[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

both break at a definite strain. These  cures leave the
217
JACK VANCE
palliatory; they return to the struggle, they encounter
the identical tension which broke them before, and
they re back at the palliatory.
 The solution is not splicing the rope; it s lessening
the tension. But the tension increases, rather than
decreases. So, as we agreed at our previous meeting, we
must prepare for anything. Here is Morcas Marr, who
has further information.
She stepped off the stand. Imish nudged Waylock.  I ve
seen that woman& That s Yolanda Benn! He was
astounded.  Yolanda Benn, think of it!
Morcas Marr stood on the dais, a small knobby man
with a rigid face. He spoke in a dead-flat voice, consult-
ing a notebook.
 These are the recommendations of the Steering Com-
mittee. To simplify administration, we will continue with
the present authority districts. I have here  he held up
his notebook   the district assignments which I will
presently announce. These appointments naturally are
tentative, but in view of the popular temper, we thought
it best to get our organization to its working efficiency
as rapidly as possible.
Imish whispered into Waylock s ear,  What in the
devil is he talking about?
 Listen!
 Each leader will organize his own district, appoint
his own executive groups, schedule his own drills. I will
run now through this list of appointments. He lifted his
notebook.  Coordinating executive: Jacob Nile.
There was a small stir to one side of the crowd. Way-
lock saw Nile. Beside him stood a woman with a long
nervous face, gaunt cheekbones, untidy roan hair: Pladge
Caddigan.
Morcas Marr finished reading his appointments, and
asked,  Now, are there any questions?
218
TO LIVE FOREVER
 Yes, there certainly are! The voice was close beside
Waylock. In amusement and embarrassment he saw that
it issued from the mouth of Chancellor Imish.
 I want to know the purpose of this massive semi-
conspiratorial organization, Imish demanded.
 You are welcome to ask, whoever you are. We hope
to protect ourselves and the civilization of the Reach in
the cataclysm which quite clearly is approaching.
  Cataclysm ? Imish was dumbfounded.
 Is there a better word for absolute anarchy? Marr
turned his attention elsewhere.  Any further questions?
 Mr. Marr, said Nile, stepping forward,  I believe I
recognize an eminent public figure. His tone was
facetious.  It is the Chancellor of the Prytanean, Claude
Imish. Perhaps we can induce him to join our ranks.
Imish was equal to the occasion.  I might if I knew
what you stood for.
 Ah ha! exclaimed Nile.  That is a question no one
can answer because no one knows. We refuse to define
our position. And herein lies our great strength. All are
zealots because each imagines the general conviction to
be his own. We are linked only by the common question
 Whither? 
Imish became angry.  Instead of talking cataclysm and
bleating  Whither? you should ask,  How best can I lessen
the problems which beset our country? 
There was silence, then a burst of spirited rebuttal.
Waylock sidled away from Imish, to join Pladge Caddigan
and Jacob Nile.
 I find you in distinguished company, said Pladge.
 My dear young woman, Waylock replied,  I am dis-
tinguished company. I am Vice-Chancellor.
Jacob Nile found the situation amusing.  And you two,
our nominal heads of government why are you here in
such questionable company?
219
JACK VANCE
 We hope to gain slope by exposing the Whitherers
as conspiratorial subversionists.
Nile laughed.  You may call on me for any required
cooperation.
Angry shouts interrupted them; Imish had stirred up
an imbroglio. The evening was fulfilling Waylock s hopes.
 Listen to that ass! muttered Nile.
 If you are not a party of criminal syndicalists, bel-
lowed Imish,  why do you perfect this treacherous
organization?
A dozen voices answered him; Imish heeded none.
 You may be assured of one thing. I intend to urge the
assassins upon you; I intend to nail this insolent usurpa-
tion to the board!
 Ha! cried Morcas Marr in biting scorn.  Urge away!
Who will listen? You have not the influence I have, you
stomach, you loud voice, you bad breath!
Imish pawed the air. He could find no words; he
sputtered. Waylock took his arm.  Come.
Blind in his wrath, Imish allowed himself to be led
away. At the Pomador, on the fourth deck of the fantastic
Garden of Circe, they sat and took cooling refreshment.
Imish was numb, mortified at his retreat; Waylock kept
a tactful silence. Together they looked out over the
luminous paint-pot of Carnevalle. The time was midnight;
Carnevalle was at its peak; the air sighed and vibrated.
Imish downed his drink at a gulp.  Come, he croaked,
 let s move on.
They walked the avenues. Waylock once or twice
suggested diversion, but Imish made curt refusal.
They wandered down to the esplanade. At the Argo-
naut they drank more liquor. Imish became a trifle ill,
and decided to return home. They set out along the
esplanade toward the air depot.
Carnevalle seemed vague, unreal. The lights and colors
220
TO LIVE FOREVER
were absorbed by the water, crooked shapes moved
through the murk. Some of these were revelers,
anonymous as scraps of paper floating down the dark
Chant. Others were Berbers, who, like the Weirds, took
pleasure in dark violence. A group of these came from
the shadows. They sidled up to Imish and Waylock, sud-
denly attacked, kicking and striking.
Imish squealed, fell to his knees, tried to crawl away
on all fours. Waylock stumbled back, dazed. The shapes
kicked Imish sprawling, beat Waylock s face with fists
like hammers. Waylock fought back. The attackers fell
away, then darted forward. Waylock was down; his mask
came loose.
 It s Waylock! came an awed whisper.  Gavin Way-
lock.
Waylock jerked a knife from a hidden sheath. The
blade snapped out; he slashed at a leg, heard a scream.
He hauled himself to his feet, ran forward, hacking and
stabbing. The Berbers backed away, turned, ran.
Waylock went to where Imish was painfully rising.
They hobbled down the esplanade, torn and disheveled.
At the air depot they climbed aboard a cab, and were
sped across the river to Trianwood.
4
Chancellor Imish was terse and moody for several days.
Waylock performed his duties as unobtrusively as pos-
sible.
One bleak morning in late November, with black veils
of rain hanging over Glade County, Imish came into
Waylock s office. He settled gingerly into a chair. His
ribs were still sore, his face was bruised and tender. There
221
JACK VANCE
had been psychological damage as well: he had lost [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

  • zanotowane.pl
  • doc.pisz.pl
  • pdf.pisz.pl
  • moje-waterloo.xlx.pl

    •