The Tritonian Ring and Other Pasudian Tales

by L. Sprague De Camp

  "This condition endured for several years, with the women ruling and the men doing all the work, not only in field and meadow but in house and hearth as well. At last the men revolted and fled to the island of Menê, where they armed themselves and stood off the women. So now there is war between them, and when a stranger arrives in Tritonia both sides try to capture him—or her—to take to one island or the other. If the visitor is of the sex of that island, they enroll him in their army; if not, they amuse themselves carnally with the newcomer until the latter's powers are exhausted."

  "A visit to Tritonia sounds strenuous," said Vakar. "If the men catch you, you are in for a lifetime of fighting, whereas if the women catch you—but what other nations lie near Phaiaxia?"

  Nausithion began counting them off on his fingers: "To the east, along the shores of the Thrinaxian Sea, live the Laistrugonian savages who, alas, are not in the least charmed by our sweet songs. In fact their raids have so galled us that we have had to place ourselves under the protection of the king of Tartessia. South of the Laistrugonians lies Tritonia, the land of lakes, where men ride striped horses. East of Tritonia one comes to the Pelasgian Sea, which gives our merchants access to Kheru and Thamuzeira and other far-eastern lands.

  "Southeast of Tritonia dwell many curious peoples: the Atarantians who curse the sun daily, instead of praying to it as do most folk, and who refuse to tell their names for fear a stranger should acquire magical power over them; the Garamantians who have no institution of marriage, but couple promiscuously at any time or place like beasts; and many others. Some paint themselves red all over; some dress their hair in outlandish fashion. Among some, at a wedding-feast the bride entertains all the male guests in a manner that among most nations is reserved for the groom alone.

  "South of Tritonia lies the dreaded land of Belem, and beyond that forbidding mountain-range the Desert of Gwedulia. There dwell only wild beasts and wilder men: the camel-riding Gwedulians who live by herding and robbery."

  Vakar nodded understandingly, for of all kinds of men the nomadic herdsman, hardy, truculent, and predatory, was the most feared in his world. Nausithion continued:

  "West of Belem the Desert of Gwedulia sends north an arm called the Tamenruft, separating Belem from Gamphasantia. The Gamphasantians are said to be a peaceful folk with a high standard of ethics—so high in fact that it is unsafe to visit them, for normal mortals find their standards too lofty to adhere to for any length of time. North of them and west of us rises another mountain-range called Atlantis. West of Gamphasantia lies the free city of Kernê, whose merchants are so sharp that ours cannot compete with them, and south of Kernê is Tartaros with its black craftsmen."

  Vakar asked: "What is south of the Desert of Gwedulia?"

  "None knows; perhaps the traveller comes to the edge of tin- world-disk of which the philosophers tell, and finds the stair leading down to the seven hells. But that is all we know; now tell us of Poseidonis."

  Vakar had started an account of the glories of Lorsk (which with patriotic pride he unconsciously exaggerated) when a man came in and said: "My lord King, there are strangers outside who wish to speak to you."

  Nausithion swallowed a mass of roast pork to make himself understood. "What sort of strangers?"

  "Very odd strangers, sir. They drove up in a chariot. One is a giant who looks like a Laistrugonian but uglier; one is a pigmy with enormous ears ..."

  Vakar said: "Excuse me, King, but I feel unwell. May I withdraw for a moment?"

  "Certainly ... Ho, that is the way to the kitchen!"

  Vakar plunged through the door and shouted: "Fual!"

  "Yes sir?" The Aremorian looked up from where he was eating.

  "Qasigan has caught up with us. Get our gear and meet me in front, but don't go through the banquet-hall."

  "You mean to leave?" wailed Fual. "Oh, sir, these are the first people since Sederado who have shown us the respect due our rank—"

  "Don't be a bigger fool than you can help. Where are the beasts?"

  A few minutes later Vakar led the four horses around the house to the front. Fual came after him. At the corner Vakar paused to peer around in time to see the shaggy back of Nji the ape-man disappear into the king's mansion.

  "Hold the horses," commanded Vakar.

  He picked up a stone and walked towards the chariot hitched to the post in front of the king's residence. Several servants of the Phaiaxian lords clustered there, throwing knucklebones. Vakar strode around them, bent over the near wheel of the chariot, and with one blow of the stone knocked out the pin that held the wheel to the axle.

  "Here, you help me!" he said, and such was his tone of assurance that two of the nearer gamblers got up and came over. "Grasp the edge of the chariot and lift."

  The chariot was a heavy northern model with oldfashioned leather-tired solid wheels and a frame of elm and ash. The frame rose as the servants lifted. Vakar pulled off the wheel and rolled it ahead of him like a hoop to the corner of the house where Fual waited.

  "Help me tie this on this horse," he said.

  The servants stared after Vakar but showed no inclination to interfere. A laugh ran through the group as they evidently took the act for a practical joke and went back to their game.

  "Now," said Vakar, "to Tritonia, and fast!"

