Vance, Jack - Alastor 2262-Trullion
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TRULLION: Alastor 2262
JACK VANCE
DAW BOOKS, INC.
DONALD A. WOLLHEIM, PUBLISHER 1633 Broadway, New York, N.Y. 10019
COPYRIGHT ©, 1973, BY JACK VANCE.
All Rights Reserved. Cover art by David B. Mattingly.
FIRST DAW PRINTING, JANUARY 1981
123456789
DAW TRADEMARK REGISTEReD U.S. PAT. OFF. MARCA IEGISTKADA. UK. CSO EH U.S.A
TRULLION:
Alastor 2262
1.1Welgen Sound
2. Welgen Spit
3. Blacklyn Broad
4. Lace Islands
5. Ripil Broad
6. Mellish Water
7. Near, Middle, Far Islands
8. Seaward Broad
9. Athenry Water
10. Rorwquin's Tooth
11. Clinkhammer Broad
12. Sarpassante Island
13. Sarpent Channel
14. Tethryn Broad
15. Prefecture Commons
16. Zeur Water
r
17. Fleharish Broad
18. llfish Water
19. Bellicent Island
20. Five Islands 21.SelmaWater
22. Vernice Water
23. Fogle Island
24. Harkus Island
25. Farwan Water
26. Ambal Island
27. Rabendary Islai
28. Ambal Broad
29. Gilweg Water
30. Gilweg Island
Out toward the rim of the galaxy hangs Alastor Cluster, a whorl of thirty thousand live stars in
an irregular volume twenty to thirty light-years in diameter. The surrounding region is dark and,
except for a few hermit stars, unoccupied. To the exterior view, Alastor presents a flamboyant
display of star-streams, luminous webs, sparkling nodes. Dust clouds hang across the brightness;
the engulfed stars glow russet, rose, or smoky amber. Dark stars wander unseen among a million
subplanetary oddments of iron, slag and ice: the so-called "starments."
Scattered about the cluster are three thousand inhabited planets with a human population of
approximately five trillion persons. The worlds are diverse, the populations equally so;
nevertheless they share a common language and all submit to the authority of the Connatic at Lusz,
on the world Numenes.
The current Connatic is Oman Ursht, sixteenth in the Idite succession, a man of ordinary and
undistinguished appearance. In portraits and on public occasions he wears a severe black uniform
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with a black casque, in order to project an image of inflexible authority, and this is how he is
known to the folk of Alastor Cluster. In private Oman Ursht is a calm and reasonable man, who
tends to under- rather than over-administrate. He ponders all aspects of his conduct, knowing well
that his slightest act-a gesture, a word, a symbolic nuance-might start off an avalanche of
unpredictable consequences. Hence his effort to create the image of a man rigid, terse and
unemotional.
To the casual observer, Alastor Cluster is a system placid and peaceful. The Connatic knows
differently. He recognizes that wherever human beings strive for advantage, disequilibrium exists;
lacking easement, the social fabric becomes taut and sometimes rips asunder. The Connatic
conceives his function to be the identification and relief of social stresses.
Sometimes he ameliorates, sometimes he employs techniques of distraction. When harshness becomes
unavoidable he deploys his military agency, the Whelm. Oman Ursht winces to see an insect injured;
the Connatic without compunction orders a million persons to their doom. In many cases, believing
that each condition generates its own counter-condition, he stands aloof, fearing to introduce a
confusing third factor. When in doubt, do nothing: this is one of the Connatic's favorite credos.
After an ancient tradition he roams anonymously about the cluster. Occasionally, in order to
remedy an injustice, he represents himself as an important official; often he rewards kindness and
self-sacrifice. He is fascinated by the ordinary life of his subjects and listens attentively to
such dialogues as: OLD MAN (to a lazy youth}: If everybody had what they wanted, who would work?
Nobody.
YOUTH: Not I, depend on it.
OLD MAN: And you'd be the first to cry out in anguish, for it's work what keeps the lights
on. Get on with it now, put your shoulder into it. I can't bear sloth.
YOUTH (grumbling): If I were Connatic I'd arrange that everyone had their wishes. No toil! Free
seats at the hussade game! A fine space-yacht! New clothes every day! Servants to lay forth
delectable foods!
OLD MAN: The Connatic would have to be a genius to satisfy both you and the servants.
They'd live only to box your ears. Now get on with your work.
Or again:
YOUNG MAN: Never go near Lusz, I beseech you! The Connatic would take you for his own!
GIRL (mischievously): Then what would you do? YOUNG MAN: I'd rebel! I'd be the most magnificent
starmenter* ever to terrify the skies! At last I'd conquer the power of Alastor-Wilhelm, Connatic
and all-and win you back for my very own.
* starmenters: pirates and marauders, whose occasional places of refuge are the. so-called
"starments."
GIRL: You're gallant, but never never never would the Connatic choose ordinary little me;
already the most beautiful women of Alastor attend him at Lusz. YOUNG MAN: What a merry life he
must lead! To be Connatic: this is my dream! GIRL: (makes fretful sound and becomes cool.)
