Alastor 1716 Wyst by Jack Vance

Author:Jack Vance [Vance, Jack]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-05-14T20:32:15.058000+00:00

�Perhaps you should notify the Connatic.�

�I have already done so.�

�In that case there is nothing to do but wait,� said Jantiff reluctantly. �A message to the Old Groar Tavern will reach me.�

�This is understood.�

Jantiff went out to stand in the wide main street. The weather had changed. Clouds hung heavy and full, like great black udders; huge raindrops struck into the sandy dust Jantiff hunched his shoulders and hurried to the Old Groar. With a confident step he entered the common-room, seated himself at a table, and signaled Voris for a mug of ale.

Fariske, glancing through the kitchen door, saw Jantiff, and approached in a portentous manner. �Jantiff, I am vexed with you.�

Jantiff looked up in wonder. �What have I done?�

�You are supplying percebs to the Cimmery. This is not conceivably a benefit to me.�

�It is neither a benefit�nor a hindrance. Her patrons eat percebs like your own. If I failed to supply them, someone else would do so.�

�Using my buckets, my pry-bars, my forceps?�

Jantiff contrived a negligent laugh. �Really, a trivial mat�ter. The equipment is not damaged. I reserve all the best coronels for the Old Groar. No matter what fault your pa�trons may find, they will always say: Fariske�s percebs, at least, are superior to those at the Cimmery.� So why do you complain?�

�Because I had hoped for your loyalty!�

�That you have, naturally.�

�Then why do I hear that you are about to paint that ram�shackle old place, so that it presents an impression of sanitary conditions?�

�I will do the same for the Old Groar, if you will pay my wage.�

Fariske heaved a sigh. �So that is how the wind blows. How much does Madame pay?�

�The exact amount is confidential. I will make a general statement to the effect that forty ozols is quite a decent sum.�

Fariske jerked around in astonishment. �Forty ozols? From old Tchaga, who carries every dinket she has ever owned strapped to the inside of her legs?�

�Remember,� said Jantiff, �I am an expert at the craft!�

�How can I remember something you never told me?�

�You gave me hardly enough time to clear my throat, much less describe my talents to you.�

�Bah!� muttered Fariske. �Forty ozols is an outrageous sum, just for a bit of daubing.�

�How would you like a series, of ten decorative plaques to hang on your walls, at five owls each? Or for six owls I will use silver-gilt accentuations. It will put the Cimmery to shame.�

Fariske made a cautious counter-proposal and the discus�sion proceeded. Meanwhile Booch came into the tavern with a number of burly young men: farmhands, fishermen, lab�orers and the like. They seated themselves, commanded ale and discussed their affairs in boisterous voices. Jantiff could not evade their conversation: ��with my four� wurgles through the Sych��

��out to Wamish Water; that�s where the creatures col�lect!�

�Careful, Booch! Remember the yellows!�

�No fear: I�ll get none in my mouth!�

At last Jantiff complained to Fariske. �What are those people shouting about?�

�They�re off for a bit of witch chasing. Booch is famously keen.�

�Witch-chasing? To what end?�

Fariske considered the group over his shoulder.

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