Wyst: Alastor 1716 Page 7

  “The place seems deserted,” Uwser muttered. “Notice the fowl roost to the side!”

  “Well then, I’m for being bold,” said Garrace. “They’re all within, gulping down their noon bonter, and here stand we with our mouths open. I accept the unspoken invitation!”

  He stepped out from the forest and advanced upon the lyssum vines, followed by Colcho, Hasken, Vich, Thworn and the others, with Jantiff thoughtfully keeping to the rear. Garrace uttered a startled cry as the ground gave way under his feet; he disappeared from view. The others paused uncertainly, then went forward to peer down at Garrace, where be floundered among sodden brambles. “Get me out of here,” be roared. “Don’t just stand there gaping!”

  “No need to be offensive,” said Thworn. “Here; give me your hand!” He pulled and Garrace was dragged up to solid ground.

  “What a vile trick!” exclaimed Rehilmus. “You might have been seriously hurt!”

  “I’m not at all comfortable,” growled Garrace. “I’m full of thorns and they’ve poured a year’s worth of slops down there. But I’m still for that lyssum, and now I’ll have it for sure.”‘

  “Do be careful!” cried Mandel, another of the girls. “These folk are obviously unfriendly.”

  “And now I’m unfriendly too!” Garrace proceeded toward the vines, testing, the ground ahead of him. After—a moment’s hesitation the others followed.

  Twenty yards short of the vines he stumbled and almost fell. He looked down: “A trip wire!”

  From the farmhouse issued two men, a stout woman and a pair of striplings. They picked up cudgels and one of the boys raised a hatch in the side of the structure. Out rushed four black delps of that sort known as “mouthers.” Baying and moaning, they charged the foragers, followed by the farm folk with their cudgels. With one accord the foragers turned and ran toward the forest, led by Jantiff who had not ventured any great distance into the meadow.

  The slowest of the foragers was the amiable Colcho, who had the misfortune to fall. The delps were upon him, but the farm folk called them off and sent them after the other fugitives while they beat Colcho with their cudgels, until Colcho finally managed to break away, and running faster than ever, gained the relative security of the forest. The delps leapt upon Rehilmus and Ernaly and might have done them damage had not Thworn and Jantiff beaten them away with dead branches.

  The group returned the way they had come. Reaching the fork they found that Colcho had evidently fled in a direction different from their own and was now missing. Everyone called, “Colcho! Colcho! Where are you?” But Colcho failed to reply, and no one felt in any mood to return along the trail looking for him. “He should have stayed with the group,” said Uwser.

  “He had no chance,” Kedidah pointed out. “The farm folk were beating him and he was lucky to get away at all.”

  “Poor Colcho,” sighed Mandel.

  “‘Poor Colcho?’” cried Garrace in outrage. “What about me? I’ve been scratched and stabbed; I’m stinking with nameless muck! I’ve got to do something for myself!”

  “There’s a stream yonder; go bathe,” Thworn suggested. “You’ll feel much better.”

  “Not if I have to get back into these clothes; they’re absolutely befouled.”

  “Well, Jantiff is carrying a spare outfit: you’re about of a size and I’m sure he’ll let you have them. Right, Jantiff? It’s all for one and one for all among the jolly Old Pinkers.”

  Jantiff reluctantly brought the garments from his knapsack, and Garrace went off to bathe.

  Kedidah demanded of Thworn: “What now? Have you any notion of where we are?”

  “Of course. We take the left fork instead of the right; I had a momentary lapse of memory; there’s really no problem.”

  Rehilmus said crossly: “Except that it’s time for wump, and I’m famished. In fact I can’t go another step.”

  “We’re all hungry,” said Hasken. “You’re not really alone.”

  “Yes, I am,” declared Rehilmus. “No one becomes as hungry as I do, because I just can’t function without food.”

  “Oh, the devil,” said Thworn in disgust. “Jantiff, give her a bite or two of gruff, to keep her on her feet.”

  “I’m hungry too,” said Ernaly peevishly.

  “Oh, don’t pout so,” said Rehilmus. “I’ll share with you.”

  Jantiff brought out his four cakes of gruff and placed them upon a stump. “This is all I have. Divide it as you like.”

