Free The Tritonian Ring and Other Pasudian Tales by L. Sprague de Camp

herself than any you are likely to know."
     
                  "Very well; do any of you know the tale of the hunchback and the fisherman's wife? No? It seems that …"
     
                  They all laughed heartily; in fact Garal's wife got into a fit of hysterics and had to be pounded on the back. Vakar told a couple more, and then Queen Porfia said:
     
                  "You claim you once thought you could sing; let us hear this crow's voice!"
     
                  "But really, Queen—"
     
                  "No, I insist. Master Qasigan shall accompany you. "
     
                  " Then do not say I failed to warn you. Qasigan, it goes da de-de da de-de ... "
     
                  When the tune had been straightened out Vakar gave them the Song of Vrir:
     
    "Vrir the Victorious                             rode to the river
    His scabbard of silver                             shining in sunlight ... "
     
                  When he had finished, Porfia clapped, crying: "Magnificent! While I do not understand Lorskan, you sing even better than Thiegos."
     
                  "I have heard no singing," growled Thiegos, who had got over his hiccups, "only the croaking of bullfrogs."
     
                  "What do you think?" said Porfia to Garal. "Vakar is the better, is he not?"
     
                  "They are both very good," said the minister with the adriotness of the practiced politician, and turned to Qasigan. "Pray, play us one of the tunes of your native country."
     
                  Qasigan played a wailing tune. Thiegos said: "By Asterio's arse, that sounds like the tune of our dance to the moon goddess!"
     
                  "How would you know, since men are strictly forbidden near when the maidens dance it?" said Porfia.
     
                  "You would be surprised. Here, Porfia, you are the best dancer in Ogugia; dance it for us! Qasigan can play."
     
                  "It would be blasphemous ... " said the queen, but the others shouted her down.
     
                  At last she stood up and, with Qasigan playing, began a slinking dance. Being unsteady from the wines she repeatedly stepped on the hem of her thin trailing robe until she burst out:
     
                  "Curse this thing! How can I ... "
     
                  She unfastened the robe, slipped out of it, and threw it across the serpent throne.
     
                  "Move those damned tables out of the way," she said, and continued her dance naked save for her jewelled sandals.
     
                  Vakar found the room swimming in a delightful fog. It seemed that the flames of the wall-lamps swayed in time to the weird music, and that the frescoes came alive so that the bull-headed god appeared to get on with his protogenic project.
     
                  Vakar felt an urge to leap up and seize the swaying white figure of Porfia in imitation of Asterio, for though small she had a form that practically demanded rape of any passing male. But at that moment the queen tripped and fell across Garal's knees. The minister raised a hand as if to spank the royal ramp, but reconsidered in time. The sight sent Vakar into such a convulsion of laughter that he could hardly keep his seat.
     
                  "That is enough of that!" said Porfia, reeling back to her throne, where she struggled to don the robe and got wonderfully tangled in its folds until Thiegos came over to help. "Who knows something else?"
     
                  "We have a game in Tegrazen," said Qasigan, "called 'Going to Kernê .' A number of stools are set in a circle, the number being one less than that of the persons present. Music is played and the persons march around the chairs. The music is