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Well, well, think of that! Just a moment then."
Jarcony wrapped himself in his paray and swung back the creaking door. He
pointed to a bower cut back into the thrackleberry thicket. "Sit down, if you
will. Perhaps you'll take a cup of cool wine?" "A good idea," said Glinnes.
Remo Jarcony brought forth a stoneware crock and a pair of mugs. "What
conceivably brings you here to visit me?"
"A rather curious matter," said Glinnes. "As you recall, I met you while you
were seeking the manse of Janno Akadie. "Quite true. I'd contracted a small
errand for a gentleman of Port
Maheul. Surely there's been no difficulty?" "I believe you were to deliver a
parcel, or something similar?" "Quite true. Will you take another cup of
wine?" "With great pleasure. And you delivered the parcel?" "I did as I was
instructed. The gentleman evidently was satisfied, as I
haven't seen him since." "May I ask the nature of those instructions?"
"Certainly. The gentleman required that I convey the parcel to the space depot
at Port Maheul and place it in Locker 42, the key to which he gave me. I did
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as he required, thereby earning twenty ozols-money for nothing"
"Do you recall the gentleman who hired you?" Jarcony squinted up into the
foliage. "Not well. An offworlder, or so I believe a man short and stocky,
with quick movements. He has a bald head as I
recall, and a fine emerald in his ear, which I admired. Now, perhaps you'll
enlighten me. Why do you ask such questions?" "It's very simple," said
Glinnes. "The gentleman is a publisher from
Gethryn; Akadie wants to add an appendix to the treatise which he put into the
gentleman's custody."
"Ah! I understand." "There's nothing much to it. I'll notify Akadie that his
work must already be in Gethryn." Glinnes rose to his feet. "Thank you for the
wine, and I must now return to Saurkash
. . . Out of sheer curiosity, what did you do with the key to the locker?" "I
did as I was instructed and left it at the accommodation desk."
Glinnes pushed westward at top speed, his wake bubbling the width of the
narrow Jade Canal. He
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%20E...ck%20Vance%20-%20Alastor%202262
-Trullion.txt (74 of 82) [12/29/2004 12:50:35 AM]
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202262-Trullion.txt swept into Barabas River, hurling a white wave into the
banked jerdine trees along the shore, and slid hissing westward, slowing only
when he approached Port Maheul. He tied up at the main dock with a few deft
twists of the mooring line, then half walked, half trotted the mile to the
transport terminal, a tall structure of black iron and glass crusted pale
green and violet with age. The field beyond was empty both of spaceships and
local air transport.
Glinnes entered the depot and looked across the submarine gloom. Travelers sat
on benches awaiting one or another of the scheduled air-buses. A bank of
lockers stood along the wall beside the baggage office, where a clerk sat
behind a low counter. Glinnes crossed the room and inspected the lockers.
Those available for use stood open, with magnetic keys in the lock holes.
The door to Locker 42 was closed. Glinnes glanced toward the baggage clerk,
then tested the door to find it immovable. The locker was constructed of
sound sheet-metal; the doors fit snugly.
Glinnes seated himself on a nearby bench
.
Various possibilities suggested themselves. Few of the lockers were in use.
Among the fifty lockers, Glinnes counted only four closed doors. Was it too
much to hope that Locker 42 still contained the black case? Not at all,
thought Glinnes. It would seem that Lempel and the bald stocky offworlder who
had hired Jarcony were the same. Lempel had died before he had been able to
claim the case in Locker 42 ... So it would seem. And now: how to get into
Locker 42? Glinnes examined the baggage clerk, a small man with wispy
gray-russet hair, a long tremulous nose, and an expression of foolish
obstinacy. Hopeless to seek either direct or indirect cooperation here; the
man seemed a living definition of pettifoggery.
Glinnes cogitated for five minutes. Then he rose to his feet and walked to the
bank of lockers.
Into the coin slot on the face of Locker 30 he deposited a coin. Closing the
door, he withdrew the key. He approached the baggage desk and placed the key
upon the counter. The clerk came forward.
"Yes, sir." "Be good enough to hold this key for me," said Glinnes. "I don't
care to carry it around." The clerk took the key with a twitch of mouth. "How
long will you be gone, sir? Some folk leave their keys a remorseless time."
"I'll be no more than a day or so." Glinnes placed a coin upon the counter.
"For your trouble."
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"Thank you." The clerk opened a drawer and dropped the key into a compartment.
Glinnes walked away and seated himself on a bench where he could watch the
clerk.
An hour passed. An airbus from Cape Flory dropped down upon the field,
discharging passengers, engulfing others. At the baggage desk there was a
flurry of activity; the clerk scrambled here and there among his racks and
shelves. Glinnes watched him carefully. It would seem that after his exertions
he might feel the need for a rest or a visit to the lavatory, but instead,
when the last patron had departed the clerk poured himself a mug of cold tea,
which he drank in a gulp, and then a second mug, over which he ruminated a few
minutes. Then he returned to his duties, and Glinnes resigned himself to
patience.
Glinnes began to feel torpid. He watched folk come and go and amused himself
for a while speculating upon their occupations and secret lives, but presently
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