I still didn’t know how to take him. I have that when I first meet people—I have to get used to them slowly. For the moment, too young for me or not, I was content to have him go on with his story because it gave me something to think about instead of Grainau and whatever I would find there.
He punched buttons for a minute, and then said, “Well, that ought to hold us for a while. Now where was I?”
“The ogre and the treasure.”
“Oh, yes,” he said, and continued with his story:
Well, the two young men set off the very next morning, when the sun was up and the air was warm. Sam, intelligent as always, had loaded food and supplies into a knapsack and put it on his back, and buckled a great sword around his waist. Ned took nothing—too heavy, you know—but simply put his red cap on his head and walked on down the road, whistling. Everybody in the kingdom came down to the road to wave and see them off. They waved until the boys were around the first bend in the road, and then, like sensible folk, they all went home to breakfast.
Sam was loaded so heavily that he couldn’t walk as fast as his dear brother, and Ned was soon out of sight ahead of him, without even the sound of his whistle to mark him. This didn’t seriously bother Bright Sam because he was sure that preparation and foresight would in the end more than make up for Ned’s initial brisk pace. When he got hungry, not having any food would slow him down.
But Sam walked a long time, day and night, and never saw his brother. Then he came on the skinniest man he’d ever seen, sitting by a great pile of animal bones.
“Hello,” Sam said. “I’m looking for an ogre who lives in a cave and owns a treasure. Do you know where I can find him?”
At the question, the man began to cry. Sam asked him what the trouble was, since sour or not, he hated to see people cry. The man said, “A young fellow stopped a day or two ago and asked me the same question exactly. And he brought nothing but trouble on me. I had a flock of sheep, and fine ones, too, and I was roasting one for my dinner when he stopped, and he was such a nice, pleasant fellow that I asked him to eat with me. He was still hungry after the first sheep, so I killed another, and then another, and then another. He was so friendly and charming, and so grateful, that I never noticed until he had gone that he had eaten every last one of my animals. Now I have nothing at all. And I’m starting to get hungry myself.”
Sam said, “If you will tell me where the ogre lives I will give you some of the food that I have with me.”
The man said, “Give me some of your food and I will tell you just what I told that other young fellow.”
So Sam gave him food and when the hungry man was done eating, he said, “The answer is that I don’t know. I don’t have any truck with ogres. I just mind my own business.”
Sam went on down the road with his pack a bit lighter than before. He walked a long time, day and night, and never saw his brother. Then he came on a little castle in which lived a princess—well, perhaps not a princess as most people reckon it, but since she lived there alone there wasn’t a single person to say she wasn’t. That is how royal families are founded.
This little castle was being besieged by a very rude and unpleasant giant. As a passing courtesy, Sam drew his sword and slew the giant, lopping off his great hairy head. The princess, and pretty indeed she was, came out of her castle and thanked him.
“It was very nice of you,” said she, “but I’m afraid that the giant here,” and she nudged his head with the toe of her dainty slipper, “has seven brothers and the whole lot take turns besieging my castle. This will no doubt make them a bit angry. I used to have a charm that kept my land protected from all such creatures, but alas no longer. A young man with a red cap came whistling down the road last week looking for an ogre and he was so sweet and charming that I gave him the charm to protect himself with and keep him from harm, and ever since these horrid giants have been attacking my castle.”
“Well, why don’t you move?” said Sam. “There aren’t any giants where I live, though we do have a dragon or two, and we have some very nice castles looking to be bought.”
The princess said that sounded like a very nice idea, and she just might take his advice.
“By the way,” said Sam, “do you know, by chance, where I can find the ogre you were speaking of just a minute ago?”
“Oh, certainly,” she said. “It’s not far at all. Just follow your nose for three days and nights and you’ll be there.”
Sam thanked her, slew a second giant come to look for his brother, and went on his way. He followed his nose, and after three days and nights it told him that he had found the ogre’s cave. He knocked politely and the ogre came out. The cave was a bit small for him. He was covered with hair, and he had three red eyes and two great yellow fangs. Other than his appearance, he seemed friendly enough.
Sam drew his sword and said, “Excuse me, but I’ve come for your treasure.”
“Well, if you can tell me a riddle I can’t guess,” said the ogre, “I’ll give all I have to you. But if I do answer it, I want your money and all that you have.” Sam agreed. It is common knowledge that ogres are not bright as a rule, and Sam knew some very hard riddles indeed.
He thought, he did, and finally he said, “What is it that is not, and never will be?”
The ogre turned the question over in his mind. Then he sat down to really think about it. For three whole days and three whole nights they sat there, and nobody thought it odd of them because nobody lived nearby. The ogre tried a dozen answers one by one, but each time Sam said, “I’m sorry, but that’s not it.”
Finally, the ogre said, “I can’t think of any more answers. You win. But don’t tell me the answer. Write it on a piece of paper. I can think about it after you’re gone.”
So Sam wrote his answer down on a piece of paper and gave it to the ogre. Then he said, “And now, could I trouble you for your treasure?”
