Ports of Call Page 7

  “Certainly, sir,” said Fassig, with easy good humor. He straightened, winked at Chief Mate Atwyn and sauntered away.

  The Glodwyn landed at Port Tanjee terminal. Myron immediately confronted Marko Fassig. “Sir, as of this moment you are discharged. I find that we have no need for a purser aboard the Glodwyn. Take your belongings and leave the ship at once!”

  Marko Fassig pulled at his mustache, lifted his eyebrows into quizzical arches, then shrugged. “That is your option, Captain Tany, and I make no protest. Five minutes will be enough. I shall wish Dame Hester a happy voyage, and then I shall be off the ship.”

  An hour later Myron Tany, still wearing his captain’s uniform, stood forlorn and alone outside the terminal, his great-aunt’s rebukes still echoing in his ears. The suitcase at his feet contained his belongings; Dame Hester had allowed him sufficient funds to buy his passage home to Vermazen. As she concluded her remarks, she told him: “Myron, you were given your chance, but you failed miserably! You quite lost touch with reality. You are a dreamer, an allegorist and — dare I say? — something of a moon-calf. My advice is this: return to your home; study another four years at the Institute, then go to work with your father at the Exchange. That, so I believe, is your métier, and where you will earn whatever success life has to offer you.”

  Chapter III

  1

  Myron noticed a uniformed official, middle-aged, extremely neat and erect, standing about fifty feet away. He seemed interested in Myron and his conduct. Odd! thought Myron. Why was the man so alert?

  Myron turned away, and surveyed the landscape. A boulevard led from the terminal to the center of town, with a line of trees to either side. Myron recognized the trees from their description in the Handbook; these were the famous cloudtrees of Taubry: enormous masses of billowing gray foam clutched in black tendrils, towering high into the air like small thunderheads.

  Myron looked over his shoulder. The official had not changed his position. His manner seemed curious rather than hostile. Still, the attention was disconcerting. Once again Myron adopted the role of an innocent tourist and pretended to study the landscape. The scenery, for a fact, was pleasant and, so Myron noted, both neat and orderly, without a weed or a scrap of litter to be seen. A few small vehicles moved slowly and carefully along the boulevard. Cloudtrees reared overhead, the foam swaying and slipping to the touch of the soft afternoon breeze. At no great distance the boulevard opened into a plaza. The buildings within Myron’s range of vision were constructed to a similar architecture: complex, florid, at times almost rococo, with high-pitched roofs and many dormers. The materials were uniform: dark timber, terra cotta, tinted glass in tall narrow windows. The folk of Port Tanjee, thought Myron, had definite ideas as to how they wanted their town to look.

  Myron darted a glance toward the official. He stood as before, watching with bland vigilance. Myron’s patience wore thin. He swung about intending to demand an explanation, but the official bestirred himself and slowly approached, halting at a respectful distance of three yards. Myron was able to read the legend embossed on his badge. It read: PUBLIC MONITOR.

  Myron spoke sharply: “Why are you watching me with such suspicion?”

  “No suspicion, sir; merely ordinary interest. I take it that you are a newcomer to Port Tanjee?”

  “I have only just arrived.”

  The monitor indicated the pamphlet which Myron had received in the terminal and which he still held in his hand. “You have studied the Advisory, sir?”

  “No; not yet.” Myron glanced at the pamphlet. “It seems to be a brochure of some kind.”

  “True. It is a valuable reference and the maps will guide you about the town. There is an interesting historical survey, and a summary of certain local regulations, with which you should become familiar. We are an orderly folk at Port Tanjee. Our off-world visitors naturally follow the same rules.”

  “Naturally.”

  “Just so. The Advisory will make you aware of our special customs, which you should keep in mind. For instance —” he pointed to the suitcase which Myron had placed on the sidewalk “— I believe that you were about to abandon that object so that it became an article of litter?”

  Myron asked incredulously, “Is that why you were watching me so carefully?”

  “It is my duty to apprehend miscreants in the full flush of their guilt.”

