The Tritonian Ring and Other Pasudian Tales (37 page)

             
"Yes." He rose and stepped around the table an
d
look
her hands and gen
t
ly raised her from her throne.

             
With an easy fluid motion their arms went around each other and their
li
ps met. After a while he sat down on the chair of pretence and pulled her down upon his lap, marvelling again at her lightness. Vakar rapped the oak of the chair with his knuckles, saying:

             
"Let us hope this chair does not act in the uncanny manner of the other, the last time you sat in my lap."

             
Porfia
giggled. They kissed. Vakar slid one hand over her shoulder and down inside the thin robe, but she snatched it out and gave it a slight slap.

             
"No," she said. "I told you I had foresworn light loves, and that includes you, Vakar dear, even though those big black eyes of yours almost turn my will to water."

             
"Who said light? I madam, am heir to the throne of Lorsk, and do hereby most solemnly
propose myself as your consort and wedded spouse."

             
"Oho! That sheds another light upon the matter. But what should we do when you are King of Lorsk? Where should we dwell?"

             
"Let us ford that stream when we come to it. Perhaps we can spend our summers in Lorsk and our winters here."

             
"And how if we return to one of our kingdoms to find our regents have seized the throne in our absence?"

             
"That is a matter of choosing reliable surrogates. But think of the advantages: The bronze and brawn of Lorsk wedded to the philosophy and fleet of Ogugia! Who would dare molest such a combination?"

             
"You bring weighty arguments to the conference-table, sir. But we should take into account one other slight matter."

             
"Yes?"

             
"Whether our personal natures are such as to ensure the growth and endurance of love and affection between us."

             
"Do we not love already? I, at least, burn for you with white-hot passion."

             
"I speak of the other kind of love, not mere carnal lust, which for all its delights both of us
know
for a sly deceiver. Oh, I know you would give me a tumultuary time beneath the drugget; but how about the long pull, when teeth decay and skins wrinkle and sag and tempers grow short?"

             
"I have thought of that too," said Vakar, who had not considered the matter at all until that moment. "Do you wish a quiet reliable husband, who would rather chase obscure tomes than lustful wenches, but who can if need be prove an adequate man of his hands?"

             
"You make it sound wonderful, sir. Could I but be sure
…
"

             
"Wait to be sure of anything and you will find yourself looking out through the sides of a funerary urn, your quest unaccomplished. As it says in
The Death of
Zormé
:

"Death distrained all,
             
             
the
primly prudent

And roistering reckless,
             
the grimly grasping

And squandering spendall,
             
with divine disdain

Of dealing just deserts
...
"

             
He drew
Porfia
's face to his and kissed her some more. This time she did not object as he slid his hand over her shoulder, but pressed his hand against her with her own. After a while she gen
tl
y disengaged herself and rose to her feet. As Vakar looked up, his bushy brows making a question, she held out a hand.

             
"Come," she said.

             
He stood up, picked her up as if she were a kitten, and carried her in the direction that she indicated.

-

             
Next morning, with a fistful of copper celts borrowed from the Ogugian treasu
r
y in his scrip, Vakar Zhu threaded his way through the streets of Sederado, gaily whistling a Lorskan lyric, until he found the house of Rethilio. Porfia had offered to send a lackey to fetch the owner of the house, but such was Vakar's respect for philosophy that he preferred to go in person. Besides he was curious to see how a philosopher lived.

             
Like other Hesperian residences, Rethilio's house was built around a court, presenting a blank brick wall to the other world. A porter let Vakar in and presently the philosopher himself appeared, saying:

             
"Why, I know you! I met you some months ago ... Let me see, you are
...
"

             
Vakar identified himself.

             
"Of course!" said Rethilio. "And what can I do for you, sir?"

             
"As I am likely to be in Sederado for an indefinite time, I should like to study your philosophy."

             
"Admirable! Do you wish to enroll in my regular afternoon class, or do you prefer special tutoring? The latter is more costly, but I suppose a prince would not care about that."

             
"This prince does," said Vakar, whose periods of destitution in the course of his wanderings had wonderfully sharpened his appreciation of the value of trade-metal. "However, as I wish to cram as much as possible into a short time, I will undertake both."

             
The philosopher seemed delighted, and presently Vakar was listening ecstatically to Rethilio's theory of the world-egg. When the philosopher had brought his pupil up to date on the main points of
h
is course, he began asking him about his travels and the peoples he had seen. Vakar in his turn asked about the Gorgons.

