Emphyrio by Jack Vance

Author:Jack Vance [Vance, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Tags: SciFi-Masterwork, Science Fiction, General, Fiction, American, Adventure, Men's Adventure
ISBN: 9781857988857
Publisher: I Books
Published: 1969-01-01T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter XI

The ride along the Insse was pleasant. The Overtrend cars slid on magnetic cushions without jar or sound; through the windows the Insse reflected back the sunlight. From time to time thickets of willow or horsewhistle intervened, or banks of sponge-tree or black-web. To the other side were pastures where biloa birds grazed.

Ghyl sat back, lost in reverie. It was time, he thought, to broaden his life, to take in more territory. Perhaps here was the reason he had so readily accepted Floriel’s invitation. Schute Cobol would certainly disapprove. A fig for Schute Cobol. If only it were easier to travel, to achieve some measure of financial independence…

The car halted at Grigglesby Corners; Ghyl alighted, received his bag from the ejector. What a pleasant spot! he thought. Enormous sad-apple trees towered above the brown buildings of the little depot and store, the yellow-green foliage streaming in the smoky sunlight, filling the air with a pleasant acrid scent.

Ghyl walked back along the riverbank on a cushion of old leaves. Along the other shore a dark-haired girl in a white frock lazily paddled a skiff; she saw him watching; she smiled and waved her hand; then the current eased her around a bend and into a dark little inlet, away from sight. It was as if never, never, had a girl in a white dress floated along the sunlit river…Ghyl shook his head, grinned at his own vagaries.

He continued along the bank, and presently came to a trestle leading through the reeds to a pale blue cottage under a water-cherry tree.

Ghyl walked out along the precarious planks, to a porch overlooking the river. Here sat Floriel in white shorts, and a cool pretty blonde girl whom Ghyl saw to be Sonjaly Rathe. She nodded, smiled with simulated enthusiasm; Floriel jumped to his feet. “So you’ve arrived! Good to see you. Bring your bag on in; I’ll show you where to chuck your gear.”

Ghyl was assigned a small chamber overlooking the river with yellow-brown ripples of light coursing across the ceiling. He changed to loose light clothes and went out to the porch. Floriel thrust a goblet of punch into his hand, indicated a sling chair. “Now, simply relax! Laze! Something you recipients never know how to do. Always striving, cringing when the delegate points his dirty fingernail at a flaw! Not for me!”

“Not for me either,” sighed Sonjaly, snuggling against Floriel, with an enigmatic glance toward Ghyl.

“Not for me either,” confessed Ghyl, “if I knew how to live otherwise.”

“Go noncup!”

“What if I did? All I know is carving screens. Where would I sell? Certainly not to the Guild. It looks after its own.”

“There are ways, there are ways!”

“No doubt. I don’t care to steal.”

“It all depends,” stated Sonjaly, with the air of one reciting a liturgy, “from whom one steals.”

“I regard the lords as fair game,” said Floriel. “And perhaps a few other portly institutions as well.”

“The lords, yes,” said Ghyl, “or almost yes, at any rate. I’d have to consider each case on its merits.

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