Jack Vance - Planet of Adventure

"True," said Deine Zarre. Again he searched Reith with his remarkable eyes.

"Where do you wish to go in your spaceship?"

Woudiver spoke with overtones either of mockery or malice: "He goes to claim a fabulous treasure, which we all will share."

Deine Zarre smiled. "I want no treasure. Pay me a hundred sequins a week; it is all I require."

"So little?" demanded Woudiver. "You reduce my commission."

Deine Zarre gave him no heed. "You intend to start work at once?" he asked Reith.

"The sooner the better."

"I will list immediate needs." To Woudiver: "When can you arrange delivery?"

"As soon as Adam Reith provides the wherewithal."

"Put through the order tonight," said Reith. "I'll bring money tomorrow."

"What of the honorarium for my friend?" demanded Woudiver testily. "Does he work for nothing? What of the fee for the warehouse guards? Do they look sideways for their health?"

"How much?" asked Reith.

Woudiver hesitated, then said in a dull voice, "Let us avoid a tiresome quarrel.

I will present the minimum price first. Two thousand sequins."

"So much? Incredible. How many men must be bribed?"

"Three. The assistant supervisor, two guards."

Deine Zarre said, "Give it to him. I dislike haggling. If you must economize, pay me less."

Reith started to complain, then shrugged, managed a painful grin. "Very well.

Two thousand sequins."

"Remember," said Woudiver, "you must bear the inventory cost of the merchandise; it is difficult to steal outright."

During the evening four power-wagons unloaded at the shed. Reith, Traz, Anacho and Artilo trundled the crates into the shed, as Deine Zarre checked them off his master list. Woudiver appeared on the scene at midnight. "All is well?"

Deine Zarre said, "As far as I can tell, the basic needs are here."

"Good." Woudiver turned to Reith, handed him a sheet of paper. "The invoice.

Notice that it is itemized, and bluster will serve no purpose."

Reith read the total in a weak whisper "Eighty-two thousand sequins."

"Did you expect less?" Woudiver asked jauntily. "My fee is not included. Ninety thousand two hundred sequins in all."

Reith asked Deine Zarre, "Is there everything we need?"

"By no means."

"How much time will be required?"

"Two or three months. Longer if the components are seriously out of phase."

"What must I pay the technicians?"

"Two hundred sequins a week. Unlike myself, they are motivated by the need for money."

On the screen of Reith's imagination appeared a picture of the Carabas: the dun hills, the gray outcrops, the thickets of thorn, the horrid fires by night. He remembered the furtive passage across the Forelands, the Dirdir-trap in Boundary Forest, the race back to the Portal of Gleams. Ninety thousand sequins represented almost half of this ... If the money dwindled too fast, if Woudiver became too brazenly corrupt, what then? Reith could not bear to think the thought. "Tomorrow I will bring the money."

Woudiver gave a fateful nod. "Good. Or tomorrow night the goods return to the warehouse."

WITHIN THE SHED the old Ispra began to come alive. The propulsors were raised into their sockets, bolted and welded. Up through the stern access panel the generator and converter were hoisted, then slid forward and secured. The Ispra was no longer a hulk. Reith, Anacho and Traz wire-brushed, ground, polished, removed rotten padding, sour-smelling old settees. They cleaned the observation ports, reamed air conduits, installed new seals around the entry hatch.

Deine Zarre did no work. He hobbled here and there, his gray eyes missing no details. Artilo occasionally looked into the shed, a sneering droop to his gray mouth. Woudiver was seldom to be seen. During his rare appearances he was cold and businesslike, all trace of his first jocundity gone.

For an entire month Woudiver did not show himself. Artilo, in a confiding mood, spat down at the ground and said, "Big Yellow's out at his country place."

"Oh? What's he do out there?"

Artilo twisted his head sidewise, showing Reith a lopsided grin. "Thinks he's a Dirdirman, that's what. That's where his money goes, on his fences and scenery and hunts, wicked old beast."

Reith stood stock-still staring at Artilo. "You mean he hunts men?"

"For sure. He and his cronies. Yellow has two thousand acres to his place, almost as big as the Glass Box. Walls aren't so good, but he's got them circled by electric wires and sting snaps. Don't go to sleep on Yellow's wine; you'll wake up to find yourself in the hunt."

Reith forbore to inquire the disposition of the victims; it was information he did not want.

Another of the ten-day Tschai weeks passed, and Woudiver appeared, in a surly mood. His upper lip was stiff as a shingle, totally concealing his mouth; his eyes darted truculently right and left. He strutted close to Reith; the great hulk of his torso blotted out half the landscape. He held out his hand. "Rent."

His voice was flat and cold.

Reith brought forth five hundred sequins and placed them on a shelf. He did not care to touch the yellow hand.

Woudiver, in a spasm of petulance, struck out with the back of his hand, knocking Reith head over heels. Reith picked himself up in astonishment. His skin began to prickle, signaling the onset of fury. From the corner of his eye he noticed Artilo lounging against the wall. Artilo would shoot him as calmly as he might crush an insect, this he knew. Nearby stood Traz, watching Artilo intently. Artilo was neutralized.

Woudiver stood looking at him, eyes cold and expressionless. Reith heaved a deep sigh, choked back his wrath. To strike back at Woudiver would gain none of his respect, but only stimulate the whole of his rancor. Inevitably something dreadful would occur. Reith slowly turned away. "Bring me my rent!" barked Woudiver. "Do you take me for a mendicant? I have been sufficiently wounded by your arrogance. In the future extend me the respect due to my caste!"

Again Reith hesitated. How much easier to attack the monstrous Woudiver and accept the consequences! Which would be wreckage of the program. Again Reith sighed. If it were necessary to eat crow, a mouthful was no worse than a taste.

In cold and austere silence he handed the sequins to Woudiver, who only glared and made a waggling motion of the hips. "It is insufficient! Why should I subsidize your undertaking! Pay me my due! The rent is one thousand sequins a month!"

"Here is another five hundred sequins," said Reith. "Please do not demand more, because it will not be forthcoming."

Woudiver made a contemptuous sound, wheeled and stalked away. Artilo looked after him and spat in the dust. Then he gave Reith a speculative glance.

Reith went inside the shed. Deine Zarre, who had observed the episode, made no comment. Reith tried to soothe his humiliation in work.

Two days later Woudiver reappeared, wearing his gaudy black and yellow outfit.

His truculence of the previous occasion had vanished; he was blandly polite.

"Well, then, and what is the current state of your project?"

Reith responded in a flat voice. "There have been no major problems. The heavy components are in place and connected. The instruments have been installed, but are not operative. Deine Zarre is preparing another list: the magnetic justification system, navigation sensors, the environment conditioners. Perhaps we should also purchase fuel cells at this time."

Woudiver pursed his lips. "Just so. Again the sad occasion arises, of parting with your hard-gained sequins. How, may I ask, did you garner so large a sum? It is a fortune in itself. With so much in hand I wonder that you risk all on a wild-goose chase."

Reith managed a wintry smile. "Evidently I do not regard the expedition as a wild-goose chase."