Read Online The Tritonian Ring and Other Pasudian Tales by L. Sprague de Camp - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: L. Sprague de Camp
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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—"
"Forget you are a gentleman, old man, old man," giggled Garal. "I have heard livelier tales from the lips of the queen
"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—"
"Forget you are a gentleman, old man, old man," giggled Garal. "I have heard livelier tales from the lips of the queen
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