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222 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1978
Wyst is a much more straightforward story than either of its predecessors. While in Trullion and Marune, weird games and cultures were front and center, this book uses an unusual setting largely as a backdrop for a mystery thriller.
Jantiff Ravenstoke, on the thinnest of pretexts, visits the Arrabus region of Wyst, where egalitarianism is widely practice, but the search for 'bonter' (non-standard food) is a driving force. Jantiff is unprepared, gets into trouble, and fights his way back, on the way uncovering a dastardly plot.
The backdrop is fun, and the story is enjoyable, but for Vance, this is a fairly mediocre effort. It's an unfortunate way to end the Alastor series, whose first two books were so much fun. I wish Vance had continued the concept - especially the disguised Connatic who appeared in Trullion and Wyst. Warren Douglas picked up the idea in a surprisingly effective trilogy, but no one does Vance like Vance.
The Isirjir Ziaspraide, flagship of the Thaiatic Fleet, and a vessel of awesome magnitude, served less as a weapon of war than as an instrument of policy. Wherever the Isirjir Ziaspraide showed itself, the majesty of the Connatic and the force of the Whelm were manifest.
In the refectory one day, the girl whom Jantiff previously had admired plumped herself down opposite him. With her lips twitching against a grin of sheer exuberance, she pointed a finger toward Jantiff. “Explain something: do! Every time I come to the wumper you stare at me first from one side of your face and then the other. Why should this be? Am I so outrageous or extraordinary?”
Jantiff grinned sheepishly. “I find you outrageously attractive and extraordinarily beautiful.”
“Sh!” The girl glanced mischievously right and left. “Already I’m considered a sexivationist. You’ll absolutely confirm the general suspicion!”
“Well, be that as it may, I can’t keep my eyes off of you, and that’s the truth of it.”
“And all you do is look? How odd! But then, you’re an immigrant.”
“Just a visitor. I hope that my coarse behaviour hasn’t disturbed you.”
“Not in the slightest. I’ve always thought you rather pleasant. We’ll copulate if you like; you can show me some new and amusing antics. No, not now; low drudge awaits me, curse all of it. Another time, if you’re of a mind.”
“Well, yes,” said Jantiff. “I suppose it boils down to that. Your name, I believe, is Kedidah.”
“How did you know?”
“Skorlet told me.”
Kedidah made a wry face. “Skorlet doesn’t like me. She says I’m flippant, and an arrant sexivator, as I mentioned.”
“I’m bewildered. Why?”
“Oh — I don’t really know. I like to tease and play. I arrange my hair to suit my mood. I like men to like me and I’m not concerned about women.”2
“These aren’t flagrant crimes.”
“Aha! Ask Skorlet!”
“I’m not concerned for Skorlet’s opinions. In fact, I find her overly intense. My name, incidentally, is Jantiff Ravensroke.”
“What an odd name! No doubt you’re an ingrained elitist. How are you adapting to egalism?”
“Quite well. Although I’m still perplexed by certain of the Arrabin customs.”
“Understandably. We’re a most complicated people, maybe to compensate for our egalism.”
“I suppose that’s possible. Would you like to visit other worlds?”
“Of course, unless I had to toil constantly, in which case I’ll stay here where life is gay. I have friends and clubs and games; I never gloom because I think only of pleasure. In fact, some of us are going out on forage in a day or so; you’re welcome to come along if you like.”
“What’s a ‘forage’?”
“An expedition into the primitive! We ride up into the hills, then maraud south into the Weirdlands. This time it’s to be Pamatra Valley, where we know secret places. We’ll hope to find some very good bonter; but even if not, it’s always a lark.”
“I’d like to go, if I’m not on drudge.”
“We’ll start Twisday morning, right after wump and return Fyrday night, or even Dwanday morning.”
“That suits me very well.”
“Good. We’ll meet here. Bring some sort of robe, since we’ll probably sleep in the open. With luck we’ll find all kinds of tasty things.”
Andrei Simiæ, the Gaean philosopher, has theorized that primitive man, evolving across millions of years in chronic fear, pain, deprivation and emergency, must have adapted intimately to these excitations. In consequence, civilized men will of necessity require occasional frights and horrors, to stimulate their glands and maintain their health. Simiæ has jocularly proposed a corps of dedicated public servants, the Ferocifers, or Public Terrifiers, who severely frighten each citizen several times a week, as his health requires.