“To start with, you should put them in a safe place, and don’t let the children play with them.”
“Good advice!” Ma Chilke had become noticeably more amiable. “Perhaps you would like a cup of tea? Or a glass of cold lemonade?”
“Lemonade would be wonderful,” said Wayness. “Can I help?"
“No thanks, I'll only be a minute or two.”
Glawen asked: "May we look at the ATLAS OF FAR WORLDS your father gave to Eustace?”
Ma Chilke pointed. “There it is yonder: the big red book at the bottom of the stack.” She took herself into the kitchen.
Glawen withdrew the book and brought it back to the couch. “First to Cadwal.” He looked at the index, then turned pages. The planet maps were for the most part Mercator projections, covering the whole of a double page. On the back of the maps was printed pertinent information: a historical synopsis, physical data, statistical tables; odd, unique or noteworthy facts. To many of these informational pages someone, perhaps the young Eustace, perhaps his grandfather, had clipped or otherwise attached additional material.
Glawen opened the book to the 'Cadwal' map. On the back of the left-hand page a large buff envelope had been taped. Glawen looked up. Ma Chilke was still in the kitchen. He detached the envelope, opened the flap, looked within. He gave Wayness an inscrutable glance, tucked the envelope into the inside pocket of his jacket.
Wayness asked in a whisper “Is it?”
Glawen answered in a husky voice: “It is."
Ma Chilke entered from the kitchen, carrying three tall glasses of lemonade on a tray. She extended the tray to Glawen and Wayness and, glancing down at the Atlas, asked: "What world is that?”
“Cadwal,” said Glawen. “It’s far away.” He indicated a small red square on the eastern shore of the continent Deucas. “This is Araminta Station, which is our home, and where Eustace is living now. He has become an important person.”
“Fancy that!" marveled Ma Chilke. “When he was growing up, nobody called him 'Eustace'; they called him ‘Useless'!
For a fact, he was a moody child and when everyone else went north, Eustace went south. But he had a saving grace: he could always make me laugh! Even though I often wanted to whack him. But Grandpa always took up his cause, and the two were great friends. Strange how things turn out! Eustace being an important man, after so many years!”
After a moments pleasant reflection Ma Chilke again looked to the map. “Where are the towns and roads and cities?”
“You won't find any on Cadwal," said Wayness. “The first explorers considered it a world too beautiful and too full of natural wonder to be spoiled by human settlement, so they made Cadwal a Conservancy. Folk may come to visit and enjoy the natural conditions, but no one is allowed to alter the environment, or dig for volcanic Jewels or bother the native beasts, no matter how savage or repulsive they are.”
“Keep your savage beasts and welcome to them!" declared Ma Chilke. "I have troubles enough with gophers."
Wayness rose to her feet. “I will be sure to call Alvina, my friend in Trieste. She is a dealer in tanglets and will certainly get in touch with you. I think that she is honest; still it can't do any harm to mention my name.”
"That is very kind of you.”
“We are happy to be helpful."
"Did you ever meet up with that other gentleman?"
"Julian Bohost?” asked Glawen. “No. He sent out one of his friends, who was even worse.”
Glawen and Wayness took their leave. The flitter raised from the ground; the Chilke farmstead receded into the afternoon haze.
Glawen brought out the buff envelope and gave it to Wayness. “You verify. I'm afraid to look.”
Wayness opened the envelope and withdrew three documents. “This is the Charter," she said. “The original Charter!”
“Good news, so far.”
"This is the Grant-in-Perpetuity. It appears to be authentic." She glanced down the page. “It is simple enough — a deed to property described as the planet Cadwal, with its autographical coordinates. Title is vested in the Naturalist Society, contingent upon the payment of timely fees. Transfer of title can be effected quite easily, or so it seems; but neither Frons Nisfit nor anyone else has transferred title.”
“Very good news, again!”
“True — with qualifications, which we will discuss. The third document is a letter addressed to Eustace Chilke and signed by Floyd Swaner. It reads:
'' ‘Dear Eustace:’
‘To my intense surprise I came upon these papers mixed among a random lot I picked up at auction for practically nothing. The documents, however, are of incalculable value. In fact, they convey title to the planet Cadwal.’
‘The nominal owner is the Naturalist Society and if it were an active responsible entity I would instantly return the papers to what must be considered their rightful owner. However, I have made inquiries and I discover that this would be a most unwise course of action. The Society is moribund; its membership is senile and its officers, with one or two exceptions, are dilettantes. In short, the Naturalist Society is dying if not dead, but not yet aware of the fact.’
‘The Cadwal Conservancy is an institution of which I approve. However, as I write, death is approaching me no less definitely than it is overtaking the Naturalist Society. Therefore, I am appointing you the custodian of these documents, until they can be transferred into the secure keeping of a new and revitalized Naturalist Society, or its successor — always toward the goal of ensuring the integrity and permanency of the Cadwal Conservancy.’
'My only specific instructions are these: do not allow well-meaning but impractical theoreticians to exert any control over you; make sure that your associates are competent experienced and tolerant folk, without ideological axes to grind.’
‘If you feel that the task I have imposed upon you is beyond your capability, carefully select some mature person whose dedication to the ideals of conservancy is beyond question, and turn the task over to him, or her.’
‘Essentially, you must fly this one by the seat of your pants — as I know you will do in any case, no matter how solemn my instructions and how earnest my warnings.’
'I take this means for transferring the documents to you for several reasons, one being that when I die and you are not at hand, any property I bequeath to you will cheerfully be expropriated by your brothers and cousins, aunts, uncles, mother and father. Or it will be stored in the barn along with the stuffed animals. I have written you letters at several of your addresses instructing you to look in a place whereof you know for something of value; one of the letters should reach you and, so I believe, will lead you to these documents. Goodbye, or so I fear Eustace. I am not afraid of death; I just don’t think I will like it very much.’
‘Floyd Swaner' “
Wayness looked at Glawen. “That is the lot.”
“Grandpa Swaner’s ideas are much like our own, which means that we are spared the need for ignoring them.”
“Which makes things easier for everyone,” said Wayness, “including Chilke, since we can quite justifiably take his cooperation for granted, and assume that he would instantly transfer the documents to us.”
“Chilke will be happy that his duties have been discharged so easily. Still, it would be nice to name something after him: a swamp, a bird, a mountain, or even the new labor camp at Cape Journaclass="underline" the 'Eustace B. Chilke Memorial Penitentiary'.“
“Chilke might like it better without the ‘Memorial’.“
“Probably so.”
At Largo the two took lodging at the Old River Inn overlooking the wide Sippewissa River. Wayness immediately telephoned Pirie Tamm at Fair Winds.