In Green's Jungles tbotss-2 Read online

  I said, "I would imagine that most of them have slug guns already. As for those who don't and may be given them, I simply have no idea." It would be Hari Mau's decision.

  "They're risky either way, these mercenaries, " Inclito mused, "whether they got slug guns or not. You'll say hire them yourself, but they're risky to the one that hires them, too, and we can't. We're not rich."

  "Is Duko Rigoglio?"

  "Pretty rich." Inclito cracked his whip. "He gets it from his people."

  I recalled Councilor Loris's scheme, although I said nothing about it then. "If you can't hire the mercenaries yourself, I doubt that it will prove possible to prevent the Duko's hiring them."

  Inclito nodded gloomily.

  "You may, however, be able to postpone the fighting until he is no longer able to pay them." With more optimism than I felt, I continued, "As soon as they're in his service, time will be on your side. You said he had enlisted the help of other towns against yours?"

  "Novella Citta and Olmo. They're farther than Soldo, and they got dukos or something too. That's one reason."

  I nodded to show I understood. "What do they stand to gain if Duko Rigoglio wins?"

  "He leaves them alone, maybe. I think they're afraid of him." Inclito pointed with the whip. "You see that hill?"

  The night was clear and Green shown bright overhead; there is always something ghostly about an open, rolling landscape by Greenlight, and I believe I have never been more conscious of it than I was last night.

  "We can see my place from there. We're going to pull up there awhile and you can look at it."

  "Is that the only purpose? To look at your house?"

  "I guess I got to tell you." He cracked his whip again, urging the horses to a faster trot, then dropped it across his lap and slapped his forehead. "I'm a fool."

  I said, "I have manifold reasons to doubt it."

  "A fool thinking I got to tell what you already know. I'm afraid I got a spy in my house. Yes, I am."

  "Your coachman?"

  Inclito shook his head. "He's a stupid one, so I don't think so." He shrugged and cracked his whip again over the sweating horses. "Maybe he's stupid enough to take the Duko's cards, huh?"

  "Maybe he is. Since I'm going to have dinner with you and your family-thank you again for your invitation-it might be well for you to tell me who's in your house and whom you suspect."

  "All right." We had reached the top of the hill, and Inclito reined up. "In a minute I'm going to let them walk. It's better for them to walk a little when they're hot like this, not just stand around."

  I nodded.

  "I got no wife. It's better I tell you that first, so you understand. When we leave Grandecitta, she came with me. The lander you come on, some women died?"

  "Yes. Quite a few women, and some men as well. And more children than all of the men and women combined. Please accept my very sincere condolences, however belated, upon the death of your wife."

  Inclito was silent for a moment; then he inquired, "Where's your bird?"

  "I have no idea. Scouting out the countryside, I imagine. He'll return when and if it suits him."

  "It's better, maybe, that he's gone. That way my mother won't think you're a strego. That's a witch, it's what she calls them." Inclito smiled as he spoke, teeth flashing in his dark face; but I sensed that what he said was to be taken seriously.

  "Your mother lives with you?"

  He nodded. "I was going to tell who's in the house and who I can trust. So right off, my mother and my daughter. Maybe there's a spy, huh? But if there is, he's not them. You see my house?"

  "If I'm looking at the correct one." It was not a single house, but a clutter of low, whitewashed buildings, half screened by a colonnade of graceful trees.

  "I got good land when we come." Inclito's broad shoulders rose and fell. "They feel sorry for me because my Zitta dies. Then I help out everybody whenever I can. I help the town in a war, and after a while the corpo votes me some more. I can't use it, it's too far, so I trade with my neighbor. Two for one. He gets twice as much as he gives me." Inclito grinned for a moment. "Not a good bargain I make, huh? Always I'm a easy one when I do these things."

  Feeling that I understood, I said, "Was it good land that you got from him?"

  "Sure. Just like mine. Over there." He pointed. "What I give, it's not so good. A long way from Blanko, too, so I don't like it."