  Rehilmus and Email’ each took a cake; Thworn and Uwser shared the third; Kedidah and Sunover shared the fourth.

  Garrace returned, from washing in the stream. “Feeling better?” asked Rehilmus brightly.

  ‘To some extent, although I wish Jantiff’s clothes came a size, larger. Still, far better than these befouled rags.” He held them away from him with exaggerated disgust. “I won’t carry them with me; I guess I’ll just leave them here.”

  “Don’t give up good clothes,” Thworn advised. “There’s room in Jantiff’s knapsack, just drop them in.” —

  “That would solve everything,” said Garrace, and he turned to Jantiff. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

  “Quite sure,” said Jantiff in a gloomy voice.

  Thworn rose to his feet. “Everybody ready? Away we go!”

  The foragers set off along the trail, Thworn again in the lead. Presently he made a clenched-fist sign of jubilation and swung around. “This is the trail; I recognized that knob of rock. There’s boater ahead; I smell it from here!”

  “How much farther?’ demanded Rehilmus. “Quite candidly, my feet hurt.”

  “Patience, patience! A few miles farther, over that far ridge. This is my secret place, so everyone must pledge absolute discretion!”

  “Whatever you say. Just show us the boater.”

  “Come along then; don’t delay.”

  The group, enlivened, jogged forward and even sang jocular songs, of gluttony, legendary forages and chwig.

  The countryside became more open as they climbed the slope. At the ridge a vast panorama extended to the south: dark forests, a line of river and a dramatic sky, leaden violet at the horizon, pearl white on high, mottled with shoals of white, gray and black clouds. Jantiff halted to absorb the scene and reached for his pad to make a rough sketch, but his hand encountered Garrace’s dank garments and he gave up the idea.

  The others had gone ahead; Jantiff hurried to catch up. As they, descended the trees grew thickly over the trail.

  Thworn called a halt. “From here on quiet and caution; let’s not create any more fiascos.”

  Sunover, peering ahead, said: “I don’t see anything whatever. Are you sure this is the right trail?”

  “Dead sure. We’re at the far edge of Pamatra Valley, where the best limequats grow, and the river flat-fish cook up sweet as nuts. That’s further south, to be sure, but the first farms are just below us, so caution all. Jantiff, what in the world are you mooning at?”

  “Nothing of consequence: just the lichens on this old log. Notice how the oranges contrast with the blacks and browns!”

  “Charming and quaint, but we can’t spare time for poetic ecstasies .. Onward all, with caution!”

  The foragers proceeded in utter silence: a half-mile, a mile. Once again Rehilmus became restive, but Thworn furiously signaled her to silence. A moment later he brought the group to a halt. “Look yonder now, but don’t let yourselves be seen.”

  “Everyone be vigilant,” Uwser cautioned. “Spy out the trip-wires, pitfalls, electric pounces and other such nuisances.”

  Peering through the trees Jantiff saw another farmstead not a great deal different from the first they had encountered.

  Thworn, Garrace, Uwser and the others conferred, pointing here and there. Then all armed themselves with stout sticks, in the event delps should again be encountered.

  Thworn told the group: “We’ll go quietly yonder, where there don’t seem to be any trip-wires, then make for the fowl-run at th
e rear of the house. So now, keep low to the ground. Good luck and good bonter!”

  He hunched himself almost double and ran off at a curious wobbling shuffle; the others followed. As before Garrace was the boldest. He ventured into the vegetable garden, to pull up the root crops, cramming some in his mouth, some in his pockets. Doble, Vich and Sunover busied themselves at the vatberry arbor, but the season was past and only a few husks remained. Thworn proceeded toward the fowl-run.

  Someone blundered into a trip-wire. A dismal clanking sound issued from a belfry on top of the house. The door opened and out ran an old man, an old woman and a small boy. The old man picked up a stick and attacked Garrace,

  Maudel and Hasken, who were among his radishes; they flung him to the ground and did the same for the old woman. The boy ran into the house and emerged with an axe; flaming-eyed he lunged for the foragers. Thworn raised his voice in a shout: “Everybody off and away, on the double!”

  Snatching up a few last radishes the foragers departed the way they had come, Thworn and Uwser exultant in the possession of a pair of rather thin old fowl, the necks of which they had already wrung.

