Avram Davidson - Vergil in Averno

And where, at last, he was suffered to use his own hands to take it.

And that warehouse was not in Averno.

But in the warehouse of Rano -

In the warehouse of Rano (whither at long and at last the magnate had summoned him) it was neither frankincense nor myrrh which lay thick as smudge clouds round about. There was the inevitable, ineffable stench of the Very Rich City itself. The top-broken amphora urinals were perched all about, lest a single drop of the substance (so useful in dying, tanning, and fulling) should go to waste if someone in haste be tempted to use the floor…. It would have been merely the thought of the waste and not the thought of there being anything foul about the use of the floor that would bring instant and loud complaint…. But the very profusion of these conveniences had resulted in many of them being far from full, though full enough to allow their rotting contents to taint the air. If “air” was indeed the right word for what one was obliged to breathe. The beards of the goats of Spicy Araby were fragrant in comparison.

It was fairly dim in the warehouses of Rano as Vergil wandered his way through. No one bothered to hold his hands here, though now and then some fellow informed enough to know that Vergil was no mere common visitor and purchaser and barely informed enough to know (or guess. . or even suspect) him for a mage. . Perhaps, it was not impossible, such a one had heard reports, had had Vergil pointed out to him here or there. . would now and then make the sign of the fig or of the horns with the fingers of his own hands, confusing cause, precaution, and effect, Vergil thought. They thought him a nigromancer, some of them, surely; not at all aware the difference — ah, that immense, that infinite difference! — for a nigromancer must use his powers, and must use them almost constantly, being either employing the dark forces or being used by the dark forces or else always in a struggle with them; knowing no more peace for long than Thrax (poor Thrax!) without his shadow; but surely no such subtle thoughts entered the minds of any here, dim for the most part. It was but that, seeing him and so imagining that something about him was otherwise, automatically they feared him. Thus, the fingers they employed to feed their mouths and pick their noses and, commonly, for fouler uses yet, they now employed to ward off possible power to which they applied the same sad word: Caca. Bad. Hence, thus, the thumb thrust between the index and the middle fingers. Fig. Summoning the power of the potent pudenda, another place that had, always, fire pent in it. Or, folding back the two middle fingers and holding them down with the folded thumb, thrusting out the index and the little fingers: Horns (the name of that sign). The upthrust weapon of the bull, the upthrust phallus of the man, each strong to gore, to bore, sometimes in either case to draw blood: power. Sometimes those who made these signs (or other signs; he did not always know these others, for those who labored in Averno as well as those who bought and sold the products of that labor so often came, had come, from far and far away) made them covertly, either fearing his resentment or thinking his awareness of what they were doing might dilute its effect. A few times it was done defiantly; not often. It was done sometimes as artlessly as an animal lifts ears or tail. Or leg.

Vergil did not admit to noticing. Always, he walked on.

On one side as he walked he saw all manner of iron-work stacked.

On one side as he walked he saw, not all manner of dyed goods, for the delicate stuff was not worked in Averno, but much. Strong sunlight would not affect the iron, but would certainly do no good to the cheap cloth and its equally cheap colors. Here a “Sarcen” muttered as he turned over iron bangles and iron knife- and hatchet-blanks certainly destined for some lone sandbank where the immemorial mute- or dumb- or silent-trade still flourished: Equally the buyers and the sellers had to trust each other, for equally the sellers and the buyers feared each other. Merchandise was set out on a mat and signals made by smoke or drum (why, as he thought of this, did some other drumbeats come full-sudden and full-strong into his mind: and which?), or both; then see the merchants retire to their ships offshore, and well offshore, well out of spear- and arrow-range. Presently the autochthons would come forth from their forest. . desert. . bog. . examine the ware, then set down beside it what they thought its worth in what they themselves had to barter: grains of gold; pearls, perhaps; tortoiseshell. An elephant’s tooth. Then come again the merchants and they assess the proffered goods. If they are content, they take and depart. If not, they return awhile to their ship, and another while they wait, then once return more. Sometimes more has been placed beside the trade goods. Sometimes not.

It would be possible, of course, for one side to cheat the other, simply to take all, and speed away.

But if so, then there is never again that trade on that beach. Only the waiting arrow, the poised spear, and the silent, poisoned point.

Was it the incessant thumping of hammer on forge that brought Vergil to a full stop? Why now? The beat of the pounding mingled in his mind with the, imagined but a moment ago, beat of drums on a distant shore. What? Which? He shook his head impatiently, the image would not come; deep it lay, and it would not rise. With one short sigh he walked on. And up a rough ramp. And up a few rough steps. And up a short, very short wooden ladder. And then in, or on, the platform before the room that was the countinghouse of Rano. Even as he came up he heard the professional mumble from within, such as, with copious variation according to circumstance and situation, he might hear in any countinghouse:

“… fifth day of the month. . of the year of the Reign. . second indiction …”

“… such-and-such a quantity of packing-straw and so many and so many canvas packing-cases …”

“… to hire of six mules for two days at thus-and-so a rate per mule per day, and thus much more for fodder per mule …”

“… and three score plus one-half one score of lance-head blanks made after the fashion of Florence, per accompt of a Saracen merchant of Malaga …”

“… this ink is too thick, my ser …”

“… piss in it, then …”

“… ten sheets of tin from Beritinia, alike beknownst as Tinland, of the quality costing 12 florins per quintal …”

“Where is the bill for the accompt of Mahound? Not yet ready? Why always tell they me, ‘Not yet ready?’ A score I have me, clerks, yet, always, always, ‘Not yet ready: Ready? Not.’ Me Herc! Me Herd!”

“If you would listen, Frog. To me, Frog, if you would listen. The system of numbers and of algorithm, new, new, new! A tithe of the time ‘twould take, O Frog Thy Herd! Thy Herd!”

“Clerks can no learn your new numbers. Talk me not of such. — Who? Is coming, who?”

And there within was Rano.

Vergil entered. “Get out,” Rano said at once. The command was not meant for the visitor, for at once the clerks arose, and left tablet and stylus, abacus and record-rolls, talley-sticks and ledger-books; thus, three men left in that space, not closed but closable. The third remained with pen poised over papyrus as though he had not heard his master speak; any moment Vergil expected the command to be repeated; it did not come. But when this sole servant raised his head and looked, all was clear. All was clear from the deep-seamed skin and hairless cheeks and chin and indeed from the very folds about the very eyes. It was death to make eunuchs in the Empire. But it was not death to buy and own those already made. As such had no families and could have none, they were deemed safest of servants, not alone in regard to women, but in regard to money as well. . and did not both temptations go so often together? This one looked a moment at Vergil and for that moment in that look Vergil had some strong intimation that he was seeing and being seen by something not entirely human; the face and gaze, perhaps, of some ancient and immensely sapient being, but one whose sapience was of a clean different order than those of men and women. Then the eunuch’s look went back to his book, and the pen descended and the voice began again to mutter, voice as high as a woman’s yet as strong as a man’s.