Lusz, the Connatic's palace, is indeed a remarkable structure, rising ten thousand feet above
the sea on five great pylons. Visitors roam the lower promenades; from every world of Alastor
Cluster they come, and from places beyond-the Darkling Regions, the Primarchic, the Erdic Sector,
the Rubrimar Cluster, and all the other parts of the galaxy which men have made their own.
Above the public promenades are governmental offices, ceremoniakhalls, a communications complex,
and somewhat higher, the famous Ring of the Worlds, with an informational chamber for each
inhabited planet of the cluster. The highest pinnacles contain the Connatic's personal quarters.
They penetrate the clouds and sometimes pierce through to the upper sky. When sunlight glistens on
its iridescent surfaces, Lusz, the palace of the Connatic, is a wonderful sight and is often
reckoned the most inspiring artifact of the human race.
Chapter 1
* * *
Chamber 2262 along the Ring of the Worlds pertains to Trullion, the lone planet of a small white
star, one spark in a spray curling out toward the cluster's edge. Trullion is a small world, for
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the most part water, with a single narrow continent, Merlank,* at the equator. Great banks of
cumulus drift in from the sea and break against the central mountains; hundreds of rivers return
down broad valleys where fruit and cereals grow so plentifully as to command no value.
The original settlers upon Trullion brought with them those habits of thrift and zeal which had
promoted survival in a previously harsh environment; the first era of Trill history produced a
dozen wars, a thousand fortunes, a caste of hereditary aristocrats, and a waning of the initial
dynamism. The Trill commonalty asked itself: Why toil, why carry weapons when a life of feasts,
singing, revelry and ease is an equal option? In the space of three generations old Trullion
became a memory. The ordinary Trill now worked as circumstances directed: to prepare for a feast,
to indulge his taste for hussade, to earn a pulsor for his boat or a pot for his kitchen or a
length of cloth for his paray, that easy shirtlike garment worn by man and woman alike.
Occasionally he tilled his lush acres, fished the ocean, netted the river, harvested wild fruit,
and when the mood was on him, dug emeralds and opals from the mountain slopes, or gathered couch.
**He worked perhaps an hour each day, or occasionally as much as two or three; he spent
considerably more time musing on the verandah of his ramshackle house. He distrusted most
technical devices, finding them unsympathetic, confusing and-more important-expensive, though he
gingerly used a telephone the better to order his social activities, and took the pulsor of his
boat for granted.
* Merlank: a variety of lizard. The continent clasps the equator like a lizard clinging to a blue
glass orb.
** cauch: an aphrodisiac drug derived from the spore of a mountain mold and used by Trills to a
greater or lesser extent. Some retreated so far into erotic fantasy as to become irresponsible,
and thus the subject of mild ridicule. Irresponsibility, in the context of the Trill environment,
could hardly be accounted a critical social problem.
As in most bucolic societies, the Trill knew his precise place in the hierarchy of classes. At
the summit, almost a race apart, was the aristocracy; at the bottom were the nomad Trevany, a
group equally distinct. The Trill disdained unfamiliar or exotic ideas. Ordinarily calm and
gentle, he nonetheless, under sufficient provocation, demonstrated ferocious rages, and certain of
his customs-particularly the macabre ritual at the prutanshyy-were almost barbaric.
The government of Trallion was rudimentary and a matter in which the average Trill took little
interest. Merlank was divided into twenty prefectures, each administered by a few bureaus and a
small group of officials, who constituted a caste superior to the ordinary Trill but considerably
inferior to the aristocrats. Trade with the rest of the cluster was unimportant; on all Trill only
four space-ports existed; Port Gaw in the west of Merlank, Port Kerubian on the north coast, Port
Maheul on the south coast, and Vayamenda in the east.
A hundred miles east of Port Maheul was the market town Welgen, famous for its fine hussade
stadium. Beyond Welgen lay the Fens, a district of remarkable beauty. Thousands of waterways
divided this area into a myriad islands, some tracts of good dimension, some so small as to
support only a fisherman's cabin and a tree for the mooring of his boat.
Everywhere entrancing vistas merged one into another. Gray-green menas, silver-russet pomanders,
black jerdine stood in stately rows along the waterways, giving each island its distinctive
silhouette. Out upon their dilapidated verandahs sat the country folk, with jugs of homemade wine
at hand. Sometimes they played music, using concertinas, small round-bellied guitars, mouth-
calliopes that produced cheerful warbles and glisssndes. The light of the Fens were pale and
delicate, and shimmered with colors too transient and subtle for the eye to detect. In the morning
a mist obscured the distances; the sunsets were subdued pageants of lime-green and lavender.
Skiffs and runabouts slid along the water; occasionally an aristocrat's yacht glided past, or the
ferry that connected Welgen with the Fen villages.