  Off they went. Not this time would he settle down in fair Phaiaxia, forgetting his duty to his land and his dynasty.

  -

  "I can't tell whether it's a man or a woman," muttered Vakar, lying on his belly under a bush. "It looks more like a reptile with a man's shape."

  He peered around the hill at the figure that sat the oddest horse that Vakar had ever seen: a creature entirely covered with black and white stripes. Behind him, up the draw, Fual held their own horses in a clump of acacias. They had ridden across Tritonia, where the people wore fringed buckskin kilts and goatskin cloaks with the hair dyed vermilion, to the shores of Lake Tritonis.

  Vakar wriggled back out of sight of the immobile rider and told Fual: "The thing seems to be covered all over with scales, with a pair of enormous feathers sticking out of the top of its head. I'm sure King Nausithion didn't describe any race of reptile-men in his account of the peoples of Tritonia."

  "He might have omitted to mention them," said Fual with a shudder. "I remember hearing the Tritons worshipped a snake-god named Drax. And who knows ...?"

  Vakar said: "The only way to settle the question is to capture the thing. Luckily the shrubbery is dense. I'll circle around and come upon the creature from the far side while you creep out—"

  "Me? No, my lord! The idea turns my bones to water—'

  Vakar caught Fual's shirt in both fists and thrust ar angry face into that of the Aremorian.

  "You," he said, "shall do as you're told. When you've given me time to approach from the other side you shall make some small noise to distract the thing's attention, and I'll do the rest. Be ready to rush in and help subdue it."

  He was more than ordinarily exasperated by Fual, who still bore the marks of the beating Vakar had given him when the latter learned that his servant had stolen one of Nausithion's silver plates in Huperea.

  A quarter-hour later Vakar crouched close by the rider. He had laid aside his scabbard so as not to be encumbered in the kind of attack that he had in mind. Through a tiny gap in the leaves he saw that the scaly skin was a cleverly made armor of reptile hide, covering the entire rider except the face. The rider carried a long lance and a small round shield of hide.

  Though Vakar waited and waited, no distracting sound came from the direction of the draw. The striped horse snorted and stamped and Vakar feared that it smelled him.

  At last he could wait no longer. He gathered his feet under him and sprang towards the sentry. The striped animal snorted again, rolling an eye towards Vakar, and shied away. Its rider turned too and began to swing the lance down to level.

  Vakar left the ground in a long leap, caught the rider about the upper body as he struck it,
and both tumbled to the turf on the far side in a tangle of thrashing limbs. Vakar, recovering first from the fall, slammed his fist into his victim's jaw. The slight body relaxed long enough for Vakar to roll it over and twist its arms behind its back.

  "Fual!" he roared.

  "Here, sir—"

  "Where in the seven hells have you been?"

  "I—I was just going to make the noise, my lord,—but it took me so long to work up my courage—"

  "I'll deal with you later; meanwhile lively with that strap!"

  Vakar indicated the wrists of the rider, which Fual bound. The rider began to struggle until Vakar belted it across the face with his fist.

  "Now we'll see about its sex," he said.

  The reptile-skin armor opened down one side and was kept closed by a series of thong ties. Vakar fumbled with the unfamiliar knots, then impatiently sawed the garment open with his dagger and pulled the front of it away from the wearer's chest. There was no questioning its femininity.

  "Not bad for a warrior maiden," said Vakar, then spoke in Phaiaxian: "You! Do you understand me?"

  "If you speak slowly," said the Amazon in a dialect of the same language.

  "I wish to make contact with the Tritons, and you shall guide me to their camp."

  "Then what will happen to me?"

  "You may do as you like, once the Tritons are in sight. Come along."

  With her hands still tied and Fual holding the striped horse, Vakar boosted the Amazon back on to her mount. She sat glowering at him with her torso bare to the waist. Vakar handed the shield and lance to Fual, put his own baldric back on, mounted, and drew his sword.

  "Which way?" he asked, grasping the Amazon's bridle.

  The Amazon jerked her head westward, so Vakar set off along the trail in that direction. After they had ridden for some time he turned his head to ask:

  "What do you call these horses with the giddy color-scheme?"

  She glared silently until he hefted his sword in a meaningful manner, then sullenly answered: "Zebras."

  "And what is that shield made of? The hide of some great beast?"

  "A rhinoceros. A beast with a horn on its nose."

  "Oh. I saw one of those on my ride thither, like a giant pig. And what do those feathers come from?"

  "A bird called an ostrich, found in the Desert of Gwedulia."

  "A bird with such feathers must overshadow the earth with its wings like a thundercloud when it flies."

  "Ha, it does not fly at all! It runs like a horse, and stands as tall as you and your mount together."

  "How about your armor?"

  "That is from the great serpents found in the swamps around Lake Tritonis."

  "Truly Tritonia must be a land of many strange beasts. Yesterday I saw three beasts like our Pusadian mammoth, but hairless— Hé!"

