Serpent’s Egg

by R. A. Lafferty

  “Where were you raised, Henryetta?”

  “For the first sixteen months of my life I was at the Main Waif-arama in Los Angeles. It's the biggest Waif-arama in the world. In the sixteen months I was there, the Main Waif-arama had eight different buildings and locations, but always at the same general location. Sour-Grass Park West. The Waif-arama burned down seven times, and when I say ‘down’ I do mean ‘down’, all the way down. Each building was built better and more fireproof than those before it, and the next-to-last one was built entirely out of asbestos fire-brick and had not an ounce of anything in it that could possibly be set on fire. Nevertheless it burned to the ground. Well really, it burned so hotly that it burned a hole pretty deep in the ground.”

  “Were you the fire-bug, Henryetta?”

  “Yes. I was just nine days old when I discovered that I had the talent for setting things on fire from a distance. I did it because I had frustrations. Were you ever a little baby? It's maddening. But I could set fires with my towering mentality at any distance and to any extent, no matter how total.”

  “And when you had burned down seven Main Waif-aramas and were housed in the eighth, then what happened, Henryetta?”

  “I was only in the eighth one for one day after we moved into it from the tents. Then they told me that I’d get the best assignment that anyone ever had, and that I’d be with my equals in intelligence, something that had never been the case before. ‘All right,’ I said. So I joined the Wintergreen-Luna Experiment with the young Seal named Marino and the young Angel named Luas. I've never had any regrets about joining them. I see a bit of dubiety in your eye, pseudo-grandfather Satrap. What would you like to see burned?”

  “This wotto-metal statue of the ‘Unknown Animal’. Wotto metal as a matter of definition, is unburnable.”

  The wotto-metal statuette burst into sudden hot flame and it was reduced to writhing ashes within three seconds. And the ashes were reduced into nothingness in another three seconds.

  “That's the trouble with Unknown Animals,” Henryetta said. “Now it'll always be unknown.”

  “I'm impressed, Henryetta,” Satrap Saint Ledger admitted. “Inneall-Annabella, I've always thought that you were the ‘child’ who could do anything. Could you have burned that wotto-metal statue as well? Could you have burned down seven Waif-arama buildings as well?”

  “Oh yes. I could have burned them all as well by using only my subtle mentality. But I couldn't have narrated them as well.”

  “I surrender completely,” Satrap conceded. “What else do you two demand for the ship?”

  “That the steam calliope be moved onto the ship,” Henryetta ordered. “We can use it to scare all the other ships and all evil spirits away. The always-reappearing Flying Dutchman has such a calliope on board, and persons who see that Ghost Ship think that it is damned souls howling.”

  “That's what I thought it was the last time I saw Old Dutch,” Satrap admitted. “All right, I'll have the calliope put on board. What else do you two demand for the Ship?”

  “Those seven one-hundred-gallon drums of Invisible Paint that are in the antique shop up the Lane,” Inneall-Annabella stated. “Have them put on the ship before dark, and we'll paint the ship with it in the dark. The paint doesn't go well unless it's applied in the dark.”

  “Inneall-Annabella, that paint is a fake,” Satrap Saint Ledger said. “There is nothing at all in those seven one-hundred gallon drums that are marked Invisible Paint. The drums are empty. Even the proprietor of the shop admits that. It's true that there is an anomaly of gravity connected with the seven drums. They are as heavy as if they were full of paint, but I assure you that they are completely empty.”

  “No, fake grandfather, no,” Henryetta protested. “They are full of Invisible Paint, and we will paint the Annabella Saint Ledger with that Invisible Paint. Please buy the seven big drums of paint and have them put on board. And buy eleven good brushes also.”

  “Why eleven? There are only ten of you now, since Axel and Gajah are no longer in your company.”

  “Our researches tell us that Invisible Alfred lives in one of the drums,” Inneall-Annabella explained. “Well, if he is a stowaway, then he shall earn his way. Let him paint too. He is no better than the rest of us. The eleventh brush will be for Invisible Alfred.”

  Three of the Pirate Crewmen from the Ship Annabella Saint Ledger came down to Structo Alley to the fine condominium of Satrap Saint Ledger and Livius Secundus and Felix Culebra y Columba. They would discuss what was really required to fit the ship for any eventuality.