In the dead center of the Fens, a few miles from the village of Saurkash, was Rabendary Island,
where lived Jut Hulden, his wife Marucha, and their three sons. Rabendary Island comprised about a
hundred acres, including a thirty-acre forest of mena, blackwood, candlenut, semprissima. To the
south spread the wide expanse of Ambal Broad. Farwan Water bounded Rabendary on the west, Gilweg
Water on the east, and along the north shore flowed the placid Saur River. At the western tip of
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the island the ramshackle old home of the Huldens stood between a pair of huge mimosa trees.
Rosalia vine grew up the posts of the verandah and overhung the edge of the roof, producing a
fragrant shade for the pleasure of those taking their ease in the old string chairs. To the south
was a view of Ambal Broad and Ambal Isle, a property of three acres supporting a number of
beautiful pomanders, russet-silver against a background of solemn menas, and three enormous
fanzaneels, holding then- great shaggy pompoms high in the air. Through the foliage gleamed the
white facade of the manse where Lord Ambal long ago had maintained his mistresses. The property
was now owned by Jut Hulden, but he had no inclination to dwell in the manor, his friends would
think him absurd.
In his youth Jut Hulden had played hussade for the Saur-kash Serpents. Marucha had been sheirl*
for the Welgeen Warlocks; so they had met, and married, and brought into being three sons, Shira
and the twins Glinnes and Glay, and a daughter, Sharue, who had been stolen by the merrlings.**
* sheirl: an untranslatable term from the special vocabulary of hussade-a glorious nymph, radiant
with ecstatic vitality, who impels the players of her team to impossible feats of strength and
agility. The sheirl is a virgin who must be protected from the shame of defeat. *Merlings:
amphibious half-intelligent indigenes of Trullion, living in tunnels burrowed into the riverbanks.
Merlings and men lived on the edge of a most delicate truce; each hated and hunted the other, but
under mutually tolerable conditions. The merlings prowled the land at night for carrion, small
animals, and children. If they molested boats or entered a habitation, men retaliated by dropping
explosives into the water. Should a man fall into the water or attempt to swim, he had intruded
into the domain of the merlings and risked being dragged under. Similarly, a merling discovered on
land was shown no mercy.
Chapter 2
* * *
Glinnes Hulden entered the world crying and kicking; Glay followed an hour later, in watchful
silence. From the first day of their lives the two differed an appearance, in temperament, in all
the circumstances of their lives. Glinnes, like Jut and Shira, was amiable, trusting, and easy-
natured; he grew into a handsome lad with a clear complexion, dusty-blond hair, a wide, smiling
mouth. Glinnes entirely enjoyed the pleasures of the Fens: feasts, amorous adventures, star-
watching and sailing, hussade, nocturnal merling hunts, simple idleness.
Glay at first lacked sturdy good health; for his first six years he was fretful, captious and
melancholy. Then he mended, and quickly overtaking Glinnes was thenceforth the taller of the two.
His hair was black, his features taut and keen, his eyes intent. Glinnes accepted events and ideas
without skepticism; Glay stood aloof and saturnine. Glinnes was instinctively skilllful at
hussade; Glay refused to set foot on the field. Though Jut was a fair man, he found it hard
toconceal his preference for Glinnes. Marucha, herself tall, dark-haired, and inclined to romantic
meditation, fancied Glay, in whom she thought to detect poetic sensibilities. She tried to
interest Glay in music, and explained how through music he could express his emotions and make
them intelligible to others. Glay was cold to the idea and produced only a few lackadaisical
discords on her guitar.
Glay was a mystery even to himself. Introspection availed nothing; he found himself as confusing
as did the rest of his family. As a youth his austere appearance and rather haughty self-
sufficiency earned him the soubriquet "Lord Glay"; perhaps coincidentally, Glay was the only
member of the household who wanted to move into the manor house on Ambal Isle. Even Marucha had
put the idea away as a foolish if amusing daydream.
Glay's single confidant was Akadie the mentor, who lived in a remarkable house on Sarpassante
Island, a few miles north of Rabendary. Akadie, a thin long-armed man with an ill-assorted set of
features-a big nose, sparse curls of snuff-brown hair, glassy blue eyes, a mouth continually
trembling at the verge of a smile-was, like Glay, something of a misfit. Unlike Glay, he had
turned idiosyncrasy to advantage, and drew custom even from the aristocracy.
Akadie's profession included the offices of epigrammatist, poet, calligrapher, sage, arbiter of
elegance, professional guest (hiring Akadie to grace a party was an act of conspicuous
consumption), marriage broker, legal consultant, repository of local tradition, and source of
scandalous gossip. Akadie's droll face, gentle voice, and subtle language rendered his gossip all
the more mordant. Jut distrusted Akadie and had nothing to do with him, to the regret of Marucha,
who had never relinquished her social ambitions, and who felt in her heart of hearts that she had
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married below herself. Hussade sheirls often married lords!
