Jack Vance by The Blue World

Author:The Blue World
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-06-24T18:24:44+00:00

Chapter 9

Barquan Blasdel the Apprise Intercessor, his spouse and six daughters occupied a pad on the ocean to the north of the main Apprise float, somewhat isolated and apart. It was perhaps the choicest and most pleasant pad of the Apprise complex, situated where Blasdel could read the hoodwink towers of Apprise, of Quatrefoil and The Bandings to the east, of Granolt to the west. The pad was delightfully overgrown with a hundred different plants and vines, some yielding resinous pods, others capsules of fragrant sap, others crisp tendrils and shoots. Certain shrubs produced stains and pigment; a purple-leaved epiphyte yielded a rich-flavored pith. Other growths were entirely ornamental — a situation not too usual along the floats, where space was at a premium and every growing object weighed for its utility. Along the entire line of floats few pads could compare to that of Barquan Blasdel for beauty, variety of plantings, isolation, and calm.

In late afternoon of the second day after the convocation, Barquan Blasdel returned to his pad. He dropped the painter of his coracle over a stake of carved bone, gazed appreciatively into the west. The sun had just departed the sky, which now glowed with effulgent greens, blues, and, at the zenith, a purple of exquisite purity. The ocean, rippling to the first whispers of the evening breeze, reflected the sky. Blasdel felt surrounded, immersed in color ….

He turned away, marched to his house, whistling between his teeth. In the lagoon were several hundred coracles, perhaps as many as six hundred, loaded with goods: the property of the most perverse and troublesome elements of the floats. On the morrow they would depart, and no more would be heard from them. Ever again. And Blasdel’s whistling became slow and thoughtful.

Although life seemingly flowed smoothly, he had sensed recently the awakening of an uneasiness, a dissatisfaction, which had made itself felt in a hundred different ways. Barquan Blasdel had not been quite so surprised by the attempt upon King Kragen’s life as he professed to be, though for a fact the attempt had approached success more nearly than he would have expected. A clever, unscrupulous fellow, that Sklar Hast. An obstreperous, recalcitrant, skeptical man of great energy, whom Barquan Blasdel was more than happy to have out of the way.

All was working out for the best. Indeed, indeed, indeed! The affair could not have resolved itself more smoothly if he had personally arranged the entire sequence of events! At one stroke all the grumblers, ne’er-do-wells, the covertly insolent, the obstinate hardheads — at one stroke all would disappear, never again to trouble easy and orthodox way of life!

Almost jauntily Barquan Blasdel ambled up the path to his residence: a group of five semidetached huts, screened by the garden from the main float, and so providing a maximum of privacy for Blasdel, his spouse, and six daughters. Blasdel halted. On a bench beside the door sat a man. Twilight murk concealed his face. Blasdel frowned, peered. Intruders upon his private pad were not welcome.

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