The Tritonian Ring and Other Pasudian Tales

by L. Sprague De Camp

  Not wishing to give Awoqqas any unwholesome ideas, Vakar deliberately slouched to subtract a couple of inches from his own stature.

  Awoqqas was staring at a cleared space on the stone floor in front of his throne. On the edges of this space two small oil-lamps with copper reflectors burned and, as Vakar watched, an izzuni came in and extinguished the torchères, leaving the chamber illuminated only by the two little lamps on the floor.

  The space fit by the lamps, Vakar saw, was marked with a large and complex pentacle. Awoqqas extended his arms towards it, fingers pointing, and muttered a spell in a language that the Lorskan did not know. Gradually the pentacle faded from sight as a phantasm appeared on the illuminated space. The phantasm was a reproduction in miniature of a stretch of sandy desert, across which flowed a mass of riders. These riders bestrode tall humped animals that Vakar recognized from descriptions as camels, but like the rest of the scene they were in miniature, man and camel together standing no more than a span in height. The men wore shroud-like black cloths that were fastened to their heads by head-bands and fell away in folds to cover most of their bodies, and the lower parts of their faces were concealed by veils. They carried long spears. Their number seemed endless; as some passed out of sight on one side of the phantasm, others came into view on the other.

  King Awoqqas spoke a word and the phantasm vanished. As the izzuni came in again and relit the torchères, the king said:

  "You have seen the army of the Gwedulians marching westward along the southerly borders of my land. I thought they might turn north to attack us; but they are continuing west. I suspect they mean to cross the Tamenruft to assail Gamphasantia."

  Vakar said: "Do you mean to warn the Gamphasantians, King?"

  "Nay. I have nothing to do with them; I do not wish to antagonize the Gwedulians; and it would do no good, for the Gamphasants pay no heed to outside advice."

  "Are they a civilized people?"

  "One might say so; they have a capital city and raise their food by farming. In other respects they are very odd. But tell me what you are doing here, Master Fiegos?"

  "I am travelling for pleasure, to see places far and strange before settling down. For instance, I have heard of the—ah—unusual customs of Belem, and of your talisman, the Tahakh, and should like to see these marvels with my own eyes."

  Awoqqas nodded. "It is proper that the barbarous and disorderly outer lands should send men to learn our superior ways. Perhaps some day they will all be as orderly as we. You have seen the izzuneg, and tomorrow I will have you shown the fallen star. There is a fascinating story of how it got into my possession after it originally fell in Tartaros. But—you are something of a magician yourself, are you not?"

  Vakar made a modest gesture. "Not compared to you, my lord King."

  Awoqqas nodded with the ghost of a smile. "That is the spirit I like. Most travellers are insufferable braggarts and disorderly to boot. But I cannot. continue this audience because I must be about my great work."

  "Making more izzuneg?"

  "Precisely. It is the greatest feat of thaumaturgy in the history of magic. By it I not only reduce my subjects to j order; I please Immut, the god of death and the greatest of all the gods. Now, you may watch me eat as a mark of special favor." The king clapped his hands.

  "Is this the usual time of dining in Belem?" asked Vakar.

  "My usual time is whenever I hunger. As I remain underground nearly all the time, the revolutions of the heavenly bodies mean little to me save as their astrological aspects affect my magical operations." As an izzuni came in with a tray of food and drink, the king added: "Shall I have you served also?"

  "Pray excuse me. My stomach has been upset, and I am fasting to let it settle." Vakar's real reason for declining the offer was fear of poison.

  The king ate for a few minutes, then said: "Perhaps you would like livelier entertainment," and to the izzuneg: "Send in Rezzâra and a musician."

  As the headless servant went out, Vakar asked: "How do you control those beings? How can they hear you without ears?"

  "They do not hear with material ears. When you speak to one your thoughts are perceived directly by the sylph animating it. The sylph will, however, obey only me or one whom I have expressly delegated to command it; otherwise a fearful disorder would ensue. Ah, here is our most accomplished dancer. Dance for the visitor, Rezzâra!"

  Two people had come in: a small Belemian with a tootle-pipe and a woman. The latter was young and voluptuously formed—a fact that was patent at once, for she wore nothing but an assortment of rings, bracelets, anklets, and pendants of jewels and amber beads suspended from ears, neck, and waist. This gaudery clattered and clicked as she moved.

  The little man sat cross-legged on the floor and began playing a wailing tune that reminded Vakar of the music that Qasigan had played in Sederado when he had brought the serpent to life. Vakar braced himself for some such marvel, but all that happened was that Rezzâra went into a sensuous dance. She sank to her knees before him, leaning back and looking up through half-closed lids, her arms writhing like serpents. Had he been alone with her ...

  As it was he had to sit with the blood pounding in his ears while Rezzâra strove by all the arts known to the dancing-girl to stimulate him to madness. She had a trick of making her breasts jiggle while all the rest of her remained immobile. He could feel his face flushing and was not displeased when Rezzâra finished her act with a prostration in front of Awoqqas and ran out, her ornaments jingling. Her accompanist followed. "A splendid performance," said Vakar sincerely. "Yes, she too is among the wonders of Belem. Now I must return to my labors. You shall hear when it is convenient for you to be shown the Tahakh."

