‘Let’s hope Chance will be with us once we cross the pass,’ Thrash muttered. ‘The country is riddled with demons at this time of year. What’s more, we shall pass through the realm of the Ungulph of Quilch. He’s without mercy to those who come from Ongustura, for he and it are traditional enemies. Fortunately, you should be some protection to me.’
‘How so?’
‘You have the same peculiar outward form – only one head and four main limbs – as the Ungulph’s youngest daughter.’
On this remark he would not elaborate, growing more withdrawn as we climbed higher. As I stared at him, he grew two shadows.
I found I also had two shadows. Looking up, I saw the clouds had partly cleared. A pair of suns shone there, one a monstrous pink thing, like a blob of Instant Whip, the other a more powerful yellow globe. I have been on planets of binary stars before, and always curse the complications they make in the calendar.
Under their heat, we were sweating profusely by the time we reached the pass. Behind us, like a series of grimy sand castles in a pool, lay Ongustura. I could still make out the nose of the TransBurst ship.
Checking to see that I was securely tied, Thrash released his steeds from the shafts of the cart. The three of them went into some sort of magical routine to appease the anger of any local spirits who might be about. They burned reeking fat, danced, sprinkled powder over themselves, and declared that danger lay ahead.
While this mumbo jumbo went on, I had time to observe what never ceased to interest me. On Glumpalt, no distinction is made, or can be made, between homo, animal, fish, reptile or insect. There is only one great miscellaneous class, the individuals of which may have at one and the same time some of the characteristics of man, horse, crab, toad and grasshopper. Most individuals could produce by chirps, barks, twitters or twangs one of the many Glumpaltian dialects. The only valid difference between Thrash and his steeds was that the steeds had no sort of manual appendages like hands or claws, whereas he had; they were thus condemned to the life of beasts of burden – but in his conversations with them he ignored this distinction.
They finished their magic. We proceeded.
Few landmarks existed on the way ahead. Steadily we covered the miles. The custard sun set behind a wall of cloud, but the day remained bright.
‘Tell us your history,’ Thrash said. ‘And make it amusing so that I and my friends may laugh aloud to scare the demons who beset our route.’
So I told him my history. He translated it as I spoke into a Glumpaltian tongue for his friends’ enjoyment.
‘I am a financier,’ I said. ‘Rather, I am an entrepreneur for a loan company that is not recognised by any Starswarm government. There is a great deal of risk in all our transactions, and consequently our rates are high. I myself am frequently involved with the law in trying to save my company from loss.
‘Last week I pulled off a considerable deal with the rebel government of Rolf III. I earned a vacation on New Droxy and planned to travel there by mattermitter. Being at some disagreement with the authorities, I arranged to be broadcast by an illegal beam.
‘Obviously that beam was not powerful enough. Having to pass through a disturbed region of space like Smith’s Burst, it must have been momentarily broken. And in consequence I materialised here!’
They failed to laugh. But from then on I was watched more closely than ever. Thrash took to wearing a great bow over his shoulder; a quiver of brass-tipped arrows hung at his side. This did not encourage me to make a sudden run for freedom. They never let me from their sight even when I fulfilled my natural functions.
Our progress was not rapid. Stopping at villages meant much delay, for an elaborate ritual had to be undergone each time before we entered the ramshackle walls. This was to exorcise wayside demons: we had to be purged of their company before those within the villages allowed us to enter. The ceremonies sometimes took a whole derv, or four hours. I was liberally daubed with a stinking white substance made from powdered shell Thrash kept in a silver casket.
In the villages conditions were miasmic. I soon lost track of the road back to Ongustura, for there were many trails leading everywhere. To keep account of time was also impossible. Glumpalt evidently had an erratic orbit. Though I heard no more about the Black Sun for a while, the pink and yellow suns rose and sank in a manner to me quite unpredictable.
Thrash had some trouble about the route through the lands of the Ungulph of Quilch; he grew increasingly anxious about the road ahead.