  The group halted, panting and triumphant in the lane. “We should have stayed longer,” Rehilmus protested. “I saw a really choice melon.”

  “Not with that alarm going! We were away in good time; let’s be gone before their reinforcements arrive. This way down the trail!”

  In a clearing beside a small stream the group halted. Thworn and Uwser plucked and eviscerated the fowl while Garrace built a fire; the meat was skewered upon sharp sticks and toasted.

  Kedidah looked this way and that. “Where is Jantiff?” No one seemed interested.

  “He seems to have gotten lost,” said Rehilmus.

  Garrace glanced down the path. “Nowhere in sight. He’s back there somewhere gazing raptly at an old stump.”

  “Well, no great loss,” said Thworn. “So much more for the rest of us.”

  The foragers began their feast.

  “Ali! This is good stuff!” declared Garrace. “We should do this more often.”

  “Ah!” sighed Rehilmus. “Marvelous! Throw a few of those radishes this way; they’re ideal!”

  “The Connatic himself never ate better,” declared Sunover.

  “A pity there’s not just a bit more,” said Rehilmus. “I could eat on for hours and never stop; I love it so!”

  Thworn reluctantly rose to his feet. “We’d better be starting back; it’s a long march over the hills.”

  Chapter 5

  On the following day Kedidah, entering the refectory, discovered Jantiff sitting unobtrusively alone in a far corner. She marched across the room and plumped herself down beside him. “What happened to you yesterday? You missed all the fun.”

  “Yes, I suppose so. I decided that I wasn’t all that hungry.”

  “Oh, come now, Jantiff. I can see through you. You’re annoyed and sulky.”

  “Not really. I just don’t feel right stealing from other people.”

  “What nonsense!” declared Kedidah loftily. “They’ve got plenty; why can’t they share a bit with us?”

  “There wouldn’t be much to share among three billion people.”

  “Perhaps not.” She reached out and took his hand. “I must say that you acted very nicely yesterday. I was quite pleased _ with you.”

  Jantiff flushed. “Do you really mean that?”

  “Of course!”

  Jantiff said haltingly, “I’ve been thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “That old man in, your apartment; what’s his name?”

  “Sarp.”

  “Yes. I wonder if he would trade apartments with me. Then, we could be together constantly.”

  Kedidah laughed. “Old carp wouldn’t dream of moving, and anyway, there’s no fun when people live together and see each other at their worst. Isn’t that really true?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. If you’re fond of someone, you like to be with him or her as much as possible.”

  “Well, I’m fond of you and I see you as much as possible.”

  “But that isn’t enough!”

  “Besides, I’ve got lots of friends, and all of them make demands upon me.”

  Jantiff started to speak, then decided to hold his tongue. Kedidah picked up his portfolio. “What have you here? Pictures? Oh, please, may I look?”

  “Of course.”

  Kedidah turned the sketches exclaiming in pleasure. “Jantiff, how exciting! I recognize this; it’s our foraging group on the trail. This is Thworn, and here’s Garrace, and—this is me! Jantiff! Do I look like that? All stiff and pale and staring, as if I’d seen a goblin? Don’t answer me; I’ll only be annoyed. If only you’d do a nice drawing of me that I could hang on the wall!” She returned to the sketch. “Sunover—Uwser—Rehilmus—everybody! And this glimpse of a person at the rear—that’s you!”

  Skorlet and Esteban came into the refectory, and with them that sprite of contradictory moods who was their daughter Tanzel. Kedidah called out: “Come look at Jantiff’s wonderful pictures! Here’s our forage party; we’re on the trail! It’s so real you can smell the kerkash balm!”

  Esteban examined the sketch with an indulgent smile. “You don’t seem overloaded with boater.”

  “Naturally—not! It’s still morning and we’re on our way south. And don’t worry about bonter; we dined in style, all of us. Roast fowl, a salad of fresh herbs, buckets of fruit—all magnificent!”

  “Oh!” exclaimed Tanzel. “I wish I’d been there!”

  “Moderation, please,” said Esteban, “I’ve gone foraging myself.”

  Kedidah said with dignity: “Next time come along with us and make certain how we fare.”

  “Which reminds me,” mused Jantiff. “Did Colcho ever find his way home?”

