"Death distrained all, the primly prudent
And roistering reckless, the grimly grasping
And squandering spendall, with divine disdain
Of dealing just deserts ..."
He drew Porfia's face to his and kissed her some more. This time she did not object as he slid his hand over her shoulder, but pressed his hand against her with her own. After a while she gently disengaged herself and rose to her feet. As Vakar looked up, his bushy brows making a question, she held out a hand.
"Come," she said.
He stood up, picked her up as if she were a kitten, and carried her in the direction that she indicated.
-
Next morning, with a fistful of copper celts borrowed from the Ogugian treasury in his scrip, Vakar Zhu threaded his way through the streets of Sederado, gaily whistling a Lorskan lyric, until he found the house of Rethilio. Porfia had offered to send a lackey to fetch the owner of the house, but such was Vakar's respect for philosophy that he preferred to go in person. Besides he was curious to see how a philosopher lived.
Like other Hesperian residences, Rethilio's house was built around a court, presenting a blank brick wall to the other world. A porter let Vakar in and presently the philosopher himself appeared, saying:
"Why, I know you! I met you some months ago ... Let me see, you are ..."
Vakar identified himself.
"Of course!" said Rethilio. "And what can I do for you, sir?"
"As I am likely to be in Sederado for an indefinite time, I should like to study your philosophy."
"Admirable! Do you wish to enroll in my regular afternoon class, or do you prefer special tutoring? The latter is more costly, but I suppose a prince would not care about that."
"This prince does," said Vakar, whose periods of destitution in the course of his wanderings had wonderfully sharpened his appreciation of the value of trade-metal. "However, as I wish to cram as much as possible into a short time, I will undertake both."
The philosopher seemed delighted, and presently Vakar was listening ecstatically to Rethilio's theory of the world-egg. When the philosopher had brought his pupil up to date on the main points of his course, he began asking him about his travels and the peoples he had seen. Vakar in his turn asked about the Gorgons.
"Their origin," said Rethilio, "is lost in the mists of myth. An ancient race, and in many ways a strange and evil one. The story—and let him believe who will—is that thousands of years ago the Gorgades were inhabited only by medusas, who then were a civilized folk themselves, with cities."
"Those reptiles civilized?" said Vakar.
"Yes, it is said that they are really as intelligent as men. In that day the present Gorgons were a nation of naked savages dwelling along the shores of Tartaros, barely come to full manhood from their apish ancestry. Well, the medusas, being not over-fond of toil, were wont to raid the mainland for slaves, until there dwelt in the islands several times as many Gorgon slaves as reptilian masters. And a hard servitude that was, for the medusas tortured their slaves for pleasure and ate them for food.
"An aristocracy of wizards ruled the medusas, and would no doubt have continued to do so to this day had not the president of this sorcerous senate been even lazier than most medusas. Not satisfied with compelling his human slaves to carry him about, dress and disrobe him, and put the very food (he preferred roast young woman) into his scaly mandibles, he became too indolent even to perform his own magical spells and taught a trusted slave his principal cantrips."
"I think I know what is coming next," put in Vakar.
"Quite so. The upshot was that the slaves rose and overthrew the masters, slaying all but a few. These they kept to be slaves in their turn, but, learning from their predecessors' error, they take care to rear each new medusa in solitude, allowing it to learn no more than is absolutely necessary for it to fulfill its functions. And their chief function is to hiss at those enemies whom their masters point out to them, striking them with paralysis."
Vakar sat rapt through the afternoon lecture. At its close he could hardly tear himself away—until he thought of Porfia. He grinned with pure happiness.
He was bidding farewell to the philosopher when the porter announced: "Master, a man to see you. He says he is Ryn of Mneset."
Vakar gave a violent start as Rethilio said: "Show him in. I have heard of—what is the matter, Prince? Do you know him?"
"All too well. He is our court wizard, who sent me on this chase."
The hunched figure of Ryn scuttled in. "Well, well!" he cackled. "They told me I should find you here. So our young savior, instead of rushing home, is learning how to split a hair and cut blocks with a razor! Hail, Master Rethilio. I arrive just in time, before he becomes so entangled in your sophistical cobwebs that nothing will extricate him."
"Now look here," said Rethilio, "you may be the deadliest spell-caster in Poseidonis, but that gives you no license to condemn the divine art of philosophy, which is to your dark sorceries as day is to night."
"Who is insulting whom now? At least my magic accomplishes some practical good, as when by the help of the witch Gra I learned this lad was in Sederado. Come, Vakar, we can talk on our way to that gilded cage of yours. Farewell, Rethilio; I will tell the Lorskans you are the finest quibbler among the Ogugians. who are the greatest quibblers on earth!"
As they walked towards the palace Vakar asked: "Why don't you like Rethilio?"
"Pff! I dislike him not, but I know his kind. They spend the morning combing their beards to present a specious appearance of wisdom, and in the afternoon they haul in gold with hoes by lecturing on the worthlessness of wealth. His world-egg theory is no worse than the others, to wit: utterly worthless, for no man knows how man and the universe originated. But now to more weighty matters: What are you doing here instead of hastening back to Lorsk in her hour of peril?"