On one occasion, the caterpillar-horse was pulling the cart while Thrash rode on the elephant-horse with me behind him. We came to a many-branched tree by the wayside. Raising his claw, Thrash halted us.
‘Climb up that tree and say if you see anything in the way of landmarks ahead, shoe-shaped one,’ he ordered, turning to me.
‘Unbind my hands and I will,’ I said.
‘Don’t try to escape or I spit you through on an arrow,’ he warned, untying my wrists.
I climbed the tree until I came to the highest branch that would bear me. Then I stared ahead and began calling loudly and anxiously.
‘Oh Lord Thrash!’ I bellowed. ‘Come back! Don’t ride away from me so fast and leave me in this desolate place! I shall be lost without you! Come back!’
In puzzlement and anger Thrash called out to me from where he stood below.
‘Are you out of your senses, monster-man? I am standing here. I have not moved. Come down at once!’
Taking no notice, I still cried out to him not to ride away and leave me, and so I descended the tree. When I got down and faced him, I shook my head and rubbed my eyes, feigning disbelief.
‘But I saw you gallop away on your elephant-horse friend!’ I exclaimed bewilderedly. ‘You disappeared over that hill, I’ll swear!’
‘Rubbish!’ he said. ‘We never moved from this spot. Climb up again and deliver truly of what you see ahead.’
Obediently I climbed the tree a second time. A second time I cried out.
‘Come back, my master! You gallop away so fast! What have I done to deserve such treatment? Oh, come back, come back!’
Ignoring his shouts from below, I slid down the trunk and stood before him on the ground.
‘I never moved,’ he said. ‘What’s this foolishness?’
Then I burst into laughter, seizing one of his claws to show my relief.
‘There’s a glorious illusion, Lord Thrash. You stayed here, yet from the top of this tree I had a perfect picture of you galloping off at full speed over the nearest hill. How wonderfully comic! I beg you, climb up, climb up and see if you can’t see something similar. This is a magic tree, set here for the edification of travellers by benevolent spirits. Climb up and laugh your fill!’
The face on his belly broke into a reluctant smile. Obediently he began to climb the tree. Once he was well in the tree, I jumped onto his elephant-horse.
‘I am a great enchanter,’ I snarled into the thing’s ear. ‘Gallop your hardest for the nearest hill or I turn you into a flaming faggot on the instant.’
He set off with a start that nearly threw me and went as if pursued by devils. Turning, I saw Thrash Pondo-Pons in the top of the tree. He was pointing at me.
‘This is in truth a magic tree!’ he roared. ‘I swear it looks as if you are galloping off for the nearest hill on my steed. The illusion is complete! Wonderful! Marvellous!’
He shook with laughter, and the tree shook with him. Soon we were over the brow of the hill.
III
I had got away, but was by no means out of my predicament. In which direction lay Ongustura I knew not. All the food I had would not nourish a cockroach; of the local language I could pronounce only a few simple words, mostly obscenities, which I had picked up from Thrash on the journey. And as if all this were not enough, both the suns were obviously determined to set at once.
My problems were soon complicated further. The elephant-horse put on the burst of speed one might expect from a creature
ridden by a great enchanter. Unfortunately I was never a great horseman, and an especially fierce jolt flung me from the saddle.
Falling in short grass, I sat up in time to see my charger disappear. His flanks had been loaded with paraphernalia; the jolt that dislodged me had also shaken loose a casket of worked silver. It represented my only possession. On opening it, I found it was half-filled with the nauseous crushed-shell powder, which was worth having, since without it I could not enter any village.
An evening wind blew chill. I stood up and was aware of a curious sensation. One of my legs was lighter than the other. The ground here was broken, as if by a minor earth fault. Walking to and fro, I discovered that my whole body felt lighter when over this fault line. No doubt this unaccountable shift in weight was responsible for my fall.
Dusk was coming on. Unable to solve the mystery, I took the casket under my arm and stepped forward. After a while I saw a light ahead, and came to a hamlet inside a wooden compound.