Akadie had traveled to other worlds. At night, during star-watchings,* he would mark the stars
he had visited; then he would describe their splendor and the astounding habits of their peoples.
Jut Hulden cared nothing for travel; his interest in the other worlds lay in the quality of their
hussade teams and the location of the Cluster Champions.
When Glinnes was sixteen he saw a starmenter ship. It dropped from the sky above Ambal Broad and
slid at reckless speed down toward Welgen. The radio provided a minute-by-minute report of the
raid. The starmenters landed
* star-watching: at night the stars of Alastor Cluster blaze in profusion. The atmosphere refracts
their light; the sky quivers with beams, glitters, and errant flashes. The Trills go out into
their gardens with jugs of wine; they name the stars and discuss localities. For the Trills, for
almost anyone of Alastor, the night sky was so abstract empyrean but rather, a view across
prodigious distances to known places-a vast luminous map. There was always talk of pirates-the so-
called "starmenters"-and their grisly deeds. When Numenes Star shone in the sky, the conversation
turned to the Connatic and glorious Lusz, and someone would always say, "Best to steady our
tongues! Perhaps he sits here now, drinking our wine and marking the dissidents! "-creating a
nervous titter, for the Connatic's habit of wandering quietly about the worlds was well known.
Then someone always uttered the brave remark: "Here we are-ten (or twelve or sixteen or twenty, as
the case might be) among five trillion! The Connatic among us? Ill take that chance!"
At such a star-watch, Shame Hulden had wandered off into the darkness. Before her absence was
noticed the merlings had seized her and had taken her away underwater.
in the central square, and seething forth plundered the banks, the jewel factors, and the cauch
warehouse, cauch being by far the most valuable commodity produced on Trullion. They also seized a
number of important personages to be held for ransom. The raid was swift and well-executed; in ten
minutes the starmenters had loaded their ship with loot and prisoners. Unluckily for them, a Whelm
cruiser chanced to be putting into Port Maheul when the alarm was broadcast and merely altered
course to arrive at Welgen instead. Glinnes ran out on the verandah to see the Whelm ship arrive-a
beautiful stately craft enameled in beige, scarlet and black. The ship dropped like an eagle
toward Welgen and passed beyond Glinnes' range of vision. The voice from the radio cried out in
excitement: -They rise into the air, but here comes the Whelm ship! By the Nine Glories, the Whelm
ship is here. The starmenters can't go into whisk*; they'd burn up from the friction! They must
fight!" The announcer could no longer control his voice for excitement: "The Whelm ship strikes;
the starmenter is disabled!
Hurrah! it drops back into the square. No, no! Oh horror! What horror! It has fallen upon the
market; a hundred persons are crushed! Attention! Bring in all ambulances, all medical men!
Emergency at Welgen! I can hear the sad cries . . . The starmenter ship is broken; still it fights
... a blue ray . . . Another . . . The Whelm ship answers. The starmenters are quiet. Their ship
is broken." The announcer fell quiet a moment, then once more was prompted to excitement. "Now
what a sight! The folk are crying with rage; they swarm in at the starmenters; they drag them
forth . . ." He began to babble, then stopped short and spoke in a more subdued voice. "The
constables have intervened. They have pushed back the crowds and the starmenters are now in
custody, and this to their own rue, as well they know, for they desperately struggle. How they
writhe and kick! It's the pruanshyr for them! They prefer the vengeance of the crowd! . . . What a
dreadful deed they have done upon the hapless town Welgen..."
Jut and Shira worked in the far orchard grafting scions to the apple trees. Glinnes ran to tell
them the news. "... and at last the starmenters were captured and taken away!"
*swhisk: star-drive.
"So much the worse for them," Jut said gruffly, and continued with his work. For a Trill, he was
a man unusually self-
contained and taciturn, traits that had become intensified since the death of Sharue by the
merlings. Shira said, "They'll be sweeping off the prutanshyr. Perhaps we'd better learn the
news."
Jut grunted. "One torturing is much like another. The fire burns, the wheels wrench, the rope
strains. Some folk thrive on it. For my excitement I'll watch hussade." Shira winked at Glinnes.
"One game is much like another. The forwards spring, the water splashes, the sheirl loses her
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clothes, and one pretty girl's belly is much like another's." here speaks the voice of
experience," said Glinnes, and Shira, the most notorious philanderer of the district, guffawed.
Shira did in fact attend the executions with his mother Marucha, though Jut kept Glinnes and Glay
at home
.
Shira and Marucha returned by the late ferry. Marucha was tired and went to bed; Shira, however,
joined Jut, Glinnes and Glay on the verandah and rendered an account of what he had seen. 'Thirty-
three they caught, and had them all in cages out in the square. All the preparations were put up
before their very eyes. A hard lot of men, I must say-I couldn't place their race. Some might have
been Echalites and some might have been Satagones, and one tall white-skinned fellow was said to
be a Blaweg. Unfortunates all, in retrospect. They were naked and painted for shame: heads green,
one leg blue, the other red. All gelded, of course. Oh, the prutanshyr's a wicked place! And to
hear the music! Sweet as flowers, strange and hoarse! It strikes through you as if your own nerves
were being plucked for tones . . . Ah well, at any rate, a great pot of boiling oil was prepared,
and a traveling-crane stood by. The music began-eight Trevanyl and all their horns and fiddles.