The ogre said, “You won all that I have fair and square. Just a minute.” He went inside the cave and in just a moment he was back with a single brass farthing. “I’m sorry, but that’s all there is. There used to be more, but I gave it all to a nice young man who was here just a week ago. I had to start all over again after he left and now that you’ve beaten me, I’ll have to start even another time.”
Because he knew his brother well, Sam asked disbelievingly, “This young fellow didn’t ask you any riddles you couldn’t answer, did he?”
The ogre drew himself up and said in a wounded tone, “Of course not. But he was such a nice young fellow that I couldn’t bear to let him go away empty-handed.”
Well, that left Sam with something of a problem. He’d beaten the ogre and won his treasure, but nobody was likely to take a single brass farthing as proof of that. So he thought for a minute, and then he said, “And how do you find your cave for size, my friend?”
“Cramped,” said the ogre. “But good caves are hard to find.”
“And do you have much company here?”
“No,” said the ogre. “I think on my riddles to pass the time.”
“Well,” said Sam, “how would you like to come along home with me? When I’m king at home I can provide you with a fine large cave and pleasant neighbors, and send people with riddles to you from time to time. How about that?”
The ogre could hardly turn an offer like that down, so he agreed readily and they set out together. When they got near home, it was apparent to Sam that a celebration was going on in the kingdom.
He said to his ogre friend, “How would you like to go to a party?”
“Oh, fine,” said the ogre. “I’m sure I’d like a party, though I’ve never been to one.”
“Well, I’ll go in first, and then I’ll come out for you in a minute,” said Sam.
He went inside to find that there was a double celebration in progress. His brother Ned was about to be crowned king and to marry the sweet princess that Sam had sent home. Sam thought that was most unkind.
“Stop the
wedding,” said Sam. They stopped the wedding and looked around at him. He said, “I succeeded at the Quest, and I claim the right to be king.”
Everybody laughed at him. They said, “Charming Ned brought home the ogre’s treasure. What did you bring?”
Sam showed them his single brass farthing. “I brought this,” he said and they all laughed the more. “And I brought one more thing,” he said, and threw open the doors. In walked the ogre, looking for the party he’d been promised.
Sam explained to the ogre that the party would begin straight away the moment he became king. Since the ogre was standing in the only doorway, Sam was made king in no time at all.
Well, after that, Sam set the ogre up in a cave of his very own, and after the neighbors found he wasn’t a bad sort he got on quite well. The ogre became a regular tourist attraction, one of the finest in the kingdom, and brought in a nice regular bit of revenue. Sam opened a charm school with his brother Ned in charge, and that brought in even more money. Sam married the princess himself and everybody lived quite happily from then on. If they haven’t moved away, and I don’t know why they would, they’ll be living there still.
Oh, yes. It took the ogre a full ten years to decide he couldn’t answer Sam’s riddle. Every week he would bundle the answers he’d thought of together and send them to Sam and Sam would send them back. Finally the ogre decided he would never find the right answer to the question, “What is it that is not and never will be?” He opened the paper Sam had given him so long before and took a look. The answer was, “A mouse’s nest in a cat’s ear.” (And that, my little friend, is the only real, true answer there is.)
“Oh, hell,” said the ogre. “I was just about to guess that.”
“There’s a moral, too,” George said. “My mother told it to me and I’ll tell it to you: If you’re bright and use your head, you’ll never go too far wrong. Just keep it in mind, and you’ll get along.”
Right after that, we reached the atmosphere of Grainau. George was busy with his buttons. I was thinking that he meant well enough and I was feeling a bit more friendly toward him.
I had gathered that entering a planet’s atmosphere was a tricky business, but George didn’t seem particularly concerned. The main problem was the same as when leaving the Ship: to strike a balance between one gravity field and the other, so that the people aboard were not plastered against the floor or left suddenly without any feeling of weight at all. Besides that, he had to take us to the point on the planet to which we were going, and how he did that, I couldn’t tell. Apparently he got bearings from his instruments. The dials and meters said incomprehensible things to me, but by some strange gift of tongues, he understood them. He switched on the vision screens and they showed nothing but a billowy gray blankness beneath us. Without any coaxing from George, the dome above our heads became first translucent and then gradually transparent, our interior lights fading in correspondence to the increasing light from outside.
As we descended, I looked all around through the dome. I was still feeling apprehensive, but my curiosity was getting the better of me. I freed myself from my chair and strained to see all I could, but it wasn’t heartening. In every direction the view was the same, a slightly rolling gray-whiteness that looked soft and bouncy, lit uniformly by the red-orange sun that was low in the sky ahead of us as we traveled, and gradually rose higher. It was the first sun I had seen at close range and I didn’t like the glare it gave off. The automatic polarizer in the dome reduced the brightness until it was bearable to look at the bright disk, but I could see its light was unpleasant. The vision screens showed the same bouncy amorphous whiteness directly beneath us as we moved.
I said, “That isn’t what a planet looks like, is it?”