"I stopped here because I saw the Gorgon fleet sail off to northward, having no intention of landing in Zhysk. I see no reason why I shouldn't settle here, wed Queen Porfia, and become a real scholar and not a brainless Lorskan bison-hunter."
"Oh, so you'd marry her green-eyed majesty! At least your taste in women is good. Does she know of this?"
"Knows and approves. So you may tell my loving family—"
"Young fool! Don't you know what the Gorgons are up to? They're sailing around the north end of Poseidonis, around Lotör, to come at us from the west!"
"Oh!"
"Yes, oh. They thought to surprise us by the maneuver, and would have save that one of our lords, Kalesh of Andr, happened to make a pilgrimage to the temple of Three-eyed Tandyla in Lotör and heard a rumor among the Lotris. He scouted the coast and saw the Gorgon fleet creeping along upon the sky-line, and posted home as fast as his nag could bear him. Now, what's this magical whatnot you were supposed to run down? Have you found it?"
Vakar told his tale and showed the sword of star-metal.
"Ah!" said Ryn. "This all ties in together. Now I know what the gods most fear and why."
"What is it?"
"Before I took ship across the Sirenian Sea, I stopped in King Shvo's library in Amferé. You know Shvo's a fanatical collector: of land, wealth, women, records, anything he can lay hands on. I suppose you know he's been trying to collect your pretty little Porfia?"
"What? Just let him try—"
"Easy, easy. Bear it in mind and be careful, for if he knows of your intentions he might bribe somebody to poison your wine. Watch that fat Garal; he's less harmless than he looks. In this case, however, Shvo's greed stood us in good stead, for amidst that warehouse full of junk he calls a library I found a tattered old papyrus from a ruined temple in Parsk that bore the legend of Kumiö."
"What's that?"
"It's a legend referred to in Oma's Commentary, of which only a fragment survives and which is itself so old it can no longer be dated. But here was the original, or at least a copy of a copy of a copy of the original."
"What did it say?" aske
d Vakar.
"It tells how a thief and blasphemer named Kumiö found a fallen star as your friend Ximenon did. He broke off a piece and wore it around his neck as an amulet, gradually discovering it rendered him proof against all supernatural influences. Witches could not cast spells upon him; demons could not harm him; even the gods could neither touch him nor communicate with him.
"Now, Kumiö lived in what is now the Bay of Kort, west of Lorsk. There stood the capital of the Kingdom of Kort, the great city Klâto with its towers of scarlet and black. The people were wont to rely for protection of their goods on spells and talismans they bought from the magicians, but with the advent of Kumiö and his amulet all was changed. A chest kept closed by the mightiest spell would easily open to Kumiö once he had touched it with his piece of star. He even got into the king's zenana, guarded by a three-headed fiend of anthropophagous tastes who nevertheless could not come near him, and revelled among the king's concubines for six days and fled before the king learned of his visit. And thus the first locks and bolts were invented, to keep out the fight-fingered Kumiö.
"In time the gods took counsel, for it occurred to them that if knowledge of this metal became widespread, all men would seek to carry a bit of it, and then the gods would be unable to communicate with men, who would forget the gods and cease to worship them, which for a god is virtual death."
Vakar said: "Rethilio was explaining the Fragments of Lontang along those lines."
"So," continued Ryn, "the gods decided to do away with Kumiö. First they tried to take him off by sickness, but he was proof against plagues from any but natural causes. Then they incited another thief to steal his piece of metal, but the thief relied upon a spell of invisibility he bought from a wizard, and Kumiö saw him coming and knifed him. I won't tell you all the things they tried; but at last, growing desperate, they sank the whole Kingdom of Kort beneath the waters of the Western Ocean. Thus Kumiö was drowned along with all the other Kortians save a handful of survivors."
"Is this true?"
"Who knows? Probably not in all details. But it gives us the reason for the gods' fearing star-metal."
"What is the stuff? Is it found on the earth's surface?"
Ryn shrugged his uneven shoulders. "How should I know? Of the five known metals, gold and silver are found in their native state, tin and lead are extracted from rocks, and copper occurs both ways. How do we know what other kinds of metal lurk in the rocks, could we but extract them? But nobody has yet so obtained star-metal."
Vakar mused. "I see how the sword broke that spell the medusa put upon me, when the fellow who meant to cut my head off touched my neck with the blade first, as you do to aim your stroke. Now that we know how it works, what shall we do with it?"
"That will transpire at the proper time; I've never known Gra's prescience to fail. Meantime you must hasten back with me before the seas wax too boisterous."
"Hells!" Vakar kicked a clod. "Why should I, when I've just found what I really want? What's there in Lorsk save a perpetual bicker with my brother? Why can't you take the sword—"
"There's the kingdom to which you're heir. Your father is unwell, and if you're not there at the time ... I leave the inference to you."
