the roof..."

"To the point, man, get to the point!" cried Klapaucius. "There was thunder, you fell down, and then what?"

"Then nothin', like I says before an' thought I made it clear. Nothin', an' if'n there war somethin', there'd be some-thin', only there war nothin' sure an' that be the long an' theshort of it! D'ye agree, Master Gyles?"

"Aye, sure 'tis the truth ye speak, 'tis."

Klapaucius bowed and stepped back, and the whole procession continued up the mountain, the natives straining beneath the dragon's tribute. He supposed they would place it in some cave designated by the beast, but didn't care to ask for details; his head was already spinning from listening to the local official and his Master Gyles. And anyway, he had heard one of the natives say to another that the dragon had chosen "a spot as near us an' as near 'isself as could be found."

Klapaucius hurried on, picking his way according to the readings of the dragonometer he kept on a chain around his neck. As for the counter, its pointer had come to rest on exactly eight-tenths of a dragon.

"What in the devil is it, an indeterminant dragon?" he thought as he marched, stopping to rest every now and then, for the sun beat fiercely and the air was so hot that every-thing shimmered. There was no vegetation anywhere, not a sc.r.a.p, only baked mud, rocks and boulders as far as the eye could see.

An hour pa.s.sed, the sun hung lower in the heavens, and Klapaucius still walked through fields of gravel and scree, through craggy pa.s.ses, till he found himself in a place of narrow canyons and ravines full of chill and darkness. The red pointer crept to nine-tenths, gave a shudder, and froze.

Klapaucius put his knapsack on a rock and had just taken off his antidragon belt when the indicator began to go wild, so he grabbed his probability extinguisher and looked all around. Situated on a high bluff, he was able to see into the gorge below, where something moved.

"That must be her!" he thought, since Echidnosaurs are invariably female.

Could that be why it didn't demand young virgins? But no, the native said it had before. Odd, most odd. But the main thing now, Klapaucius told himself, was to shoot straight and everything would be all right. Just in case, how-ever, he reached for his knapsack again and pulled out a can of dragon repellent and an atomizer. Then he peered over the edge of the rock. At the bottom of the gorge, along the bed of a dried-up stream walked a grayish brown dragoness of enormous proportions, though with sunken sides as if it had been starved. All sorts of thoughts ran through Klapaucius' head. Annihilate the thing by reversing the sign of its pentapendragonal coefficient from positive to negative, thereby raising the statistical probability of its nonexistence over that of its existence?

Ah, but how very risky that was, when the least deviation could prove disastrous: more than one poor soul, seeking to produce the lack of a dragon, had ended up instead with the back of the dragon-resulting in a beast with two backs-and nearly died of embarra.s.sment! Besides, total deprobabilization would rule out the possibil-ity of studying the Echidnosaur's behavior. Klapaucius wa-vered; he could see a splendid dragonskin tacked on the wall of his den, right above the fireplace. But this wasn't the time to indulge in daydreams-though a dracozoologist would certainly be delighted to receive an animal with such unusual tastes. Finally, as Klapaucius got into position, it oc-curred to him what a nice little article might be written up on the strength of a well-preserved specimen, so he put down the extinguisher, lifted the gun that fired negative heads, took careful aim and pulled the trigger.

The roar was deafening. A cloud of white smoke engulfed Klapaucius and he lost sight of the beast for a moment. Then the smoke cleared.There are a great many old wives' tales about dragons. It is said, for example, that dragons can sometimes have seven heads. This is sheer nonsense. A dragon can have only one head, for the simple reason that having two leads to disagree-ments and violent quarrels; the polyhydroids, as the scholars call them, died out as a result of internal feuds.

Stubborn and headstrong by nature, dragons cannot tolerate opposi-tion, therefore two heads in one body will always bring about a swift death: each head, purely to spite the other, refuses to eat, then maliciously holds its breath-with the usual consequences. It was this phenomenon which Euphorius Cloy exploited when he invented the anticapita can-non. A small auxiliary electron head is discharged into the dragon's body. This immediately gives rise to unreconcilable differences of opinion and the dragon is immobilized by the ensuing deadlock. Often it will stand there, stiff as a board, for a day, a week, even a month; sometimes a year goes by before the beast will collapse, exhausted.

Then you can do with it what you will.

But the dragon Klapaucius shot reacted strangely, to say the least. True, it did rear up on its hind paws with a howl that started a landslide or two, and it did thrash the rocks with its tail until the sparks flew all over the canyon. But then it scratched its ear, cleared its throat and coolly con-tinued on its way, though trotting at a slightly quicker pace.