  The three pirate crewmen were named Lanternjaw Lunnigan, Sebastian Lazar, and Quentillius Quern the Fifth.

  “I have wondered about your names as I've seen them on the ship's manifest,” Satrap Saint Ledger said. “They seem contrived.”

  “My name is my own,” Lanternjaw Lunnigan said, “and my given name is my mother's surname. I am descended from Hosea Lanternjaw of Surrey in England. The Lanternjaws have been a pirate family for many centuries, and my great-great-grandfather Gammon Lanternjaw pirated well into the twentieth century. Of the other two pirate seamen here though, their names are indeed contrived. The name of Sebastian Lazar was given to this salt-water person here by the little contraption Inneall. And the name Quentillius Quern the Fifth was given to this other person by the little girl Henryetta. These two Royal Kids thought that the names they gave sounded like pirate names. The original names of the two seamen, Hector Brown and Jasper Jones apparently did not.”

  “Several of the Dolophonoi-Assassins are practicing directed somnambulistic activities,” the pirate seaman Sebastian Lazar said. “They'll be able to carry out somnambulistic killing then, sleep-walking killing. They're effective enough killers when they're wide awake. Does their proposed sleep-walking killing mean anything to any of you?”

  “Not a thing, not a thing, but I'll put my back brain to work on the information,” Satrap said. “I've wondered about the vesture of you seamen also. It likewise seems pretty contrived.”

  “It's the same two Royal Kids with the same two fingers sticking into the pot, sir,” Lanternjaw explained. “It's Inneall and Henryetta again. They had the duds sent to the ship by a costumer. They thought that they looked like pirate duds. Our honest ship gabardines apparently did not. The costumes are all right except that they are too high-and-binding in the crotch. ‘I want my pirates to be high-stepping pirates,’ is what that grinning Inneall there said. Well, you'll step pretty high when you wear those high-crotched duds, or you'll suffer for not doing it. You're all right if you don't put your feet all the way down to the deck, I suppose.”

  “I kind of like the looks of them,” Satrap commented, “contrived or not. And I also like my pirates to be high-stepping pirates. Now, have you any specific recommendations as to the food-and-drink on the ship?”

  “It's all right except on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays,” Lanternjaw spoke carefully. “On those three days, instead of rations we have only Inneall's directive: ‘Lettum live this day on the fish they catch themselves.’ Ah, midas Satrap, pirates aren't very good fishermen. We can pull in lots of stuff, but little of it is tasty. This is ‘New Ocean’ so far, and pretty roiled, and many of the best fish haven't followed it here yet. And then there's the rum. ‘Pirates are supposed to drink rum,’ this urchin Inneall says and also writes in her memos. ‘They're supposed to drink hogsheads and hogsheads of it. The rum of the Indies, that's what.’ Midas man, there are other drinks besides rum, and we should have our choice. And it is only the worst of the rum that is coopered into hogsheads or butts or pipes or tuns. The best rum always comes in bottles, haven't you noticed that? After all, this isn't the fifteenth century. And then there's the question of live provender, especially the giant, live ocean-turtles, more than three hundred of them in the aft hold right now. There are more things in the world than turtle soup or even than turtle steak. And then there's the honey bees alive and loose in the midship hold. ‘Find where they have th
eir hives,’ Inneall says in her memos, ‘and take the honey out of them, and make mead or honey wine out of it.’ Listen, those bees were thrown into that hold by some jokers. They don't have any honey. They don't have any hive or home. They’d like to go home but they don't know how to get out of the hold. But they sure will sting you if you go into that midship hold at all. And then there's the live cape buffalos in the fore hold. Dammit there's no tougher meat this side of hell than cape buffalo meat.”

  “I have here three sharp, short-bladed knives for three Royal Kids, Ruddy Lord Randal and Carcajou and Schimp,” Quentillius Quern the Fifth said. “These three knives were taken off dead Dolophonoi-Assassins and they are well broken-in. They will kill Dolophonoi. Most knives won't bite into them at all.” The Quentillius gave a knife to each of them, to Lord Randal and Carcajou and Schimp. That was the kind of gift that was appreciated, knives that were already blooded and broke in.