How can such stern folk make such sweet music? It chills the bones and churns the bowels, and puts
the taste of blood in your mouth! Chief Constable Filidice was there, but First Agent Gerence was
the executioner. One by one the starmenters were grappled by hooks, then lifted and dipped into
the oil, then hung up on a great high frame; and I don't know which was more awful, the howls or
the beautiful sad music. The people fell down on their knees; some fell into fits and cried out-
for terror or joy I can'tt tell you. I don't know what to make of it ... After about two hours all
were dead." "HUMmf," said Jut Hulden. "They won't be back in a hurry. So much, at least, can be
said. "Glinnes had listened in horrified fascination. "It's a fearful punishment, even for a
starmenter."
"Indeed, that's what it is," said Jut. "Can you guess the reason?" Glinnes swallowed hard and
could not choose between several theories. Jut asked, "Would you now want to be a starmenter and
risk such an end? "Never," Glinnes declared, from the depths of his soul. Jut turned to the
brooding Glay. "And you?" "I never planned to rob and kill in the first place."
Jut gave a hoarse chuckle. "One of the two, at least, has been dissuaded from crime. "Glinnes
said, "I wouldn't like to hear music played to pain." "And why not?" Shira demanded. "At hussade,
when the sheirl is smirched, the music is sweet and wild. Music gives savor to the event, like
salt with food." Glay offered a comment: "Akadie claims that everybody needs catharsis, if it's
only a nightmare."
"It may be so," said Jut. "I myself need no nightmares; I've got one before my eyes every
moment." Jut referred, as all knew, to the taking of Sharue. Since that time, his nocturnal hunts
for merling had become almost an obsession. "Well, if you two twits aren't to be starmenters,
what will you be?" asked Shira. "Assuming you don't care to stay in the household."
"I'm for hussade," said Glinnes. "I don't care to fish, nor to scrape cauch. "He recalled the
brave beige, scarlet and black ship that had struck down the starmenters. "Or perhaps I'll join
the Whelm and lead a life of adventure." "I know nothing of the Whelm," said Jut ponderously,
"but if it's hussade I can give you one or two useful hints. Run five miles every day to develop
your stamina. Jump the practice pits until you can make sure landings blindfolded. Forbear with
the girls, or there'll be no virgins left in the prefecture to be your sheirl."
"It's a chance I am willing to take," said Glinnes. Jut squinted through his black eyebrows at
Glay. "And what of you? Will you stay in the household?" Glay gave a shrug. "If I could, I'd
travel space and see the cluster." Jut raised his bushy eyebrows. "How will you travel, lacking
money?"
"There are methods, according to Akadie. He visited twenty-two worlds, working from port to
port. "Hmmf. That may be. But never use Akadie for your model. He has derived nothing from his
travels but useless erudition." Glay thought a moment. "If this is true," he said, "as it must
be, since you so assert, then Akadie learned his sympathy and breadth of intellect here on
Trullion which is all the more to his credit." Jut, who never resented honest defeat, clapped
Glay on the back. "In you he has a loyal friend." "I am grateful to Akadie," said Glay. "He has
explained many things to me."
Shira, who teemed with lewd ideas, gave Glay a sly nudge. "Follow Glinnes on his rounds, and
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you'll never need Aka-die's explanations." "I'm not talking about that sort of thing." "Then
what sort of thing are you talking about?" "I don't care to explain. You'd only jeer at me, which
is tiresome." "No jeering!" declared Shira. "We'll give you a fair hearing! Say on."
"Very well. I don't really care whether you jeer or not. I've long felt a lack, or an emptiness.
I want a weight to thrust my shoulder against; I want a challenge I can defy and conquer."
"Brave words," said Shira dubiously. "But why should I so trouble myself? Because I have but one
life, one existence. I want to make my mark, somewhere, somehow. When I think of it I grow almost
frantic! My foe is the universe; it defies me to perform remarkable deeds so that ever after folk
will remember me! Why should not the name 'Glay Hulden' ring as far and clear as 'Paro' and
'Slabar Velche'?* I will make it so; it is the least I owe myself!"
Jut said in a gloomy voice, "You had best become either a great hussade player or a great
starmenter."
"I overspoke myself," said Glay. "In truth I want neither fame nor notoriety; I do not care
whether I astonish a single person. I want only the chance to do my best." There was silence on
the verandah. From the reeds camethe croak of nocturnal insects, and water lapped softly against
the dock; a merling perhaps had risen to the surface, to listen for interesting sounds.
*Paro: a hussade player, the darling of the cluster, celebrated for his aggressive and daring
play. Slabar Velche: a notorious starmenter.