George laughed and said, “Those are clouds. The planet’s down underneath. It’s like frosting with cake under it.”
He reached to rap at the same switch he’d turned on before and saw it was on. He frowned and then made an announcement to the people below: “We’ll be setting down in about ten minutes.” He hit the switch and it popped up.
“I’m going downstairs,” I said.
“All right,” George said. “I’ll see you later.”
He turned his attention back to his job and we suddenly sliced down into the gray-white clouds and were surrounded by the sick, smothering mass. The lights came up a little in the dome to restore the life that was missing in the grayness outside. It was the most frightening stuff to be lost in that I could imagine and I didn’t want to look at it. I went down the spiral stairs and in the warm haven of the room below I looked for Daddy. He was sitting in an easy chair by himself in the center section. Mr. Tubman, Daddy’s assistant, was watching while the horses were saddled. Men were bustling around doing those last-minute things that people always discover five minutes before it will be too late to do them. Daddy had a book and was reading quite calmly, as I might have expected. Daddy ignores confusion.
I sat down in a heavy brown chair beside him and waited until he looked up. He said, “Hello, Mia. We’re just about there. How are you doing?”
“All right, I guess.” Meaning I was nervous.
“Good. And how are you getting on with George?”
I shrugged. “All right, I guess.”
“I’ve asked him to keep an eye on you today while I’m in conference. He’ll show you around the town. He’s been here before.”
“Are you going to be busy all day long?” I asked.
“I think so. If I wind things up before dark, I’ll find the two of you.”
I had to be satisfied with that. A few moments later we touched down smoothly for a landing. Grainau had heavier gravity than home—that was the first thing I was certain of after all our motion had ceased. I could feel the extra weight as a strain on my calves and arches when I stood up. Something that would take getting used to.
George came downstairs and walked over to us. Daddy stood up and said, “Well, all ready to take over, George?” Meaning me.
George towered over both of us. He nodded.
Daddy smiled and said, “That was a pretty good story, George. You have talents I never suspected you of having.”
“Which story?” I asked.
“The story George was just telling you,” Daddy said. “The speaker was on from the time we left the Ship.”
George grinned. “I didn’t notice that until just a minute ago.”
“It was a fine story,” Daddy said.
I flushed, thoroughly embarrassed. “Oh, no,” I said. To listen to a story like that was one thing, but to have everybody else know it was something else and thoroughly disconcerting.
I shot George an accusing look and then ran for cover, heading for the toilet again. I didn’t want to be seen by anybody.
Daddy was after me and caught me before I got to the separating partition. He grasped my arm and brought me to a stop.
“Hold on, Mia,” he said.
I struggled to get loose. “Let me go.”
“Don’t make a scene, Mia,” he said.
“Let go of me. I don’t want to stay here.”
“Quiet!” he said sharply. “I’m sorry I made the mistake of telling you, but George didn’t do it intentionally. Besides, I enjoyed his story and I’m more than six times your age.”
“That’s different,” I said.
“You may be right, but whether you’re right or not doesn’t make any difference right now. It’s time to go outside. I want you to pull yourself together and walk outside with me. When we face these Colons, I want you to be somebody I can be proud of. You don’t want to show up badly in front of these people, do you?”
I shook my head.
“All right,” he said, and let go of me. “Pull yourself together.”
Keeping my head averted, I did my best to get a grip on myself. I straightened my blouse and hitched my shorts, and when I was ready, I faced around.
The ramp was down on the far side of the ship, and I coul
d hear noise from outside. People shouting.
“Come along,” Daddy said and we walked across the center area. George was still standing there and I gave him a hostile glance as we passed, but he didn’t seem to notice. He fell in behind us.
We paused for a moment at the top of the ramp, and that seemed to be taken as a signal for a band to start playing and for people to yell even louder.
Chapter 6
THE HORSES HAD ALREADY BEEN LED OUTSIDE and were being held there by Mr. Tubman. Standing beside him was an officious-looking man in a tall hat in which was placed a great wilted white feather. At another time he might have been funny. There were two children with him, a boy and a girl, both somewhere near my age. We had set down in what must have been the main square of the town, and there were ranks of people yelling and staring up at us from either hand. It made me feel on display. The sky was low and gray above us, the yellow bricks of the square were wet and shiny, and there was a warm, damp breeze. The band was directly in front of us, all of the band members dressed in dark green uniforms. They played enthusiastically—loudly, that is—but badly.
I was looking all around at this, but Daddy took my arm and said, “Come on. You can gawk later.”
We started down the ramp and all the people in the square increased the volume of their noise. I didn’t like it and started to feel very nervous. I wouldn’t like being yelled at by large numbers of people in any case, but this was all the more discomfiting because I couldn’t tell from the noise whether they were friendly or not. Whatever tune the band was playing became indistinguishable and simply added a small contribution to the general hubbub.
Daddy and the officious-looking man shook hands. Daddy said, “Mr. Gennaro, it’s good to see you again.”
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