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and rose to his feet. "I
must be on my way home and see to my personal Trevanyi. Glay gave them the
freedom of Rabendary and they plundered in all directions." Lord Gensifer
nodded sagely. "You can't give a Trevanyi anything but what he'll take double
for contempt . . . Well, to revert to the three thousand ozols, what is your
decision?"
"I'll want to consider the matter very carefully indeed. As for that list of
players how many have actually committed themselves?" "Well-several "I'll
talk to them all and learn if they're really serious." Lord Gensifer frowned.
"Hmm. Let's think this over a bit. In fact, will you stay for a bite of
dinner? I'm quite alone tonight, and I detest dining in solitude." "That's
very kind of you, Lord Gensifer, but I'm hardly dressed for dinner at a
manor." Lord Gensifer made a deprecatory motion. "Tonight we'll dine
informally-although I could lend you formal kit, if you insisted." "Well, no.
I am not that meticulous, if you're not." "Tonight we'll dine as we are.
Perhaps you'd like to watch more of the championship game." "As a matter of
fact, I would."
"Good. Rallo! Fresh punch! This has lost its zest."
The great oval dinner table was set for two. Lord Gensifer and Glinnes faced
each other across the expanse of white linen; silver and crystal glittered
under the blaze of a chandelier. "It may seem strange to you," said Lord
Gensifer, "that I can live in what might seem extravagant style and still be
strapped for cash. But it's simple enough. My income derives from invested
capital, and I've had reverses. Starmenters looted a pair of warehouses and
set my company back on its heels. Strictly temporary, of course, but for the
moment my income just barely matches my outgo.
Do you know of Bela Gazzardo?"
"I've heard the name. A starmenter?" "The villain who cut my income in half.
The Whelm can't seem to come to grips with him." "Sooner or later he'll be
taken. Only inconspicuous star-menters survive. When they attain reputation
their number is up." "Bela Gazzardo's been starmenting for many years," said
Lord Gensifer. "The Whelm is always in a different sector." "Sooner or later
he'll be taken."
Dinner proceeded, a repast of a dozen excellent courses, each accompanied by
flasks of fine wine. Glinnes reflected that life in a manor was not without
its pleasant aspects, and his fancy roamed the future, when he had earned
twenty or thirty thousand ozols, or a hundred thousand, and
Lute Cas-agave had been expelled from Ambal Isle and the manse was empty.
Then, what an adventure to renew, redecorate, refurnish! Glinnes saw himself
in stately garments entertaining a throng of notables at a table like Lord
Gensifer*s& Glinnes laughed at the thought. Who would he invite to his dinner
parties? Akadie? Young Harrad? Carbo Gilweg? The Drossets? Though for a fact
Duissane would look extraordinarily lovely in such surroundings. Glinnes'
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imagination included the rest of the family and the picture burst.Dusk had
long since waned when Glinnes finally climbed into his boat. The night was
clear; overhead hung a myriad stars, magnified to the size of lamps. Elevated
by the wine, by the large prospects that Lord Gensifer had suggested, by the '
halcyon beauty of starlight on calm black water, Glinnes sent, his boat
scudding across Fleharish Broad and up
Selma; Water.
Under the glorious Trullion night his problems dissolved into wisps of
unreasonable petulance.
Glay and Fan-scherade? A fad, an antic, a trifle. Marucha and her
foolishness? Let her be, let her be; what better occupation lay; open to her?
Lord Gensifer and his crafty proposals?
They might just eventuate as Lord Gensifer hoped! But the absurdity of it
all! Instead of borrowing nine thousand ozols, he had barely escaped with
his own three thousand intact! Lord
Gensifer's schemes no doubt derived from a desperate need of money, thought
Glinnes. No matter how affable and how ostensibly candid, Lord Gensifer was
still a man to be dealt with most carefully.
Up narrow Selma Water drifted the boat, past hushberry brakes and bowers of
soft white lanting, then out upon Am-bal Broad, where a small breeze shivered
the star-reflections into a tinkling twinkling carpet. To the right stood
Ambal Isle, surmounted by fanzaneel frond-clusters; they lay
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202262-Trullion.txt on the sky like splashes of black ink. And there
ahead-Rabendary Island, dear Rabendary, and his home dock. The house showed no
light. Was no one at home? Where was Marucha? Visiting friends, most likely.
The boat coasted up to the dock. Glinnes climbed up on the groaning old
boards, made fast the boat, walked up the path to the house. A creak of
leather, a shuffle of steps. Shadows moved;
dark shapes occulted the stars. Heavy objects struck down upon his head and
neck and shoulders, thudding and jarring, grinding his teeth, grating his
vertebrae, filling his nose with an ammoniacal reek. He fell to the ground.
Heavy blows struck into his ribs, his head; the impacts rumbled and groaned
like thunder and filled the total space of the world. He tried to roll away,
to curl into a knot, but his senses wandered away.
The kicking ceased; Glinnes floated on a cloud of enervation. From far far
away he noticed hands exploring his person. A harsh whisper rang in his brain:
"Get the knife, get the knife." Further touches, then another flurry of kicks.
From a great distance Glinnes thought to hear a trill of reckless laughter.
Consciousness fragmented like droplets of mercury; Glinnes lay in a torpor.
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