my
protection, so you must call me if there is any lack.”
Meril Rohan gave a
terse nod.
“Will you be
my spouse, untested?” asked Sklar Hast, rather lamely.
“No.” Her
mood had changed once more, and she had become remote. Sklar Hast
wondered why. “I need nothing,” she said. “Thank you.”
Sklar Hast turned
away and went to join those who disassembled the old hoodwink tower.
He had acted too precipitously, too awkwardly, he told himself. With
Zander Rohan only days dead, Meril undoubtedly still grieved and
could hardly be interested in offers of espousal.
He put her from his
mind, and joined the hoodwinks and larceners who were salvaging such
of the old structure as was useful. Broken withe, fragments of torn
pad-skin trash, were taken to a fire-raft floating on the lagoon and
burned, and in short order the look of devastation disappeared.
Hooligans meanwhile
had raised the net and were repairing the damage. Sklar Hast paused
to watch them, then spoke to Roger Kelso, the scrivener, who for
reasons of his own had come to Tranque Float. “Imagine a net of
heavy hawser hanging over the lagoon. King Kragen swims into the
lagoon, anxious to glut himself. The net drops; King Kragen is
entangled … ” He paused.
“And then?”
inquired Roger Kelso with a saturnine grin.
“Then we bind
him securely, tow him out to sea and bid him farewell.”
Roger Kelso nodded.
“Possible—under optimum conditions. I have two
objections. First, his mandibles. He might well cut the net in trout
of him, extend his palps, draw around more of the net, and cut
himself free. Secondly, the intercessors. They would observe the
suspended net, guess its purpose, and either warn King Kragen away or
invite him to come and punish the criminals who sought to kill him.”
Sklar Hast sadly
agreed. “Whatever means we ultimately fix upon, the intercessors
must never learn of it.”
The Master Larcener
Rollo Barnack, had heard the conversation. Now he said, “I have
also given thought to the problem of King Kragen. A solution has
occurred to me: a device of innocent appearance which, if all goes
well—and mind you, there is no guarantee of this—but
as I say, if all goes precisely, King Kragen might well be killed.
Best of all, the vigilance of Semm Voiderveg need not be aroused.”
“You interest
me extremely,” said Sklar Hast. “Describe this ingenious
device.”
Rollo Barnack
started to speak, but,noting the approach of Arbiter Ixon Myrex,
Intercessor Semm Voiderveg, and several others of like conviction,
held his tongue. Arbiter Myrex was spokesman for the group. His voice
was clear, firm, and unemotional; clearly the confrontation had been
discussed and rehearsed. “Sklar Hast, we speak to you now in a
spirit not necessarily of amity, but at least one of compromise?
Sklar Hast nodded
warily. “Speak on.”
“You will
agree that chaos, disorder, destruction, and contention must be
halted, absolutely and definitely; that Tranque Float must be
restored to its former high status and reputation.” He looked at
Sklar Hast expectantly.
“Continue,”
said Sklar Hast.
“You make no
response,” complained Ixon Myrex.
“You asked no
question,” said Sklar Hast. “You merely uttered an
assertion.”
Ixon Myrex made a
petulant gesture. “Do you so agree?”
“Certainly,”
said Sklar Hast. “Do you expect me to argue otherwise?”
Arbiter Myrex
ignored the question. “We must necessarily cooperate. It is
impossible that conditions can return to normal unless all of us
exert ourselves to this end, and—er—make certain
sacrifices.” He paused, but Sklar Hast made no remark.
“Essentially, it seems absurd and paradoxical that you, with
your fanatically unorthodox views, should continue in an office which
carries great weight and prestige. The best interests of the float
are served by your voluntary relinquishment of the office.”
“Indeed. And
what sacrifices do you propose to make?”
“We are
protection, so you must call me if there is any lack.”
Meril Rohan gave a
terse nod.
“Will you be
my spouse, untested?” asked Sklar Hast, rather lamely.
“No.” Her
mood had changed once more, and she had become remote. Sklar Hast
wondered why. “I need nothing,” she said. “Thank you.”
Sklar Hast turned
away and went to join those who disassembled the old hoodwink tower.
He had acted too precipitously, too awkwardly, he told himself. With
Zander Rohan only days dead, Meril undoubtedly still grieved and
could hardly be interested in offers of espousal.
He put her from his
mind, and joined the hoodwinks and larceners who were salvaging such
of the old structure as was useful. Broken withe, fragments of torn
pad-skin trash, were taken to a fire-raft floating on the lagoon and
burned, and in short order the look of devastation disappeared.
Hooligans meanwhile
had raised the net and were repairing the damage. Sklar Hast paused
to watch them, then spoke to Roger Kelso, the scrivener, who for
reasons of his own had come to Tranque Float. “Imagine a net of
heavy hawser hanging over the lagoon. King Kragen swims into the
lagoon, anxious to glut himself. The net drops; King Kragen is
entangled … ” He paused.
“And then?”
inquired Roger Kelso with a saturnine grin.
“Then we bind
him securely, tow him out to sea and bid him farewell.”
Roger Kelso nodded.
“Possible—under optimum conditions. I have two
objections. First, his mandibles. He might well cut the net in trout
of him, extend his palps, draw around more of the net, and cut
himself free. Secondly, the intercessors. They would observe the
suspended net, guess its purpose, and either warn King Kragen away or
invite him to come and punish the criminals who sought to kill him.”
Sklar Hast sadly
agreed. “Whatever means we ultimately fix upon, the intercessors
must never learn of it.”
The Master Larcener
Rollo Barnack, had heard the conversation. Now he said, “I have
also given thought to the problem of King Kragen. A solution has
occurred to me: a device of innocent appearance which, if all goes
well—and mind you, there is no guarantee of this—but
as I say, if all goes precisely, King Kragen might well be killed.
Best of all, the vigilance of Semm Voiderveg need not be aroused.”
“You interest
me extremely,” said Sklar Hast. “Describe this ingenious
device.”
Rollo Barnack
started to speak, but,noting the approach of Arbiter Ixon Myrex,
Intercessor Semm Voiderveg, and several others of like conviction,
held his tongue. Arbiter Myrex was spokesman for the group. His voice
was clear, firm, and unemotional; clearly the confrontation had been
discussed and rehearsed. “Sklar Hast, we speak to you now in a
spirit not necessarily of amity, but at least one of compromise?
Sklar Hast nodded
warily. “Speak on.”
“You will
agree that chaos, disorder, destruction, and contention must be
halted, absolutely and definitely; that Tranque Float must be
restored to its former high status and reputation.” He looked at
Sklar Hast expectantly.
“Continue,”
said Sklar Hast.
“You make no
response,” complained Ixon Myrex.
“You asked no
question,” said Sklar Hast. “You merely uttered an
assertion.”
Ixon Myrex made a
petulant gesture. “Do you so agree?”
“Certainly,”
said Sklar Hast. “Do you expect me to argue otherwise?”
Arbiter Myrex
ignored the question. “We must necessarily cooperate. It is
impossible that conditions can return to normal unless all of us
exert ourselves to this end, and—er—make certain
sacrifices.” He paused, but Sklar Hast made no remark.
“Essentially, it seems absurd and paradoxical that you, with
your fanatically unorthodox views, should continue in an office which
carries great weight and prestige. The best interests of the float
are served by your voluntary relinquishment of the office.”
“Indeed. And
what sacrifices do you propose to make?”
“We are
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