Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [394]
‘Are you all right? I’d have to throw you out if you weren’t dying, Billish.’ He steadied himself, breathing heavily. ‘I’m sorry it’s come to this … I know you’re some kind of angel from a better world, Billish, even when you bite like a devil. A man’s got to believe there’s a better world somewhere. Better than this one, where no one cares about you. Avernus … I would take you back there, if I could. I’d like to see it.’
Billy was back in his tree, his limbs part and parcel of its agonised branches.
‘Better.’
‘That’s right, better. I’m going to sit in the courtyard, Billish, just outside your window. Have a drink. Think about things. It’ll soon enough be time to pay the men. If you want me, just give a call.’
He was sorry that Billish was dying, and the Exaggerator made him sorry for himself. It was puzzling the way he always felt more comfortable with strangers, even with the queen of queens, than he did with his own family. With them he was constantly at a disadvantage.
He settled himself down outside the window, placing a jug and glass on the bench beside him. In the milky light, the stones resembled sleeping animals. The albic climbing the walls of the house opened its blooms, the blooms opened their beaks like parrots; a tranquil scent floated on the air.
After his plan to bring Billish here in secrecy had succeeded, he found himself unable to proceed further. He wanted to tell everyone that there was more to life than they knew, that Billish was a living example of that truth. It was not just that Billish was dying; Muntras suspected, somewhere in a cold corner of his being, that there might be less to life than he knew. He wished he had remained a wanderer. Now he was back home for good …
After a while, sighing, the Ice Captain pulled himself to his feet and peered through the open window. ‘Billish, are you awake? Have you seen Div?’
A gurgle in response.
‘Poor lad, he’s not really fit for the job, that’s the truth …’ He sat down again on the bench, groaning. He took up his glass and drank. Too bad Billish didn’t like Exaggerator.
The milky light thickened. Dusk-moths purred among the albic. In the sleeping house at his back boards creaked.
‘There must be a better world somewhere …’ Muntras said, and fell asleep with an unlit veronikane between his lips.
The sound of voices. Muntras roused. He saw his men gathering in the court to be paid. It was daylight. Dead calm prevailed.
Muntras stood and stretched. He looked in through the window at Billish’s contorted form, motionless on the couch.
‘This is assatassi day, Billish – I’d forgotten, with you here. The monsoon high tide. You ought to see this. It’s quite a local event. There’ll be celebrations tonight, and no half measures.’
From the couch came a single word, forced from a locked jaw. ‘Celebrations.’
The workmen were rough, dressed in rough overalls. They cast their gaze down on the worn paving stones in case their master took offence at being discovered asleep. But that was not Muntras’s way.
‘Come on, men. I’ll not be paying you out much longer. It’ll be Master Div’s turn. Let’s get it over with promptly, and then we’ll prepare for the festivities. Where’s my pay clerk?’
A small man with a high collar and hair brushed in the opposite direction to anyone else’s came darting forward. He had a ledger under his arm and was followed by a stallun carrying a safe. The clerk made a great business of pushing through the workers. This he did with his eyes constantly on his employer and his lips working as if he was already calculating what each man should be paid. His arrival caused the men to shuffle into a line to await their modest remuneration. In the unusual light, their features were without animation.
‘You lot are going to collect your wages, and then you’re going to hand it over to your wives or get drunk as usual,’ Muntras said. He addressed the men near him, among whom he saw only common-hire labourers and none of his master