Free The Potter of Firsk and Other Stories by Jack Vance

is there? I warned you not to expect on this planet the same conditions existent on Earth. You saw how the apes buried their comrade under a tree? Undoubtedly they were led to do so by the trees—persuaded, enticed, forced: that is a matter for speculation—in order that the trees might benefit by the enrichment of the soil. In any event, I reasoned that if the trees were intelligent, after seven months they very likely would comprehend human speech. In the presence of a tree I recommended that a large area of vegetation be cleared away—a wholesale murder of trees. Naturally I was marked as a threat, an individual to be removed. The attempt was made this evening.”
    “But how?” said Rogge. “A tree can’t walk into a building and throw a rope around a man’s neck!”
    “No,” said Magnus Ridolph. “But a tree has roots, and every room in the diggings has a drain or a ventilator, some sort of minute crevice. And I strongly suspect the presence of spy cells in the wood panels of every room—small eyes and ears. Not an action escapes the surrounding intelligences. And at this minute I suspect they are preparing to kill us both, by poison gas, possibly, or—”
    A splintering crash sounded. A section of the floor broke open, and from the dark gap uncoiled a dull-brown hawser-like object. It threshed, wove, swung toward Rogge and Magnus Ridolph.
    “Wait,” said Magnus Ridolph calmly. “Wait. You are intelligent beings. Wait, listen to what I have to say to you.”
    The great root swung toward them with no pause.
    “Wait,” said Magnus Ridolph calmly. “There will be no clearing and all rubble will be dumped into the bay.”
    The root hesitated, wavered in mid-air.
    “What malignant creatures!” breathed Rogge.
    “Not at all,” said Magnus Ridolph. “They are merely the denizens of a world defending their lives. Cooperation can be to our mutual benefit.” He addressed himself to the root.
    “In the future, if the trees will bar the animals from Diggings B and provide fruit at that location, men will in no way harm the trees. All waste will be transported to the ocean. In addition other men will come, discover your needs, make known our own desires. We will form a partnership beneficial to both our species. Men can irrigate and enrich sparse soils, curb insect parasites. Trees can locate minerals for man, synthesize complex organic compounds, grow him fruit.” He paused for a moment. The root lay flaccid on the broken floor.
    “If the trees understand and approve, let the root withdraw.”
    The root shivered, twisted, writhed—pulled itself to the gap in the floor. It was gone.
    Magnus Ridolph turned to the frozen superintendent.
    “There will be no more trouble.”
    Rogge seemed to come awake. He glanced at the splintered floor. “But the killings? Is there to be no punishment? The torment I’ve gone through—”
    Magnus Ridolph surveyed him with cool contempt. “Have not your men cut down many trees?”
    Rogge shook his head. “There’ll be an added expense taking that fill to the bay. I doubt if the diggings will pay. Why, man, with a couple incinerator tubes and a few bulldozers we could clear off the whole area—” He caught Ridolph’s eye.
    “In my opinion,” said Magnus Ridolph, “you are short-sighted and ruthless. You also flout the law. In fact you are not a fit administrator for this project.”
    Rogge knitted his brow. “What law am I flouting?”
    “The statute created over thirty years ago for the protection and encouragement of friendly autochthones.”
    Rogge said nothing.
    “You will either cooperate completely, or I will request your removal.”
    Rogge looked away. “Perhaps you are right,” he muttered.
    A faint sound came to their ears. Turning, they looked to the gap in the floor. It was fast disappearing. Even as they watched, the splinters, strangely pliant, turned themselves down, knitted to a smooth gleaming surface. Where the gap had been now shone a small