I said nothing about the bank! How did you know?”

  “No matter. But you may rest easy since we will accompany you and guard your safety.”

  Kathcar said coldly: “You may dismiss this plan. I neither want nor need your interference!”

  “You must think of it as an official investigation,” said Glawen.

  “I still want none of it. If you molest me, I will report you to the authorities. I am protected by Basic Gaean law which supersedes Bureau B pettifoggery!”

  “We can make a case by Gaean law, by Charter law and by ordinary Station statute. We need only demonstrate that you have been engaged in illegal acts.”

  “That will be hard for you to demonstrate, since I have performed nothing of the sort!”

  “If Sir Denzel financed or abetted LPF misdeeds, he is guilty of sedition, criminal conspiracy, and who knows what else - no matter how idealistic his motives. As his accomplice, you yourself are in a most precarious position and may well encounter criminal charges - especially since you withheld important information from Bodwyn Wook, who is vengeful beyond belief in such matters. Do you believe me?”

  “I believe what you say about Bodwyn Wook. He is a wizened old termagant.”

  “When we arrive at Soumjiana, if you still doubt my statements, we shall go to the IPCC office, where they will advise you and perhaps make inquiries of their own. I remind you that IPCC justice, though fair, is brisk and impersonal.”

  Kathcar spoke in a subdued voice: “That will not be necessary. Sir Denzel and I perhaps have been overly influenced by altruistic arguments. Now I see that our trust was abused.”

  “What of the information you tried to sell us at Stroma?”

  Kathcar made a gesture to indicate that the matter was of no significance. “The event is past; circumstances have changed.”

  “Why not explain the matter in full, and let us adjudge the situation?”

  Kathcar shook his head. “The matter must rest here, while I consider my position.”

  “As you like.”

  * * *

  Chapter 3, Part II

  Halfway along Mircea’s Wisp, the yellow star Mazda tended a family of four planets: three hulks of rock and ice tumbling along outer orbits and the single inner planet Soum, the financial and commercial node of Mircea’s Wisp.

  Like its mother-sun Mazda, Soum had entered the senescent phase of its existence. Soum’s physiography lacked drama. Tectonic activity was not even a memory; the weather was placid and predictable. A world ocean surrounded four near-identical continents, each a gently rolling peneplain, spattered with innumerable lakes and ponds, beside which the Soumi maintained their rustic vacation chalets. The countryside, diligently tended by the Soumi gentlemen farmers, produced enormous quantities of delectable products, which were consumed with reverent gusto by the entire Soumi population.

  Many adjectives had been used across the years to describe the Soumi: bland, industrious, boring, bumptious, shrewd, generous, thrifty, priggish, paternalistic, maternalistic, infantilistic, each term an inkling or a quarter-truth, usually contradicted by another in the sequence. A clear consensus, however, declared the Soumi to be quintessentially middle class; decorous, prone to small vanities and submissive to the conventions of society. Everyone endorsed the ‘Ameliorations,’ as specified in the ‘Gnosis.’

  The Mircea Wanderling approached Soum from space and settled upon the Soumjiana spaceport. Glawen and Chilke, standing on the lower observation deck, were afforded a view across the landscape. To west and north, spread the far-flung textures of the city: tawny yellow, mustard ocher or amber in the honey-pale light of Mazda, each segment guarding a dense black shadow at its back.

  The ship landed; the passengers disembarked into the transit terminal. Glawen and Chilke looked everywhere for Kathcar, and at last noticed an inordinately tall Mascarene Evangel, hunched into a tortured posture, almost as if deformed, hobbling from the ship. A black bonnet and lank black hair concealed the face, save for beraddled cheeks, a rapacious nose flanked by bright black eyes. Voluminous black robes swathed the zealot’s body, revealing only two large white hands and a pair of narrow black button-boots.

  Glawen and Chilke followed the black-robed figure across
the terminal and out upon the avenue. Kathcar hobbled away, glancing malevolently back over his shoulder. Glawen and Chilke strolled behind, heedless of Kathcar’s annoyance.

  After a painful hundred yards, Kathcar made a furious gesture and limped to a bench in the shadow of a news-agent’s kiosk. Here he halted and sank down upon the bench as if to rest. Glawen ignored his sidelong glare and approached, while Chilke went off toward a nearby cab rank.

  Kathcar hissed: “Do you lack all discretion? You are blasting my plans! Leave me at once!”

  “What are these plans?”

  “I am on my way to the bank, and time is of the essence! Also, I wish to avoid death!”

  Glawen looked up and down the avenue, but saw only a few Soumi gentlemen strolling about their business at that placid gait which impatient off-worlders often found maddening. “Is it possible that you exaggerate your danger?”

  “It is possible,” hissed Kathcar, “but why not put this question to Sir Denzel?”

  Glawen’s lips twitched, and he looked along the street a second time, more carefully than before. He turned back to Kathcar. “Chilke has gone to hire a cab; we will ride to the bank, taking all precautions. Once inside the bank, you will be safe.”

  Kathcar made a contemptuous sound.” How can you be so sure?”

  “When we reach the bank the game is finished, and the reason for killing you is gone.”

  “Bah!” sneered Kathcar. “What does that mean to Torq Tump, or Farganger? They are hobgoblins, and will kill me if only to set matters straight. But I am prepared; I carry a gun in my reticule and I will shoot them on sight.”

  Glawen managed a nervous laugh. “Just be sure of your target before you pull the trigger! If you make a mistake no one will listen to your apologies.”

  Kathcar snorted, but became less truculent. “I am not such a fool as to shoot at random.”