The Magnificent Showboats Page 7

  “Safe aboard the gig, sir, stowed in the forward cuddy.”

  “Very well.”

  The boats rounded a bend; Zamp took a last glance over his shoulder. Whants, rather than pursuing in their own boats, had paused to plunder the sinking ship; Zamp could see their dark shapes jumping with simian agility back and forth in front of the flames.

  The riverbank obscured his vision; Miraldra’s Enchantment was no more than a flickering glare in the sky and presently even this was gone.

  Chapter VI

  All night the boats drifted down-river, rowing from time to time, the better to out-distance any Whants who might be pursuing.

  At dawn the boats put ashore on a sandy river bar, to facilitate the stepping of masts and yards. Bonko built a fire, at which the troupe toasted sand-crawlers while the crew rigged the four boats.

  Zamp noticed Damsel Blanche-Aster sitting with her bundle beside her and bethought himself of his pouch in the forward cuddy. It demonstrated a most gratifying weight, and Zamp stowed it again, more securely.

  Returning to the beach he noticed that a number of crew-members had gathered around Bonko, each seeming to make some insistent point. A few yards along the beach, the performers and musicians of the troupe were engaged in a similarly intense discussion.

  A moment later Bonko and Viliweg the Master of Miracles presented themselves before Zamp. Viliweg spoke. “A rather interesting point has been raised by certain artists of the troupe —”

  “And also by members of the crew,” said Bonko, who still wore the executioner’s costume.

  “— to the effect,” continued Viliweg, “that once we reach Lanteen, a degree of confusion and flux will ensue and conceivably, through some error, salaries and wages might not be paid.”

  Bonko said: “The crew also feels that now is as good a time as any to settle up accounts, so that when we arrive at Lanteen, no one need be inconvenienced.”

  Viliweg endorsed the remark. “The effort of searching out so many individuals at Lanteen in order to render to each his wage would be a most unfair vexation for a man already burdened with concern.”

  Zamp looked from one to the other in amazement. “I can hardly believe my ears! Return to your people and announce that my first and most urgent task is the acquisition of a new boat, so that all may once more be secure in their careers. With this concept in mind, I propose to retain the ship’s monies in trust for all of us.”

  Viliweg cleared his throat. “Several members of the troupe predicted that you would entertain such ambitions. I agree that they are altruistic; unfortunately they are also visionary, and in short each member of the troupe requires his or her iron now.”

  “The crew,” said Bonko, “holds to a similar point of view.”

  Zamp shook his head in vexation. “This attitude is so crass! Have we lost all sense of common purpose? Only by working together and perhaps sacrificing together can we achieve our goals!”

  Viliweg spoke in a kindly voice. “This program wins my support, but it must be implemented in the following manner. Each person will now receive his total remuneration, plus a hardship bonus and compensation for the loss of his personal effects. Then, when opportunity presents itself, we will again join our funds and our unique talents, to the advantage of all. No other procedure is possible.”

  Zamp made an angry gesture. “I never thought to encounter such sordid and self-defeating obstinacy! The taverns at Lanteen will be the only ones to profit. Still, if you persist in your folly, I am forced to oblige you. I must mention in passing that when I select personnel for my new boat I will not be moved by sentiment or loyalty based on previous association.”

  “These events are still but dream-wisps in the mind of the Great Web-weaver,” declared Viliweg. “Pay out the iron.”

  “Very well,” said Zamp in a sullen voice. “Form a line in single file. Viliweg, you will be so good as to prepare a joint acknowledgement of payment, which each individual will sign as he or she receives his wages.”

  “Gladly,” said the magician. “I believe that among my effects I carry paper and a stylus.”

  “One final remark,” said Zamp. “Mention was made of ‘bonuses’ and ‘compensation for losses’. At this time I can undertake no such extravagance. Employment terminated last evening, upon the stroke of Bonko’s axe; payment shall be made only to this moment.”

  Zamp’s declaration was not popular, and awoke considerable protest, which he ignored. Boarding the gig, he put ashore a bench to use for a counting table, then from the cuddy took his leather pouch, and jumped back to the beach.

