Land of Unreason by L. Sprague de Camp, Fletcher Pratt Read Free Book Online

moonlight of fairyland
streaming in. He was conscious of fantastic polychrome decoration and piled
glass chandeliers that must be utterly useless amid the regular procession of
sunlight-moonlight. But the center of his eye was taken up by the table and its
occupants.
     
                It was twenty feet or more
long, covered with a damask cloth that dripped to the floor, and from the far
end Titania faced him, regal and smiling. Behind her stood Gosh and the brownie
philosopher; uniformed footmen bustled about. At the other end, with his back
to Barber, sat Oberon, also with two attendants. The King had just finished
eating something; one of the footmen whisked a gold plate from under his nose,
and four tall goblins with spindling legs and huge puffed cheeks, standing
stiffly midway down the table, lifted silver trumpets and blew. Their music was
like that Barber had heard from the gallery at the coronation of George VI.
     
                Titania had seen him and
indicated his direction through the music with a wave of her hand. Oberon
turned. "Ho, it's the Barber fellow!" he cried. "Ha, slugabed!
Approach, approach."
     
                Another dish had appeared
before him. He transferred part of the contents to a plate and handed it to a
footman. "To Barber, with our royal compliments," he said. Instantly
one of the trumpeters blew a blast like an elaborated version of an army mess
call. The footman's nose was flattened back till it resembled a pig's snout,
and he had prick ears that pointed like the horns of a cow as he bowed before
Barber.
     
                "You're in high favor,
Sir Changeling," he whispered quickly, handing over the plate. "Speak
a word for me about the pixie Amaranthe; I'll do as much for you one day. I am
called Gryll."
     
                "Will if I can,"
answered Barber out of the corner of his mouth and bowed toward Oberon, who was
watching him. He looked around for a chair. There were none in the room except
those occupied by the King and Queen, so he supposed he would have to eat
standing up. The food was pale blue in color and strongly flavored with violet;
Barber, who had never been able to get used to the English habit of sweets with
breakfast, found it perfectly abominable. Fortunately, he was spared the worst
effects of the King's generosity, for no sooner had he taken a couple of
mouthfuls than Oberon was beckoning him to the table.
     
                "Harkee, Barber,"
he said. "You're a fine springald; full of inches, thewed like an ox, and
with a heart of oak, I'll warrant. Is't not so?"
     
                Barber bowed and managed to
get rid of the plate of blue goo. "Your Radiance is too kind." This
was like being in the service; when they wanted something from you they always
began by spreading the oil good and thick.
     
                "If you're as kind to
our wishes you shall ride high in our favor. We have a deed to lay on you, a
commission to execute—"
     
                Whatever else he was going
to say was drowned in another outburst from the goblin trumpeters. Titania had
changed plates. Oberon's face writhed, he brought his fist down on the table,
but the Queen was quicker in catching the precise moment when the tooting
stopped.
     
                "My very dear lord and
gossip," her bell-like voice rang out, "you do forget your guest. A
wight that casts his shadow wants nourishing." She handed a plate to one
of her footmen. "Our royal compliments to Master Barber, and may he prefer
this to the last dish." He did; it tasted like steak.
     
                Oberon slapped his forehead
with an open palm. "Oh, apologies, Barber; we crave your grace. Now on the
matter of this achievement: it's the kobolds."
     
                "What about them?"
asked Barber, munching away.
     
                "We fear they're making
swords again to ruinously vex our realm. The beat of