  Everything happened at once. They had come around a hill to see a group of Amazons trotting towards them along a side-road leading up from the lake, which showed blue through notches in the dusty olive-green landscape. The captive Amazon leaned forwards and dug her heels into the zebra's ribs. The animal bounded, tearing the bridle out of Vakar's grasp. The Amazon shrieked something and galloped towards her fellows.

  Vakar slashed at her as she went by him. Though he struck to kill he struck too late; the blade whistled through empty air.

  He leaned forward in his turn and galloped. As the Amazons came up to the main road, Vakar and Fual and the spare horses thundered past, going in the same direction as before. A glance showed Vakar that his ex-captive, hampered by her bound arms, had fallen off her zebra. Vakar hoped that she had broken her neck.

  Vakar's animals had been travelling all day and so were too tired to keep ahead of their fresh pursuers. Little by little the Amazons gained. Vakar thanked the gods of Lorsk that none of them carried bows; no doubt the scrubby trees of this dry country did not provide good wood for bow-staves.

  Still the long slender lances came closer through the clouds of dust. A determined thrust would get through Vakar's leather jack, and even if it did not they would kill Fual and take the spare mounts and the baggage. There were five of them, too many for Vakar to wheel and charge into the midst of them.

  A few more paces and they would be up ...

  The pursuers reined in with high feminine cries. Ahead of them appeared a score of riders clad in similar snakeskin armor, with crests of zebra-tail instead of ostrich-plumes. The Amazons galloped off. Vakar was tempted to do likewise, but reason told him that the panting horses would not get very far, and besides these were probably the Tritons whom he wished to reach.

  As they came up he called: "The gods be with you!"

  They surrounded him, long lances levelled, and one said: "Who are you?"

  "Vakar of Lorsk, on my way to visit your king."

  "Indeed? Our king does not admit every passing vagabond to his intimacy. You shall enter our service at the bottom and work your way up, if you the guts. Seize him, men."

  -

  XI. – THE TRITONIAN RING

  They took away Vakar's sword and knife, but missed the poisoned dagger in his shirt. They tied his and Fual's hands, while one rummaged through Vakar's scrip and exclaimed with delight over the wealth therein. "Come along," said the leader.

  Vakar rode slowly in the midst of them, with spear-points poised to prod him should he make a break.

  "Am I a dog?" he growled. "I am a prince in my own country, and if you do not treat me as such it will be the worse for you."

  The leader leaned over and slapped Vakar's face with his gauntleted hand.

  "Shut up," he said. "What you may be in another country means nothing to us."

  Vakar's face became suffused with blood and he gritted his teeth. He rode silently fuming until they came to the shores of the lake, where a permanent fortified camp was set up. On the lakeward side of the camp a jetty had been built out into the water, and to this was secured a big shallow-draft galley-barge.

  The leader of the Tritons placed his hand against Vakar's shoulder and gave a sharp push. Vakar fell off his horse into the dirt, giving his shoulder a painful bruise. Fual followed his master into the muck, and the Tritons laughed loudly.

  While Vakar was straggling into a sitting position a kick in the ribs knocked him over again, sick and dizzy with pain.

  "Get up, lazybones!" said the officer. "And get aboard."

  Vakar hobbled down the slope to the barge while the Tritons made off with his horses and property. He and Fual were prodded aboard, and the boat was cast off and rowed out into the lake. Vakar huddled in the bow, too despondent to pay heed to his surroundings until Fual beside him exclaimed:

  "Sir! Prince Vakar! Look at. that!"

  Something was floating beside the barge: a thing like a great rough-barked log, except that logs do not keep up with galleys by swimming with an undulant motion. Vakar gulped and said to the nearest Triton:

  "What is that? One of your great serpents?"

  "That is a crocodile," said the man. "The serpents keep to the swamps. The abundance of crocodiles accounts for the fact that although we live on the water, no Triton can swim, for if you fell overboard that fellow yonder would have you before you could yell for a rope. So think not to escape from Menê by swimming."

  Another Triton said: "It would be fun to lower him by a rope and then snatch him out when the crocodile snapped at him."

  "Amusing, but it would probably cost us a recruit. Do you not value unlimited commerce with women more highly?"

  Vakar mulled over this exchange. The last remark no doubt referred to the Tritons' hopes of winning their war and reducing the Amazons to the status of housewives whence they had risen. It gave them an idea of how to approach King Ximenon. After all he had helped to negotiate the treaty with Zhysk last year. If he was not overly likeable, his dour reserve gave some folk a trust in his impartiality that they might not otherwise have.

  When an hour later they tied up at a similar pier on the island of
Menê, the Tritons hustled Vakar and Fual ashore. A small fortified city, also called Menê, stood tangent to the shorefront. The Tritons conducted Vakar to a stockade, thrust him inside, removed his bonds, and left him. Fual they took elsewhere.

  Vakar stretched his cramped arms and looked around. There were about a score of men of various tribes and races, from a stout ebony-skinned fellow from Blackland to a towering fair-haired Atlantean. Most wore ragged clothing and straggly beards.

  "Good day," said Vakar.