  I said nothing, listening to the stillness of the night and waiting for him to continue.

  "Back in Grandecitta we got a wise saying. You must know a lot of them."

  "A few, perhaps."

  "Maybe this is one. We say, if work's a good thing, why don't the rich tat c it? But I'm a rich man now, and I do. As much as I can, huh?" Inclito rattled the reins and the horses ambled forward. "You still want to know who's in my house? Who do I trust?"

  "Yes, if you'll tell me."

  "The family is me, my mother, and my daughter. I said that."

  "You didn't say that was everyone."

  "It is. Everybody that's related to me. There's a friend of Mora's that's staying with us for now. Her father's away."

  "Mora is your daughter?"

  "That's right. Her friend is Fava. She'll be at the table with us. Seems like a nice girl."

  "Yet you suspect her?"

  Inclito raised both hands, still grasping the reins. "I got to suspect somebody. But maybe there's nobody. You want the rest? All the names?"

  "Just tell me who they are, for the present. I'll learn their names later as I require them."

  "All right. I got three men to help. One's the coachman we been talking about. He's the oldest. A^fito. He's only a coachman when I want him to drive this for me. It's for my mother, mostly. She wants to go, or Mora, he gets cleaned up and takes her. He's not a smart man, but he's good with the horses. Like now. You see these horses, how wet?"

  I nodded.

  "I drive too hard, too fast. Affito goes a little slower, he's got more left at the end. The other two is his nephews, Affito's brother's sprats. They're born out here, not like you and me."

  I nodded again.

  "Like I got the three men, my mother's got three women that help her, only she's really got five, because Mora and Fava help sometimes."

  I asked what the three women servants did.

  "A woman to cook and two girls to help around the house. One helps in the kitchen, mostly. That's Onorifica. The other one washes floors and make up the beds, huh?"

  "I believe I understand. Where do the three men sleep?"

  "Where do they sleep?"

  "Yes. It's no great secret is it? Do they sleep in the house?"

  Inclito shook his head, more in wonder, it seemed to me, than in denial. "In back, in the big barn. They got a place like a little house in there that's just for them. I'll show you if you want to look."

  "After dinner, perhaps. We'll see. What about the three women? Where do they sleep?"

  "Not in there. That what you're thinking?"

  "I'm not thinking at all, " I told him. "I simply want to know."

  "The cook in the kitchen. That's her bedroom, too, so I got to knock on the door if I want something late at night. Sometimes one of the girls sleeps in there with her. Or sometimes one will sleep with my mother. If she's afraid she'll maybe be sick or need something, one will sleep in her room on a little bed we got in there. Or my daughter will, or even Fava."

  I said, "Suppose that your daughter is to sleep with your mother, and that the cook doesn't require company in the kitchen. Where would the other three sleep then?"

  Laying aside his whip, Inclito wiped the sweat from his big, smoothly curved head with one large hand; he is almost totally bald, as I should have said much earlier. "You want to stay with us tonight? There's two empty rooms. Torda can fix up a bed for you."

  "I'm not hinting, merely trying to find out how well placed each of these three women is to overhear your talk, to read your letters, and so forth, " I explained. "Yo
ur coachman might overhear you talk with some friend, while he drove you, for example. But-"

  "Hardly ever."

  "Exactly. Though he might conceivably hear your mother tell a friend of hers something you had told her, so we can't rule him out altogether. The other two men seem even less likely thus far. You believe that I may be Patera Silk. May I tell you something the real Silk once said?"

  Inclito nodded. "That's a big thing, huh? I'd like to hear it."

  "It's in the book you mentioned. Since you've read it, you presumably read this in it. Councilor Potto said that he loved mysteries, and Patera Silk said that he did not, that he tried to put an end to them whenever he could. I've tried to be like him all my life. Also, you say you want my advice concerning the war you fear is about to start."

  Inclito nodded silently.

  "I'll give you some right now. Find out who the spy is, if there is one. Do that as fast as you possibly can. Then turn that spy, if it's feasible to do so. Use that spy to get false information to the Duko."

