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

"Perhaps."  (That
isn't true, Barber's developing sixth sense flashed to him.) "Ask Imponens
there; he's sib to such secrets of nature."
     
                "But not to this, my
lord." The brownie philosopher exhaled a long breath at being allowed to
speak and fingered his beard. "No more than you or the changeling himself
can I tell such reasons; and that is, I hold, the nature of life in all worlds,
as I shall reveal by a most philosophical question. Tell me, Sir Babe, an you
know—why were you born into the world you came from?"
     
                "I—" began Barber,
confused by this sudden change in the plane of the discussion.
     
                "You would say, pure
chance. To which I reply: No, not no more than the step by which you were
brought here. For Chance is but the cipher of a power that does not wish to
sign its name ... You see, I follow your thought like a slothound; 'tis my art,
of which each of us here, mortal or fairy, has one, even as in the world you
came from each has some little talent ... Ha! Your Radiance, Your
Resplendency!" He bowed rapidly toward one end of the table and then the
other. " 'Ware this changeling lad, I say. I have hunted his aptitude to
its lair as he thought on't but now. He'll set your court by the ears, for he
can tell lies from truth whenever spoken."
     
                Oberon leaned back in his
chair and unexpectedly burst into laughter. All the footmen, butlers and goblin
trumpeters obediently imitated him, and as one of the latter laughed a series
of bubbling toots into his instrument got Barber himself to laughing. Only
Titania and Gosh kept their composure. He noticed that the latter was making a
rapid series of passes with his hands and moving his lips. The mound of blue on
Oberon's plate vanished; the boy chewed and swallowed.
     
                "Ho-ho, 'tis rare, rank
rare," gasped Oberon, coming out of his laughing fit by degrees.
"Well, my pretty cosset, how think you now on your bargain? You have your
little felon, ha-ha, but I've gained me a counselor that shall make you both
jig a step or two. Tell me, good Barber, what is your profession?"
     
                "I was in the
diplomatic service."
     
                "There 'tis; those who
gain a faculty by commerce with us get generally one that would be most useful
whence they came. Though meseems 'twould have been nearer the eye to have the
power of making your own lies believed."
     
                Titania smiled, only half
ruefully. "Then all's well, my lord, if Imponens has but justly judged.
It's a sharp archer indeed that never misses the heart."
     
                Oberon had picked up his
fork as she spoke and now his eye fell on the empty plate before him.
"We'll put it to the proof," he said, and pointed at Gosh. "You
whoreson imp! Did you beguile my breakfast but now? Mark his answer, good
Barber."
     
                The dark little face took on
an expression of bland impudence. "Oh, Gem of Glory," he began, but
Titania came to his rescue:
     
                "My noble lord, do we
not but bandy while our sovran purpose waits? Here's this Barber, an approved
ambassador, whom we are anxious to speed, yet we sit jousting in wind like a
pair of sguittards ... Gosh! My magic wand; I left it in the apartment. Our
messenger shall bear it."
     
                The boy strolled toward one
of the doors with his nose in the air and an expression of nonchalance. As he
passed the King, Oberon growled: "Beat it hence, you bepuked little mandrake!"
but it was covered from Titania's attention by Barber's own remark:
     
                "How am I supposed to
use this wand?"
     
                "That," said the
Queen, "is something you must learn by experience; no other teacher."
     
                "Aye," added
Oberon, "and mark well, Barber; whatever happens, use no physical force
against the