Vigil blinked at the fellow in astonishment. Was he mad? Many folk departed from normal psychological states during festivities or added some humorously psychotic subpersonality to their psychic architecture.

Vigil said, “My dear valet, I was not expecting you to help me land the ship, but I would appreciate any advice concerning protocols as I confront the Table, or the personalities of the men involved. They have betrayed their oaths and forgotten them. Are you of their party or of mine?”

The man said, “I could ask you the same question. I don’t want you to blow up the planet if she don’t land. Why not let her fall on by?”

Vigil did not understand the question. It seemed a matter too obvious and too large to fit into words. It was like asking why civilization was better than savagery. The only thing he could think to say was: “The ship must land.”

“Why?”

“So that the Schedule be kept, the inviolate Schedule, to which countless men of ages past and yet to come on many worlds devote our lives. So that we may prove that we recall our oaths.”

“Why?”

“I am loyal to Rania. Surely every loyal subject loves his princess. Don’t you?”

Again, the reaction was odd. Surely the man had been drinking spirits, or his spirits had been drinking alcohol, for he grew suddenly melancholy. “I reckon I still love her, too. So, sure, come on. Maybe I can buffalo whatever else is sniffing for me. Call me your Yes Man, then.”

Vigil was not sure what half these words meant, and the local subsystems could not provide him a lexicon either. Perhaps the man’s name was Yesman, or perhaps he came from a race or sept which called itself by such an odd title.

5

The Chamber of the Black Hexagon

1. Valet, Watchman, Bailiff, Counsel

The valet, Yesman, or whatever his name was, said heavily, “Well, let’s tart you up, or else the pox-riddled cross-grained curs will toss you out on your ear for trifling with their laws.” He took Vigil over to the vestry booth and adorned him in additional regalia.

Black leg sheathes with silver studs were buckled to his legs, symbols of the magnetic greaves once used for extravehicular activity; a war belt with sword and prong pistol, weapons carefully calculated not to breach the hull or damage the engineering, the valet slung over one shoulder and buckled around his waist.

The valet took the prong pistol, broke it open, snorted in disgust at the design of the cartridges, said, “This is a poxing toy for kids!” He threw the weapon in the trash can. “Take this.” He slipped a glass pistol of antique design out from his own jacket and into the holster.

When the valet made as if to place the mask back on Vigil, Vigil shied back, saying, “I am convinced ancient man was designed by the Hermeticists not to itch in their faces. There is no explanation otherwise for the uncouth garb the ancients wore.”

“Heh. This uniform is as old as I am, sonny, so don’t mock it. But I think the rules allow you to go unmasked. Not throwing this thing away. Lemme see.” The valet adjusted the mask fittings and thrust his huge nose into it, followed by the rest of his face. Rummaging around in the vestry, he slung a spare cloak of ribbed silver over his own shoulders and found a deep hood in which to hide the bristles of his short-cropped red hair.

An internal creature prodded Vigil and drew his attention to where the seneschal still crouched on the floor, motionless, evidently awaiting some order or signal.

The valet said, “They got a number of legal tricks they can pull to prevent you from sitting down. One of them is letting that guy there not open the door. Point your finger at him, say or sign the words, I grant you leave, your shift is over.”

The seneschal stood up, looking surprised. He said, “Milord, this is not proper! I refuse to take my leave time! I hereby lodge a formal protest with the Officer of the Watch.”

The valet said, “Tell him to shut his yam-eating scrofulous trap. Since his shift is over, he does not have access to the circuits to lodge a potato, much less lodge a protest. Tell him to stuff a pipe up his fundament and blow smoke out of his bunghole for an hour and a half, until the next watch change.”

The seneschal snarled at the valet, “But I can raise a point of order at any time and call the Officer of the Watch at any time! You are legally required to stand by until he arrives! And since he is in yonder chamber, now lawfully allowed to depart it, aha! You also must abide here with me until the next watch change! That is ninety minutes by the Sacerdotal reckoning of time! Doors! You are my witness!”

Vigil gave the mudra to open the doors, but they refused the command. A lantern to the left of the door turned from blue to red, and the architrave displayed a mudra which indicated the need to stand by until the Officer of the Watch arrived.

The valet sighed. “Okay, you guys think you can choke me with laws and rut your dangles up with me. Hellfire and pestulation! I am a goddamn pus-licking, low-down, snake-tongued, crook-brained lawyer, and I’ll stuff the law books down your craw one jot and tittle at a time, you rut with me!” He turned angrily to Vigil. “Now they got my dander up, and that’s never fun for no one but me! Draw the damn pistol I just gave you, and shoot it at the floor.”

Vigil did so. The glass weapon was magnetic, so there was no noise of discharge, but the report of the shot ripping through the sound barrier, and the crack of the marble floor, shocked the hearing.

Bells, whistles, and flutes began shrieking and ringing, along with the sound of the sackbut and timbrel, cornet, cymbals, psaltery, dulcimer. The lanterns flared with colors of rose, cyan, scarlet, and gold, and many voices spoke in languages long forgotten.

A nearby door, but not the locked door leading into the Chamber, now swung open. A trio of guards in brass and black armor and air-helms of silver, plumes of poison-detection feathers spreading from their crests, came into the room at a quick march, pacification wands at the ready. They must have just that moment been woken from slumber, no doubt stacked in a closet against the hour when they were needed, because the one in the front was still white in the face, the chemicals of long-term hibernation not yet faded from his cells. He had also not yet closed his face mask, so the valet only skinned a few knuckles when he punched the man in the face and knocked him to the ground.

The other two watchmen grabbed the valet roughly by either arm and flourished their wands. From the wand tip issued a mudra indicating peace, and the valet’s arms and legs jerked in odd response, as the ability to make violent motions was removed from his nervous system.

The valet, his arms pinned, said quickly, “Say the words, Weapons fired, officer down. Then say the words, Emergency condition declared.”

The officer jumped to his feet. “I am not down!”

But it was too late. Vigil had spoken the words, and the lanterns had changed color to orange.

The seneschal said in panic, “Stop that man from talking! He is a lawyer!” And a watchman waved his wand in the face of the valet, but the valet was wearing the air mask Vigil had discarded, which was the mask of a Lord of the Stability, whose words could not be overridden.

The watchman was shocked when the valet spoke again, “Establish rank!”

Vigil knew this part of the regulations. He kicked his boot heels together, and without unsheathing the sword, he made it emit a signal of white noise on the weapon frequency.

The seneschal and the watch officer turned in outraged astonishment. But they both knew the meaning of the posture Vigil assumed, and the radio-pulse of the sword: I am ranking officer and take command.