“I begin to think it a myth. I must return to study my references.”
“In that case, I demand the full balance of what you owe.”
“Certainly,” said Rhialto. “Where is your invoice?”
“I have prepared no formal document. The due amount, however, is fifty-two golden zikkos.”
“Highly exorbitant!” cried Rhialto. “Have you not miscalculated?”
“I include the use and enjoyment of my land, by day and by night; labor costs, in both digging and refilling the hole; re-landscaping and re-planting the site; my own fees, both as supervisor and consultant; certain honorariums due the civic functionaries; imposts and —”
Rhialto held up his hand. “You have already told me more than I care to hear. For my part, I want only the porridge bowl, for a souvenir.”
Um-Foad’s mustaches bristled anew. “Can you be serious? That is a valuable antique, worth at least ten zikkos!”
“Whatever you say.”
Um-Foad found the porridge bowl and tendered it to Rhialto. “Now then, my money, and let there be no mistakes in the tally.”
Rhialto passed over a satchel. Um-Foad counted the contents with satisfaction. He rose to his feet. “I take it that you are now vacating the premises?”
“Almost immediately.”
“My fees resume at Midnight.” Um-Foad gave a crisp signal of farewell, then, striding to the pit, called up the workers and the group returned to the village.
The geranium-red sun floated down the western sky. With the cessation of activity the site seemed unnaturally quiet. Rhialto stood in contemplation of the pit. Shalukhe the Swimmer lazed on the rug before the pavilion. Osherl stood in the entrance to his cottage, looking off across the landscape with a somewhat moony expression.
Rhialto heaved a deep sigh and turned to Osherl: “Well then, I am waiting to hear what you have to say.”
Osherl’s eyes went unfocused. “Ah yes … I am happy to hear that Yaa-Yimpe has recovered his health.”
“Is that all? You are curiously placid. Have you no word in regard to the Perciplex?”
Osherl scratched his cheek. “Did you not come to agreement with Yaa-Yimpe?”
“Why should I bother, when he held a patently false version of the Perciplex?”
“Indeed? How could even Rhialto make so definite a finding, when he never so much as laid hands on the object?”
Rhialto shook his head sadly. “My dear fellow, you yourself certified the object as brummagem when you allowed it to be found in the same stratum as the porridge bowl.”
“Not at all! You yourself saw how the area of the porridge bowl was well below the central knob which yielded the Perciplex.”
“Exactly so: the same levels, when they should have been six feet or more apart.”
“Hmmf,” said Osherl. “Somewhere you have made errors. One cannot judge important matters on the basis of porridge bowls.”
“In sheer point of fact, you and Sarsem were careless, though I am sure you enjoyed your trick, chuckling and nudging each other in the ribs as you envisioned poor Rhialto’s distress.”
Osherl, stung, cried out: “Error once again! The arrangements were made in all dignity! Also, your theories lack proof. The bowl may imitate the early style, or it might have been preserved exactly one epoch and then thrown into the sea!”
“Osherl, you walk the very brink of absurdity. My so-called ‘theories’ stand on two legs: first, logical deduction; and second, simple observation. The object which you allowed Yaa-Yimpe to find admittedly resembled the Perciplex — in fact enough to deceive Hache-Moncour. But not me.”
Osherl blinked in puzzlement. “How are your eyes so keen and Hache-Moncour’s so dull?”
“I am not only wise and just; I am intelligent. Hache-Moncour boasts only a low animal cunning scarcely superior to your own.”
“You are still telling me nothing.”
“Have you no eyes? The false object dangled on a thong around Yaa-Yimpe’s neck — at the horizontal. The true Perciplex holds itself forever upright, so that its sacred text may never be misread. Hache-Moncour paid no heed, and I am grateful for his vulgar haste. So now, what have you to say?”
“I must give the matter thought.”
“Two questions remain. First: who has the Perciplex, you or Sarsem? Second: how will you and Sarsem be at once rewarded for your services and punished for your faithlessness?”
“The former far outweigh the latter, at least in my case,” said Osherl. “As for Sarsem, who was so adroitly gulled by Hache-Moncour, I will make no recommendations.”
“And the Perciplex?”
“Ah! That is a delicate subject, which I am not free to discuss before unauthorized ears.”
“What?” cried Rhialto in outrage. “You include me in this category, when Ildefonse specifically placed you under my orders?”
“Subject to the limits of common sense.”
“Very well! We will lay the facts before Ildefonse at Boumergarth, and I hope that I may restrain all prejudice in my report. Still, I must take note of your sullen obduracy, which can only add aeons to your indenture.”