  “There is also the way the dispensary and infirmary are run on the Annabella Saint Ledger,” Sebastian Lazar broke in. “It's all governed by a single directive which reads: ‘For any sickness or suppuration, lettum drink bilge-water tonic.’ I think that's another gem of Inneall's.”

  “No, it's a gem of mine,” Henryetta said. “It's the universal cure-all for sick pirates, bilge-water tonic, and bilge-water tonic again.”

  “All these things are trifles,” Satrap Saint Ledger said. “In general, how are things, and how is the attitude of the crew?”

  “Oh, everything's perfect,” Lanternjaw Lunnigan chirped. “Perfect,” piped Sebastian Lazar. “Perfect,” echoed Quentillius Quern the Fifth. “There was never such a satisfied crew since the world began. We'll follow these Royal Kids (that's what we call them) forever. We'll follow the whole bunch of them all the way to hell if it comes to that. There was never a happier bunch than weselves.”

  “Midas-man Satrap Saint Ledger, did you ever hear of Tom Dooley's Island?” Sebastian Lazar asked.

  “Yes, I owned it when it was Tom Dooley's Hill, and I still own it when Inneall's Ocean has circumvallated it and made it an island. I have a good solid home on it, spacious and pleasant.”

  “But is it pleasant? The Island is sinking, you know. It's been sinking for an hour. And before the coming night is over with, it will be thirty fathoms deep under the new ocean.”

  “Whence have you these times and measurements, pirate?”

  “From the little pythoness there in the corner. That's what she has predicted, and we have come to trust her predictions. I think we had better calk and waterproof the house so that the Royal Kids can use it after the Island is submerged. All the really important Pirate Moguls have had their secret houses under the Ocean. Oh really, there's no way they could be first-class without it.”

  “What will it take?” Satrap asked.

  “Thirty tons of calking compound. And an alley oop thirty-three fathoms long. We may as well make provisions for high tides.”

  “All right. Get the stuff and do the job. Charge it to ‘Ship's Stores’. Quentillius the Fifth, I understand that you are in charge of loading consignments onto the ship and making them fast. We have certain things to load by nightfall.”

  “Aye, the brass cannon and the cannon-balls, the steam calliope, the seven one-hundred-gallon drums of Invisible Paint. The thirty tons of calking compound and the one thousand pounds of hamburger meat. That's to give us a change from live-turtle meat. And five thousand rounds of bazooka shells just to be sure that we have plenty. Everything will be loaded on and made fast, applied, refrigerated, fried, put on steam, or otherwise processed according to its nature and circumstance. And we might take on two hundred kilograms of blood plasma. Pirates bleed a lot when they're in bloody combat.”

  “All right. See to it. But seriously, fellows, could we repel a professional attack?” Satrap asked.

  “Oh absolutely!” Lanternjaw assured him. “We could repel almost any sort of attack; and we could counter-attack any invaders all the way to the bottom of the ocean. We have rifles and automatic rifles, 90-mm point-blank pieces, bazookas, and directional cluster-bombs. Besides that we'll have the enchanted cannon. Aye, and we'll have the ‘Ship Invisible’ after the Royal Kids get it painted with the invisible paint. That's really a big advantage. Those things actually do work, midas-man Satrap Saint Ledger.”

  “There are eleven wolverenes making a disturbance outside,” a courier announced, sticking his head inside the clubroom. “Do they belong to anybody in here, or shall we kill them?”

  “First the whales, and now the wolverenes,” Lanternjaw Lunnigan said. “The whales have already moved into this part of the ocean, though it's really too shallow for them. For them to have real fun at their diving and sounding, they need water at least a mile deep. Well, maybe they're shallow-bottom whales. Whatever the whales are, they're building something. They're constructing something under water, and just about half a mile from the south end of Tom Dooley's Island.”

  “The wolverenes have come for me,” Carcajou said, and he was shaking with fright. “They want to take me back with them. They want to take me back into their form, and I don't want to go.”

