Night Lamp by Jack Vance Read Free Book Online Page B

unique artifices, including a froghorn, a pair of tangletones, a wishdreams, a wonderful tudelpipe—four feet long, inlaid with a hundred silver dancing demons; a full set of Blori needlegongs. They caught Althea’s attention and before long Tawn Maihac had become a regular visitor at Merriehew.
    On this particular occasion Hilyer had not known that Maihac would be a dinner guest until his own return from the Institute. He was further irritated when he took note of what seemed to be special preparations. “I see you are using your Basingstoke candlesticks. Tonight is evidently a signal occasion.”
    “Of course not!” declared Althea. “I have these beautiful articles and they should be put to use. Call it ‘creative impulse,’ if you like. But these are not the Basingstokes.”
    “Certainly they are! I remember the transaction distinctly! They cost us a small fortune!”
    “Not these—and I can prove it.” Althea lifted one of the candelabra and studied the label on the underside of the base. “The label reads: ‘Rijjalooma Farm.’ These come from that farm on Rijjalooma Ridge; don’t you remember? It’s where you were attacked by that peculiar hedgehog-like thing.”
    “Yes,” growled Hilyer. “I remember very well. It was absolutely unwarranted and I should have sued that farm woman for irresponsibility.”
    “Well, no matter. She let me have the candelabra at quite a decent price, so your suffering was not in vain. And here we are, enjoying the recollection at our dinner!”
    Hilyer muttered something about his hope that Althea’s “creative impulse” did not extend to the cuisine. Here Hilyer alluded to the anomalous dishes which had resulted from Althea’s previous attempts at experimental or avant-garde cooking.
    Althea turned away, smiling to herself. Hilyer, so it seemed, was a bit jealous of their rather fascinating guest. “By the way!” she said. “Mr. Maihac is bringing his silly froghorn. He may even try to play it, which should be great fun!”
    “Ha hm,” Hilyer growled. “So Maihac, among his other talents, is also a skilled musician!”
    Althea laughed. “That remains to be seen. He won’t prove it on the froghorn.”
    Jaro had come to realize that during Maihac’s visits the topic in which he was most interested: namely, the lore of spacemanship, was not considered appropriate and would be discouraged. Since the Faths intended an academic career for Jaro in the School of Aesthetic Philosophy, they gingerly encouraged Jaro’s interest in Maihac’s odd instruments, while pretending to ignore the picturesque methods by which they had been obtained.
    Tonight, as Hilyer had noted, Althea had set a beautiful table. From her collection she had chosen a pair of massive candelabra forged from rude bars of blue-black cobalt alloy, to complement a service of old faience, glazed a dim moonlight blue, in whose depths submarine flowers seemed to float.
    Maihac was suitably impressed, and complimented Althea upon her arrangements. The dinner proceeded, and in the end Althea felt that it had been tolerably successful, even though Hilyer, in connection with the devilled landfish in pastry shells, had found the pastry too tough and the sauce too sharp, while the soufflé, so he pointed out, had gone limp.
    Althea dealt politely with Hilyer’s comments, and she was pleased with Maihac’s behavior. He had attended Hilyer’s sometimes rather pompous opinions, and he had said nothing of space or spaceships, to Jaro’s disappointment.
    After the group had moved to the sitting room, Maihac brought out his froghorn, perhaps the most bizarre item of his collection, since it comprised three dissimilar instruments in one. The horn started with a rectangular brass mouthpiece, fitted to a plench-box sprouting four valves. The valves controlled four tubes which first wound around, then entered, the central brass globe: the so-called “mixing pot.” From the side opposite the mouthpiece came a tube