Unable to believe his eyes, Klapaucius ran along the ridge to head the creature off at the mouth of the dried-up stream -it was no longer an article, or even two articles in the Dracological Journal he could see his name on now, but a whole monograph elegantly bound, with a likeness of the dragon and the author on the cover!

At the first bend he crouched behind a boulder, pulled out his improbability automatic, took aim and actuated the possibiliballistic destabilizers. The gunstock trembled in his hands, the red-hot barrel steamed; the dragon was sur-rounded with a halo like a moon predicting bad weather- but didn't disappear! Once again Klapaucius unleashed the utmost improbability at the beast; the intensity of nonverisimilarity was so great, that a moth that happened to be fly-ing by began to tap out the Second Jungle Book in Morse code with its little wings, and here and there among the crags and cliffs danced the shadows of witches, hags and harpies, while the sound of hoofbeats announced that some-where in the vicinity there were centaurs gamboling, summoned into being by the awesome force of the improbabil-ity projector. But the dragon just sat there and yawned, lei-surely scratching its s.h.a.ggy neck with a hind paw, like a dog. Klapaucius clutched his sizzling weapon and desperately kept squeezing the trigger-he had never felt so helpless- and the nearest stones slowly lifted into the air, while the dust that the dragon had kicked up, instead of settling, hung in midair and a.s.sumed the shape of a sign that clearly read AT YOUR SERVICE GOV. It grew dim-day was night and night was day, it grew cold--h.e.l.l was freezing over; a couple of stones went out for a stroll and softly chatted of this and that; in short, miracles were happening right and left, yet that horrid monster sitting not more than thirty paces from Klapaucius apparently had no intention of disap-pearing. Klapaucius threw down his gun, pulled an anti-dragon grenade from his vest pocket and, committing his soul to the Universal Matrix of Transfinite Transformations, hurled it with all his might. There was a loud ker-boom, and into the air with a spray of rock flew the dragon's tail, and the dragon shouted "Yipe!"-just like a person-and gal-loped straight for Klapaucius. Klapaucius, seeing the end was near, leaped out from behind his boulder, swinging his antimatter saber blindly, but then he heard another shout: "Stop! Stop! Don't kill me!"

"What's that, the dragon talking?" thought Klapaucius. "I must be going mad ..."

But he asked:"Who said that? The dragon?"

"What dragon? It's me!!"

And as the cloud of dust blew away, Trurl stepped out of the beast, pushing a b.u.t.ton that made it sink to its knees and go dead with a long, drawn-out wheeze.

"Trurl, what on earth is going on? Why this masquerade? Where did you find such a costume? And what about the real dragon?" Klapaucius bombarded his friend with ques-tions. Trurl finished brushing himself off and held up his hands.

"Just a minute, give me a chance! The dragon I destroyed, but the King wouldn't pay ...".

"Why not?"

"Stingy, most likely. He blamed it on the bureaucracy, of course, said there had to be a notarized death certificate, an official autopsy, all sorts of forms in triplicate, the approval of the Royal Appropriations Commission, and so on. The Head Treasurer claimed he didn't know the procedure to hand over the money, for it wasn't wages, nor did it come under maintenance. I went from the King to the Cashier to the Commission, back and forth, and no one would do any-thing; finally, when they asked me to submit a vita sheet with photographs and references, I walked out-but by then the dragon was beyond recall. So I pulled the skin off it, cut up a few sticks and branches, found an old telephone pole, and that was really all I needed; a frame for the skin, some pulleys-you know-and I was ready ..."

"You, Trurl? Resorting to such shameful tactics? Impos-sible! What could you hope to gain by it? I mean, if they didn't pay you in the first place..."

"Don't you understand?" said Trurl, shaking his head. "This way I get the tribute!

Already there's more than I know what to do with."

"Ah! Of course!!" Klapaucius saw it all now. But he added, "Still, it wasn't right to force them ..."

"Who was forcing them? I only walked around in the mountains, and in the evenings I howled a little. But really, I'm absolutely bushed." And he sat down next to Klapau-cius.

"What, from howling?"

"Howling? What are you talking about? Every night I have to drag sacks of gold from the designated cave-all the way up there!" He pointed to a distant ridge. "I made my-self a blast-off pad-it's right over there. Just carry several hundred pounds of bullion from sundown to sunup and you'll see what I mean! And that dragon was no ordinary dragon-the skin itself weighs a couple of tons, and I have to cart that around with me all day, roaring and stamping -and then it's all night hauling and heaving. I'm glad you showed up, I can't take much more of this..."

"But... why didn't the dragon-the fake one, that is- why didn't it disappear when I lowered the probability to the point of miracles?" Klapaucius asked. Trurl smiled.