  "Thank you, sir," said Vakar, making his belly-flop. An izzuni at the door handed Vakar back his sword and guided him through the maze of tunnels to a chamber lined with gay-colored cloths that concealed the cold rough rock behind them. There was a substantial bed with a kind of canopy over it, a couple of stools, and a niche in the wall in which stood an ivory carving of an ugly Belemian god. Fual, who had been sitting on one of the stools, rose and indicated a tray of food and a jug of wine.

  "Now where," said Vakar, "did you get those?"

  "I stole them from the king's kitchen while the chief cook's back was turned. As the under-cooks are all headless they presented no problem. Let me pour you some of this wine. Sour stuff, but better than water."

  Vakar sat down upon the edge of the bed saying: "I could use a little, after my interview with the wizard-king."

  "How did it go, sir?" said Fual, handing his master a brimming silver cup.

  "I thought I'd seen everything, but—" A knock interrupted. Vakar called: "Come in!" The golden rivets of the door glittered as it swung inward to reveal Rezzâra the dancer, who said: "Send your servant away, my lord Thiegos. I would speak to you alone."

  -

  XIV. – THE NAKED PURITANS

  Fual looked alarmed, but Vakar hitched his sword around and said: "Go on, Fual. What is it, Rezzâra?"

  Fual went out. Vakar tensed himself, but reflected that at least he need not worry about her whisking a dagger from her clothing. Any weapon that could be concealed in her costume would be too small for anything but cleaning finger-nails.

  She waited until the door closed, then said: "Lord, when do you plan to go?"

  "I had not planned. Why?"

  "Take me with you! I can stay here no longer."

  "Huh? What is this?" Vakar's suspicions were at once alert.

  "I hate King Awoqqas and I love you."

  "What? By Tandyla's third eye, this is sudden!"

  She blinked her large dark eyes at him. "I cannot endure that fiend, with his fanatical notions of order, and I burned with passion for you from the moment I saw you. Oh, take me! You shall never regret it!"

  "An interesting idea," said Vakar dryly, sipping his wine, "but how should I carry it out?"

  "You are a man. You can overcome obstacles. What are you real
ly here for?"

  "To see the sights."

  "I do not believe that. You wish to steal the Tahakh."

  "The Tahakh is certainly valuable. Would you like some wine?"

  "No! All I wish is for you to crush me in your strong arms and cover my eager body with your burning kisses." She writhed at him.

  "You are nothing if not explicit, Rezzâra. But—"

  "Do you seek the Tahakh? Do you?" She grasped his wrist in both her hands and shook him.

  "I have come a long way to see it."

  "If I show it to you, to do with as you wish, will you take me?"

  "If I can," he said, stroking his mustache.

  She stepped over to the niche in the wall and lifted out the ugly ivory image. Behind it Vakar glimpsed something dark.

  "There," she said. "Take it yourself, but be careful not to get it near me. Its touch is said to make women barren."

  "Hm." Vakar advanced cautiously and looked into the niche. There lay what looked like a stone: about the size of two fists, a dark brown that was almost black, and rough and pitted on its irregular surface.

  He extended a finger. When nothing happened he continued to advance his finger until it touched the stone. It felt colder than he would have expected. He grasped it and lifted it out with a grunt of surprise. It must weigh well over ten pounds.

  He turned the thing over and found a place where tools had worked upon it: evidently to saw or chisel off the small piece from which the smith of Tartaros had made the Ring of the Tritons. He gazed at it in wonder. So this was what a star looked like up close? He would have expected something bigger. He asked:

  "Are you sure this is the Tahakh?"

  "Quite sure."

  "Why does Awoqqas leave it in such an accessible place? One would think to find it in an underground chamber guarded by an army of izzuneg and a couple of dragons."

  "He is a man of strange quirks. Perhaps he thought if it were left practically in the open nobody would notice it. But let us talk of other matters, my lord."

  She lay back on the bed, stretching luxuriously. "You will soon realize you have never known what joy life can hold. Come kiss me!"

  She held up her arms. Well, thought Vakar, why not? Life did not go on forever, and in this career of adventure into which he had been pitched it was likely to be even shorter than otherwise. He laid down the Tahakh, lifted his sword-belt off over his head and laid baldric and scabbard beside the fallen star, and picked up the silver wine-cup for one more swallow.

  He stood by the bed, holding the cup in his hand and looking down at Rezzâra's sleek olive-skinned form, from which the jewels winked up, adorning without concealing. He realized that these ornaments represented enough of an asset to take a traveller a long way ...

  And then the wine-cup dropped from Vakar's limp fingers as a horrifying change took place before his eyes. The girl's head faded from view, leaving her nothing but a female izzuni. "Rezzâra!" he called sharply.

  A faint voice—Rezzâra's, but barely audible, sounding inside his skull, replied: "Come, my love, let us take our fill of passion ... I burn for you ..."

