The Mountains of Majipoor

back of here, and only the king is permitted to hunt them. For anyone else to kill one is an act of major sacrilege. The biggest of the bones from which his throne is made are hajbarak bones.'

'What is this, then, a declaration of war from some hostile tribe?'

'So far as I know, no other tribes live in this region, hostile or otherwise.'

'So far as you or anyone knew, the Othinor didn’t live here either, until somebody discovered them. Obviously there’s somebody else up there.'

'Obviously,' said Korinaam, with some testiness in his tone. 'But whether the ones who threw the animal down here are from an enemy tribe, or are simply outcasts from this one, I have no idea. The first man I spoke to was so shocked that he didn’t seem capable of talking to me at all. The second one told me only that the animal was sacred and that this should not have happened. You are free to draw your own conclusions, prince.'

But he had none to draw; nor was the Shapeshifter able to learn anything from the villagers the next day. They simply would not speak of what had happened.

The chief consequence of the evening’s strange event, so far as Harpirias was concerned, was that it produced an additional postponement of the opening of negotiations. The king was closeted in the palace all that day, and the next. The dead animal had been dragged away to the accompaniment of solemn choral chanting; the place where it had struck the ground had been cleansed of all blood; sentries were posted day and night in the plaza to watch the canyon rim for signs of new intrusion.

Then came a messenger to Harpirias in the morning with word that the king was ready at last to confer with him.

'You will tell him, as the very first topic of discussion, that I am not the Coronal Lord Ambinole,' Harpirias said to the Metamorph as they crossed the plaza toward the palace.

'Not the very first thing, prince. Please.'

'One of the first, then.'

'Let me be the judge of the proper timing for this.'

'The proper timing,' Harpirias said, 'was the very moment that the confusion began.'

'Yes, perhaps that is so. But it was inappropriate to interrupt the king then to make the correction. And now—'

'I want this thing cleared up, Korinaam.'

'Of course. As soon as it’s feasible.'

'And from this moment on,' Harpirias said, 'whenever I address a remark of any sort to the king, I want you to translate it literally and exactly. Likewise I want an exact and literal translation of whatever the king may say to me.'

'Certainly, prince. Certainly.'

'You know, I’m actually not as stupid as you may think, and it’s not beyond my powers to start learning this language that they speak here myself. If I should discover that you haven’t been a totally honest interpreter, Korinaam, I’ll kill you.'

The blunt word so startled Korinaam that he was galvanized into an involuntary moment of metamorphosis. The contours of his body blurred and fluttered, his fragile elongated form thickening and drawing into itself as if for protection; his color deepened from pale green to a dark shade of teal; his face sealed itself so that his eyes and lips could barely be seen. With a gasp and a shiver of his shoulders he recovered his normal semblance and said:

'Kill, prince?'

'Kill. The way I would kill an animal in the forest.'

'I have not deceived you in any way,' said the Shape-shifter. 'Nor do I intend to do so hereafter.'

'Better not even to think of it,' Harpirias said.

He was surprised to find King Toikella in a jovial, even exuberant mood. The curious happening of a few nights before did not appear to be casting its shadow on him today. Nor was there any trace of the remoteness, the coldness, that he had displayed the one time he and Harpirias had encountered each other since the evening of the feast.

Toikella was down from his throne, energetically pacing around the great hall. As usual he was surrounded by his women — Harpirias noted uneasily the presence of the young princess who had come to his room to offer herself to him — and the king would pause from time to time in his restless perambulation to give this one a rough caress, to mutter something hoarse and perhaps affectionate into the ear of that one. When he saw Harpirias entering he whirled and called out a loud raucous salutation in which Harpirias detected the Othinor word helminthak — which from its context Harpirias had already come to think meant 'majesty,' 'lordship,' some such title of honor — and the words Coronal and Lord Ambinole once again.

Harpirias glowered at Korinaam. This error was becoming perpetuated and ever more difficult to eradicate.