Now this was the time to call to those within that a stranger sought shelter, and to begin the absurd magical ritual that would render me fit to enter. But the place was oddly silent. I was cold, in no mood to loiter about. The pink sun had been swallowed by the dark hills. Boldly, I pushed through the wooden gate and entered the compound.
The dwellings were the usual motley collection, made of stones or boulders, wood or mud. They huddled about me like so many old cows under blankets. The light I had seen from a distance came from a sort of beacon set in the middle of a ‘street’ to furnish illumination for the hovels nearby.
Nobody stirred. Taking my courage into my hands, for it was growing too cold to be cowardly outdoors, I entered the dwelling into which the most light was cast. Huddled in the room were several Glumpaltians in their usual variety of shapes and sizes. They crouched motionless under rugs or skins, some snoring gently.
I crept into a rear room to seek food. There I found a barrel containing something very like salted water snails. I was debating with my stomach whether I could ever bring myself to eat them when there came the sound of footsteps in the street. Shrinking into one corner, I saw a fellow enter the house by the door I had used. I say ‘fellow’, but he was in truth more like a crab, with eyes on stalks and several legs to walk on.
Without hesitation he came through to where I hid, seized the barrel of snails and some other food, and tucked them into the pockets of his mighty coat. It was vexing to see burgled what I had been about to steal, but I made no outcry. If this fellow was one of society’s outcasts, I reasoned that he might be of more use to me than the others; and if he was off to a safe refuge with plenty of food, then I could not do better than to follow him.
This I did. The crabman went from hovel to hovel with no care for silence, adding to his load at each stop. Frost crunched beneath his feet. Desperate with cold, I snatched a thick skin off one of the sleepers; he did not stir; probably he was hibernating.
Completing his rounds, the crabman left the hamlet and set off across country at a good pace. I followed discreetly. The risk of discovery was greater now; a bright moon had risen and was racing across the sky, flooding the country with radiance.
We entered a valley, then climbed again. Around a sharp cliff, an extraordinary sight greeted me. A rainbow curtain hung across the path, reaching from the ground to about ten feet high. I was in time to see the crabman scurry through it.
The rainbow was mainly violet, red and blue, the colours subdued but perfectly clear. As I approached, the feeling of lightness again assailed me. It became more and more difficult to plant my feet on the ground or to move forward.
Now I could see that the rainbow sprang from a precipice about ten feet wide. I took a good run and cleared it easily. Landing gently, I was in time to see the crabman vanish into a little house carved in the rock.
‘Stay and have a word with me!’ I cried in Galingua. I did not expect him to understand; I merely wanted to see how he would react. I had a stout stick ready, reckoning I could tip him into the precipice with it if it came to a tussle.
‘I have words for everyone,’ he replied. It was incredible to believe that this misshapen crab could speak the galaxy’s tongue. Forgetting my caution, I went to his door, through which a light shone.
‘Where did you learn Galingua?’ I asked.
He was rummaging about in an antiquated cupboard, and answered without looking at me, as far as I could see.
‘I am the Interpreter. I speak all languages. There is not a tongue talked on Glumpalt I do not know.’
If this were true, I had indeed followed the right fellow.
‘We could be useful to each other,’ I said.
‘I am useful to no one, unless they can teach me a new language,’ he said. Now he turned to survey me. He was massive, but his shell looked fragile enough. I mustered as much confidence as possible and closed the door behind me.
‘How many languages are there on Glumpalt?’ I asked him.
‘Two thousand and thirty-two, and I speak them all.’
‘Wrong! There are two thousand and thirty-three!’ And I began to address him in the language of Rolf III. He was amazed. Finally he said, ‘We will eat and discuss this. Come, sit down, Flat-eyes; we are friends.’
We sat on either side of an upturned tub, on top of which he piled edibles. The more he talked, the madder I thought him, particularly as he interrupted his talk often to circle the table and me. He told me that learning languages was about all he could do. He had a freak brain; he could learn a whole new language in a week. On Glumpalt there were many languages, each province speaking a different one. So he had been taken on as interpreter at the court of the Ungulph of Quilch.