"I didn't want to take any chances," he explained. "Some fool of a hunter might've happened by, maybe even Basiliscus himself, so I put probability-proof shields under the dragonskin. But come, I've got a few sacks of platinum left -saved them for last since they're the heaviest. Which is just perfect, now that you can give me a hand..."

The Fourth Sally

Or How Trurl Built a Femfatalatron to Save Prince.

Pantaloon from the Pangs of Love, and How Later He Resorted to a Cannonade of Babies.

One day, in the middle of the night, as Trurl lay deep in slumber, there came a violent knocking at the door of his domicile, as if someone was trying to knock it off its hinges.

Still in a stupor, Trurl pulled back the bolts and saw stand-ing there against the paling stars an enormous ship. It looked like a giant sugar loaf or flying pyramid, and out of this colossus, which had landed right on his front lawn, long rows of andromedaries laden with packs walked down a wide ramp, while robots, garbed in turbans and togas and painted black, unloaded the bags at his doorstep, and so quickly, that before Trurl knew it, he was hemmed in by a growing embankment of bulging sacks-though a narrow pa.s.sageway was left therein, and through this approached an electroknight of remarkable countenance, for his jeweled eyes blazed like comets, and he had radar antennas jauntily thrown back, and an elegant diamond-studded stole. This imposing personage doffed his armored cap and in a mighty yet silken voice inquired: "Have I the honor to speak with his lordship Trurl, Trurl the highborn, Trurl the ill.u.s.trious constructor?"

"Why yes, of course... won't you come in ... I wasn't expecting... that is, I was asleep,"

said Trurl, terribly fl.u.s.tered, pulling on a bathrobe, for a nightshirt was all he was wearing, and that wasn't the cleanest.

The magnificent electroknight, however, appeared not to notice any shortcoming in Trurl's attire. Doffng his cap again, which purred and hummed above his castellated brow, he gracefully entered the room. Trurl excused himself for a moment, perfunctorily performed his morning ablu-tions, then hurried back downstairs. By now it was growing light outside, and the first rays of the sun gleamed on the turbans of the robots, who sang the old sad and soulful song of bondage, "Tote Dat Jack," as they formed in triple rows around both house and pyramidal ship. Trurl took a seat opposite his guest, who blinked his shining eyes and finally spoke as follows: "The planet from which I come to you, Sir Constructor, is at present deep in the Dark Ages. Ah, but Your Excel-lency must forgive our untimely arrival, which did so incommoditate him; on board we had no way of knowing, you see, that at this particular locus of this worthy sphere, which your abode is pleased to occupy, night still reigned supreme and stayed the break of day."Here he cleared his throat, like someone playing sweetly upon a gla.s.s harmonica, and continued: "I have been sent to Your Exalted Person by my lord and master, His Royal Highness Protuberon Asteristicus, sov-ereign ruler of the sister globes of Aphelion and Perihelion, hereditary monarch of Aneuria, emperor of all the Monodamites, Biproxicans and Tripartisans, the Grand Duke of Anamandorinth, Glorgonzigor and Esquacciaccaturbia, Count of the Euscalipu, the Algorissimo and the Flora del Fortran, Paladin Escutcheoned, Begudgeoned and of the Highest Dudgeon, Baron of Bhm, Wrph and Clarafoncasterbrackeningen, as well as anointed exarch extraordinary of Ida, Pida and Adinfinida, to invite in His munificent name Your Resplendent Grace to our kingdom as the long-awaited savior of the crown, as the only one who can deliver us from the general mortifaction occasioned by the thrice-unhappy infatuation of His Royal Highness, the heir to the throne, Pantagoon."

"But really, I'm not-" Trurl tried to interpose, but the dignitary waved his hand, signifying that he had not as yet finished, and went on in that same resonating voice: "In return for the gracious loan of your most sympathetic ear, and for your succor in the overcoming of our national calamity, His Royal Highness Protuberon hereby promises, pledges and solemnly swears that he shall shower Your Con-structorship with such riches and honors, that Your Es-teemed Effulgence will never exhaust them, even until the end of his days. And now, by way of an advance or, as they say, a retainer, I forthwith dub thee"-and here the mag-nate rose, drew his sword, and spoke, vigorously punctuating each word with the flat of the blade on both Trurl's shoul-ders-"Earl of Otes, Grotes and Finocclea, Margrave Emer-itus of Trundle and Sklar, Eight-barreled Bearer of the Great Guamellonian Hok, not to mention Thane of Bondacalonda and Cgth, Governor General of Muxis and Ptuxis, as well as t.i.tular Viscount of the Order of Unwinched Waifs, Almoner in perpetuum of the realms of Eenica, Meenica and Mynamoaca, with all the attendant rights and privileges accruing thereto, including a twenty-one gun salute upon rising in the morning and retiring at night, an after-dinner fanfare, and the Extinguished Ex-ponential Cross, duly certified and carved in ebony, slate and marzipan. And as proof of his royal favor, my Lord and Liege sends you these few trifles, which I have taken the liberty to place about your dwelling."

