Songs of the Dying Earth

Amay’s eyes glittered. “Some reward, yes — but half?”

He cleared his throat. “If you have no messages for me to carry, then I shall leave you to your business.” He bowed, and in haste stepped toward the door.

“Stay!” she called. When he hesitated, she took a firm step toward him.

“It was bad enough,” Amay said, “that I spent six years confined in that wretched globe, deprived of honor and my sorcerous powers. It was bad enough that I was forced to endure the presence of my husband, and watch him consort with those bronze nymphs — and bad enough that I could see him adding to his fortune day by day, counting the coins and gems that he extorted from the bargemen before storing them in his strong rooms.” She glared at him, showing even white teeth. “And is it not bad enough that I am expected to endure a thief, a thief who takes half my substance and offers in recompense to carry my messages!”

He bowed again, and put a hand to his chest.

“Bear in mind,” he said, “that I set you free. Do I not deserve anything for this favor?”

“Indeed you do,” Amay said. “I shall kill you now, and quickly, rather than string you by your heels from the Onyx Tower!” With a ferocious gesture, she spoke the words that called forth the Spell of Azure Curtailment.

Nothing occurred. Amay stared into the face of Vespanus, which stared back, an expression of wide-eyed surprise on his face.

“So you have a charm proof against that spell,” Amay said. “But nothing can stand against the Excellent Prismatic Spray!”

Again she spoke the words of a spell, enhancing its affect with ferocious gestures. Again nothing happened, and her companion blinked at her in surprise.

“I think we have learned enough,” said the voice of Vespanus, and Amay glanced about uneasily, for the voice had seemed to come from the air, and not from her companion. Then she started and drew back as the figure of Vespanus shifted and changed into that of a leering figure with rolling eyes, a full beard, and a prominent overbite.

Then there was a scene of frantic motion, as the leering man began to dash around the room with incredible speed. He laid hands upon the very room itself and took it apart piece by piece, the whole disassembly taking place in just a few seconds, after which there was nothing left but the figure of the leering man and walls of transparent crystal.

“Allow me,” said Vespanus, peering into the crystal bottle, “to introduce my madling, Hegadil.”

Hegadil bowed elaborately as Amay stared first at the madling, and then at Vespanus, standing in her husband’s study.

“I thought it best to discover whether you were trustworthy,” Vespanus said. “While you were asleep, I had Hegadil construct a duplicate of your bedchamber inside the bottle. As he has a talent for impersonation, I also ordered him to adopt my form and see whether you would attack me once you found yourself at liberty. Alas, my lady, you failed that test…”

“I am chastened!” Amay said quickly. “I reconsider!”

“I am not so foolish as to trust you again,” Vespanus said. “Come, Hegadil!”

Hegadil stepped through the wall of the crystal bottle, and flew to the ring on Vespanus’ finger.

“Farewell, my lady,” Vespanus said. “I leave you to contemplate your long and doubtless tedious future.”

He left the study before she could speak. In truth, he had not expected any great success with the lady Amay, but he had thought the ploy worth trying. In any case, he would have all summer to puzzle out any traps on the strong room doors — and, of course, he would have the help of Hegadil, which would be considerable.

Pondering thus his own prospects, the Protostrator Vespanus walked to the Onyx Tower, and from its highest room contemplated his new domain.

Afterword:

I seem to be fairly unique in acquiring my taste for Jack Vance’s fiction as an adult.

Most Vance readers seem to have encountered him when they were young. I did, too, but I must have read the wrong stuff, or I read it badly, or maybe I just didn’t get it.

But then I kept hearing from my writer friends about what a terrific writer Jack Vance was, and how much they admired him. And these were writers whose taste I trusted.

So off I went to read The Demon Princes series. Then the Alastor books, and the Tschai series, Big Planet, and — by and by—The Dying Earth.

And so I developed a grownup’s appreciation for Vance’s glorious high style, his psychological acuity, and for the breadth of his invention.

In the Dying Earth novels and stories, I very much enjoyed the scheming of Vance’s sophisticated, amoral wizards, obsessed with politesse, possessions, and prestige, and I thought to tell a story of a character who had not yet earned a place among the elite. Vespanus is young, insufficiently schooled, and possibly second-rate. In order to take his place among the rulers of the Dying Earth, he must employ his limited powers with subtlety and finesse.