Eventually he had fallen out with the Ungulph, who had stolen his name and sent him packing. Now he lived a hermit’s life without a name, known only as the Interpreter.
At the end of this farrago of facts, when I had eaten as much of the beastly food as I could, I rose.
I was trapped! Sticky threads bound me. When I grasped them, they adhered to my hands. I could not break them.
‘You are my prisoner,’ he said. ‘Sit down again. You will remain here for a week, teaching me this dialect you call Rolfial. Then I will let you free again.’
From what he then said, I gathered that he was less crab than spider. The threads were spun from his own entrails. When he had circled the table, he had been secretly imprisoning me.
I did not despair. The thought of the TransBurst Traders ship gave impetus to my racing brain.
‘We are within seven awdervs of Ongustura,’ I said. ‘I will happily teach you Rolfial if you will take me there.’
‘I can learn in comfort here.’
‘I cannot teach you here. Your name is taken from you; I have had all my prepositions taken from me. I was on my way to collect them from a magician in Ongustura. If you will take me there, I will teach you everything but the prepositions on the journey, and those you shall willingly have when we arrive.’
‘Who is this magician?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘His name is Bywithanfrom.’
‘Hm. I will think on it.’
So saying, he hauled himself up by a self-made thread to the rafters and dropped into a coma. Despite my discomfort, I fell asleep over the tub.
IV
When I woke, a pallid morning had dawned, and the Interpreter was up and about. He released me from my bonds, leaving only one long rope around my waist.
‘We start soon,’ he said. ‘I accept your suggestion. We shall go to Ongustura, there to collect your prepositions and complete my mastery of Rolfial.’
While he was preparing, I ventured outside. The rope around my middle allowed me to go as far as the precipice. Again a feeling of lightness came over me.
Floating rather than jumping, I launched myself into the gulf. The bottom, muddy and full of stones, offered no explanation for the sensation of weightlessness it gave off. Prodding with a sharp stone, however, I dug into
something solid. When I pulled at it, a fragment broke off. It looked like natural chalk.
I dropped it. At once it soared up into the air and headed towards the clouds.
Beside myself with excitement, I filled my pockets with the crumbling stuff. Soon I was so light that I would have taken off myself had I not filled other pockets with ordinary heavy stones.
I ran back into the tawdry hut, in my enthusiasm treating the Interpreter as if he were human. Releasing a chunk of the light stuff, I showed him how it shot up to the ceiling.
‘It’s antigravity material, occurring naturally,’ I exclaimed. ‘You have a fortune at your doorstep; don’t you realise it?’
He shook his eyestalks at me in a dreadful way.
‘This material occurs all over Glumpalt in small veins,’ he said. ‘But it is not touched because it is bad magic. You will die if you persist in keeping it.’
I did persist. When we set out on our journey to Ongustura, my pockets were loaded with the stuff. Only a sack full of stones on my back enabled me to walk in the usual way.
Thinking back over that trek, I can laugh now, for we can make as merry over our own past hardships as over our friends’ present ones. It was a mad journey! The way lay along stony tracks and barren hills; we were forever slipping down or climbing up the sides of ravines. The Interpreter on his eight legs had an easy journey; I was often dropping from fatigue.
Yet one or the other of us was talking all the time. The Interpreter imbibed his languages by a Gestalt principle obscure to me; all I had to do was chatter of this and that in Rolfial and he took it in. I cannot tell you how vexing it is, while ascending a steep slope, to have to discourse on, say, the origins of the Starswarm federation, remembering at the same time to omit all prepositions from one’s sentences. My cleverness imposed a sore task on me.
After his fashion, the Interpreter was no bad companion. Often I said something that touched off a train of thought he pursued vocally for hours. When on the subject of the creation of Glumpalt, he told me many things I wanted to know.
The Complete Short Stories- The 1950s - Volume One Page 88