Jack Vance: The Languages of Pao

Time after time Pao traced its orbit around Auriol, marking off five complex and dramatic years. For Pao at large they were good years. Never had living been so easy, hunger so rare. To the normal goods produced by the planet was added a vast variety of imports from far-off worlds. To every corner of the cluster the Technicant ships plied, and many a commercial battle was waged between Mercantili and Technicants. As a result, both enterprises expanded their services, and sought farther afield for trade.

The Valiants likewise became more numerous, but on a restricted basis. There was no further recruiting from the population at large, and only a child of Valiant father and mother could be received into the caste.

At Pon, the Cogitants increased in numbers, but even more slowly than the Valiants. Three new Institutes were established in the misty hills, and high upon the most remote crag of all Pao, Palafox built a somber castle.

The Interpreter Corps was now largely derived from the Cogitants; in fact, the Interpreters might be said to be the operative function of the Cogitants. Like the other groups, the Interpreters had expanded both in numbers and importance. In spite of the separation of the three neo-linguistic groups, from each other and from the Paonese population, there was a great deal of interchange. When an Interpreter was not at hand, the business might be transacted in Pastiche—which by virtue of its relative universality, was understood by a large number of persons. But when communication of any precision was necessary, an Interpreter was called for.

So the years passed, fulfilling all the changes conceived by Palafox, initiated by Bustamonte, and reluctantly supported by Beran. The fourteenth year of Beran’s reign saw the high-tide of prosperity and well-being.

Beran had long disapproved of the Breakness concubinage system, which had taken unobtrusive but firm root at the various Cogitant Institutes.

Originally there had been no lack of girls to indenture themselves for eventual financial advantage, and all the sons and grandsons of Palafox—not to speak of Palafox himself—maintained large dormitories in the neighborhood of Pon. But when prosperity came to Pao, the number of young women available for indenture declined, and presently peculiar rumors began to circulate. There was talk of drugs, hypnotism, black magic.

Beran ordered an investigation of the methods by which the Cogitants secured women for indenture. He realized he would be treading on sensitive toes—but he did not suspect the response would be so instant and so direct. Lord Palafox himself came to Eiljanre.

He appeared one morning on an upper terrace of the palace where Beran sat contemplating the sea. At the sight of the tall spare frame, the angular features, Beran reflected how little this Palafox differed, even to the cloak of heavy brown cloth, the gray trousers, the peaked cap with a sharp bill, from the Palafox he had first seen so many years before. How old was Palafox?

Palafox wasted no time in preliminary small-talk. “Panarch Beran, an unpleasant situation has arisen, concerning which you will wish to take steps.”

Beran nodded slowly. “What is this ‘unpleasant situation’?”

“My privacy has been invaded. A clumsy gang of spies dogs my footsteps, annoys the women in my dormitory with impertinent surveillance. I beg that you discover who has ordered this persecution and punish the guilty party.”

Beran rose to his feet. “Lord Palafox, as you must know, I personally ordered the investigation.”

“Indeed? You astonish me, Panarch Beran! What could you hope to learn?”

“I expected to learn nothing. I hoped you would interpret the act as a warning, and make such changes in your conduct as the fact of the investigation would suggest. Instead you have chosen to contend the issue, which may make for difficulty.”

“I am a Breakness dominie. I act directly, not through devious hints.” Palafox’s voice was like iron, but the statement had not advanced his attack.

Beran, a student of polemics, sought to maintain his advantage. “You have been a valuable ally, Lord Palafox. In recompense, you have received what amounts to control over the continent of Nonamand. But this control is conditional upon the legality of your acts. The indenture of willing females, while socially offensive, is not a crime. However, when these females are unwilling …”

“What basis do you have for these remarks?”

“Popular rumor.”

Palafox smiled thinly. “And if by chance you could verify these rumors, what then?”

Beran forced himself to stare into the obsidian gaze. “Your question has no application. It refers to a situation already of the past.”

“Your meaning is obscure.”

“The way to counter these rumors,” said Beran, “is to bring the situation into the open. Henceforth, women willing to indenture themselves will appear at a public depot here in Eiljanre. All contracts will be negotiated at this depot, and any other traffic is declared a crime equivalent to kidnapping.”

Palafox was silent several seconds. Then he asked softly, “How do you propose to enforce this decision?”

“‘Enforce’?” asked Beran in surprise. “On Pao it is not necessary to enforce the orders of the government.”

Palafox curtly inclined his head. “The situation, as you say, is clarified. I trust neither of us will have cause for complaint.” He took his departure.

Beran drew a deep breath, leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes. He had won a victory—to a certain degree. He had asserted the authority of the state and had wrung tacit acknowledgement of this authority from Palafox.

Beran was clever enough not to gloat. He knew that Palafox, utterly secure in his solipsism, probably felt nothing of the emotional umbra surrounding the occurrence, considered the defeat no more than a momentary irritation. Indeed, there were two highly significant points to consider: first, something in Palafox’s manner which suggested that, in spite of his anger, he had been prepared to accept at least temporary compromise. ‘Temporary’ was the key word. Palafox was a man biding his time.

Second, there was the phrasing of Palafox’s last sentence: “I trust that neither of us shall have cause for complaint.” Implicit was an assumption of equal status, equal authority, equal weight, indicating the presence of a disturbing ambition.

To the best of Beran’s recollection Palafox had never so spoken before. Religiously he had maintained the pose of a Breakness dominie, temporarily on Pao as an advisor. Now it seemed as if he regarded himself a permanent inhabitant, with a proprietary attitude to boot.

Beran contemplated the events leading to the present tangle. For five thousand years Pao had been homogeneous, a planet directed by tradition, somnolent in an ageless tranquillity. Panarchs succeeded each other, dynasties came and went, but the blue oceans and green fields were eternal. The Pao of these times had been easy prey for corsairs and raiders, and there had been much poverty.

The ideas of Lord Palafox, the ruthless dynamism of Bustamonte, in a single generation had changed all. Now Pao was prosperous and sent its merchant fleet cruising throughout the star-system. Paonese traders out-bargained the Mercantil, Paonese warriors out-fought the clansmen of Batmarsh, Paonese intellectuals compared favorably with the so-called wizards of Breakness.

But—these men who excelled, who out-traded, out-fought, out-produced, out-thought their planetary neighbors—were they Paonese? The Cogitants now numbered close to ten thousand and all had Palafox either for sire or grandsire. Palafoxians: a better name for these people!

The Valiants and the Technicants, what of them? Their blood was pure Paonese, but they lived as far from the stream of Paonese tradition as the Brumbos of Batmarsh or the Mercantil.