  “Very well,” he called. “One at a time, approach, receive your iron, sign the document, and move aside. Do not attempt to rejoin the line, if you please. Complaints or disputes must be deferred until we reach Lanteen. Who is first: you, Viliweg?”

  “Yes; since I will be supervising the signatures, it is most efficient that I be paid first. You owe me for precisely two months, four days, eleven hours and sixteen minutes.”

  “What!” cried Zamp. “What nonsense is this! Have you forgotten the advance of thirty-three groats made to you at Lanteen?”

  “Thirteen groats,” roared Viliweg in return. “I asked for fifty; you claimed that you could only spare thirteen from the petty cash.”

  “Not so! You also owe for a chit on ship’s stores for approximately eleven groats, which I must deduct. Also —”

  “A moment, a moment!” cried Viliweg. “Indeed I drew upon ship’s stores for a pot of hair pomade, a blanket for my bed and a carton of preserved figs. All these have been destroyed in the fire; I have had neither use nor enjoyment of these items!”

  Zamp shook his head decisively. “The debt exists. Also, you have miscalculated the span of time subject to remuneration by three weeks and four days. I find that I owe you, in round figures, the sum of sixty-seven groats. Please sign the document.”

  Viliweg raised his clenched hands into the air. Accustomed to excesses of artistic temperament, Zamp paid no heed. Opening his pouch in a business-like manner, he poured forth the contents upon the bench, the contents consisting of six heavy stones.

  Zamp gazed down in consternation, then rose slowly to his feet. He looked down the line of folk waiting for their pay. Near the end stood Chaunt the steward.

  Zamp called out: “Chaunt, be so good as to step this way.”

  Chaunt came forward. “Yes, sir, what is the trouble?”

  “When I handed this pouch down to you it contained five pounds of iron. Now I find only stones. How do you explain this situation?”

  Chaunt’s face expressed bewilderment. “I have no explanation whatever! I handed the bag to the juggler Barnwick and asked him to stow it in the cuddy —”

  “I never handled the pouch!” declared Barnwick sharply. “You are mistaken!”

  “Well, it was either you or someone similar,” said Chaunt. “In the darkness and confusion I might well be mistaken.”

  “Chaunt, bring forward the case you are carrying. I wish to inspect the contents.”

  Chaunt made a mulish refusal. “I decline on two counts: first, I am a man of honor and I do not care to have my veracity questioned. Secondly, the case contains my life savings, which an unreasonable man might identify as the missing iron.”

  Zamp reflected a moment. The concept of the wastrel Chaunt possessing savings of any kind was absurd. On the other hand, if he now undertook to regain his iron, he must instantly pay it out to see the coin lost once and for all. The time and place to deal with Chaunt was Lanteen. He spoke to the erstwhile troupe and crew. “My funds have been pre-empted. I am temporarily unable to satisfy your demands. I suggest that, rather than deploring our misfortunes, we pool our assets, both of talent and funds, in order to renew our destinies. Meanwhile, let us now proceed to Lanteen before the Whants find us here on the beach.”

  “Not so fast,” said Chaunt. “I have my paltry savings, true, but I also want my pay. What, may I ask, bulges your pockets out t
o such an extent?”

  “A few personal effects,” said Zamp.

  “Jewels and iron from your case?”

  “They must be shared!” declared Viliweg. “Give them into the custody of a faithful trustee, such as Bonko or myself, and at Lanteen we will distribute the proceeds.”

  “By no means,” said Zamp and stood back, fingers hooked in his waistband, convenient to his snapples. “My trinkets are my own. To the boats!”

  Without enthusiasm the troupe resumed their places, all except Chaunt. Zamp called: “Are you coming?”

  “I think not,” said Chaunt. “The motion of the boat makes me uneasy. I will walk the riverbank to Lanteen; it is only a few miles.”

  “I will stay and keep Chaunt company,” said Bonko, and jumped ashore.

  “Whatever you like,” said Zamp, and pushed off from the beach.

  Chaunt called out in sudden concern: “On second thought I think I will ride the boat.”

  Someone cried: “Here come the Whants! They ride along the bank!”

  “Out oars!” yelled Zamp. “Row for your lives! Hoist the sails!”

  Along the banks pounded a troop of Whants bent low over their black horses, cloaks flapping behind them. Bonko and Chaunt fled along the bank, but were overtaken and cut down. The Whants fitted arrows to their short bows but the boats had gained the center of the river past effective range.

