The Tritonian Ring and Other Pasudian Tales (9 page)

             
"Well
...
" Vakar frowned. "To be a good king when my time comes; to master philosophy; to see far places and strange peoples; to know loyal and interesting friends; to enjoy the pleasures of wine, women, and song
...
"

             
He stopped as Rethilio threw up his hands in mock horror. "You should have been twins, Prince!"

             
"I am—or rather my brother Kuros is my twin. What do you mean, though?"

             
"No man can compress all that into one lifetime. Now it seems life is endless and you can sample all experience while attaining preeminence in any careers that suit your fancy. As time passes you will discover you must make a choice here and a choice there, each choice cutting you off from some of these many enticing possibilities. Of course there is the hypothesis of the
school of Kurno, that the soul
not only survives the body but is subsequently reincarnated in another, and thus a man undergoes many existences."

             
"I do not see how that helps if one cannot remember one's previous lives," said Vakar.
"And if that be so, how about the gods?
Are their souls likewise reincarnated?"

             
They were at it hammer and tongs when Dweros appeared to tell Vakar that his clothes were ready.

             
"I hope I shall see you again before I leave," he told Rethilio.

             
"If you are here tomorrow at this time we may meet.
Good-day, sir."

-

             
The banquet-hall was smaller than that of the castle at Mneset, but of more refined workmanship, with plastered walls on which were painted scenes from the myths of Ogugia. Vakar was particularly taken by the picture of the seduction of an eight-breasted woman by a bull-headed man of egregious masculinity.

             
He met the plump minister Garal and his wife, the latter a pleasant but nondescript woman of middle age; and T
h
iegos, a tall clean-shaven young man wearing splendid pearl earrings, who looked down a long nose and said:

             
"So you are from Lorsk? I wonder how you endure the winds and fogs. I could never put up with them!"

             
Though not pleased by this comment, Vakar was amused when a few minutes later Qasigan came in and Thiegos said to him: "So you are from the South? I wonder how you endure the heat and the flies. I could never abide them!"

             
Another youth came in whom Thiegos introduced as his friend Abeggu of Tokalet, who had come from far Gamphasantia to Sederado to study philosophy under Rethilio. The newcomer was a tall slender fellow, very dark and quiet. When he spoke it was with an almost unintelligible accent. Vakar asked the conventional question:

             
"How do you find these northerly lands?"

             
"Very interesting, sir, and very different from my home.
We have no such towering stone buildings or lavish use of metal."

             
"Still, I envy you," said Vakar. "I have met Rethilio and wish I had time to study under the philosophers of Ogugia. What have you learned?"

             
"He is discoursing on the origin of the world-egg from the coiture of eternal time and infinite space
...
"

             
Vakar would have liked to hear more, for philosophy
had always fascinated him it was
little cultivated a
mong the palaestra
l
n
ations of Poseidonis. But Queen Porfia sat
down and signalled to the servitors to pass a dry wine for an aperitif. She poured a libation from her golden beaker on to the floor and said a grace to the gods, then drank.

             
Vakar was doing likewise when a startled exclamation from Garal's wife drew his attention across the ivory tables. Where Qasigan's golden plate had lain there now stood a plate-sized tortoise, peering about dimly with beady eyes. Qasigan laughed at the success of his feat of thaumaturgy.

             
"It is quite harmless," he said. "A mere illusion: It bites nobody and is housebroken. Are you not, tortoise?"

             
The tortoise nodded, and those around the tables clapped their hands. Vakar drank deeply and looked again. Where the tortoise had been he saw.
only
the snub-nosed magician making passes over Ms plate, though from their comments he inferred that his fellow-diners still saw the reptile. He was about to boast of his ability (which he had long been aware of) to see through magical illusions when stimulated by drink, but forebore. He still harbored suspicions of Qasigan and thought it imprudent to give the fellow any advantage.

             
He looked to where Porfia sat in her chair of pretence. This was a most unusual throne, carved from some olive-colored stone in the form of a huge serpent. The head and neck of the snake formed one arm-rest and a loop of its body the other. The rest of it was wound back and forth to form the back and seat down to the ground.

             
"It is unusual," said Porfia, whose pale flesh showed through the sheer sea-green robe she wore. "It was brought from Lake Tritonis, where such serpents are sacred, in the time of my grandfather. They say it was carried across the Desert of Gwedulia slung between two curious beasts used in those parts, taller than horses and having great humps upon their backs. The legend is that it is a real serpent paralyzed by enchantment, and—-"

             
"Of course," broke in Thiegos, "we as a civilized people do not believe such silly tales." He dug at the carving with a thumbnail. "See for yourself, Master Vakar. This artistic monstrosity is nothing but stone."

