The Magnificent Showboats by Jack Vance Read Free Book Online Page B

of this vessel, but by the town Lanteen. We can only transform the occasion from a sordid little affair in a cellar to exalted drama in which you perform an indispensable role. In your place I would cooperate with great zest.”
    “I will gladly change with you,” said the prisoner. “Otherwise it is all one.”
    “Another matter,” said Zamp. “The role personifies Evulsifer as a fair man of distinguished appearance — in fact I usually play the part myself, up to the moment of execution. You do not match this description, and I would wish to shave your beard, cut your hair, supply you with a wig and dress you in fine garments. Otherwise you must be executed in a black robe with a heavy cowl.”
    “I am not vain,” said the man. “If you must execute a popinjay, put your own head on the block and all requirements will be met.”
    Zamp said in disgust: “You are intractable. Solicit no favors from me.”
    The prisoner rattled the bars of his cage. “Look forward to your own death with foreboding! In the afterlife I plan to deal harshly with all my enemies!”
    “I suspect that our future planes of existence will be quite distinct,” said Zamp loftily, and walked away from the cage. He spent a moment reflecting upon the prisoner’s threat. Could such things be? If so, what weird events must transpire in the afterlife! … Hmm. Here was material for a new drama.
    At the bow he found Bonko. “Make ready for departure,” said Zamp. “We sail up the Lant as soon as possible.”
    “I’ll need an hour to comb the taverns,” said Bonko.
    “Departure time, then, will be noon.”
    Zamp returned to the quarter-deck, and consulted the River Index notes on Port Whant:
Originally settled by a tribe of white Nens, Port Whant is to this day notorious for the truculence of its citizens. The Whants nevertheless are not parsimonious and can be expected to provide enthusiastic audiences for high-quality productions. This very spontaneity of reaction however is a mixed blessing if the performance is shabby, mean, or inconsiderable, when the Whants may well make a vehement expression, or go so far as to demand refund, to which the wise ship-master will give instant accommodation.
    The Whants are ruled by a warlord, who leads them on their raids, and whom they hold in deepest reverence. The current warlord is Lop Loiqua, a man of considerable force.
    Under no circumstance make facetious reference to the town, or to the warlord. The Whants in any case are a rather grim folk who dislike farce or travesty; tragic dramas such as Xerxonistes or The Monster of Munt are generally well received.
    The Whants are most sensitive to color stimulation. Females should wear no yellow, as this is for the Whants a sexual excitant, and is considered a signal of invitation. Similarly men should wear no red, which might be interpreted as a challenge. Black is a color of debasement, worn by pariahs —
    Chaunt the steward approached. “A person to see you, sir. She is waiting by the gangplank.”
    Zamp rose to his feet and peered down to the main deck. “Indeed, indeed. Show her to my cabin.” Zamp set his jacket, and tugged his cap to the jauntiest angle possible. He waited a moment, then descended to the main deck and entered his cabin.
    His visitor stood by the table, one hand resting on the umber surface. The two inspected each other for a moment, then Zamp doffed his cap and tossed it across the room in a gesture of gallant abandon. The young woman watched without expression, evincing neither interest nor approval. She wore a costume which set off her slender figure to excellent advantage: soft gray trousers, black ankle-boots, a flaring dark blue cape. Her glossy blonde hair was held in place by a loose-crowned black beret with a tassel hanging past her right ear. Zamp could find no clues in her garments or features as to her race, caste or place of origin. He said: “I believe that we have met before, at the Jolly Glassblower.”
    The