  "All right, we'll try, Incanto. You and me. You got questions? Ask me anything?"

  "You indicated that there would be five of us at dinner, if I heard you right-you, your mother, your daughter, your daughter's friend Fava, and me. Who will serve it? Bring out our food?"

  "The girls."

  "Onorifica and Torda?"

  "Uh huh. Sometimes Decina will bring out the roast, if it's a special one. Sometimes my mother will come help her if she's feeling good."

  Decina was the cook. But by that time we were almost at his door, and I really must sleep.

  2

  Stories Before Dinner

  It is about the middle of the afternoon, I should judge, and I have had an unexpected visitor here at my barrel. I tried to make her as comfortable as I could; she did not complain, and in fact left me a little medallion she says is pure gold. I can still smell her perfume.

  But I should not rush ahead of events like this.

  I remember the Calde's Palace in Old Viron very vividly, and so I found Inclito's house less impressive than many people must. To set down the truth here (as I must be careful to do in every instance whatsoever) it was less impressive than my own palace in Gaon as well, a palace and a manner of living that I am doing my utmost to forget. The core of the house is the ruin of a building of the Vanished People, and is of stone. The remainder is of brick, of which Inclito is extremely proud. Outside, both stone and brick have been covered with stucco and whitewashed; inside one sees the ancient gray stones and the new red bricks. To give the house its due, all the rooms I saw are large and possess a multitude of big windows; the outer walls are curved, for the most part; the interior walls are generally straight. I got the impression that many had been exterior walls in their time, and that new and bigger rooms had been added as the whim seized the owner, or as funds became available.

  Despite hair as white as mine, his mother looked younger than I expected, although she is clearly unwell. None of her son's heavy, coarse features can have come from her. Her face is still smooth, and I would call it almond-shaped if it were not for her hollow cheeks; her nose and mouth are small and delicate, the cheekbones delicate too, high and well defined. It is dominated by her large, dark eyes, which might almost be still-living organs in the face of a corpse.

  Her granddaughter, Mora, is clearly her father's daughter, too large and too heavy-limbed and thick-waisted to be called attractive. To be fair, she carries herself well, and seems quiet and intelligent. About fifteen.

  Her friend Fava is about half her size, looks blond next to Mora, and is quite pretty. Fava is – or at least appears to be – several years younger. At first I thought her nervous and self-effacing.

  Inclito's mother welcomed me graciously, apologized for not rising, warned me that we had an hour or so to wait before dinner, and offered me a glass of wine, which I accepted gratefully, and which her son provided.

  "Our own, from my own vines. What do you think?"

  I tasted it and pronounced it excellent; and in all honesty it was by no means bad.

  The daughter's friend Fava ventured, "You're a dervis? That's what Mora's father told us."

  "Then it must be true, " I assured her. "But first of all I'm a stranger here, and unfamiliar with many of your local terms."

  The daughter, Mora, offered, "A wandering holy man."

  "Wandering, certainly. And a man. Hardly holy."

  "But you can tell us thrilling tales of far-off places, " Inclito's mother suggested.

  "I could tell your granddaughter and her young friend about the Whorl, which is the only distant place I've ever been to that is genuinely worth knowing about, madam; but you and your son will already have done that, and much better than I ever could."

  Mora asked, "Where were you before you came here?" at which her father gave her a severe look.

  "In a little village a day's travel south of your town, where a woodcutter and his wife took me in."

  "This isn't a law court, " Inclito rumbled.

  His mother smiled. "No more questions, we promise. I shall offer a remark, however, if I may. It is not intended to be offensive."

  I assured her that I was remarkably difficult to offend before dinner.

  "Well, if my Inclito, my famous one, had not told me about you first, I would have thought that you were a male witch when I caught sight of you. A strego, we would have said when I was a girl. That would have made me very happy, because I would have asked you for a charm for health when the moment was ripe. If you were a strego, you'd be a good one, I'm certain, with that face."