Jut said in a heavy voice, "The ambition does you no discredit. Still I wonder how it would be
if everyone strove with such urgency. Where would peace abide?"
"It is a difficult problem," said Glinnes. "Indeed, I had never considered it before. Glay, you
amaze me You are unique!" Glay gave a deprecatory grunt. "I'm not so sure of this. There must be
many, many folk desperate to fulfill themselves." "Perhaps this is why people become
starmenters," suggested Glinnes. "They are bored at home, at hussade they're inept, the girls turn
away from them-so off tkey go in their black hulls, for sheer revenge!"
"The theory is as good as any," agreed Jut Hidden. "But revenge cuts both ways, as thirty-three
folk discovered today." "There is something here I can't understand," said Glinnes. "The Connatic
knows of their crimes. Why does he not deploy the Whelm and root them out once and for all?"
Shira laughed indulgently. "Do you think the Whelm sits idle? The ships are constantly on the
prowl. But for every living world you'll find a hundred dead ones, not to mention moons,
asteroids, hulks and starments. The hiding places are beyond enumeration. The Whelm can only do
its best." Glinnes turned to Glay. "There you are: join the Whelm and see the cluster. Get paid
while you travel!" "It's a thought," said Glay.
Chapter 3
* * *
In the end it was Glinnes who went to Port Maheul and there enlisted in the Whelm. He was
seventeen at the time. Glay neither enlisted in the Whelm, played hussade, nor be-Shortly after
Glinnes joined the Whelm.
Glay also left home. He wandered the length and breadth of Meriank, from time to time working
to gain a few ozols. as often living off of the land. On several occasions he attempted the ruses
Akadie had recommended in order to travel to other worlds, but for one reason or another his
efforts met no success, and he never accumulated sufficient funds to buy himself passage.
For a period he traveled with a band of Trevanyi,* finding their exactness and intensity an
amusing contrast to the imprecision of the average Trill. After eight years of wandering he
returned to Rabendary Island, where everything went about as before, although Shira last had given
up hussade. Jut still waged his nocturnal war against the merlings; Marucha still hoped to win
social acceptance among the local gentry, who had absolutely no intention of allowing her to
succeed. Jut, at the behest of Marucha, now called himself Squire Hulden of Rabendary, but refused
to move into Ambal Manse, which, despite its noble proportions, grand chambers and polished
wainscoting, lacked a broad verandah overlooking the water.
The family regularly received news from Glinnes, who had done well in the Whelm. At bootcamp he
had earned a recommendation to officer training school, after which he had been assigned to the
Tactical Corps of the 191st Squadron and placed in command of Landing Craft No. 191-539 and its
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twenty-man complement.
Glinnes could now look forward to a rewarding career, with excellent retirement benefits. Still,
he was not entirely happy. He had envisioned a life more romantically adventurous; he had seen
himself prowling the cluster in a patrol boat, searching out starmenter nests, then putting into
remote and picturesque settlements for a few days' shore-leave a life far more dashing and
haphazard than the perfectly organized routine in which he found himself. To relieve the monotony
he played hussade; his team always placed high in fleet competition, and won two championships.
Glinnes at last requested transfer to a patrol craft, but his request was denied. He went before
the squadron commander, who listened to Glinnes' protests and complaints
*Trevanyi: nomadic folk of a distinctive racial stock, prone to thievery, sorcery, and other petty
chicaneries; an excitable, passionate, vengeful people. They consider cauch a poison and guard the
chastity of their women with fanatic zeal.
with an attitude of easy unconcern. "The transfer was denied for a very good reason."
"What reason?" demanded Glinnes. "Certainly I am not considered indispensable to the survival of
the squadron?" "Not altogether. Still, we don't want to disrupt a smoothly functioning
organization." He adjusted some papers on his desk, then leaned back in his chair. "In confidence,
there's a rumor to the effect that we're going into action. "Indeed? Against whom?"
"As to this, I can only guess. Have you ever heard of the Tamarchd?" "Yes indeed. I read about
them in a journal: a cult of fanatic warriors on a world whose name now escapes me. Apparently
they destroy for the love of destruction, or something of the sort." "Well then, you know as much
as I, said the commander, "except that the world is Rhamnotis and the Tamarchd have laid waste an
entire district I would guess that we are going down on Rhamnotis."
"It's an explanation, at least," said Glinnes. "What about Rhamnotis? A gloomy desert of a
place?" "On the contrary." The commander swung about, fingered buttons; a screen burst into
colors and a voice spoke: "Alas-tor 965, Rhamnotis. The physical characteristics are-" The
annunciator read off a set of indices denoting mass, dimension, gravity, atmosphere, and climate,
while the screen displayed a Mercator projection of the surface. The commander touched buttons to
bypass historical and anthropological information, and brought in what was known as "informal
briefing": "Rhamnotis is a world where every particular, every aspect, every institution, conduces
to the health and pleasure of its inhabitants. The original settlers, arriving from the world
Triskelion, resolved never to tolerate the ugliness which they had left behind them, and they
pledged a covenant to this effect, which covenant is now the prime document of Rhamnotis, and the
subject of great reverence.