  Myron controlled his annoyance — with an effort, since today his disposition had already been severely tried. He spoke carefully. “That is my suitcase! It contains my belongings! I need them. They are important to me.”

  The monitor shrugged. “The facts suggest otherwise. It is a very small case, and you have placed it where it might have escaped notice.”

  “The suitcase is small because I have few possessions. If I owned more things I would carry a larger case. I set it down when I came out upon the street, because I did not want to hold it suspended in the air while I looked about the surroundings. When I decide to move on, I will definitely retrieve the suitcase.”

  “Aha! That seems straightforward enough!” said the monitor heartily. “All is explained. Still, I recommend that you study the Advisory. It defines areas of approved and disapproved conduct, and you should definitely know the difference.”

  “I will read the ‘Advisory’ as soon as possible. Can you direct me to an inexpensive hotel, of good quality?”

  The official rubbed his chin. “Your requirements contradict each other; still, I suggest the Rambler’s Rest, as a reasonable compromise. I might mention that it is not considered polite to haggle.”

  “Oh? Suppose the landlord asks an exorbitant rate?”

  “Then you merely bow and go your way. The landlord may take pity and call out a new figure, whereupon you may return or keep walking until the landlord calls out a rate which suits you.”

  “Very well. How do I find the Rambler’s Rest?”

  “Proceed up the boulevard to the plaza. Turn right, up Fimrod Lane and you will come upon the Rambler’s Rest.”

  “Thank you.” Myron took up his suitcase with exaggerated care, and set off up the boulevard. For a moment or two his mind reverted to the Glodwyn, to his Aunt Hester and the obnoxious Marko Fassig. Resolutely he put the thoughts from his mind; rancor was a useless emotion; it would restrict his activity and muddle his thoughts. At some time in the future, if and when conditions allowed, he would give serious attention to the righting of wrongs, but at the moment such hopes were visionary. They would not be forgotten, he promised himself.

  Myron arrived at the plaza. Looking around, he saw shops, markets, agencies, several restaurants and cafés, and to his left, across the plaza, a row of what seemed to be cages. Trees lined the plaza and grew behind the structures: for the most part cloudtrees supporting nimbuslike masses of grey foam.

  Myron turned up Fimrod Lane and presently came upon the Rambler’s Rest: a large two-storied structure under a roof of many ridges and steep-sided gables. He entered a loggia panelled in strips of varnished wood, where he was met by a stout middle-aged woman wearing a voluminous gown of flowing green fabric. She listened impassively as Myron explained his needs; then, wasting no words, she took him to a neat room with adjoining bath on the second floor. Myron found the premises satisfactory but before he could start negotiating the price she took three sols from him for three nights rent and marched silently from the room. Myron looked after her, nonplussed. He had been too slow; the time had come and gone. Myron turned away; perhaps next time he would do better. He seated himself in a chair beside the window, and took stock of his situation. His options were so limited as to merit no serious consideration. With funds at hand he could pay for his passage home — a safe, sensible, if somewhat inglorious, program. The single alternative was to find a job aboard a passing spaceship, as a steward or a cook; he lacked technical skills for anything better, notwithstanding his degree in Cosmology.

  Myron sighed. His expertise was profound, but focussed in the wrong directi
on. Still it would do no harm to make inquiries at the terminal. Even if the effort proved fruitless, he could return to Salou Sain with a clear conscience.

  Local time was middle afternoon. Myron decided to stroll down to the plaza, but first it might be wise to acquaint himself with the Advisory. He picked up the pamphlet, which was entitled:

  – ADVISORY –

  Happy Welcome to Our Visitors!

  Herein: a friendly whisper as to our world,

  our rules and our regulatory measures,

  including a schedule of penalties.

  WE HOPE THAT THIS ADVISORY WILL FOSTER THE JOY

  AND DELIGHT OF THE TRAVELLER!

  On the first page Myron found a preface, which read:

  Welcome to our world of wonder! Taubry, so you will discover, includes regions of inspiring natural beauty. The contrasts are profound! Two of the three continents, Farst and Wints, while of great interest, are accessible only to special expeditions, by reason of natural dangers and often savage fauna. The casual visitor, nevertheless, will be thrilled and excited by the wonders of the third continent Liro, where conditions for the most part are salubrious and comfortable. The local inhabitants, despite their picturesque differences, are more often than not congenial and kind.

