Servants of the Wankh by Jack Vance

Author:Jack Vance [Vance, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780575109872
Google: ITID_dUelkwC
Amazon: B0063I33M0
Publisher: Gateway
Published: 2011-05-21T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

REITH AWOKE TO Wan sunlight shining through the heavy amber panes of the windows. He lay on the unfamiliar couch, collecting the threads of his existence. It was difficult not to feel a profound gloom. Cath, where he had hoped to find flexibility, enlightenment, and perhaps cooperation, was hardly less harsh an environment than the Aman Steppe. It was obvious folly to dream of building a spaceboat in Settra.

Reith sat up on the couch. He had known horror, grief, disillusionment, but there had been corresponding moments of triumph and hope, even a few spasmodic instants of joy. If he were to die tomorrow-or in twelve days after twelve “touches”—he had already lived a miraculous life. Very well then, he would put his destiny to the test. Helsse had predicted his departure from Cath; Helsse had read the future, or Reith’s own personality, more accurately than Reith himself.

Breakfasting with Traz and Anacho he described his adventures of the previous evening. Anacho found the circumstances perturbing. “This is an insane society, constrained by punctilio as a rotten egg is held by its shell. Whatever your aims-and sometimes I think that you are the most flamboyant lunatic of all—they will not be achieved here.”

“I agree.”

“Well then,” said Traz, “what next?”

“What I plan is dangerous, perhaps rash folly. But I see no other alternative. I intend to ask Cizante for money; this we shall share. Then I think it best that we separate. You, Traz, might do worse than to return to Wyness, and there make a life for yourself. Perhaps Anacho will do the same. Neither of you can profit by coming with me; in fact, I guarantee the reverse.”

Anacho looked off across the square. “Until now you have managed to survive, if precariously. I find myself curious as to what you hope to achieve. With your permission, I will join your expedition, which I suspect is by no means as desperate as you make it out to be.”

“I intend to confiscate a Wankh spaceship from the Ao Hidis spaceport, or elsewhere, if it seems more convenient.”

Anacho threw his hands in the air. “I feared no less.” He proceeded to state a hundred objections which Reith did not trouble to contradict. “All very true; I will end my days in a Wankh dungeon or a nighthound’s belly; still this is what I intend to attempt. I strongly urge that you and Traz make your way to the Isles of Cloud and live as best you may.”

“Bah,” snorted Anacho. “Why won’t you attempt some reasonable exploit, like exterminating the Pnume, or teaching the Chasch to sing?”

“I have other ambitions.”

“Yes, yes, your faraway planet, the home of man. I am tempted to help you, if only to demonstrate your lunacy.”

“As for me,” said Traz, “I would like to see this far world. I know it exists, because I saw the spaceboat in which Adam Reith arrived.”

Anacho inspected the youth with eyebrows raised. “You have not mentioned this previously.”

“You never asked.”

“How might such an absurdity enter my mind?”

“A person who calls facts absurdities will often be surprised,” said Traz.

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