Lurulu by Jack Vance

anyone watching from the Maijaro , although it seemed unlikely that either Cavke or Lady Maloof would be vigilant at this early hour. Under different conditions the two men would have enjoyed the peace of the river and the idyllic scenery along the shores, which, appearing ahead, drew abreast, then receded astern.
    Half an hour passed, and the two began to search the water ahead for a glimpse of the Maijaro , but there was no sign of the houseboat. Ten minutes went by, while Maloof and Myron became increasingly tense. At last the Maijaro came into view, anchored beside a small island, bow pointing downstream.
    Maloof idled the engine; the Lulio drifted close under the trees which shaded the water, toward the Maijaro , and at last drew alongside. They watched and listened, but detected neither sound nor movement from within. With the utmost delicacy, Myron transferred himself to the front deck where he made the Lulio ’s painter fast to a stanchion. Maloof joined him and they let the boat swing free, to where it could not bump into the houseboat.
    For a moment they stood listening lest someone within might have been alerted by the slight movement of the houseboat when they had brought their weight aboard. Within was silence; no one had noticed.
    Maloof tested the door into the front cabin and eased it ajar. Across the cabin a doorway opened into the main saloon. From where they stood only a section of the far wall was visible, but clearly through the open doorway came the chink of porcelain and a faint sipping sound. Maloof shifted cautiously forward and brought most of the saloon into view.
    In a high-backed wicker chair sat Lady Maloof, with an octagonal tabouret of split bamboo beside her, on which rested a tray with a pot of tea, a plate of small pastries and a saucer of what might have been honey. In her bony hand she held a fluted yellow teacup. She wore a voluminous peignoir of pale blue silk, decorated with a fantastic array of flamboyant birds. They sat on perches with their tails dangling below spread into extravagant fans, creating patterns of vivid color: tangerine-red, phosphorescent green, acrid blue. The garment was wildly unsuitable to the circumstances and would seem to represent Lady Maloof’s brave but futile attempts to deny the remorseless passage of time. Apparently she had undergone surgical techniques to the same ends. The results were not at all happy. The skin adjacent to her eyelids had been gathered, causing her eyes to tilt upward as if in querulous inquiry. The wattles under her chin were gone, leaving a long pointed chin. Myron saw Maloof wince and shake his head.
    The two searched the saloon. Lady Maloof was alone, thinking her dismal thoughts.
    Holding his hand-gun at the ready, Maloof stole step by step into the saloon. Myron silently followed. Lady Maloof became fretful and raised her head, as if to call out. Maloof and Myron froze in their tracks, but Lady Maloof changed her mind and drank more tea. Maloof eased silently forward, slow step by step. Lady Maloof sat nodding over her tea, until, warned by some small sound, she looked over her shoulder. At the sight of the intruders, her eyes went wide and her mouth sagged open. She started to scream. Maloof was upon her, clamping her mouth before she could utter more than a terrified squeak. Her eyes bulged, as she stared at her still-strange assailant; as for Maloof, this haggard old woman was only barely recognizable as his mother. Orlo Cavke had lavished little loving care upon the source of his income.
    At last Lady Maloof’s shoulders sagged, as Maloof’s identity penetrated her consciousness. She clawed his hand away from her mouth. “You are Adair,” she croaked. “Adair!”
    “Yes, I am Adair. I am taking you back to Traven and your home.”
    Lady Maloof’s eyes filled with tears which trickled down her addled old cheeks.
    Maloof said: “Your friend Cavke —” he corrected himself “— Loy Tremaine, where is he