  Port Tanjee, Melanchrino and Semmerin are urban centers of highly sophisticated culture, ranking with facilities to be found elsewhere. The visitor should ignore thoughts of parsimony and attempt to explore each and every canton of Liro, in order to enjoy the rich diversity of custom and costume, not to mention the unfamiliar and often exotic foods, all nourishing despite appearance. But — is it not true? One eats with tongue and teeth, not eyes! Pay no heed to expense; each canton provides an ambience of felicitous interest, which will linger long in the memory.

  Port Tanjee is the principal city, and offers all needful facilities, while the Museum of Non-motile Amphibian Carapaces ranks with any to be found elsewhere.

  The visitor to Port Tanjee will be impressed by the order and logic of all arrangements, though he will never be stifled by regimentation. Each visitor may conduct himself with full personal franchise, since our philosophy presupposes personal will and responsibility. At Port Tanjee there are no accidents; for every occurrence a sponsor exists, and if you suffer injury or inconvenience of any kind, be assured that the perpetrator will be identified and subjected to a penitential procedure.

  The word ‘offense’ includes acts of both positive and negative volition. The same regulations apply to all — even to you, yourself, though we are loath to indicate these unpleasant things to a careful and genteel tourist.

  Nevertheless, to assist the visitor, below is a general summary of the more ordinary rules of conduct. The explicit statutes are delineated in Sections II and III. Please thoroughly familiarize yourself with this Advisory. Below is a short summary of the civil proscriptions:

  Distribute no litter, nor articles extraneous to the ordinary condition of the landscape. Cause no disorder; indite no signs, symbols, messages, instructions, exhortations, advice or condemnation in a place public or private, including the walls adjacent to public or private commodes.

  Cause no ugly blemishes or eyesores, anywhere. If you come upon litter, trash, blemish or eyesore, the regulation requires that you mitigate the offensive condition.

  Do not expectorate at random. Do not inappropriately void bowels or bladder; use designated receptacles. Do not perform an indiscreet flatulence except in designated areas. Make no loud, unpleasant or unreasonable noises; play no offensive music from a mechanical device; display no prurient images.

  While dealing with shopkeepers a special code of gentility is suggested. Refrain from inciting confrontations with service personnel. If the prices are beyond your means, depart. Do not berate or plead; do not scorn the merchandise as if it were mean and worthless. Do not haggle; that is not our way. To ensure the good opinion of the shopkeeper, pay his price with casual grandeur and aristocratic style. Such behavior will enhance the self-esteem of everyone concerned.

  In regard to public conduct: obey the advice of the civic monitors.

  If you are taken into custody, you will be judged by the nearest magistrate. He will immediately impose the penalty, which ordinarily will be fair and mild. Trivial misdeeds incur confinement in one of the cages at the eastern edge of the plaza, for one-half day, one day, or longer. More serious offenses may require a session of work therapy in the quarries. It is to be hoped that such information will be of purely abstract interest to visitors.

  Our recommendations are succinct! The three affirmatives are: Be prudent! Be correct! Be munificent!

  The three negatives are: Mulct no one! Pain no one! Inconvenience no one!

  A few wise suggestions: Attempt sexual interaction with circumspection. Certain conduct is considered a non-revocable offer of marriage.

  Inebriation may be illegal, since only properly taxed liquors may legally be consumed! Always demand to see the tax certificate before imbibing! Or perhaps you will prefer our fruitwaters, which are tasty!