  “You have your knife, Carcajou,” Marino the Seal said. “Ruddy Lord Randal has his, and Schimp has his. These knives will kill wolverenes, who are devils, just as they will kill Dolophonoi. I have my teeth, and Popugai has his sheep-killing beak. We five have never yet enjoyed the fellowship of going together into a really rousing battle. Let's enjoy it now and rip up the eleven wolverenes.”

  But the roaring and howling and devil-yelling of the eleven wolverenes shook all of Structo Lane and scared everybody, even those who laughed and affected not to take it heavily.

  “Oh, but one of the wolverenes is myself in my other form,” Carcajou cried out, “and we won't know which one. He'll hide in the middle of the other ten, and if we kill him, we'll kill me also.”

  “No, he is not you,” Luas the young angel said. “He is only a devil-animal who inhabited you for some years and forced you to take his form. But he has been cast out of you. If you let him come back into you though, your last state will be worse than your first. I will go out and deal with them.”

  “You cannot wrestle with all eleven of them at one time, Luas.” Carcajou warned.

  “Yes, in my own way I can wrestle with eleven of them at once,” Luas said softly, and he went out. Then the noise and menace of the wolverenes became threefold as strong as it had been before.

  “I'm glad we don't have those wolverenes on the Ocean,” Lanternjaw Lunnigan said. “They spook me. I'm even a little bit afraid of bears, if you'll pardon me for the feeling, Dubu. A pirate ship I was once on tangled with another pirate ship named The Unrepentant Rascal; the Unrepentant had a big Alaskan Brown Bear for first mate, and he sure sent shivers down the backs of all of us. He was a slow man with the cutlass though and also with the ship's sword, pardon me again Dubu. Ah, we had bear steak for a week after that encounter.”

  “Somewhere there are three ugly sisters sitting in an ugly room with straw on the floor of it,” Lutin the girl pythoness was saying. “To people who have their eyes put in backwards, the three sisters are beautiful. But I see them true and I see them ugly. One of them, Clotho, spins out threads from the straw on the floor for each of us here. The second one, Lachesis, measures the threads, and I believe that she is dooming the threads of several of us to be long enough. The third sister, Atropos, cuts the threads with her scissors when her sister has measured them to their full length. And I feel that Atropos has her avid scissors in her hand now. There is antipathy between those three sisters and all pythons everywhere from the beginning of the world.”

  “We are only concerned with menaces on board the Annabella Saint Ledger,” Sebastian Lazar said.

  “But, among other places, they are on board the Annabella,” Lutin sighed one of her weary snake-sighs.

  “Oh, that ugly room, and those three ugly sisters!” Lanternjaw turned his attention to the matt
er. “we'll thwart them somehow.”

  The roaring and howling of the wolverenes broke into separate pieces and rushed away. The eleven noises could be heard diminishing as they went into the distance. Then they were muted and muffled as if their roaring had gone underwater. And Luas the Angel came back in.

  “What did you do, Luas?” Schimp asked. “How did you defeat them?”

  “I turned them into devil-fish,” Luas said, “and they had to rush into the ocean before they drowned in the air. But they'll still roar at you when you're in the good ship Annabella Saint Ledger. And now I must go.”

  “You reduce our number if you go,” Inneall said sadly.

  “No. I was never really of your number. I was an observer only. Most of us will meet again in the better place. I hope it is all of us, but several of you are tricky.” And Luas was gone.

  All of them went out to Oceanside then, where the good ship Annabella Saint Ledger was being loaded with her mixed cargo of ship's stores and supplies. And then themselves loaded on. They sailed into the evening-blue Ocean with a flapping of sails and a braying of donkey engines. And almost immediately the Intrepid Nine (their number was reduced by three by this time) broke out the barrels of Invisible Paint and dangled their trestles over the side and began to paint the hull of the ship. This was necessary if the ship was to be able to hide from its enemies even in clear water and bright sunshine. But the concealing paint would only have its full effect if applied in the dark.

  Invisible Alfred was roused out of his barrel. He was not completely invisible unless he closed both his mouth and his eyes at the same time. His eyes were visible when he had them open, and the inside of his mouth was visible when he talked.

  The Nine Intrepid Royal Kids painted all the night and were finished just as the false dawn came an hour before the true dawn of morning. It had been the Second Night of Summerset that was just ending.