The Tritonian Ring and Other Pasudian Tales (8 page)

             
"
A what?"

             
"A native of the northern isle of Corania.
It's said they can hear any word uttered for miles around."

             
The second ship tied up as their own had done, and its people climbed ashore and set out in various directions. Vakar said:

             
"We can't wait around all day; I'm for the palace. You stay here to dispose of the stuff
...
"

             
Just then the shaven-headed man pushed through the spectators towards Vakar. After him came the giant ape-man and the Coranian.

             
"You are for the palace, sir?" said the man in strongly accented Hesperian. "Perhaps you will permit me to go with you, for my errand takes me thither also and I am not familiar with Sederado. And while I have never met you, something tells me I ought to know you. My name is Qasigan."

-

             
"And whom have I the honor of addressing?" said Qasigan, smiling pleasantly as he fell into step beside Vakar. His leathery skin was even darker than Vakar's, and his broad head bore a round blunt-featured face. He stooped slightly and shuffled rather than walked.

             
"My name is Vakar."

             
Vakar happened to be looking at the man's face as he spoke, and observed the pleasant smile vanish and flicker back again.

             
"Not Prince Vakar of Lorsk!" said the man.

             
Vakar tended to take a dour and suspicious view of untried strangers—especially queer-looking ones who travailed about in their own war-galleys with inhuman assistants and showed an egregious interest in his identity. He shook
h
is head.

             
"Merely a relative.
And what, sir, do you know of Lorsk?"

             
"Who does not know t
he world's greatest source of co
pper?"

             
"Indeed. Where do you come from?
"

             
"
Tegrazen, a small city on the mainland south of
Kernê
."

             
"You have unusual servitors. The first, I understand, is a Coranian?
"

             
"
That is correct. His name is Yok.
"

             
"
And the other?" said Vakar.

             
"That is Nji, from Bl
ackland. The Blacks caught him y
oung, tamed him, and sold him. He can speak a few words, for he is not the great ape of Blackland—the gorilla—but another and rarer kind, intermediate between apes and men."

             
Vakar fell into a wary silence until they arrived at the palace. He gauped like a yokel at the rows of gleaming marble columns and the gilded roof, for this was the first two-storey building that he had ever seen.

             
He sent in the four tusks with word that Vakar of Lorsk would like an audience. After a half-hour's wait he was ushered in, leaving Qasigan staring pensively after him.

             
"Prince Vakar!" cried Queen Porfia, stepping down from her audience-throne and advancing upon him. She kissed him vigorously. "I thank you for your splendid gift, but you need not shower me with wealth to assure your welcome! Did you think I had forgotten when we won the dance-contest in
Amferé
ten years ago? What brings you so far from the bison-swarming plains of windy Lorsk?"

             
Porfia, Vakar thought, had certainly developed into a splendid-looking woman. Though she was not large, her proud carriage gave her a deceptive look of tallness. Lucky Vancho! He said:

             
"I am on my way to mighty Torrutseish, madam, and could not pass by Ogugia without renewing so pleasant an acquaintance."

             
She looked at him keenly from emerald-green eyes. "Now how, I wonder, does it happen that you and one servant put into the harbor of Sederado navigating a small merchant-ship all by yourselves in most thwart tyronic fashion? Are you running away from Lorsk to become a corsair?
Perhaps to sail under the octopus banner of the accursed Gorgons?"

             
"You seem to have learned a lot in a short time."

             
"Oh, I watch my kingdom's commerce, and was getting a report on you while you waited. Well, what happened? Was all the ship's company but you washed overboard, or snatched by a kraken?"

             
Vakar hesitated, then gave in to his instant liking for Porfia and told the story of Sret's treachery.

             
"So," he concluded, "being as you have said no barnacled mariners, we propose to sell this ship and continue eastward on the next merchantman that passes that way."

             
"How much
cargo
have you?"

             
"By Tandyla's third eye, I do not know!"

             
"Well then.
Elbien!"
A man came in and Porfia told him: "Go to the waterfront, board Prince Vakar's ship, and reckon up the value of the cargo." As the man bowed and left she turned back to Vakar. "I will give you your ship's fair value in trade-metal. If Mateng squeals we will remind him that as owner he is responsible for the murderous attack upon you. And what do you know of that odd fish who came in with you?
The one who arrived in his private galley?"