  "Then I wish I were, madam. I would be very happy to restore you to health, if I could."

  "You could pray for her, " Mora suggested.

  "I will. I do."

  Fava smiled; it was a smile, it seemed to me, at once appealing and malicious-or at least mischievous. "I want to play the game, and I'm company, too. You're older than I am, though, Incanto. Will you play the game if I beg very prettily?"

  I smiled in return; I could not help myself, although like Inclito I suspect her. "If it involves running or wrestling, I beg to be excused. Otherwise I will play any game you wish, for as long as you wish it."

  "Oh, I can't run!"

  Inclito's mother said, "It's a silly game, really. But we do it because we used to at home. Fava likes it because she always wins."

  "I don't! You won yourself last night."

  "All of you voted for me out of kindness, " the older woman said.

  "They tell stories, " Fava explained to me. "And at the end everybody votes, only you can't vote for your own. The person who wanted to play has to go last."

  "Then I invite all of you to play with me, " I said. "I'll need to hear your stories so that I'll know what sort of story I ought to tell."

  Fava began to argue, but Inclito's mother silenced her with a trembling finger. "You must go first. I think it's by going last that you win so much."

  To me she added, "We mustn't interrupt. That's the chief rule we have in this. If you interrupt, you'll have to pay her a forfeit."

  Fava's Adventure: The Washed Child.

  This happened two years ago, when a little group of us went to Soldo to visit our relatives there. They had a large farm. It wasn't as large as this one or as rich as this one either, but it was bigger and richer than most of the farms in that part of the whorl. Bigger and richer than most of the farms here, for all of that.

  Now the farthest field of that farm was the last plowed land to the east. It was at the foot of a mountain, and beyond it the slope was too steep for plowing. They grazed sheep and goats up there, and the young men went there sometimes to hunt. They wouldn't take me with them, so one fine day I decided I'd go by myself. I didn't have a slug gun or a bow or anything of that sort, because I didn't really want to kill an animal, no matter how fine it was. I have a horror of blood, as most of you know. I can't bear to watch a pig slaughtered or even see ducks killed.

  Everybo
dy got up early there just as we do here, but I got up earlier than anybody. I was up and dressed and crossing the fields before shadeup, and as the old people say. I remember that I was afraid it wouldn't be daylight when I went under the trees, but I needn't have worried. It had started getting light before I reached them, and by the time I was in the high forest there was real daylight so that things had shadows. It was a perfectly lovely forest, too. The sheep and goats had cleared out most of the underbrush and left the big trees, so that it seemed to me that I was walking in a huge building like the cappellas of the gods back in the old whorl. Of course I've never seen those, but Salica has told me a lot about them since I got here, and that forest was like the buildings she was describing. Mora will be wondering if I wasn't afraid of getting lost, because she always is in a strange place. But I wasn't. I was climbing all the time, and I knew that all I would have to do to get back to the farm where I was staying was to follow the slope back down. I was very confident, you see, and so I went on for quite a long way.

  After climbing like that half the morning, I came upon a little stream. It was icy cold, as I learned by drinking from it, snowmelt from the mountaintop. The way in which it had carved a path for itself through the rock looked interesting, and I decided to follow it awhile before I went back.

  I hadn't gone very far before I heard a child crying. My first thought was that it was lost, naturally, and I hurried on up the stream to rescue it, scrambling over the rocks. But after a minute or two of that, I decided that it was probably very frightened, and if I burst in on it I might frighten it more, and it would run away. So I slowed down, and sort of crept along, though I was still going pretty fast. By good luck, the stream was making enough noise to cover up the sounds I made when I kicked a stone by accident or had to walk across gravel.

  Pretty soon I came upon a very dirty woman holding a very dirty and very naked little boy so that the water came up to his knees while she scrubbed him with a very dirty rag. I dashed over to her and asked her what in the whorl she thought she was doing. The poor child was already red as beet and trembling in a way that made my heart ache for him, freezing and terrified.