"Today the usual detritus of civilization discord, filth, waste, structural clutter-have been
almost expelled from the consciousness of the population. Rhamnotis is now a world characterized
by excellent management. Optimums have become the norms. Social evils are unknown; poverty is no
more than a curious word. The work-week is ten hours, in which every member of the population
participates; he then to the carnivals and fantasies, which attract tourists from far worlds. The
cuisine is considered equal to the best of the cluster. Beaches, forests, lakes and mountains
provide unsurpassed scope for outdoor recreation. Hussade is a spectator sport, although local
teams have never placed high in Cluster rankings."
The commander touched another button; the annunciator said: "In recent years the cult known as
Tamarch6 has attracted attention. The principles of Tamarchd are unclear, and seem to vary from
individual to individual. In general, the Tamarchists engage in wanton violence, destruction and
defilement. They have burned thousands of acres of primeval forests; they pollute lakes,
reservoirs and fountains with corpses, filth and crude oil; they are known to have poisoned
waterholes in game preserves, and they set poison bait for birds and domestic animals. They fling
excrement bombs into the perfumed carnival crowds and urinate from high towers upon the throngs
below. They worship ugliness and in fact call themselves the Ugly People."
The commander tapped a button to dull the screen. "So there you have it. The Tamarch6 have
seized a tract of land and won't disperse; apparently the Rhamnotes have called in the Whelm.
Still, it's all speculation; we might be going down to Breakneck Island to disperse the
prostitutes. Who knows?"
Standard strategy of the Whelm, validated across ten thousand campaigns, was to mass a
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tremendous force so extravagantly overpowering as to intimidate the enemy and impose upon him the
certain conviction of defeat. In most cases the insurgence would evaporate and there would be no
fighting whatever. To subdue Mad King Zag on Gray World, Alastor 1740, the Whelm poised a thousand
Tyrant dreadnoughts over the Black capitol, almost blocking out the daylight. Squadrons of
Vavarangi and Stingers drifted in concentric evolutions under the Tyrants, and at still lower
levels combat-boats darted back and forth like wasps. On the fifth day twenty million heavy troops
dropped down to confront King Zag's stupefied militia, who long before had given up all thought of
resistance.
The same tactics were expected to prevail against the Tamarchists. Four fleets of Tyrants and
Maulers converged from four directions to hover above the Silver Mountains, where the Ugly People
had taken refuge. Intelligence from the surface reported no perceptible reaction from the Tamar-
chista.
The Tyrants descended lower, and all during the night netted the sky with ominous beams of
crackling blue light In the morning the Tamrachists had broken all their camps and were nowhere to
be seen. Surface intelligence reported that they had taken cover in the forests.
Monitors flew to the area, and their voice-horns ordered the Ugly Folk to form orderly files and
march down to a nearby resort town. The only response was a spatter of sniper fire. With menacing
deliberation the Tyrants began to descend. The Monitors issued a final ultimatum: surrender or
face attack. The Tamarchists failed to respond.
Sixteen Armadillo sky-forts dropped upon a high meadow, intending to secure the area for a troop-
landing. They encountered not only the fire of small arms, but spasms of energy from a set of
antique blue radiants. Rather than destroy an unknown number of maniacs, the Armadillos returned
into the sky.
The Operation Commander, outraged and perplexed, decided to ring the Silver Mountain with
troops, hoping to starve the Ugly Folk into submission.
Twenty-two hundred landing craft, among them No. 191-539, commanded by Glinnes Hulden, descended
to the surface and sealed the Tamarchists into their mountain lair. Where expedient, the troops
cautiously moved up the valleys, after sending Stinger combat-boats ahead to flush out snipers.
Casualties occurred, and since the Tamarcho represented neither threat nor emergency, the
Commander withdrew his troops from zones of Tamarchist fire. For a month the siege persisted.
Intelligence reported that the Tamarchists lacked provisions, that they were eating bark, insects,
leaves, whatever came to hand.
The Commander once again sent Monitors over the area, demanding an orderly surrender. For answer
the Tamarchists launched a series of break-out attempts, but were repulsed with considerable harm
to themselves.
The Commander once more sent over his Monitors, threatening the use of pain-gas unless surrender
was affected within six hours. The deadline came and went; Vavarangi descended to bombard shelter
areas with cannisters of pain-gas. Choking, rolling on the ground, writhing and jerking, the
Tamarchists broke into the open. The Commander ordered down a "living rain" of a hundred thousand
troops, and after captives, numbered less than two thousand persons of both sexes. Glinnes was
astounded to discover that some were little more than children, and very few older than himself.
They lacked ammunition, energy, food and medical supplies. They grimaced and snarled at the Whelm
troops "Ugly Folk" they were indeed.
