Son of the Tree by Jack Vance

Author:Jack Vance [Vance, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2010-05-14T20:32:35+00:00

The ship's doctor said, "There—it's not too bad. You'll have the two scars for awhile but they shouldn't be too noticeable."

Joe examined his reflection in the mirror—his bruised chin, the plastered nose. "Well—I've still got a nose."

"You've still got a nose," the doctor agreed woodenly. "Lucky I got you in time. I've had some experience with that powder. It's a hormone promoting the growth of skin. If it hadn't been removed, the splits would be permanent and you'd have three flaps on your face."

"You understand," said Joe, "this was an accident. I wouldn't want to trouble the captain with any report and I hope you won't."

The doctor shrugged, turned, put away his equipment. "Strange accident."

Joe returned to the saloon. The Cils were learning the game with the colored bars, chatting gaily with the Mangs. The Druid missionaries, heads together, were performing some intricate ritual at their portable altar. Hableyat was spread comfortably on a couch, examining his fingernails with every evidence of satisfaction. The door from Elfane's cabin opened, Manaolo stepped out, swung easily along the balcony, down the steps. He gave Joe an expressionless glance, turned up toward the promenade.

Joe settled beside Hableyat, felt his nose tenderly. "It's still there."

Hableyat nodded composedly. "It will be as good as new in a week or two. These Beland medics are apt, very apt. Now on Kyril, where doctors are nonexistent, the man of the Laity would apply a poultice of some vile material and the wound would never heal.

"You will notice a large number of the Laity with tri-cleft noses. Next to killing it is a favorite Druid punishment." He surveyed Joe from under half-closed lids. "You seem to be rather less exercised than would be permissible under the circumstances."

"I'm not pleased."

"Let me cite you a facet of Druid psychology," said Hableyat. "In Manaolo's mind the infliction of the wound terminated the matter. It was the final decisive act in the quarrel between you two. On Kyril the Druids act without fear of retaliation in the name of the Tree. It gives them a peculiar sense of infallibility. Now, I mention this merely to point out that Manaolo will be surprised and outraged if you pursue the matter farther."

Joe shrugged.

Hableyat said in a querulous voice, "You say nothing, you make no threats, you voice no anger."

Joe smiled a rather thin smile. "I haven't had time for much but amazement. Give me time."

Hableyat nodded.

"Ah, I see. You were shocked by the attack."

"Very much so."

Hableyat nodded again, a series of wise little jerks that set his dewlaps quivering. "Let us change the subject then. Now your description of the European pre-Christian Druids interests me."

"Tell me something," said Joe. "What is that pot that all the fuss is about? Some kind of message or formula or military secret?"

Hableyat's eyes widened. "Message? Military secret? What are these? No, my dear fellow, to the best of my knowledge the pot is merely an honest pot and the plant an honest plant."

"Why the excitement then? And why

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