             
"He claims to be Qasigan of Tegrazen, but beyond that I know no more than you, Queen. He is certainly as peculiar as a flying pig, though courteous enough."

             
"So? The description of him sounds like one of the Gorgonian race, though that proves nothing because Tegrazen lies near the Gorgades on the mainland and the people of those parts are much mixed. But tell me how things go in Lorsk: the land of warriors, heroes, and athletes, with hearts of bronze and heads of ivory?"

             
Vakar laughed and plunged into small-talk. A man of few friends, he felt that at last he had found someone who spoke his language. They were chattering away some time later when Porfia said:

             
"By Heroe's eight teats, I have spent the whole morning on you, sir, and others await me. You shall stay at the palace, and we will have a feast tonight. You shall meet my minister Garal and my lover Thiegos."

             
"Your—" Vakar checked himself, wondering why he felt a sudden pang of annoyance. It was none of his affair if the Queen of Ogugia kept a dozen lovers; but" the feeling persisted.

             
She appeared not to notice. "And I think I will have this Master Qasigan too if I like him. He seems like a man of position, and we should at least get some rare tales of far lands."

             
"Queen," said Vakar, "I told Qasigan my name but denied being the scion of Lorsk, and should therefore
prefer
to be known simply as Master Vakar, a simple gentleman, while that fellow in the long shirt is about."

             
"It shall be done. Dweros! Take Pr— Master Vakar to the second guest-chamber in the right wing and provide for his comfort."

-

             
Vakar saw no more of
Porfia
until evening, but spent a lazy day sleeping, being washed and perfumed, and reading a Hesperian translation of the Fragments of Lontang in the library while his dirty clothes were being washed and dried. As the writing of the time was largely pictographic, the written languages of Ogugia and Lorsk differed much less than their spoken tongues. However, the symbols for abstract ideas differed widely. Vakar asked a dignified-looking oldster copying a roll of papyrus in the corner:

             
"Can you tell me what this means, my man?
This skull-and-crescent thing?"

             
"That, sir, signifies 'mortality'. It combines t
h
e
skull.,
w
hich symbolizes death, with the inverted crescent, which represents the abstract aspect of the moon, to wit: time,
t
herefore the meaning of the passage is:

"Though germinate
             
             
of mortal man generations

In thousands of thousands
             
while in dwellings divine

A god grows his eye-teeth,
             
yet time taketh all:

Even the gods so glorious
             
must march at the last

Down the dim dusty road
             
to death the destroyer.
"

             
"
Is Lontang trying to t
ell us that even the gods must d
ie?"

             
"Yes. His theory was th
at the gods are created by the belief
of men in them, and that puissant though they
be
, in
t
ime men will forsake
the
m for others and forget them, and
t
hey will fade away and vanish."

             
Vakar said: "You se
em a knowledgeable man in such m
atters. May I ask your name?"

             
"I am Rethilio, a poor philosopher of Sederado. And
y
ou
...
?
"

             
"I am Vakar of Lorsk."

             
"Curious," mused the man. "I have heard your name
...
I know! Last night I dreamt I witnessed an assembly of the gods. I recognized many of ours, such as Asterio, and some of those of other nations like your Okma. They seemed to be rushing about in agitated fashion, as if dancing a funeral-dance, and I heard them ejaculate 'Vakar Lorska'!"

             
Vakar shuddered. "As I never dream of the gods I can shed no light on this matter."

             
"Are you remaining here long, Prince?"

             
"Only a few days.
But I should like to return to Ogugia some day to study its famed philosophies."

             
Too late Vakar realized that he should have at once denied his principate; by failing to do so he had confirmed Rethilio's guess as to his true identity. Rethilio said:

             
"Many of my colleagues believe that if only kings would study philosophy, or the people would choose philosophers as their kings, the world would be a less sorry place. In practice, however, kings seem to lack either time or inclination."

             
"Perhaps I can combine the two."

             
"A laudable ambition, though broad.
The gods grant that you achieve it."

             
"I see no difficulty. I have many ambitions and, I trust, many years to fulfill them."

             
"What are these ambitions, sir?" said Rethilio.