             
"Their origin," said
Rethilio,
"is lost in the mists of myth.
An ancient race, and in many ways a strange and evil one.
The story—and let him believe who will—is that thousands of years ago the Gorgades were inhabited only by medusas, who then were a civilized folk themselves, with cities."

             
"Those reptiles civilized?" said Vakar.

             
"Yes, it is said that they are really as intelligent as men. In that day the present Gorgons were a nation of naked savages dwelling along the shores of Tartaros, barely come to full manhood from their apish ancestry. Well, the medusas, being not over-fond of toil, were wont to raid the mainland for slaves, until there dwelt in the islands several times as many Gorgon slaves as reptilian masters. And a hard servitude that was, for the medusas tortured their slaves for pleasure and ate them for food.

             
"An aristocracy of wizards ruled the medusas, and would no doubt have continued to do so to this day
had
not the president of this sorcerous senate been even lazier than most medusas. Not satisfied with compelling his human slaves to carry him about, dress and disrobe him, and put the very food (he preferred roast young woman) into his scaly mandibles, he became too indolent even to perform his own magical spells and taught a trusted slave his principal cantrips."

             
"I think I know what is coming next," put in Vakar.

             
"Quite so.
The upshot was that the slaves rose and overthrew the masters, slaying all but a few. These they kept to be slaves in their turn, but, learning from their predecessors' error, they take care to rear each new medusa in solitude, allowing it to learn no more than is absolutely necessary for it to fulfill its functions. And their chief function is to hiss at those enemies whom their masters point out to them, striking them with paralysis."

             
Vakar sat rapt through the afternoon lecture. At its close he could hardly tear himself away—until he thought of Porfia. He grinned with pure happiness.

             
He was bidding farewell to the philosopher when the porter announced: "Master, a man to see you. He says he is Ryn of Mneset."

             
Vakar gave a violent start as Rethilio said: "Show him in. I have heard of—what is the matter, Prince? Do you know him?"

             
"All too well.
He is our court wizard, who sent me on this chase."

             
The hunched figure of Ryn scuttled in. "Well, well!" he cackled. "They told me I should find you here. So our young savior, instead of rushing home, is learning how to split a hair and cut blocks with a razor! Hail, Master Rethilio. I arrive just in time, before he becomes so entangled in your sophistical cobwebs that nothing will extricate him."

             
"Now look here," said Rethilio, "you may be the deadliest spell-caster in Poseidonis, but that gives you no license to condemn the divine art of philosophy, which is to
your dark sorceries as day is to night."

             
"Who is insulting whom now? At least my magic accomplishes some practical good, as when by the help of the witch Gra I learned this lad was in Sederado. Come, Vakar, we can talk on our way to that gilded cage of yours. Farewell, Rethilio; I will tell the Lorskans you are the finest quibbler among the Ogugians.
who
are the greatest quibblers on earth!"

             
As they walked towards the palace Vakar asked: "Why don't you like Rethilio?"

             
"Pf
f
!
I dislike him not, but I know his kind. They spend the morning combing their beards to present a specious appearance of wisdom, and in the afternoon they haul in gold with hoes by lecturing on the worthlessness of wealth. His world-egg theory is no worse than the others, to wit: utterly worthless, for no man knows how man and the universe originated. But
now to more weighty matters: What are you doing here instead of hastening back to Lorsk in her hour of peril?"

             
"I stopped here because I saw the Gorgon fleet sail off to northward, having no intention of landing in Zhysk. I see no reason why I shouldn't sett
l
e here, wed Queen Porfia, and become a real scholar and not a brainless Lorskan bison-hunter."

             
"Oh, so you'd marry her green-eyed majesty! At least your taste in women is good. Does she know of this?"

             
"Knows and approves. So you may tell my loving family—"

             
"Young fool! Don't you know what the Gorgons are up to? They're sailing around the north end of Poseidonis, around
Lotör
, to come at us from the west!"

             
"Oh!"

             
"Yes, oh.
They thought to surprise us by the maneuver, and would have save that one of our lords, Kalesh of Andr, happened to make a pilgrimage to the temple of Three-eyed Tandyla in
Lotör
and heard a rumor among the Lotris. He scouted the coast and saw the Gorgon fleet creeping along upon the sky-line, and posted home as fast as his nag could bear him. Now, what's this magical whatnot you were supposed to run down? Have you found it?"

             
Vakar told his tale and showed the sword of star-metal.