Hwaet! we Gar-Thena in gear-dagum
theod cyninga thrym gefrunon,
hu tha aethelingas ellen fremedon.
«Twill have to be something else. Come now; an epic or shrive yourselves!»
Shea said: «Give him some of your Gilbert and Sullivan, Doc.»
«I — uh — I hardly think he —»
«
Chalmers cleared his throat, and readily quavered:
«Oh! My name is John Wellington Wells.
I’m a dealer in magic and spells,
In blessings and curses
And ever-filled purses
And ever-filled purses,
And ever-filled —»
«I can’t! I can’t remember a thing! Can’t
«I don’t know anything either.»
«You must! How about
«Don’t know it.»
«Or Chesterton’s
«I don’t — hey, I do know one long poem. But —»
«Then say it!» cried Chalmers.
Shea looked at Belphebe. «Well, it’s hardly suitable for mixed company. Monster, if you’ll let the young lady go —»
«Nay!» roared the Blatant Beast. «To your verses, tadpole!»
Shea turned a stricken face to Chalmers. «It’s
«Recite it, by all means.»
«Oh, Lord!» Chalmers was right, of course. But Shea had begun to feel an affinity for the red-haired huntress. He drew a deep breath and began:
«When Deadeye Dick and Mexican Pete
Set forth in search of fun,
’Twas Deadeye Dick who.»
He wished he knew a bowdlerized version; he didn’t dare to try to change the working extempore.
«They hit the strand of the Rio Grande
At the top of a burning moon,
And to slake their thirst and do their worst
They sought Black Mike’s saloon.»
On he went, getting redder and redder.
«Soon Deadeye Dick was breathing quick
With lecherous snorts and grunts.»
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Belphebe’s face. It registered puzzlement.
«Then entered into that hall of sin,
Into that Harlot’s Hell,
A lusty maid who was never afraid:
Her name was Eskimo Nell.»
Shea went faster and faster to get to the end of the awful epos. He finished with a sigh of relief, and looked up to see how the Blatant Beast was taking it.
The monster got slowly to its feet. Without a word to its late captives, it lumbered off into the woods, shaking its reptilian head.
Shea looked at Belphebe. She said, «A life for a life. Truly we should be friends henceforth, and fain would I be such, did I but understand your craft of magic. That magic is white that draws such a monster nigh, you’ll hardly assert. That poem — half the words I understood not, though meseems ’twas about a battle betwixt a warrior maid and a recreant knight.»
«You might put it that way,» said Shea.
«Riddle me those words, Squire Harold. For ensample —»
Shea interrupted hastily: «Some other time, Miss Belphebe, if you don’t mind. Right now we want to get our bearings. Is this what they call ‘the wood where the Losels breed’?»
«Aye. Some say the enchanters created that gruesome race of monsters to be their cattle.»
Shea asked innocently: «Why, is the place infested with enchanters too?»
«Marry, a mort of ’em. Take care lest you fall into their snares.»
Chalmers broke in; «Ahem. could you tell us where there are any — uh — magicians to be found?»
Shea scowled at his partner. Belphebe’s face changed. «Now wherefore would you know such things?»
«We’re trying to rescue somebody we think they have, and we thought if we could — uh — gain the confidence of one —»
«Meseems that is a strange and not well-thought-on plan,» said the girl coolly. «Yet, since you wish, straight on, and I warrant me you’ll find enough of the naughty rogues.» She waved her hand. «And now, good gentles, if you will even pardon me, I must trim the ears from the Losel I slew —»
«You must
«Trim the ears from the Losel. For trophies. Already I have pairs an hundred and twenty and two. Good morrow, gentles.»
* * *
«That,» said Shea when they were on their way, «is my idea of a real girl. And you had to put her off us by that crack about magicians!»
«Very fine girl, provided she doesn’t put an arrow through you and cut off your ears for trophies. I confess my taste runs to a somewhat more sedentary type of female. I doubt whether I can stand much more excitement of this sort.»
Shea said: «I know how you feel. Travelling through Faerie is just one damned encounter after another.» His two narrow escapes in one day had left Shea feeling like a damp washcloth.
Chalmers mused: «It is logical that it should be so. The
«That» was a big black leopard which leaped out suddenly into their path. It snarled with the sound of tearing sheet iron. The mounts bucked and started to whirl against the bits.
«Stop, Doc,» yelled Shea, manhandling Adolphus around and reaching behind him for the broadsword. «If you run, it’ll jump you sure!»
He tumbled off, snubbed his reins around a convenient stump, and faced the leopard with the broadsword in one hand and the epee in the other. This was getting to be a worse bore than the Garaden Institute. If I stand my ground, he thought, it probably won’t attack, but if it does — There was a book he had read once — what was its name? — about a Lithuanian who hunted jaguars with a spear. If it springs, impale it with the epee; if it stands off and claws, chop with the broadsword —
The leopard snarled again. It seemed uncertain. Then, to Shea’s astonishment, it swelled and changed into a huge lion. He felt a prick of fear. A man might handle a 150-pound leopard, but a 600-pound Lion — not even a mortal stab wound would keep it from ripping him up, once it got to close quarters. He was in for it —
«Harold!» Chalmers’ voice was not too near. «It’s all right.»
«The hell it’s all right!» thought Shea, holding his ground for want of anything better to do.
The lion did not spring. Instead it grimaced. The fanged mouth became a beak, wings sprouted from its shoulders, and it was a griffin. That, Shea realized, was not kosher; griffins did not —
Chalmers called, closer. «It’s the man we’re looking for.»