But there was no chance now to do anything about it. The king, amidst deafening gusts of laughter, had thrown his arm about Harpirias and was bellowing a lengthy string of incomprehensible exclamations into his ear. After a time Harpirias extricated himself more or less tactfully from the big man’s smothering embrace and looked toward the Shapeshifter.

'What did he say?'

'He was welcoming you back to his court.'

'There was more to it than that. There had to be.'

Korinaam’s shape wavered just a little at the edges.

'I want an exact translation,' Harpirias told him. 'Or else.' He drew one finger swiftly across his Adam’s apple.

'What the king was saying,' the Shapeshifter replied, rolling his eyes, 'is that he wonders what kind of race the Maji-poori can be, if they are ruled by such an effeminate king.'

'What?'

'You asked for an exact translation, prince.'

'Yes. I know that. But what does he mean, ‘effeminate’? He’s talking about me, isn’t he, and not the real Lord Ambinole? What possible reason could he have for believing—'

'I think,' said the Metamorph cautiously, 'that he is referring to your rejection of his daughter on the night of the feast.'

'Ah. Ah. Of course. Tell him — tell him, first, that I am not the king of Majipoor, but simply the king’s ambassador. Thank him, then, for his kindness in sending his beautiful daughter to visit me the other night. And then let him know that I am not in any way effeminate, as he will see if he cares to take me hunting with him in the royal game preserves. But tell him also about the vow of chastity that I have taken, which separates me for a time from the embrace of women for the benefit of my soul.'

Korinaam spoke briefly to the king — too briefly, Harpirias thought, considering all that he had asked him to say. Toikella laughed again, even more vociferously than before, and made a quick, blunt-sounding answer.

'Well?' Harpirias asked.

'The king says that he thinks you would do well to get yourself released from such a stupid and injurious vow.'

'I can see where he would take that position. But at the present time I intend to continue living a life of bodily purity. Tell him that.'

Korinaam spoke again. So did the king, for quite some time.

'He admires your determination, prince. But he says that a vow of chastity seems as strange to him as snow that falls upwards. He himself has eleven wives and makes love to at least three of them every night. More than a hundred of the citizens of the village are his children.'

'My congratulations to him on his energy, and on his fertility also.' Harpirias narrowed his gaze. 'And how did he react when you told him I wasn’t the Coronal?'

More wavering at the edges. 'I did not tell him that, prince.'

'I recall instructing you to translate everything I say exactly, upon pain of death, Korinaam.'

'Yes. Quite. I understand completely, prince. But how can I make you see that this is not something that I can simply drop into a conversation about other things? The king expected the Coronal to come in person. He believes that you are he. Telling him the contrary now could well wreck everything before it has even begun.'

'Konnaam — !'

The Metamorph held up his hand. 'Once again I beg you, prince, allow me to choose the proper time for setting this matter straight, and give me no more orders concerning the subject for now. Or threats,' Korinaam added after a pause.

Harpirias closed his eyes a moment. It was essential to gain some control over these interchanges, or he was lost.

'Tell the king,' Harpirias said sternly, even though Toikella was in the midst of speaking again, 'that I would now like to discuss with him the issue of the hostages. In particular I request permission to visit them without further delay so that I can satisfy myself that they are in good condition.'

'My good prince—'

'Tell him.'

'I beg you—'

Harpirias made the finger-across-throat gesture again.

Korinaam gave him a sour look. Then he turned toward King Toikella and began once more to speak.

8

The discussion went on for quite some time. Harpirias strained his ears, desperately trying to pick out key words to remember and have translated for him afterward. The Shapeshifter was entirely too slippery; he must try to learn a little of the Othinor tongue himself.

A new word had entered the parley, at any rate — goszmar, is what it sounded like. Harpirias heard it over and over again. He hoped that it was the Othinor word for 'hostages,' that for once Korinaam had actually obeyed him in regard to the topic of conversation. Goszmar, goszmar, goszmar — it was bandied back and forth for what seemed to be an hour. Finally the Shapeshifter turned to Harpirias and said, 'It wasn’t easy. As I’ve told