Efraim emerged from the hotel into a melancholy umber. He walked slowly back down the Avenue of Black Jangkars, and coming once more to the square he now took time to walk around, and with awe and wonder investigated the shops. Could there exist anywhere in all Alastor Cluster a richer concentration of the arcane, the esoteric, the special? And Efraim wondered what had been his own fields of erudition, his own unique virtuosities. Whatever they were, he retained none of them; his mind was a blank.
Somewhat mournfully he proceeded down the Street of Brass Boxes to the river.
New Town appeared quiet. Festoons of lights still glowed along the riverfront, but the beer gardens and cafes lacked animation. Efraim turned away, walked up the Avenue of Strangers to the Outworld Inn. He went to his chamber and slept.
He dreamt a series of vivid dreams and awoke in a flush of excitement. After a moment he tried to reform the shattered images into focus so that he might grasp the meanings which had marched across his sleeping mind. To no avail. Composing himself, he slept once more until a gong announced the hour of breakfast.
1. These are the modes recognized by the folk of Port Mar. Both the Majars and the Rhunes make more elaborate distinctions.
The progression of the modes is rendered complex by reason of the diurnal rotation of Marune, the revolution of Marune around Furad,the motion of Furad and Osmo around each other, the orbital motions of Madder and Cirse, around each other and jointly around the Furad-Osmo system. The planes of no two orbiting systems are alike.
The Fwai-chi, who lack all knowledge of astronomy, can reliably predict the modes for as far in the future as anyone cares to inquire.
Among the low mountains south of Port Mar live a 'lost' community of about ten thousand Majars, decadent, inbred, and gradually diminishing in numbers. These folk are slavishly affected by the modes of day. They regulate their moods, diet, attire, and, activities by the changes. During mirk, the Majars lock themselves in their huts, and by the light of oil lamps chant imprecations against Galula the Goblin who mauls and eviscerates anyone unlucky enough to be abroad after dark. Some such entity as Galula indeed exists, but has never been satisfactorily identified.
The Rhunes, as proud and competent as the Majars are demoralized, are also strongly affected by the changing modes. Behavior proper during one mode may be considered absurd or in poor taste during another. Persons advance their erudition and hone their special skills during aud, isp, and amber. Formal ceremonies tend to take plane during isp, as well as during the remarkable Ceremony of Odors. It may be noted that music is considered hyperemotional and inducive to vulgar conduct; it is never heard in the Rhune Realms. Aud is the appropriate time to go forth to battle, to conduct litigation, fight a duel, collect rent. Green rowan is a time for poetry and sentimental musing; red rowan allows the Rhune slightly to relax his etiquette. A man may condescend to take a glass of wine in company with other men, all using etiquette screens; women similarly may sip cordials or brandy. Chill isp inspires the Rhune with a thrilling ascetic exultation, which completely supersedes lesser emotions of love, hate, jealousy, greed. Conversation occurs in a hushed archaic dialect; brave ventures are planned; gallant resolves sworn; schemes of glory proposed and ratified, and many of these projects become fact, and go into the Book of Deeds.
2. The all-purpose honorific, somewhat more respectful than a simple 'sir,' to be applied to Rhunes of indeterminate status.
3. Trismet: The group of persons resulting from a 'trisme,' the Rhune analog of marriage. These persons might be a man and leis trismetic female partner; or a man, the female partner, one or more of her children (of which the man may or may not be the sire). 'Family' approximates the meaning of 'trismet' but carries a package of inaccurate and inapplicable connotations. Paternity is often an uncertain determination; rank and status, therefore, are derived from the mother.
Chapter 5
Efraim emerged from the hotel into that phase sometimes known as half-aud. Furad and Osmo ruled the sky, to produce a warm yellow light, which connoisseurs of such matters considered fresh, effervescent, and gay, but lacking the richness and suavity of full aud. He stood for a moment breathing the cool air. His melancholy had diminished; better to be Kaiark Efraim of Scharrode than Efraim the butcher, or Efraim the cook, or Efraim the garbage collector.
He set off along the Avenue of Strangers. Arriving at the bridge, instead of veering left into the Street of Brass Boxes he crossed into New Town, and discovered an environment totally different from that of Old Town.
The geography of New Town, so Efraim would discover, was simple. Four thoroughfares paralleled the river: the Estrada, which terminated at the university; the Avenue of the Agency; then the Avenue of Haune and the Avenue of Douaune, after Osmo's two small dead planets.
Efraim walked westward along the Estrada, examining the cafes and beer gardens with wistful interest. To his present perspective they seemed almost flagrantly innocent. He stepped into one of the beer gardens and glanced toward the young man and girl who sat huddled so closely together. Could he ever feel so easily licentious in full view of everyone? Perhaps even now he had not escaped the strictures of his past, which after all was less than six months gone.
He approached a portly man in a white apron who seemed to be the manager. "Sir, are you acquainted with a certain Matho Lorcas?"
"Matho Lorcas? I do not know the gentleman."
Efraim continued west along the Estrada and presently at a booth devoted to the sale of off-world periodicals the name 'Matho Lorcas' sparked recognition. The girl attendant pointed along the avenue: "Ask there, in the Satyr's Cave. You might find him at work. If not, they know his dwelling."
Matho Lorcas was indeed at work, serving mugs of beer along the bar. He was a tall young man with a keen vivacious face. His dark hair was cut short in a casual and unassuming style. When he spoke his thin crooked mouth worked dozens of changes across his face. Efraim watched him a moment before approaching.
Matho Lorcas was a person whose humor, intelligence, and easy flamboyance might well excite the antagonism of less favored individuals. Hard to suspect malice, or even guile, in Matho Lorcas. The fact remained that soon after making Lorcas'
acquaintance Efraim had been rendered mindless and shipped off across the Cluster.
Efraim approached the bar and took a seat; Lorcas approached Efraim asked: "You are Matho Lorcas?"
"Yes indeed!"
"Do you recognize me?"
Lorcas gave Efraim a frowning scrutiny. His face cleared. "You are the Rhune! I forget your name."
"Efraim, of Scharrode."
"I remember you well, and the two girls you escorted. How grave and proper their behavior! You have changed! In fact you seem a different person. How goes life in your mountain realm?"
"As usual, or so I suppose. I am most anxious to have a few words with you. When will you be free?"
"At any time. Right now, if you like; I am bored with the work. Ramono! Take charge of affairs!" He ducked under the bar and asked of Efraim: "Will you take a mug of beer? Or perhaps a glass of Del wine?"
"No thank you." Efraim had decided upon a policy of caution and reserve. "It is early in the day for me."
"Just as you like. Come, let us sit over here where we can watch the river flow by. So. Do you know, I have often wondered about you, and how you eventually - well, shall we say, accommodated yourself to your dilemma, pleasant though it might have been."