Free The Blue World by Jack Vance Page A

swayed more folk than Voiderveg’s
accusations,. but still there was a sense of hesitation, of
uncertainty, as if all suspected that
    there was yet more to be said.
    Barquan Blasdel
leaned quizzically forward over the rostrum. “What? You are
reluctant in so clear a case? I cannot prove more than I have.”
    Phyral Berwick, the
Apprise Arbiter, rose to his feet. “I remind Barquan Blasdel
that he has now called twice for the death of Sklar Hast. If he calls
once more and fails to achieve an affirmative vote, Sklar Hast is
vindicated.”
    Barquan Blasdel
smiled out over the crowd. He turned a swift, almost furtive look of
appraisal toward Sklar Hast and without further statement descended
to the float. The rostrum was empty. No one sought to speak. Finally
Phyral Berwick himself mounted the steps: a stocky, square-faced man
with gray hair, ice-blue eyes, a short gray beard. He spoke slowly.
“Sklar Hast calls for the death of King Kragen. Semm Voiderveg
and Barquan Blasdel call for the death of Sklar Hast. I will tell you
my feelings. I have great fear in the first case and great
disinclination in the second. I have no clear sense of what I should
do. Sklar Hast, rightly or wrongly, has forced us to a decision. We
should consider with care and make no instant judgements.”
    Barquan Blasdel
jumped to his feet. “Respectfully I must urge that we hold to
the issue under consideration, and this is the degree of Sklar Hast’s
guilt in connection with the Tranque Float tragedy.”
    Phyral Berwick gave
a curt nod, “We will recess for an hour.”

Chapter 5
    Sklar Hast pushed
through the crowd to where he had seen Meril Rohan, but when he
reached the spot, she had moved away. As he stood searching for her,
men and women of various floats, castes, guilds, and generations
pressed forward to stare at him, to speak to him, tentatively,
curiously. A few, motivated by a psychic morbidity, reached out to
touch him; a few reviled him in hoarse, choked voices. A tall
red-haired man, of the Peculator caste by his artfully dyed emblem of
five colors, thrust forward an excited face. “You speak of
killing King Kragen—how may this be done?”
    Sklar Hast said in
a careful voice, “I don’t know. But I hope to learn.”
    “And if King
Kragen becomes infuriated by your hostility and ravages each of the
floats in tum?”
    “There might
be temporary suffering, but our children and their children would
benefit.”
    Another spoke: a
short clench-jawed woman. “If it means my toil and my suffering
and my death, I would as soon that these misfortunes be shared by
those who would benefit.”
    “All this is a
personal matter, of course,” said Sklar Hast politely. He
attempted to sidle away, but was halted by another woman, this one
wearing the blue and white sash of Hooligan Preceptress, who shook
her finger under the first woman’s nose. “What of the Two
Hundred who fled the tyrants? Do you think they worried about risk?
No! They sacrificed all, to avoid slavery, and we have benefited. Are
we immune then from danger and sacrifice?”
    “No!”
shouted the first woman. “But we need not urge it upon
ourselves!”
    An intercessor from
one of the outer floats stepped forward. “King Kragen is our
benefactor! What is this foolish talk of risk and slavery and
sacrifice? Instead we should speak of gratitude and praise and
worship.”
    The red-haired
Peculator, leaning in front of Sklar Hast, waved his arms impatiently
at the intercessor: “Why don’t the intercessors and all of like
mind take King Kragen and voyage to a far float and serve him as they
please, but leave the remainder of us in peace?”
    “King Kragen
serves us all,” declared the intercessor with great dignity. “We
would be performing,an ignoble act to deprive everyone else of his
beneficent guardian-ship.”
    The Hooligan
Preceptress had a countering remark, but Sklar Hast managed to step
aside, and now he saw Meril Rohan at a nearby booth, where she sipped
tea