The Pixilated Peeress by L. Sprague de Camp, Catherine Crook de Camp Page A

writhed, and snapped but quite as effective in immobilizing its victim.
     
                  "Yvette!" yelled Thorolf. "Tell these idiots who I am!"
     
                  Mechanically she recited: "He is Sergeant Thorolf of the Fourth Rhaetian Foot."
     
                  "We care not if he be a general!" a keeper cried. "No man shall molest our animals!"
     
                  "Hold! What's all this?" demanded a new voice, that of a lean, gray-haired man. Thorolf recognized Berthar, the director of the Zoological Park. He and the keepers all broke into heated explanations at once, while Yvette stood silently.
     
                  "Release Sergeant Thorolf!" said Berthar. "I know him for a true man. Ye say a gang of ready-for-aughts sought to abduct this lady? Where are they now?"
     
                  "They vanished whilst your men were netting me," Thorolf spat.
     
                  "We shall sift this matter. But excuse me; I must see that our dragon be well encaged."
     
    -
     
                  When the hubbub had died, Thorolf took Yvette t o Berthar's chamber of office. The room had books and pa pers piled on every horizontal surface, even the floor. Some of the piles were topped by the skulls of beasts that had dwelt and died in the park. A corner was oc cupied by a glass-paned terrarium. B erthar waved his visitors to chairs and poured small goblets of wine. After Thorolf had told of the pursuit of Yvette by Duke Gondomar, Berthar said:
     
                  "I shall alert the Constabulary to watch for these rogues."
     
                  "I've already told Lodar," said Thorolf, " but an ad ditional reminder were not amiss."
     
                  "Is the Countess hale?" asked Berthar, nodding to ward the silent Yvette. "She seems as quiet as Arnalt's tomb."
     
                  Thorolf shrugged. "Unharmed in body; but she is under certain — ah — influences. How have you been, Berthar?"
     
                  The Director spread his hands. "Nigh nibbled to death by the ducks of daily life. It hath been so ever since my former wife ran off with that water-of-life salesman. Today, for ensample, within a few hours, our Pantorozian t iger died; a keeper succumbed to the de lusion that he was a Mauretanian viper and went about wriggling on his belly and trying to bite people; and Banker Gallus demanded that I give his old horse a good home, albeit without providing funds to do so. Then, to cap it all, came the raid of those rogues who were fain to enlarge the dragon, I ween to furnish a diversion to cover their abduction of your lady."
     
                  Thorolf noted: "I do perceive that your post be not one for weaklings. How flourishes the park?"
     
                  Th e Director shrugged. "As usual. It were a dire calamity had our prize specimen escaped. Obeying its natural instincts, it would have snapped up a tasty cit izen or two. Then nought would have dissuaded your thick-skulled military from slaying the beast, a s if one mountain dragon were not worth a score of human be ings."
     
                  Thorolf raised his eyebrows . "How reckon you that?"
     
                  "The mountain dragon is an endangered species, whereas the world swarms with humanity. Man is in no danger of extermination, unless it destroy itself by d e v ilis h novel weapons like those Serican thunder tubes I hear of. It would serve the species right."
     
                  Thorolf gave a quiet laugh. "I never thought of it thus. Doubtless being human has warped my think ing."
     
                  "No species outranks any other in the eyes of the gods!" Berthar leaned forward. "Thorolf, know ye that I have a special fund for the acquisition of rare speci mens, from donations by some wealthy citizens? Could I but obtain a female mountain