Trullion: Alastor 2262 Read Free Page B

and black ship that had struck down the starmenters. “Or perhaps I’ll join the Whelm and lead a life of adventure.”
    “I know nothing of the Whelm,” said Jut ponderously, “but if it’s hussade I can give you one or two useful hints. Run five miles every day to develop your stamina. Jump the practice pits until you can make sure landings blindfolded. Forbear with the girls, or there’ll be no virgins left in the prefecture to be your sheirl.”
    “It’s a chance I am willing to take,” said Glinnes.
    Jut squinted through his black eyebrows at Glay. “And what of you? Will you stay in the household?”
    Glay gave a shrug. “If I could, I’d travel space and see the cluster.”
    Jut raised his bushy eyebrows. “How will you travel, lacking money?”
    “There are methods, according to Akadie. He visited twenty-two worlds, working from port to port.
    “Hmmf. That may be. But never use Akadie for your model. He has derived nothing from his travels but useless erudition.”
    Glay thought a moment. “If this is true,” he said, “as it must be, since you so assert, then Akadie learned his sympathy and breadth of intellect here on Trullion which is all the more to his credit.”
    Jut, who never resented honest defeat, clapped Glay on the back. “In you he has a loyal friend.”
    “I am grateful to Akadie,” said Glay. “He has explained many things to me.”
    Shira, who teemed with lewd ideas, gave Glay a sly nudge. “Follow Glinnes on his rounds, and you’ll never need Akadie’s explanations.”
    “I’m not talking about that sort of thing.”
    “Then what sort of thing are you talking about?” “I don’t care to explain. You’d only jeer at me, which is tiresome.”
    “No jeering!” declared Shira. “We’ll give you a fair hearing! Say on.”
    “Very well. I don’t really care whether you jeer or not. I’ve long felt a lack, or an emptiness. I want a weight to thrust my shoulder against; I want a challenge I can defy and conquer.”
    “Brave words,” said Shira dubiously. “But why should I so trouble myself?
    Because I have but one life, one existence. I want to make my mark, somewhere, somehow. When I think of it I grow almost frantic! My foe is the universe; it defies me to perform remarkable deeds so that ever after folk will remember me! Why should not the name ‘Glay Hulden’ ring as far and clear as ‘Paro’ and ‘Slabar Velche’? I will make it so; it is the least I owe myself!”
    Jut said in a gloomy voice, “You had best become either a great hussade player or a great starmenter.”
    “I overspoke myself,” said Glay. “In truth I want neither fame nor notoriety; I do not care whether I astonish a single person. I want only the chance to do my best.” There was silence on the verandah. From the reeds camethe croak of nocturnal insects, and water lapped softly against the dock; a merling perhaps had risen to the surface, to listen for interesting sounds.
    Paro: a hussade player, the darling of the cluster, celebrated for his aggressive and daring play. Slabar Velche: a notorious starmenter.
    Jut said in a heavy voice, “The ambition does you no discredit. Still I wonder how it would be if everyone strove with such urgency. Where would peace abide?”
    “It is a difficult problem,” said Glinnes. “Indeed, I had never considered it before. Glay, you amaze me You are unique!”
    Glay gave a deprecatory grunt. “I’m not so sure of this. There must be many, many folk desperate to fulfill themselves.”
    “Perhaps this is why people become starmenters,” suggested Glinnes. “They are bored at home, at hussade they’re inept, the girls turn away from them — so off they go in their black hulls, for sheer revenge!”
    “The theory is as good as any,” agreed Jut Hidden. “But revenge cuts both ways, as thirty-three folk discovered today.”
    “There is something here I can’t understand,” said Glinnes. “The Connatic knows of their crimes. Why does he