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which faces us. Or perhaps I do him an injustice because
Gavin Waylock is a man unique!
Let me list the violent devitalizations for which Gavin
Waylock is directly responsible: The Abel Mandeville;
myself, The Jacynth Martin. Speculatively, Seth Caddigan,
Rolf Aversham. Only yesterday, the Berber Carleon. These
are the events known to us. Doubtless there have been
others. Evil follows Waylock.
Why is this? Is it accidental? Is Waylock an innocent
instrument of doom? Or is Waylock possessed of so
massive an arrogance that he destroys to gain his selfish
ends?
Her voice had risen, her words were uttered at a stac-
cato pace. She was breathing heavily.
I have studied Gavin Waylock. He is no innocent
instrument of doom. He is a Monster. His morals are
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those of the Jurassic swamp; they give him a remorseless
power, which is directed against the people of Clarges.
He is a physical threat to each of us!
From the mosaic came a rustle, a buzz. A voice cried,
How so? echoed by another voice and another: How
so? How so?
The Jacynth responded: Gavin Waylock ignores our
laws. He breaks them whenever he feels so inclined.
Success is contagious. He will be joined by others. Like
a virus molecule, he will contaminate our entire com-
munity.
The mosaic hummed and whispered.
Gavin Waylock s goal is Amaranth. He is candid on
the subject. She leaned back, looked around the mosaic,
scanning the thousands of minute faces. If we felt so
inclined, we could ignore the law of Clarges, and give
him what he wants. She asked in a quiet voice, What
is your will on this?
A dull sound like spent surf came from the speaker.
Hands reached for the optators, the mosaic twinkled with
color: a blue here and there, a few more greens, a sprinkle
of yellows, a great wash of orange and red. The panel of
the tabulating register glowed vermillion.
The Jacynth held up her hand. But if we don t sur-
render, I warn you, we must fight this man. We must not
only discourage and subdue him; this will not be enough.
We must she leaned forward and spoke with concen-
trated brutality We must extinguish him!
There was no sound from the mosaic; each facet hung
like a painted tile.
Some of you are shocked and uncomfortable, said
The Jacynth, but you must adjust yourselves to a harsh
undertaking. We must destroy this man for the predator
that he is.
She sat back; The Roland Zygmont, chairman of the
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JACK VANCE
Society, assumed the control plate. He spoke in a subdued
voice. The Jacynth has illuminated a specific aspect of
the general problem. Beyond question Grayven Warlock
is a clever rogue; he seems to have outwitted the assas-
sins and laid low for seven years, then registered in Brood
as his own relict, with the intent of making the climb
once more to Amaranth.
A faint voice cried out, And where is the wrong in
this?
The Roland ignored the question. However in this
larger matter
The Jacynth reappeared on the panel. Her eyes roved
up and down among ten thousand faces. Who spoke?
I spoke.
And who are you?
I am Gavin Waylock or The Grayven Warlock, if you
prefer. I serve as Vice-Chancellor of the Prytanean.
Across the great mosaic, faces shifted and moved as
eyes scanned the ten thousand facets.
Let me speak further. Chairman, give me the floor
please
I yield, said The Jacynth.
Waylock s face appeared on the central screen. Ten
thousand pairs of eyes studied the stern face.
Seven years ago, said Waylock, I was relinquished
to the assassins and convicted of a crime of which I was
only technically guilty. By good fortune I am here today
to protest. I petition this conclave to rescind the order
of arrest, to acknowledge the mistake, and declare me
once more a member of the Society in good standing.
The Roland Zygmont spoke in a voice burdened with
perturbation. The conclave is at liberty to vote on your
petition.
You are a Monster! came an angry voice. We will
never submit!
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Waylock said in a steady voice, I request your vote
of acceptance.
The tabulator plate burnt ember red.
You have defeated the proposal, said Waylock. May
I inquire Chairman Zygmont, I call on you why I have
been denied?
I can only guess at the Society s motives, muttered
The Roland. Apparently we feel that your methods are
reprehensible. You have been accused of irregularity, if
not crime. We are annoyed by your aggressive approach.
We do not find you qualified by character or achievement
for membership in the Amaranth Society.
But, said Waylock mildly, my character is irrelevant,
as it is with any Amaranth. I am The Grayven Warlock,
and I claim recognition.
The Roland yielded to The Jacynth Martin. You are
registered at the Actuarian as Gavin Waylock, are you
not?
That is true. It was a matter of convenience, a
Then this is your legal identity. By your own recogni-
tion, The Grayven is extinct. You are Gavin Waylock,
Brood.
I registered as Gavin Waylock, relict to The Grayven.
This is a matter of record. However I am the identity of
Grayven, and hence entitled to the same perquisites as
if I were The Grayven himself. It is all one.
The Jacynth laughed. I will allow The Roland to
respond; he is the arbiter on such matters.
The Roland said shortly, I deny the assertion of Mr.
Gavin Waylock. The Grayven was Amaranth for only
two years at the time of his trouble. He could not con-
ceivably have brought surrogates to a state of full
empathy.
This is the case, however, said Waylock. You may
challenge me on any aspect of The Grayven s past; you
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JACK VANCE
will discover an unbroken continuity. You have
acknowledged me Warlock s surrogate; I therefore peti-
tion for recognition as the new Grayven Warlock.
The Roland said uneasily, I cannot receive your peti-
tion. You may be The Grayven s relict, but you cannot
possibly be his identity, his surrogate.
The argument had resolved to interchange between
these two, and their faces shared the screen.
But, asked Waylock, is this not your doctrine in
regard to surrogates? Is not each of your surrogates the
identity of you?
Each surrogate is an individual, until he is invested
with the legal identity of the proto-Amaranth, whence
he becomes the Amaranth.
Waylock for a moment had nothing to say. To the
mosaic of faces, he appeared countered and thwarted.
Then the surrogates are distinct individuals?
In effect, yes, responded The Roland.
Waylock asked the Society. All of you agree?
The tabulator shone bright blue.
It occurs to me, said Waylock thoughtfully, that in
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