Read Online The Potter of Firsk and Other Stories by Jack Vance - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jack Vance
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the steward.
“Is there anywhere in the building a room with metal walls and a metal door?”
The steward blinked. “The refrigerator room, sir.”
Magnus Ridolph nodded. “Take me there.”
A short while later he returned to his room, walking stiffly, for his arms and legs were now wrapped with insul tape. He depolarized the glass wall, and in the wan light from the ocean, selected a chair, lowered himself into it, waited.
An hour passed, and Magnus Ridolph’s eyelids grew heavy. He slept.
He awoke with a slight start, a sense of dissatisfaction. Were his deductions at fault? Why had not—
He stiffened, strained his ears, twisted slowly in his seat, glanced toward the bathroom. Nothing was visible. He relaxed in his chair.
Cable-like thongs snapped home—around his ankles, his chest, his throat, constricting with terrible angry strength.
Magnus Ridolph reacted instantly, fighting with primitive fright. Then the discipline of his brain took control. His big toe pressed a switch inside his shoe. Instantly up and down his arms and legs glochrome wires under his tunic burnt blue-hot, cutting the cloth like a razor, lighting the walls in the brilliance of their heat.
The bands around his arms and legs severed, Magnus Ridolph snatched a knife from his belt, slashed at the band around his neck. With the strength ebbing from his body, he hacked and hewed until he felt a pulsing along the knife, a doubt, a reluctance.
The knife cut through, and the garrote relaxed. Magnus Ridolph gave a great gasp. Tottering, he leaned his back against the wall, staring at the reality of the murdering agency, plain before his eyes.
He rang for the steward.
“Fetch Rogge at once.”
Rogge, gaunt and ungraceful, came on the lope.
“Yes, what is it?”
Magnus Ridolph pointed. “Look.”
Rogge stared, then reached to the floor, lifted a length of the severed thong.
“I don’t understand,” he said in a husky voice.
“It is very clear,” said Magnus Ridolph. “In fact, it is a logical necessity. You yourself would have arrived at the solution if you had manipulated your thoughts with any degree of order.”
Rogge stared at him, anger smouldering in his eyes. “I would be obliged,” he said stiffly, “if you would explain what you know of this business.”
“With pleasure,” said Magnus Ridolph. “In the first place, it was clear that the killings were calculated to obstruct development of Diggings B. It was not the work of a homicidal maniac for you had changed the entire personnel, and still the killings continued. I asked myself, who profited from the abandonment of Diggings B? Clearly the agency cared nothing about Diggings A, for the work progressed smoothly. Then what was the distinction between the diggings?
“At first glance, there seemed little. Both were volcanic necks, barren juts of rock, and approximately equal. About the only difference was in your projected disposition of the waste. The rubble from Diggings A was to fill in the bay, that from Diggings B was to fill a wooded canyon. Now,” and Magnus Ridolph surveyed the glowering Rogge, “do the facts presented in this light clarify the problem?”
Rogge chewed at his lips.
“I asked myself,” Magnus Ridolph continued softly, “who or what suffers at Diggings B who does not suffer, or profits, at Diggings A? And the answer to my question came instantly—the trees.”
“
Trees!
” barked Rogge.
Magnus Ridolph nodded. “I examined the situation in that light. At Diggings A the trees provided fruit and also erected for you a barrier against the beasts. There was neither fruit nor protection at Diggings B. The trees encouraged Diggings A because removing the volcanic neck and filling the bay would provide at once an added area for the growth and also removal of an obstacle to sunlight. The trees approved.”
“But you are assuming intelligence in the trees?” gasped Rogge.
“Of course,” said Magnus Ridolph. “What other alternative
“Is there anywhere in the building a room with metal walls and a metal door?”
The steward blinked. “The refrigerator room, sir.”
Magnus Ridolph nodded. “Take me there.”
A short while later he returned to his room, walking stiffly, for his arms and legs were now wrapped with insul tape. He depolarized the glass wall, and in the wan light from the ocean, selected a chair, lowered himself into it, waited.
An hour passed, and Magnus Ridolph’s eyelids grew heavy. He slept.
He awoke with a slight start, a sense of dissatisfaction. Were his deductions at fault? Why had not—
He stiffened, strained his ears, twisted slowly in his seat, glanced toward the bathroom. Nothing was visible. He relaxed in his chair.
Cable-like thongs snapped home—around his ankles, his chest, his throat, constricting with terrible angry strength.
Magnus Ridolph reacted instantly, fighting with primitive fright. Then the discipline of his brain took control. His big toe pressed a switch inside his shoe. Instantly up and down his arms and legs glochrome wires under his tunic burnt blue-hot, cutting the cloth like a razor, lighting the walls in the brilliance of their heat.
The bands around his arms and legs severed, Magnus Ridolph snatched a knife from his belt, slashed at the band around his neck. With the strength ebbing from his body, he hacked and hewed until he felt a pulsing along the knife, a doubt, a reluctance.
The knife cut through, and the garrote relaxed. Magnus Ridolph gave a great gasp. Tottering, he leaned his back against the wall, staring at the reality of the murdering agency, plain before his eyes.
He rang for the steward.
“Fetch Rogge at once.”
Rogge, gaunt and ungraceful, came on the lope.
“Yes, what is it?”
Magnus Ridolph pointed. “Look.”
Rogge stared, then reached to the floor, lifted a length of the severed thong.
“I don’t understand,” he said in a husky voice.
“It is very clear,” said Magnus Ridolph. “In fact, it is a logical necessity. You yourself would have arrived at the solution if you had manipulated your thoughts with any degree of order.”
Rogge stared at him, anger smouldering in his eyes. “I would be obliged,” he said stiffly, “if you would explain what you know of this business.”
“With pleasure,” said Magnus Ridolph. “In the first place, it was clear that the killings were calculated to obstruct development of Diggings B. It was not the work of a homicidal maniac for you had changed the entire personnel, and still the killings continued. I asked myself, who profited from the abandonment of Diggings B? Clearly the agency cared nothing about Diggings A, for the work progressed smoothly. Then what was the distinction between the diggings?
“At first glance, there seemed little. Both were volcanic necks, barren juts of rock, and approximately equal. About the only difference was in your projected disposition of the waste. The rubble from Diggings A was to fill in the bay, that from Diggings B was to fill a wooded canyon. Now,” and Magnus Ridolph surveyed the glowering Rogge, “do the facts presented in this light clarify the problem?”
Rogge chewed at his lips.
“I asked myself,” Magnus Ridolph continued softly, “who or what suffers at Diggings B who does not suffer, or profits, at Diggings A? And the answer to my question came instantly—the trees.”
“
Trees!
” barked Rogge.
Magnus Ridolph nodded. “I examined the situation in that light. At Diggings A the trees provided fruit and also erected for you a barrier against the beasts. There was neither fruit nor protection at Diggings B. The trees encouraged Diggings A because removing the volcanic neck and filling the bay would provide at once an added area for the growth and also removal of an obstacle to sunlight. The trees approved.”
“But you are assuming intelligence in the trees?” gasped Rogge.
“Of course,” said Magnus Ridolph. “What other alternative
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