  He leaned over and passed his hand through the air where her head had been. It met no resistance. He could not quite force himself to touch the downy neck-stump. Again that tiny voice sounded in his head, like the cry of a distant bird flying off into the sunset:

  "So—you know? Do not blame me, stranger, for I am but a wandering sylph, constrained by Awoqqas's will. He cast a glamor upon this body to beguile you. If you wish, you may still ..."

  The suggestion was never completed, for a sound over Vakar's head caused him to look up and then to jerk frantically back as a great net detached itself from the canopy. It fell down upon the bed and was drawn tight over Rezzâra's body. One of the ropes brushed Vakar's hair as he leaped, and at that instant the door flew open.

  In rushed a squad of izzuneg, unarmed, with hands outspread to clutch, and behind them came the little king.

  Vakar stooped for his sword. His right hand snatched up the scabbard while his left touched the Tahakh. He rose, whirling to face the intruders with both objects, and hardly knowing what he did he hurled the heavy stone over the izzuneg at Awoqqas, then drew his sword just as the izzuneg reached him. There was no time for thrusting. Sidestepping, he struck right and left, slicing open torsos and reaching arms. The izzuneg, spraying blood, came on anyway. Hands clamped upon his arms ...

  The grip of the hands relaxed. All the izzuneg, with a faint exhalation of breath, slumped to the floor in a tangle of bare brown bodies. Looking across the shambles, Vakar saw the king lying near the door with his head staved in. And in his mind the thin voice of the sylph that had animated Rezzâra sounded:

  "The spell is broken and we are all free ... Thank you, stranger, and farewell ..."

  Vakar stood staring stupidly, his mind wandering, until Fual burst in, crying: "What's happened, my lord? I was in the kitchens, where this king ordered me to go, when all the headless ones fell dead! Isn't that the king, dead too? And who's that on the bed? Have you cut off her head? I should not have thought that of you, sir ..."

  "She never had any, poor thing," said Vakar slowly. "She was an izzuni like the others, but Awoqqas put a spell upon her to make her look like a whole woman. Thinking me a great wizard he sent me into the room containing the Tahakh with the intention that I should touch it and lose my magical powers. Then Rezzâra should lure me on to the bed. The door has a spy-hole, and the king meant to watch me through it and drop the net over us both, as in that myth about the goddess Aphradexa that fellow sang of in Huperea. Then Awoqqas would rush in to secure me, no doubt to turn us into izzuneg. But I'm no wizard, and the wine showed me Rezzâra's true shape."

  Fual's teeth chattered. "What now, sir?"

  "Collect our stuff and get out."

  Fual leaned over the body of Rezzâra, cut the ropes of the net with his dagger, and started stripping the carcass of its ornaments. The bodies began to stink of decay with unnatural rapidity. He said over his shoulder:

  "My lord, whither now?"

  "Since the smiths of Tartaros seem to know how to make things of this star-stuff, I thought we should go there."

  "To Blackland? But they eat people!" wailed the Aremorian.

  "Not all of them, and we're too lean to be appetizing. Roll the Tahakh up in our blanket."

  A few minutes later they were walking the corridors, Vakar prowling in the lead with buckler before him and sword out, Fual clumping behind. Here and there they passed the sprawled corpse of an izzuni. Once a whole man brushed past them and ran down the corridor, his sandals slapping. Vakar gazed after him, then whirled as another charged around a corner.

  "Halt there!" cried Vakar, stepping in front of the man. He recognized the fellow as his acquaintance Shagarnin, who had guided them to Niowat. The Belemian tried to dodge past, but Vakar held his arms out. "How do you get out of here?"

  The man breathed heavily and his face was distorted with fear. "Izzuneg all dead," he gasped. "The commoners are up in disorder and are tearing all the ullimen to bits! Let me go—they will kill me—they will kill me—"

  "Stand still!" shouted Vakar. "Tell me how to get out of here or I will rob the commoners of that pleasure!"

  "Go the way I just came—turn right, then left, then go straight ..."

  "Where are our horses?"

  "Paddock off to the right as you come out the entrance, but the rabble will be there. Let me go ..."

  "Why not come with us? You would have some chance to save your worthless life."

  "No—I am afraid—they will kill me—" Shagarnin ducked under Vakar's arm and raced down the corridor as his predecessor had done.

  "Hurry," said Vakar, setting a pace that Fual with his burdens could scarcely follow.

  As they neared the entrance to the tunnel-palace Vakar became conscious of a buzzing sound as of an overturned beehive. When the tunnel entrance came in sight he was struck by the red glow around it.
It would, he reflected, be just about sunset.

  But the glow was not sunset, though the sun had already set behind the peaks. The redness was the light of the fires that were burning the houses of all the ullimen of Belem. Here and there in the city below the palace lay little groups of bodies of both sexes and all ages, stripped and mutilated, while a crowd of several hundred commoners danced shrieking around the burning houses. In one place Vakar saw a group gathered about an aristocrat whom they had tied to a tree and were skinning alive; another group was torturing a young girl with fire. The stench of rotting izzuneg combined noisomely with that of burning human flesh.