Read Online Maske: Thaery by Jack Vance - Free Book Online

this?”
    “From the Glint. It would appear quite definite.”
    Eyvant surveyed the garments with distaste. “Surely not Skay?”
    Nai the Hever smiled thinly. “I can’t imagine Ramus Ymph as a Binadary. No. He’s been farther than Skay.”
    “Odd.”
    “Very odd. The usual motives seem not to fit. Well, it’s all one. Let him lead; we will follow.”
    “As you say.”
    Nai the Hever indicated the clothes. “The technicians may be able to learn something. We are sadly provincial here in Thaery, probably to our great advantage. By the same token we are ignorant of the universe. Perhaps the time has come to repair the deficiency.”
    “We’ll need considerably more funding than we have at present.”
    “True. Money is tight. How would I explain such a need to Myrus? I must give the matter thought. How do you find your new inspector?”
    “The Glint? He seems reasonably intelligent, and quite discreet. But I doubt if you’ll find your ‘passionless precision’ here.” Eyvant alluded to one of Nai the Hever’s more vivid pronouncements: “Department D3 is my tool; I require that the human components function with passionless precision!”
    Nai the Hever said, “Handle him carefully. He will be employed where emotional motivation is a positive factor.”
    Jubal Droad loitered along the Marine Parade. The time was early evening; the sky showed a plum-violet afterglow. Low in the west Skay was an enormous thin silver hook. Others strolled the Marine Parade: dark shapes, musing upon their private affairs.
    Jubal leaned on the balustrade and looked off across Duskerl Bay. Seventeen toldecks a week: an inspector of fleas and complaint books. The advantages were real but modest: an easy life roaming the counties of Thaery, good food and good wine, compliments from the innkeepers—but he must bid his dreams goodby… The same held true if he became a National. Suppose he emigrated off-world? Jubal studied the sky with brooding fascination. Little was visible except a wavering panel of the Zangwill Reef, hanging slantwise behind Skay.
    Jubal straightened up from the balustrade. “Already I feel an old man.” He slouched along the Marine Parade to the Sea-Wrack Inn and stepped into the tavern. He seated himself on a bench to the side and presently was served a goblet of soft fruit wine. At seventeen toldecks a week, he must satisfy himself with less than the best. Conditional, of course, upon his accepting the post offered by that prince of generosity, Nai the Hever. With a somber eye Jubal inspected the other patrons of the tavern and speculated as to their occupations. The two middle-aged men, both short with soft little bodies, were tradesmen, or clerks of advanced skill. They chatted and giggled and prodded each other’s arm like schoolgirls. One of these men, meeting Jubal’s mordant gaze, stopped short as if startled. He muttered to his friend; both turned surreptitious glances toward Jubal. Hunching in their seats, they continued their conversation in a manner more subdued. Jubal turned away. Nearby stood a man of different quality, a tall dark-visaged man wearing tight black trousers and a tall black dath. His face, pale, gaunt, and melancholy, seemed somehow haunted, or obsessed by secret thoughts. His shoulders and arms were knotted with muscle; his legs, under tight cloth, showed hard knobs and cords. A manual laborer, hazarded Jubal, or more likely an artisan: a man skilled with hands and strength, who had known recent tragedy. At a nearby table a man in a faded gray blouse supped upon a platter of goulash, bread and leeks.
    A National, thought Jubal, and no doubt a hard lot. His hair, a dun harsh stubble, showed thin spots, as if the growth had been impeded by blows or scrapes; his nose splayed to the side. The man’s movements, however, were slow and easy, and his eyes showed no more than a placid interest in the surroundings.
    Jubal waited until the man had wiped his platter with the bread, then