Free Orion Shall Rise by Poul Anderson Page A

an exile, and more in my birthland than here. Do you care to listen? I’m never loath to talk about myself, but my friends in the Pey-d’Or have heard my story too often. Therefore I retell it in bits and pieces, in the songs I make for their amusement and for the drinks they stand me, and they never recognize it. Vineleaf, darling,’ he called across the room, ‘don’t pout. I promise I’ll keep it short this time.
    ‘I mentioned being a national of Devon in southern Angleylann. Do you know it at all?’
    ‘Yes, I was there once with my stepfather, when he had merchandise to trade,’ Iern said. ‘A beautiful country.’
    ‘Peaceful, pastoral, and dull,’ Plik answered, ‘aside from those strangenesses you find in any rural area. They’re different from the strangenesses of cities, you know. My father was a village shopkeeper but my mother had Welsh blood in her – still does, I hope. I left in disgrace eighteen years ago, when I was twenty.
    ‘You see, I was always a moody, solitary boy, the first of three who lived but not much help at home, always with my nose in any book I could find when I wasn’t drifting around the landscape. In my teens I made a halfhearted attempt to become respectable – but you heard my song. A clergyman of the Free Church that governs Devon liked a few of my early efforts, and on his recommendation I received a scholarship at the college in Glasstobry. It was a wonderful chance, those thousands and thousands of books.… I tried to be a good student. I truly did, for more than a year. But the opportunities were so numerous to drink and gamble and chasewomen and – and at last I played an elaborate practical joke which got me expelled.’
    ‘Why did you do that?’ Iern inquired. He’d pulled his share of pranks while a Cadet, but kept them within reason. He would never have risked not becoming a flyer.
    Sesi brought the three filled cups on a tray and set them down – and herself, beside the Clansman.
    At that, pain crossed Plik’s countenance and he replied harshly: ‘The Bishop couldn’t understand that I had to do it. Had to. Glasstobry is so old, so haunted, oh, far more haunted than Kemper.’
    His tone leveled off, though now a trifle slurred: ‘Well, I couldn’t stomach the idea of slinking back home. I oddjobbed my way abroad. The captain of the ship that happened to bring me here enjoyed my songs, and introduced me to the owner, who engaged me to perform at a banquet he gave in honor of the Mestromor. His Benevolence, Arnec IV, was actually impressed, and wanted to keep me on hand. He gave me a position in his library – oh, books, books, books! The Book and the Bottle – do you know, you don’t really require a group of fellow drinkers. You can find a book such a companion that it’s quite possible to drink with it and none else. … His Benevolence summoned me to many court functions, where I was well rewarded for my talents.’
    Iern studied the down-at-heels figure. ‘Something went wrong,’ he deduced.
    Sesi tossed her head. ‘What’d you expect?’ she said impatiently. ‘He went back to lushing, not drinking but lushing. He’d arrive soused at court and make a fool of himself.’ She leaned close to Iern. He felt her breath on his cheek. ‘Let’s hear about you,’ she insinuated.
    ‘My demon was in me,’ Plik declared stiffly. ‘I leave it to your judgment whether the word “demon” is to be taken in its Classical or medieval sense.
I
think the trouble was that gradually I lost interest in composing nice little ditties for nice little people. What I offered instead disturbed them.’
    ‘Foof!’ Sesi bounced to her feet. ‘Pardon me, Iern. I have to go behind the house. I’ll be back in a minute.’ She swayed over the floor. Mute, Plik watched until she had climbed the rear staircase out of this basement and closed the door.
    Then he shook himself and finished: ‘At last the Mestromor toldme to keep away. He’s a kind man; he let me