Glinnes' 'astonishment increased. What had prompted these young people to battle so fanatically
for a cause obviously lost? What, indeed, had impelled them to become Ugly Folk? Why had they
defiled and defouled, destroyed and corrupted? Glinnes attempted to question one of the prisoners
who pretended not to understand his dialect. Shortly thereafter Glumes was ordered back aloft
with his ship.
Glinnes returned to base. Picking up his mail, he found a letter from Shira containing tragic
news. Jut Hulden had gone out to hunt merling once too often; they had laid a cunning trap for
him. Before Shira could come to his aid, Jut had been dragged into Farwan Water. The news
affected Glinnes with a rather irrational astonishment. He found it hard to imagine change in the
timeless fens, especially change so profound.
Shira was now Squire of Rabendary. Glumes wondered what other changes might be in store.
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Probably none-Shira had no taste for innovation. He would bring in a wife and breed a family; so
much at least could be expected-if not sooner, then later. Glinnes speculated as to who might
marry bulky balding Shira with the red cheeks and lumpy nose. Even as a hussade player, Shira had
found difficulty enticing girls into the shadows, for while Shira considered himself bluff,
friendly and affable, others thought him coarse, lewd and boisterous.
Glinnes began to muse about his boyhood. He recalled the hazy mornings, the festive evenings,
the starwatcbings. He recalled his good friends and their quaint habits; he remembered the look of
Rabendary Forest-the menas looming over russet pomanders silver-green birches, dark-green prick-
lenuts. He thought of the shimmer that hung above the water and softened the outline of far
shores; he thought of the ramshackle old family home, and discovered himself to be profoundly
homesick.
Two months later, at the end of ten years service, he resigned his commission and returned to
Trulllion.
Chapter 4
* * *
Glinnes had sent a letter announcing his arrival, but when he debarked at Port Maheul in Staveny
Prefecture, none of his family was on hand to greet him, which he thought strange.
He loaded his baggage onto the ferry and took a seat on the top deck, to watch the scenery go
by. How easy and gay were the country folk in their parays of dull scarlet, blue, ocher! Glinnes
semi-military garments-black jacket, beige breeches tucked into black ankleboots felt stiff and
constricted. He'd probably never wear them again!
The boat presently slid into the dock at Welgen. A delectable odor wafted past Glinnes nose,
which he traced to a nearby fried-fish booth. Glinnes went ashore and bought a packet of steamed
reed-pods and a length of barbecued eel. He looked about for Shira or Glay or Marucha, though he
hardly expected to find them here. A group of off-worlders attracted his attention: three young
men, wearing what seemed to be a uniform-neat gray one-piece garments belted at the waist, highly
polished tight black shoes-and three young women, in rather austere gowns of durable white duck.
Both men and women wore their hair cropped short, in not-unbecoming style, and wore small
medallions on their left shoulders. They passed close to Glinnes and he realized that they were
not off-worlders after all, but Trills . . . Students at a doctrinaire academy? Members of a
religious order? Either case was possible, for they carried books, calculators, and seemed to be
engaged in earnest discussion. Glumes gave the girls a second appraisal. There was, he thought,
something unappealing about them, which at first he could not define. The ordinary Trill girl
dressed herself in almost anything at hand, without over-anxiety that it might be rumpled or
threadbare or soiled, and then made herself gay with flow-prs These eirls looked not only clean,
but fastidious as well.
Too clean, too fastidious . . . Glinnes shrugged and returned to the ferry.
The ferry moved on into the heart of the fens, along waterways dank with the scent of still
water, decaying reedstalks, and occasionally a hint of a rich fetor, suggesting the presence of
merrling. Ripil Broad appeared ahead, and a cluster of shacks that was Saurkash, the end of the
line for Glinnes; here the ferry veered north for the villages along Great Vole Island. Glinnes
unloaded his cases onto the dock, and for a moment stood looking around the village. The most
prominent feature was the hussade field and its dilapidated old bleachers, once the home-field of
the Saurkash Serpents. Almost adjacent was The Magic Tench, the most pleasant of Saurkash's three
taverns. He walked down the dock to the office where ten years before Milo Harrad had rented boats
and operated a water-taxi.
Harrad was nowhere to be seen. A young man whom Glinnes did not know sat dozing in the shade.
"Good day, friend," said Glinnes, and the young man, awaking, turned toward Glinnes a look of mild
reproach. "Can you take me out to Rabendary Island?" "Whenever you like." The young man looked
Glinnes slowly up and down and lurched to his feet "You'd be Glinnes Hulden, unless I'm mistaken."
"Quite right. But I don't remember you." "You'd have no reason to do so. I'm old Harrad's nephew
from Voulash. They call me Young Harrad, and I expect that's what I'll be the rest of my life. I
mind when you played for the Serpents."
"That's some time ago. You've got an accurate memory." "Not all that good. The Huldens have always
been hussade types. Old Harrad talked much of Jut, the best rover Saurkash ever produced, or so
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