Vacillating, undecided, Vakar marched gloomily back to the palace. He sent a footman in to interrupt an audience the queen was giving, and told her the news.
"No!" cried Porfia, a hand to her throat. "You shall not go! Our nuptials are in six days, and having found the one man to share my throne I will not let him be slain in some petty brawl on the edges of the world ..."
Her tone nettled Vakar enough to make him say: "Consort or none, dear madam, I shall make my own decisions. After all I have my duty to my people as you have yours."
After further argument she said: "Let us take counsel with Charsela. Will you abide by her advice?"
"I will take her counsel into full account," said Vakar carefully, "if you will let me send for Rethilio likewise."
"I see where I shall have to feed all the seers and sages of Sederado," said Porfia, "for the dinner-hour draws nigh."
"Huh!" said Ryn. "As if my advice were not so good as that of that hairsplitter! He will wish you to stay here, so he can continue to milk the treasury of Lorsk by his lectures."
-
The old she-wizard arrived first, saying: "It is the young gallant who saved the queen and me! Though you did leave my house in a gory mess. And this if I mistake not is the great Ryn of Mneset?"
"Yes, yes," gruffed Ryn. "How is the love-potion business?"
"Poorly, your honor, for the maggots of philosophy have so far addled the brains of the people that they have hide thought for love. I of course except our royal protectors here, who obviously have thought for little else at the moment."
Rethilio arrived, gravely greeting those present. Queen Porfia led them to a dark little chamber in the midst of the palace, lighted by a single lamp. Charsela filled her cauldron and went into her trance. After a long while she said:
"If Prince Vakar returns to Lorsk he will suffer great loss, but will not long regret it."
Porfia cried: "Do not go, my love! She means you will lose your life!"
"While I do not hold my life cheaply," replied Vakar, "yet after the perils I have lately escaped I am not to be deterred from returning home by fear of a doubtful oraculation. What do you think, Rethilio?"
The philosopher said: "Most men possess an inner voice that informs them what is the righteous course to pursue. Some attribute this to a guardian spirit, some to a favorite god, and some to the soul of the man himself. Which is right I know not, but you disobey this voice at your peril, for it will have its revenge upon you. Thus if you steal despite the prohibitions of the voice, it will cause you to stumble when the watchman is chasing you and so bring you to justice."
"Then," said Vakar, "I will return to Lorsk forthwith. What transport is available, Ryn?"
"A galley of the navy of Zhysk awaits at the waterfront. We can be off tomorrow."
"So be it. We shall—why, Porfia!" Vakar started to rise.
For the Queen of Ogugia had dissolved in tears. She rose, saying between sobs: "I will have my servants bring you dinner, but pray excuse me. I wish to be alone—no, Vakar, you shall remain here to entertain our guests. Later you may come to me."
Vakar unhappily watched Porfia depart, fingering his mustache and wishing that he were better able to cope with such emotional crises. While he stood indecisive the servants brought in food and wine. Over the tables Ryn said to Rethilio:
"I owe you an apology; I had not thought you would give such disinterested advice."
"Oh, I claim no special virtue for it," said Rethilio blandly, breaking open his loaf of bread. "My livelihood depends upon my reputation for impartiality, and what would it profit me to urge the prince to remain in hope of collecting fees from him, if he then became bored and sought other amusements, leaving me with tarnished repute?"
"You wrong me, sir philosopher," said Vakar. "I would not leave you from boredom, but only if I learned of a philosopher more profound than yourself, for to me the pursuit of ultimate truth is the world's most fascinating pastime."
"Well, let us hope we shall all live for you to resume it. Master Ryn, it occurs to me that you too had better take up philosophy."
"Why?"
"Because if the knowledge of star-metal and its properties diffuses widely, so that all men take to carrying fragments of the material, your profession would wither away to nought."'
"A point I had not thought of. However, I am too old to learn a new bag of tricks and shall not live to see this change. Perhaps my successors, now young sprigs in the magical lycea of Torrutseish, will improve their art to counter the anti-magical qualities of the stuff."
Charsela spoke in her hollow voice: "There is more to it than that. The star-metal will some day cast the very gods from their thrones, for with it men will be cut off from their gods, as to benefits, punishments, and mere commun
ication."
"Then no more gods?" said Rethilio.
"No; there will be gods, but mere ineffectual wraiths, kept in being by their priests to enable these priests to live without toil on the offerings of the credulous. I have seen it in my visions."
"And then," said Vakar, "all men would be like me, who have never conversed with the smallest godlet. Which might not be a bad thing."
-
Later, Porfia clung to him with a violence that made his ribs creak, alternating spells of passion such as he had never known from a woman with periods of tempestuous tears.
"I shall never see you again!" she wailed. "I know Charsela meant you will be slain!"
"Oh, come, love. She did not say so, and we all have our time—"
"Nonsense! That is one of those philosophers' arguments, sounding impressive and meaning nothing. I love you to madness and cannot give you up. You know I am no blushing virgin, but never have I known a man so to stir me …
The Tritonian Ring and Other Pasudian Tales Page 22