  For an hour the Whants rode along the bank beside the boats, then saw no profit in the exercise and returned the way they had come.

  Thrust along both by the current and a fair wind the boats moved at speed, and just at dusk sailed into Lanteen.

  All the showboats had departed the town, save only Fironzelle’s Golden Conceit. Tonight it glowed with a multitude of lights, as Garth Ashgale played an entertainment before a large audience. Rancor rose in Zamp’s throat sour as bile. He hunched down on the seat. Useless now to curse or revile, but someday the tables would be turned!

  The boats tied up to the dock; the bedraggled company clambered ashore and stood uncertainly, looking to Zamp for guidance.

  Zamp spoke in a dispirited voice: “We must go our own ways. I am a ruined man; I can offer neither advice nor encouragement, except to suggest that all make their way to Coble by the best means possible and perhaps someday we will again sail the Vissel. The troupe is now dissolved.”

  “Where do you go?”

  Zamp turned away. Damsel Blanche-Aster stood waiting for him. Zamp heaved a melancholy sigh. Could it be that his adversity had aroused a pang of sympathy within her chilly bosom? If so, Zamp was in the mood to be comforted. He took up her bundle of belongings. “Where do you wish to go?”

  Zamp considered. “The Green Star Inn at the end of the esplanade is a roisterer’s hangout, but inexpensive. It will serve my present purposes.”

  “It will serve mine as well.”

  Zamp, at this most dismal hour of his life, felt a glimmer of cheer. He said delicately: “I have salvaged a few valuables from the ruins: enough to see us to Coble, and I am more than willing to share with you.”

  “I have funds sufficient for my needs.”

  Zamp shrugged and blew out his cheeks. She was a skittish one for certain.

  They set out along the esplanade. As they passed the Jolly Glassblower an enticing odor of barbecued meat came forth to tantalize them. Unfortunately, the Jolly Glassblower sold its food dear; at the Green Star Inn a bowl of stew with a crust and a draught of swamp-root beer could be had for a tenth the cost.

  The esplanade ended; a walkway supported on crooked stilts led across tide* flats to the Green Star Inn: an erratic structure built of old planks, driftwood, warped bottles from the glass-works. On the verandah four men sat with their feet on the railing, drinking beer and indulging in coarse talk. They became silent as Zamp and Damsel Blanche-Aster, crossing the verandah, entered the inn, then fell to muttering to each other.

  * Solar tides; Big Planet lacks a moon.

  The common room spread wide under an irregular ceiling supported on equally eccentric posts. Lamps in the shape of green stars cast a sickly glow over tables where sat a number of undistinguished folk out for an evening’s entertainment, while in a corner a rather slatternly woman pumped doleful music out of a concertina.

  Zamp approached the bar and signaled to the innkeeper. “We require lodging at least for the night, together with a substantial meal, to be served as soon as possible.”

  “Very good, sir; our choicest room is luckily vacant. And aren’t you Apollon Zamp of the famous showboat?”

  “I am Zamp indeed.”

  The innkeeper came forth from behind the bar. “Along this hall, sir and madame; your room overlooks the river.”

  The room appeared comfortable enough, with a floor of reed mats, a mattress stuffed with tinselweed fluff and a table supporting a ewer of water. An adjacent privy overhung the mud-flats.

  Zamp dropped Damsel Blanche-Aster’s bundle upon the mattress; it fell apart and those garments she had elected to rescue tumbled forth, including an embroidered blue jacket of great richness which Zamp had never seen her wear.

  The innkeeper asked: “Will this do, sir?”

  “Well enough,” said Zamp. “We will be out for our supper in five minutes.”

  The innkeeper departed; Zamp turned to find Damsel Blanche-Aster staring at him. “You do not propose that we share this room?”

  Zamp inspected the room. “It appears clean and comfortable; why not?”

  Damsel Blanche-Aster said frigidly: “I do not wish to share any room whatever with you.”

  Zamp’s disposition had been seriously abraded by events. He flung his hat to the floor, picked up her bundle and thrust it into her arms. “Find your own room. I am bored with your fastidiousness. Go your way and trouble me no further!”

