The Garments of Caean

Mast suddenly realized that the figure was lifeless, and not Jadper at all. It was a jack-in-the-box. With a grunt of disgust he attempted to squeeze between the box and the close-packed cane shrubbery, but as he did so the dummy twisted round and seized him in two powerful rubbery arms, planting a slobbery kiss square on his lips. He fought violently to free himself from the embrace, the soft warm pseudo-flesh, the twinkling eyes. Jadper the jack-in-the-box giggled, caressing him intimately, then let him go.

At last, complaining bitterly to himself of Jadper’s conduct, Mast reached the entrance to the villa, large double doors flanked by abbreviated barbican towers of the same yellow travertine, a sedimentary limestone quarried from deep hot springs which was used throughout the building. The doors opened at his approach, disclosing a cool and inviting circular vestibule. Restful light filtered through a green cupola supported by slim columns. The floor was a mosaic of tiles in various pastel colours.

Mast halted and peered hesitantly within.

‘Olveolo Jadper?’

There was no reply. Cautiously he stepped through the doorway, noting the comic reliefs on the panels of tinted wainwood, and sauntered a few paces, and those warily, into the empty vestibule.

And then the floor seemed to open up all around him. All was confusion. He was being grabbed, tossed, interfered with. A flurry of movement and colour obscured everything. When the air cleared Mast found that he was stuffed feet first into a sort of cylindrical holder reaching to his waist. He was bouncing steadily up and down, supported above the floor by a giant spring. A clown’s hat had been stuck on his head and, he suspected, a bulbous comic nose on his face. He wore a gaudy ruff. The entire arrangement was set in a large box, crudely painted in garish colours, with the lid gaping open to permit his regular oscillations. Facing him there bounced Olveolo Jadper, similarly situated, and looking very much like the articulated dummy Mast had encountered a minute or two earlier. As Mast rose Jadper descended, and vice versa. The inane motion, about which he could do nothing, infuriated Mast. He wondered how in Ziode it was possible to maintain any vestige of dignity in circumstances like these.

Jadper spoke to him in a voice of melodramatic hospitality, his eyes wide and staring. ‘Ah, my guest has arrived! Greetings! The comforts of my house are yours!’

‘For heaven’s sake, Jadper!’ cried Mast in strangled tones as he bounced up and down. ‘Get me out of this!’

‘Surely you don’t wish to break off our business so soon?’

‘Quit the joking!’

‘First let us conclude our transaction.’

‘Like this?’

‘Why not? Whee! Up and down! Up and down!’

Mast struggled in sudden fury, and discovered that the cylinder holding him possessed no more binding power than stiff paper. He ripped it apart and clambered over the side of the box. Jadper followed suit, giggling to himself and throwing away his clown’s hat, ruff and nose.

Once divested, Jadper was naked except for a phallocrypt held on by a silk string around his waist. He was a very fat man, with little twinkling eyes set in a bulging face. He approached Mast with a friendly smile, holding out his hand.

‘Please excuse my little jest. Quite inexcusable, I know!’

Mast shook hands with him. His own hand came away covered in slime. He wiped it on his coat, then with a savage gesture tore off the clownish gear that bedizened him.

‘As a joker you’re a failure, Jadper,’ he said peevishly. ‘The essence of a joke is that it should come as a surprise. With you one is constantly expecting some sort of foolishness.’

The reproof seemed to have some effect on Jadper. His face became more sober. ‘You’re quite right, my dear fellow. It is very childish of me. Let’s forget that nonsense, then, and get down to business. Please take a seat.’

He gestured. Mast glanced at the chair suspiciously, hesitating to accept it until Jadper had already seated himself opposite him. He sat down gingerly, expecting it to collapse. But it did no more than emit a rude farting noise, at which Jadper emitted a snort of repressed mirth.

‘You have a load of garments to dispose of, I believe,’ Jadper said.

‘That’s right. Caeanic garments.’

‘Like this one, eh?’ The Caeanic titfer appeared out of nowhere into Jadper’s hand. He inspected it cursorily, then threw it across to Mast, who put it back on his head in place of his clown’s hat.

‘A neat little job, eh?’ Jadper complimented. ‘But of course, this is a bad time to be dealing in Caeanic stuff. You’ve heard the government’s getting edgy, I suppose? I expect that’s why you want to get rid of it.’

‘No, I hadn’t heard that,’ Mast answered truthfully. ‘I can’t see that it makes any difference. The government’s always worried about something or other.’