He added lamely: “Which might, ha, offend less fortunate members of the troupe.”
Damsel Blanche-Aster ignored the suggestion as if it had not been made. Her voice frosted the air. “Essentially, I require only privacy; if necessary, I am willing to put up with inconvenience.”
Zamp pulled at his blonde goatee. “In view of your obvious gentility, you may take your meals here with me in this cabin. On the deck below is a spacious lazarette, conveniently adjacent to my private bath, which can be used as a cabin. It is not particularly airy nor bright, but nowhere else aboard ship can I provide the privacy you request.”
“It must suffice. I will order my effects aboard at once.”
“We depart at noon, so please make haste.”
Zamp escorted Damsel Blanche-Aster out on deck and with a warm weakness of the joints watched her leave the ship. He shook his head in wonder. A marvel, a nonesuch, a rarity! He craned his neck to look after her erect supple form as she walked along the esplanade. A creature beautiful as the dawn, luminous with intelligence. Even her hauteur was fascinating! But no denying a profoundly strange quality to the situation, which only a simpleton could ignore! Why would such a remarkable person opt for the life of a show-boat player? A mystery which he would endeavor to resolve, along with all her other mysteries and reticences. Zamp considered the days to come with a thrill of anticipation: as if he had returned to adolescence and were experiencing the pangs of infatuation.
Summoning Chaunt, Zamp gave instructions as to the lazarette, then returned to the quarterdeck and pretended to study the River Index .
… Bilch, like other communities up and down the Vale of Lant, must constantly stay on the alert against the rapacity of the Whants, and in consequence has evolved a curious psychology compounded of nervousness and fear, repressed hostility, and the ordinary human need for self-assertion and pride. The folk of Bilch therefore seem almost disoriented and victims of confused impulses. The official who one moment gives an obsequious greeting may on the next turn to snarling and gnashing his teeth like a cur. On the other hand, the gang of furtive youths who in the shelter of darkness pelt the visitor with rocks might well perform prodigies of selfless valor to save him from drowning …
Members of the troupe straggled up the gangplank, removing the pegs opposite their names on the roster-board as they stepped on deck. A pair of porters brought Damsel Blanche-Aster’s belongings aboard: three varnished rattan cases with iron clips and hinges: rich cases indeed! Zamp strolled forward to the bow, not wishing to be in evidence when Damsel Blanche-Aster herself came aboard. For a day or two he would maintain a courteous distance, almost an aloofness. Such an attitude would intrigue her imagination and stimulate her female predacity. She would wonder where and how she was lacking and exert herself to be captivating … Garth Ashgale, on the quarterdeck of his Fironzelle’s Golden Conceit , called across the water: “So then: you are faring forth?”
“I am indeed. And you?”
“I must make repairs, worse luck, or I’d be up the Lant myself. How far up do you venture?”
“I have not yet decided.”
“Good luck then and large audiences. What will you play at Port Whant?”
“ Evulsifer , though we are rusty at the roles.”
“An excellent choice! The Whants are a dismal lot. Give them gore and they’ll never notice the deficiencies.” Garth Ashgale — smiling rather broadly, thought Zamp — waved his hand and turned away.
Damsel Blanche-Aster came aboard. She halted a moment, looked right and left along the decks, up and down the masts, then sauntered aft to the quarterdeck, to stand leaning on the taffrail looking north up the brimming Vissel.
Bullocks were harnessed to the capstan; Zamp gave the order to cast off lines: Miraldra’s Enchantment eased out upon the Lant. Zamp
Damsel Blanche-Aster ignored the suggestion as if it had not been made. Her voice frosted the air. “Essentially, I require only privacy; if necessary, I am willing to put up with inconvenience.”
Zamp pulled at his blonde goatee. “In view of your obvious gentility, you may take your meals here with me in this cabin. On the deck below is a spacious lazarette, conveniently adjacent to my private bath, which can be used as a cabin. It is not particularly airy nor bright, but nowhere else aboard ship can I provide the privacy you request.”
“It must suffice. I will order my effects aboard at once.”
“We depart at noon, so please make haste.”
Zamp escorted Damsel Blanche-Aster out on deck and with a warm weakness of the joints watched her leave the ship. He shook his head in wonder. A marvel, a nonesuch, a rarity! He craned his neck to look after her erect supple form as she walked along the esplanade. A creature beautiful as the dawn, luminous with intelligence. Even her hauteur was fascinating! But no denying a profoundly strange quality to the situation, which only a simpleton could ignore! Why would such a remarkable person opt for the life of a show-boat player? A mystery which he would endeavor to resolve, along with all her other mysteries and reticences. Zamp considered the days to come with a thrill of anticipation: as if he had returned to adolescence and were experiencing the pangs of infatuation.
Summoning Chaunt, Zamp gave instructions as to the lazarette, then returned to the quarterdeck and pretended to study the River Index .
… Bilch, like other communities up and down the Vale of Lant, must constantly stay on the alert against the rapacity of the Whants, and in consequence has evolved a curious psychology compounded of nervousness and fear, repressed hostility, and the ordinary human need for self-assertion and pride. The folk of Bilch therefore seem almost disoriented and victims of confused impulses. The official who one moment gives an obsequious greeting may on the next turn to snarling and gnashing his teeth like a cur. On the other hand, the gang of furtive youths who in the shelter of darkness pelt the visitor with rocks might well perform prodigies of selfless valor to save him from drowning …
Members of the troupe straggled up the gangplank, removing the pegs opposite their names on the roster-board as they stepped on deck. A pair of porters brought Damsel Blanche-Aster’s belongings aboard: three varnished rattan cases with iron clips and hinges: rich cases indeed! Zamp strolled forward to the bow, not wishing to be in evidence when Damsel Blanche-Aster herself came aboard. For a day or two he would maintain a courteous distance, almost an aloofness. Such an attitude would intrigue her imagination and stimulate her female predacity. She would wonder where and how she was lacking and exert herself to be captivating … Garth Ashgale, on the quarterdeck of his Fironzelle’s Golden Conceit , called across the water: “So then: you are faring forth?”
“I am indeed. And you?”
“I must make repairs, worse luck, or I’d be up the Lant myself. How far up do you venture?”
“I have not yet decided.”
“Good luck then and large audiences. What will you play at Port Whant?”
“ Evulsifer , though we are rusty at the roles.”
“An excellent choice! The Whants are a dismal lot. Give them gore and they’ll never notice the deficiencies.” Garth Ashgale — smiling rather broadly, thought Zamp — waved his hand and turned away.
Damsel Blanche-Aster came aboard. She halted a moment, looked right and left along the decks, up and down the masts, then sauntered aft to the quarterdeck, to stand leaning on the taffrail looking north up the brimming Vissel.
Bullocks were harnessed to the capstan; Zamp gave the order to cast off lines: Miraldra’s Enchantment eased out upon the Lant. Zamp
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