  Visitors will find exhilarating entertainment at Port Tanjee! Gaze with eager enjoyment upon the artistic arrangements in the park! Participate in the nice society and graceful dancing in the houses of public entertainment. These are rated by Categories I, II and III. At Category I houses, children and sensitive girls may foregather without fear of embarrassment. At Category II houses, mature men and women may indulge in serious conversation, and often will exchange jocularities. At Category III houses, the atmosphere is sometimes a trifle loose. Working spacemen are at ease. The ale is of good quality and ladies are generally less offended by frank and cordial conversation. There is general tolerance of universalities

  Above is an indication of our philosophy of life. It celebrates quiet joy and the precepts of propriety. Anyone, including tourists and visitors, may spend money without fear or stint; and no one will utter accusations of arrogance! Spend lavishly! Enjoy Port Tanjee to the fullest! We welcome you!

  The next pages set forth the legal code of Port Tanjee in detail. There was also a description of the thirteen cantons which comprise the continent Liro.

  Myron put aside the Advisory and changed from his captain’s uniform into the ordinary garments worn by spacemen everywhere across the Gaean Reach: dark trousers loose at the thigh, gathered at the ankle and tucked into short black boots; a long-sleeved shirt of soft dark blue material, a loose-crowned black cap.

  Myron left the hotel and strolled down Fimrod Lane to the plaza, where he paused to take stock of his surroundings. The precisely spaced trees, disproportionately tall, dominated the plaza. The trees, the dark timber structures, the odd clarity of the air: they created in Myron a hallucinatory perception. He felt that he was looking at a model stage setting, or perhaps a child’s miniature village. He blinked his eyes and the illusion vanished.

  At a nearby café Myron ordered tea and biscuits. Relaxing in the afternoon sunlight, he dismissed his troubles and watched the folk of Port Tanjee as they moved about their affairs. They approximated the standard Gaean physical type, though Myron thought to see a tendency toward stocky torsos, round faces with prominent cheek-bones, square jaws, and short snub noses, with hair generally dark brown ranging to near-black, with no blond hair whatever. The Port Tanjee costumes were not particularly distinctive except for the headgear. The men wore flat quadricorn hats of stiff material, dark blue, dark green or black, pulled squarely down across their foreheads. The women wore elaborate headgear which they had fabricated from starched napkins of several colors folded and pleated together — some marvels of intricate construction.

  Myron studied passing girls with special interest, wondering as to their amiability. They carried themselves with a lively energy, the younger girls bouncing and half-trotting to the force of their vitality. Some of them Myron found sufficiently attractive that he tried to remember pertinent provisions in the Advisory. Most of the girls and women, however, failed to excite his admirat
ion, by reason of their hair styling, which decreed large puffs or large fluff-balls over and to the side of each ear. Myron was also put off by a general air of complacence and self-satisfaction, most noticeable among the prettiest girls, as if each had just consumed a large bowl of strawberries and cream to which she knew she was not entitled. When they glanced toward Myron, they noticed first his sleek blond hair, which inevitably prompted them to assess him more closely, followed by an ineffable purse of the lips and a slight arch of the eyebrows before looking away, as if to communicate their suspicion of spacemen and off-worlders in general.

  Oh well, thought Myron, even if I wanted to, I’d never dare to say ‘Boo’, for fear of a day in the cage; or worse, finding myself married.

  Myron decided to waste no more time watching the girls. The afternoon was drawing to an end. The sun had dropped behind the trees. Myron left the café and crossed the plaza to where he could look over the cages. As he drew near, he noticed that in the middle cage a young man of about his own age sat disconsolately hunched on a bench. Myron approached. The prisoner turned him a surly side-glance. Myron asked politely, “How long will you be in the cage?”

  “I will be freed one hour after sunset.”

  “What did you do?” asked Myron. “I hope you don’t mind my asking.”

  “I don’t mind; what’s it to me, after all? I came in from Birkenhalter with a load of papagonies for the market. One fell off my cart, but I did not notice. A Junior Guardian summoned the inspector who allowed me seven minutes to clean up the litter. I did so, with fourteen seconds to spare. However, four seeds had rolled under a leaf, and these I neglected. The Junior Guardian had been watching and pointed them out to the inspector, who took fifty dinkets from me, by way of penalty. I waited several minutes, then crept up on the Junior Guardian and gave him a whumping. I was taken before the magistrate, who put me into the cage. Now you know as much as I do.”