  Damsel Blanche-Aster marched to the door, opened it, then hesitated. She bowed her head and Zamp saw tears. Zamp’s irascibility was usually short-lived; now he maintained a sullen silence: he could not forever be dancing this way and that like a puppet.

  Damsel Blanche-Aster turned back into the room and put her bundle on the floor; she seemed wistful and young and tired to the point of exhaustion. Zamp went forward, took her bundle, set it on a chair, then clasped her in his arms, and despite her horrified expression found her mouth and kissed her. She made neither response nor resistance; Zamp might have been kissing a doll. He stood back in frustration.

  Damsel Blanche-Aster wiped her mouth and finally found words. “Apollon Zamp, I wish to accompany you to Mornune, this is true. But I had hoped that you might curb your lust, or at least focus it upon some person or creature other than myself. I am faced with a dilemma. I do not care to sacrifice either my goals or what you call my fastidiousness.”

  Zamp threw his hands in the air and walked back and forth across the room in long bent-kneed strides. He cried: “Your qualms are frustrating! Am I so ill-favored? Does blood course in your veins, or vinegar? Is life so long that we can afford to postpone a single pleasure?” He went close to her and put his arms around her waist. “Do you not feel a quickening of the pulse, a warmth in some inner region, a delightful weakness in your limbs?”

  “I feel only hunger, fatigue and apathy.”

  Zamp dropped his arms in disgust. “No one can claim of Apollon Zamp that he coerced a woman against her will! However, I do not intend to vacate this room. Share it with me, or find another, at your option.”

  “You may have the mattress. I will sleep on the floor.”

  “Whatever you like. Meanwhile, let us wash our hands and then take our supper.”

  Returning to the common room, they found that most of the old troupe had also arrived at the Green Star Inn and were negotiating for lodging and meals with the innkeeper.

  Supper had been laid for Zamp and Damsel Blanche-Aster: bowls of thick soup, a platter of roasted larks, a pungent stew of herbs, clams and fish, a loaf of pollen-bread: a meal somewhat more lavish than Zamp had expected
but to which he and Damsel Blanche-Aster did full justice. As he ate Zamp expressed his bewilderment and disappointment to Damsel Blanche-Aster. “I am not a man who ordinarily allows emotion to interfere with his intellect; still your conduct distracts me from sober calculation —”

  A hulking shape loomed over the table; it was Ulfimer, captain of the grotesques. “You who claimed poverty and could not pay my salary: here you sit devouring larks while I must sell my boots to buy a dish or two of porridge! Do you wonder at my acrimony?”

  “This is illogical!” declared Zamp heatedly. “You begrudge me a meal: I who lost vessel, iron and all? What have you lost? Only the wage you earned by allowing your appearance to disgust all onlookers.”

  “Do not belittle my abilities!” growled Ulfimer. “Whatever the case, you sit with grease on your chin while I bend double with hunger.”

  “In due course, all will be set right,” said Zamp. Ulfimer hunched away and Zamp once more turned his attention to Damsel Blanche-Aster. “I feel that you mistake the nature of my ardor. I propose, not a sordid little amour, but —”

  Again he was interrupted, this time by the mime girl, Lael-Rosza, who glanced angrily sidewise at Damsel Blanche-Aster as she spoke. “Apollon Zamp, I can no longer restrain my bitterness! You have misused each mime-girl in turn, and what have we gained by such service? Nothing. Here you sit with your new woman, while I and Krissa and Demel and Septine must sell ourselves along the esplanade in order to exist!”

  With an effort Zamp replied in an even voice: “Your language does you no credit. In due course I will command a new vessel, and I plan to rehire all the loyal members of my old troupe.”

  Lael-Rosza, paying no heed, had marched away.

  Zamp heaved a weary sigh. “At the moment my fortunes are at a low ebb,” he told Damsel Blanche-Aster. “They can only ascend. Meanwhile I desperately need your faith and affection. Believe me, we will share the rewards! Meanwhile, tonight for instance, is it too much to ask that —”

  Again someone came to stand over their table; Zamp looked up to see Garth Ashgale. “Aha there, Zamp! I have heard the news of your mishap. My condolences! The catastrophe is felt by all of us!”