The Fallable Fiend by L. Sprague deCamp Read Free Book Online

but—”
    “That is beside the point, if you will pardon my saying so, madam. With that soft, pale, nude skin all over, you look—how shall I say it?—squashy. It were like copulating with a giant jellyfish, ugh! Now if it were my wife, Yeth, with her pretty fangs and tendrils and her lovely, glittering scales—”
    “Then close your eyes, fancy ’tis your wife lying here, and try to work up a stand.”
    Well, as we say at home, nought essayed, nought achieved. By a powerful effort of will, I envisaged my dear mate and felt the blood rush into my loins. When I was sure I was an upstanding demon, I opened my eyes.
    Dulnessa was staring at my yard with horror. “My gods!” she cried. “Put that ghastly thing away! It looks like one of those spiky maces that knights bash in each other’s armor with. ’Twould slay me dead.”
    “I regret not to be of service to you, madam,” I said. “I feared you would not find the prospect pleasing. Now why should Master Bagardo have sent me with you? It seems like one of those irrational ‘jokes’ that you human beings are ever perpetrating. If Bagardo had lust enough for a score of women, I should think he were glad of the opportunity—”
    “That bully-rook talks fine, but his performance fails to match his brag. The last time, he had to call on Siglar to take his place after one gallop. The apeman’s worth three of him on a pallet.”
    “Do all human females require such constant replenishment?”
    “Nay; I’m a special case. Because I wouldn’t let him make free with me, the cursed Arkanius cast a spell upon me—the spell of unrequited lust. He was a dirty old lob, and I joyed when the demon fanged him. But that leaves me under the spell, with no wizard to lift it.”
    “Perhaps it will wear off in time,” I said. “Spells do, I understand.”
    “Maybe so; but meanwhile, if I be not well stroked several times daily, my desire drives me mad.”
    “I should think, with all these lusty roustabouts—”
    “Most never bathe, and I prefer cleanly lovers. Still, if all else fail . . . But to get back to your game. How fared you?”
    I told of my loss.
    “Ha!” she said. “ ’Tis like Bagardo to advance you money and then get it back by card-sharping.”
    “Mean you he cheated me?”
    “Certes! What thought you?”
    I pondered. “That must be the meaning of that tingle I sensed.”
    “Canst read minds?”
    “Nay, but I detect vibrations that betray the emotions of other beings.”
    “How much does he pay you?”
    “Threepence a day.”
    She laughed hoarsely. “My dear Zdim, you go right back to Bagardo and make him double it; he pays the roustabouts sixpence. Then borrow another advance and win back your poke. That will be the right sort of joke on that great coystril!”
    I did as bidden. Bagardo laughed heartily at the tale of Dulnessa’s abortive seduction. It put him in such a good humor, in fact, that he even agreed to the rise in my pay, doubtless counting on speedily winning it back.
    We resumed the game. By dropping out instantly every time I felt the warning tingle, I soon had won back several times the original advance. Bagardo stared, saying: “I must be losing my card sense. Anyway, ’tis time we were abed. We needs must rise early to get to Orynx, you know. I maun say, Master Zdim, you have mastered skillet the quickest of anyone I’ve taught. Are you in some sort a mind reader?”
    “Nay, master.” My reply was truthful if “mind” be taken in the strictest sense, as comprising only the intellectual faculties; but some might take philosophical exception to it on the ground that the term should be extended to include the emotions, which I could in fact read. I went on: “The principles are not difficult. As we say in my world, perfection waits upon practice.”
    “Too bad you don’t read minds; I could use you in an act. At the next show, now, remember: when the customers flock in, go into a veritable frenzy. They expect it. Roar,