  No one troubled to answer. Esteban said: “I’m as keen for bonter as the next, but nowadays I pay the tokens and the gypsies provide the feast. Indeed, I have plans afoot at this very moment. Join the group, if you like. You’ll have to pay your share, of course.”

  “How much? I just might go.”

  “Five hundred tokens, which includes air transport into the Weirdlands.”

  Kedidah clapped at her golden brown ear-puffs in shock. “Do you take me for a contractor? I can’t fetch any such sum!”

  Tanzel said sadly, “I don’t have five hundred tokens either.”

  Skorlet turned a sharp glance toward Esteban, another at Jantiff. “Don’t worry, dear. You’ll be included.”

  Esteban, ignoring the remarks, continued to turn through Jantiff’s sketches. “Very good… A bit over-ambitious, this one. Too many faces… Ma! I recognize someone here.”‘

  Kedidah looked. “That’s myself and Sarp sitting in our chairs. Jantiff, when did you do this?”

  “A few days ago. Skorlet, would you trade apartments with Kedidah?”

  Skorlet gave an ejaculation of startled amusement. “Whatever for?”

  “I’d like to share an apartment with her.”

  “And I’d share with that muttering old madman? Not on your life!”

  Esteban offered advice: “Never share with someone you fancy; when the edge wears off, irritation wears on.”

  “It’s not sensible to copulate too much with one person,” said Kedidah.

  “In fact, I, don’t like copulation,” said Tanzel. “It’s quite tiresome.”

  Esteban turned over the sketches. “Well, well! Whom do we: have here?”

  Tanzel pointed excitedly. “That’s you and that’s Skorlet, and that’s old .Sarp. I don’t know that big man.”

  Esteban laughed. “Not quite. I see a resemblance, but only because Jantiff draws all his faces with the same expression.”

  “By no means,” said Jantiff. “A face is the symbol—the graphic image—of a personality. Consider! Written characters represent spoken words. Depicted features represent personalities! I depict faces still and at rest so as not to confuse
their meaning.”

  “Far, far beyond my reach,” sighed Esteban.

  “Not at all! Consider once morel I might depict two men laughing at a joke. One is really cantankerous, the other is good-natured. Since both are laughing, you might believe both to be good-natured. When the features are still, the personality is free to reveal itself.”

  Esteban held up his hands. “Enough! I submit! And I’ll be the last to deny that you’ve a great knack for this sort of stuff.”

  “It’s not a knack at all,” said Jantiff. “I’ve had to practice for years.”

  Tanzel said brightly: “Isn’t it elitism when someone tries to do something better than everyone else?”

  “Theoretically, yes,” said Skorlet, “but Jantiff is an Old Pinker and certainly not an elitist.”

  Esteban chuckled. “Any other crimes we can lay upon Jantiff’s head?”

  Tanzel thought a moment. “He’s a monopolist who hoards his time and won’t share with me, and I like him very much.”

  Skorlet snorted. “Jantiff’s tit-willow mannerisms are actually arrant sexivation. He even affects poor little Tanzel.”

  “He’s also an exploiter, because he wants to use up Kedidah.”

  Jantiff opened his mouth to roar an indignant rebuttal, but words failed him. Kedidah patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Tanzel; I like him too and today he can monopolize me all he likes, because I want to go to the games and we’ll go together.”

  “I’d like to go myself,” said Esteban. “That great new Shkooner is fighting the piebald Wewark: both awesome beasts.”

  “Perhaps so, but I’m mad for Kizzo in the second event. He’s mounted on the blue Jamouli, and he’s so absolutely gallant I swoon to watch him.”

  Esteban pursed his lips. “He’s really too exuberant in his flourishes, and I can’t approve of his knee action. Still, he’s reckless to a fault, and makes poor Lamar and Kelchaff seem a pair of fearful old ladies.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Skorlet. “I’ve got drudge and can’t go!”

  “Save your tokens for the gypsies,” said Esteban. “If you’re planning to join the feast, that is to say.”

  “True. I must work on my globes. I wonder where I can find more pigment?” Her gaze rested speculatively on Jantiff, who said hurriedly, “I can’t possibly spare any more. I’m very low on everything.”