"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 his head.
"Merely a relative. And what, sir, do you know of Lorsk?"
"Who does not know the world's greatest source of copper?"
"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 Blackland. The Blacks caught him young, 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 the skull., which symbolizes death, with the inverted crescent, which represents the abstract aspect of the moon, to wit: time, therefore 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 tell us that even the gods must die?"
"Yes. His theory was that the gods are created by the belief of men in them, and that puissant though they be, in time men will forsake them for others and forget them, and they will fade away and vanish."
Vakar said: "You seem a knowledgeable man in such matters. May I ask your name?"
"I am Rethilio, a poor philosopher of Sederado. And you ...?"
"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.
"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 t
he 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."
-
V. – THE SERPENT THRONE
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 Thiegos, 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 among the palaestral nations 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:
The Tritonian Ring and Other Pasudian Tales Page 5
