Jack Vance - MADOUC

Shimrod sorted these articles into piles for future study, and began to examine the machines, tools, utensils, enhancers and assorted other artifacts. Many showed no obvious utility, and Shimrod frequently puzzled as to their purpose or, conversely, their lack of purpose. For a month he had been studying such a contrivance: an assembly of seven disks of transparent material, rolling around the periphery of a circular tablet of black onyx. The disks swam with soft colors, and showed pulsing black spots of emptiness, forming and dying apparently at random.

Shimrod could conceive no practical purpose for the device. A clock? A toy? A curio? So complicated a machine, he reasoned, must have been constructed with a definite purpose in mind, though this purpose quite escaped his understanding.

One day as he sat watching the disks, a chime issued from a large bulging mirror hanging on the end wall.

Shimrod rose to his feet and approached the mirror, to find himself looking into the Great Hall at Swer Smod. Murgen stood by the table. He acknowledged Shimrod's attention with a nod and spoke without preliminaries. "I have a complicated task to lay before you. It might well involve you in personal danger. Still, it is of great importance and must be accomplished. Since I cannot take time to do this work, it falls upon your shoulders."

"That is the reason for my being," said Shimrod. "What is the task?"

"In the main, it is a continuation of your previous work at Ys. You now must pursue your investigations in greater detail. Specifically, you must learn the facts in regard to Desmei."

"You have no theories?"

"I have guesses by the dozen; facts none. The best possibilities are very few; in fact, as I reckon it, they number two only."

"And they are?"

"We start with this supposition. When Desmei created Melancthe and Carfilhiot she dissolved herelf totally as a dramatic demonstration of spite toward the race of men. The qualification here is that no one would truly care-Tamurello least of all. As a more likely case, she chose to alter her state, that she might bide her time, and take revenge when the opportunity arose. With that as your premise, you are to discover the node of green taint which is Desmei-or whatever semblance she is using. Where is her hiding place? What is her scheme? I suspect that her agents are Melancthe and Torqual; if so, they will lead you to Desmei."

"So then-how should I proceed?"

"First, alter your semblance, and definitely; Melancthe perceived you through the last. Then travel to the high moors of Ulfland. Under Mount Sobh in Glen Dagach is High Coram; there you will find Melancthe and Torqual."

"And when I find Desmei?"

"Destroy her-unless first she destroys you."

"That is a contingency I would regret."

"Then you must arm yourself well. You cannot use sandestin magic; she would sniff you out on the instant, since the green comes from demonland."

"In that case, I am vulnerable to demon magic."

"Not altogether. Hold out your hand."

Shimrod did so, and at once found in his palm a pair of small black bloodstone spheres, each joined by a short chain to an earring. "These are the hither projections of two Mang Seven effrits. They dislike all things from both Mel and Dadgath. Their names are Voner and Skel; you will find them useful. Now make your preparations, then I will give you further instructions."

The mirror went blank; Shimrod saw only his own face. He turned away and considered his workbench, with its burden of oddments and mysteries. He watched the whirl of the seven careening disks and gave a soft grunt of vexation. He should have put a question to Murgen.

The time was early afternoon. Shimrod went out into his garden. High in the sky tumbles of cloud dreamed in the sunlight. Never had Lally Meadow seemed more tranquil. Shimrod turned his mind to Glen Dagach, where tranquillity would certainly be unknown. But there was no help for it. What needed doing must be done.

Now he must fit himself into a semblance suited to the place and circumstances. With his usual magic denied to him, he must rely upon physical skills and weaponry. Some of these were native to him; others he must now absorb. He considered his new semblance. It must be strong, durable, quick, competent, yet not conspicuous in the environment of the high moors.

Shimrod returned to his workroom, where he formulated an entity which more than fulfilled the requirements: a man tall, spare of physique, with a body that seemed to be based upon leather, sinew and bone. The head was narrow, with a keen hollow-cheeked face, glittering yellow eyes, a cruel underslung cleft of a mouth, and an axe-blade nose. Ringlets of coarse dull- brown hair curled close to his scalp; his skin, weathered and sun-beaten, showed the same color. To the lobes of the small ears Shimrod hung the effrits Voner and Skel. At once he heard their voices; they seemed to be discussing the weather in places beyond his acquaintance: "-almost a record cycle for interstitials, at least along the upper miasma," said Skel. "However, just past the kickfield of the Living Dead the modules have not yet shifted phase."

"I know little of Carpiskovy," said Voner. "It is said to be very fine and I am surprised to hear of conditions so insipid."

"Margaunt is worse, and by the hour! I found a delicate bang green along the flitterway."

" ‘Delicate', you say!"

"No less! The gray-pines are on regular duty, and there is never a tweak from the rubants."

Shimrod spoke. "Gentlemen, I am your supervisor. My name is Shimrod; however in this phase, I will use the name Travec the Dacian. Be on the alert for plans made against either Shimrod or Travec. I am pleased that you will be associated with me, since our business is of great importance. Now, for the moment I must ask you to keep silent, since I must assimilate much information into my mind."

Skel said, "You have made a poor beginning, Shimrod or Travec, whatever your name. Our conversation is on a high level. You would do well to listen."

Shimrod spoke sternly: "I have a limited mind. I insist upon obedience. Let us be clear on this at once; otherwise I must consult Murgen."

"Bah!" said Voner. "Just our luck! In Shimrod we discover another of these short-tail snatch-after martinets!"

"Silence, if you please!"

"Just so, if so it must be," said Voner. "Skel, I will speak with you later, when Shimrod is less testy."

"By all means! The time cannot pass too swiftly, as they say in this eccentric universe."

The effrits became silent save for occasional groans and mutters. Shimrod, meanwhile, formulated a biography for Travec and stocked his mind with pertinent information. Next, he established safeguards to protect Trilda from interlopers during his absence. An ironic circumstance if while he searched the moors for Desmei, she came to Trilda and plundered his work room of all its precious adjuncts!

Shimrod's preparations at last were complete. He went to the mirror and made himself known to Murgen. "I am ready to depart on my mission."

Murgen inspected the unfamiliar image that confronted him. "The semblance is adequate, if somewhat larger in impact than necessary. Still, who knows? It might prove useful. Now then: go six miles past Kaul Bocach on the Ulf Passway. Here you will find the Inn of the Dancing Pig."

"I know this inn."

"You will discover four cutthroats on the premises. They are awaiting orders from King Casmir. Let it be known that King Casmir has sent you to join the group, and that a certain Cory of Falonges will shortly arrive to serve as their leader on a special mission."

"So far all is clear."

"You should have no difficulty in attaching yourself to Cory's band. His orders are to assassinate King Aillas and, if possible, to capture Prince Dhrun.