             
Vakar touched the arm of the chair, which certainly felt like good solid chert.

             
Thiegos continued: "Still, my dear, you would do well to drop it into Sederado harbor and get another, not for superstitious but for esthetic reasons. What is to eat tonight?"

             
Ogugian custom called for a circle of chairs with a small table in front of each. Servitors placed the food on golden plates in front of each of the small tables. Vakar thought the stuffed grouse excellent, but found the bread peculiar. He asked:

             
"What
sort of bread is this, pray?"

             
Thiegos said: "You Pusadians would not know. It is made from a new kind of grain called wheat which was brought from the mainland in the queen's father's time." He turned to Porfia, saying: "Really, madam, you must sell your cook before we all turn into swine from eating garbage!"

             
The wine was strong stuff, even better than that of Zhysk. Vakar drank deep and said:

             
"I beg to differ, sir. I find Ogugia's food the most delicious, its wine the headiest, and its queen the most beautiful—"

             
"You speak a fine speech, but you do not deceive anyone," said Thiegos, who had also been drinking hard. "You seek by flattery to wheedle favors from Porfia. Now, so long as these
comprise such matters as trade-metal or ships or slaves I do not care. Should you however seek those of a more intimate kind, you must deal with me, for
I
—"

             
"Thiegos!" cried Porfia. "You have already become
a
pig, if manners are any indication."

             
"At least," said Thiegos, "I know how to eat and drink in civilized fashion, instead of tearing my meat like
a
famished lion and swilling my wine in great gulps." He looked down his nose at Vakar, who colored, realizing that by Ogugian standards
his
provincial table-manners left much to be desired. "So I am merely warning this mustachioed barbarian—"

             
"Shut up!"
cried Porfia, half rising out of the serpent throne, green eyes blazing and oval face flushed.

             
Vakar said in a tone of deadly calm: "He merely wishes to set himself up as palace pimp, do you not, Siegos?" He gave the fancyman's name the Lorskan mispronunciation on purpose to vex him.

             
"Boar-begotten bastard!" shouted Thiegos. "I will cut off your—"

             
"Down, both of you!" cried Garal with unexpected force. "Or I will have in the guards to whip you through the streets with leaded scorpions. Slaves, clear away these remnants!"

             
The servitors took away the plates and brought more wine. Abeggu of Tokalet looked shocked and bewildered; evidently he was unused to royalty with its hair down. Vakar, realizing that he was getting drunk, pulled himself together and said:

             
"Can one of you explain this?"

             
He pointed to the seduction-scene on the wall. Garal explained:

             
"Why, that illustrates the third book of
The Golden Age,
and represents the forest-god Asterio about to engender the first human pair on the earth-goddess Heroe. In the original it goes:

"Painting with passion
             
the slavering satyr

Supine on the sward
             
             
hurled helpless Heroe
...
"

             
Thiegos interrupted: "You cannot do it justice without singing it," and he burst into a fine clear tenor:

"The rose-colored robe
             
by the dawn-goddess
dighted

He savagely seized
             
             
and tore from her
trunk ...

             
"Curse it, even I cannot perform properly without accompaniment. Shall we get in the flute-girl?"

             
"I do not think that will be necessary," said Qasigan. "I have here a small instrument wherewith I while away empty hours,"

             
He produced a tootle-pipe out of his bosom and played an experimental run. "Now, sir, how does this tune of yours go? Ah, yes, I can manage. Sing!"

             
With the pipe undulating, Thiegos stood up and roared out the rest of the story of the Creation. When he finished, Vakar said:

             
"Sir, you may be a pimp and several other things I will not shock our hostess by mentioning, but you have the finest voice I have ever heard. I wish I could do as well."

             
"That is nothing," said Thiegos, staggering back to his seat. "The song does have a certain crude barbaric vigor, but now we are more refined. For instance, I at least do not take all this mythology serious—
uk!"

             
An attack of hiccups ended the speech. Porfia called upon Vakar:

             
"Now, sir, contribute your part! What can you do?"

             
"I can tell you what I cannot do," said Vakar, counting on his fingers. "Once I thought I could sing, but now I have heard Thiegos I know I can only caw like a carrion-crow. I can dance when sober as the queen remembers, but just now I am not sober. I know a few stories, but not the sort a gentleman would repeat in such company—"