And indeed, the sacks already blocked out the sky, and the room grew dim. The magnate finished speaking, though his hand, raised in eloquence, remained in midair.

Trurl took this opportunity to say: "I am much obliged to His Royal Highness Protuberon, but affairs of the heart, you understand, are not exactly my specialty. Though..." he added, uncomfortable under the magnate's dazzling gaze, "perhaps you would explain the problem to me ..."

The magnate gave a nod.

"That is simply done, Sir Constructor! The heir to the throne has fallen in love with Amarandina Cybernella, the only daughter of the ruler of the neighboring state of Ib. But an ancient enmity divides our kingdoms, and doubtless, if our Beloved Sovereign, yielding to the unwearying pleas of the prince, were to ask that emperor for the hand of Amarandina, the answer would be a categorical never. And so a year has pa.s.sed, and sixdays, and the crown prince wastes away before our eyes. All attempts to restore him to reason have failed, and now our only hope lies in Your Most Iridescent Eminence!"

Here the magnate made a deep bow. Trurl, observing rows of warriors right outside his window, coughed and said in a feeble voice: "Well, I really don't see how I could be of ... though, of course, if the King wishes it... in that case..."

"Wonderful!" cried the magnate and clapped his hands with a mighty clang.

Immediately twelve cuira.s.siers, black as night, rushed in with clattering armor and bore Trurl off to the ship, which fired its engines twenty-one times, pulled anchor and, banners waving, lifted up into the open sky.

During the flight the magnate, who was Grand Seneschal and Artifactotum to the King, filled Trurl in on the details of the prince's ill-starred enamorization. Directly upon their arrival, after the welcoming ceremonies and ticker-tape pa-rade through the streets of the capital, the constructor got down to work. He set up his equipment in the magnificent royal gardens and in three weeks had converted the Tem-ple of Contemplation there into a strange edifice full of metal, cables and glowing screens. This was, he told the King, a femfatalatron, an erotifying device stochastic, elastic and orgiastic, and with plenty of feedback; whoever was placed inside the apparatus instantaneously experienced all the charms, lures, wiles, winks and witchery of all the fairer s.e.x in the Universe at once. The femfatalatron operated on a power of forty megamors, with a maximum attainable effi-ciency-given a constant concupiscence coefficient-of ninety-six percent, while the system's libidinous lubricity, measured of course in kilocupids, produced up to six units for every remote-control caress. This marvelous mechanism, moreover, was equipped with reversible ardor dampers, om-nidirectional consummation amplifiers, absorption philters, paphian peripherals, and "first-sight"

flip-flop circuits, since Trurl held here to the position of Dr. Yentzicus, creator of the famous oculo-oscular feel theory.

There were also all sorts of auxiliary components, like a high-frequency t.i.tillizer, an alternating tantalator, plus an entire set of lecherons and debaucheraries; on the outside, in a special gla.s.s case, were enormous dials, on which one could carefully follow the course of the whole decaptivation process. Statistical a.n.a.lysis revealed that the femfatalatron gave positive, permanent results in ninety-eight cases of unrequited amatorial superfixation out of a hundred. The chances of saving the crown prince therefore were excellent.

It took forty venerable peers of the kingdom four hours and more to push and pull their prince through the gardens to the Temple of Contemplation, for though fully deter-mined, they had to show proper respect for his royal person, and the prince, having no desire whatever of becoming de-captivated, kicked and b.u.t.ted his faithful courtiers with great vigor. When finally His Majesty was shoved, with the application of numerous feather pillows, into the machine and the trapdoor shut after him, Trurl, full of misgivings, threw the switch, and the computer began its countdown in a dreary monotone: "Five, four, three, two, one, zero ... start!" The synchroerotorotors, b.u.mping and grinding, set up powerful counterseduction currents to displace the prince's so tragically misplaced affections. After an hour of this, Trurl looked at the dials: their needles trembled under the terrible load of lascivicity but, alas, failed to show any significant improvement. He began to have serious doubts about the success of the treatment, but it was too late to do anything now-other than fold his hands and wait pa-tiently. He only checked to make sure that the autolips were landing in the right place and at the proper angle, that theaphrodisial philanderoids and satyriacal panderynes weren't going too far, for he didn't want the patient to undergo a total dotal transferral and end up idolizing the machine in-stead of Amarandina, but only to fall thoroughly out of love. At last the trapdoor was opened in solemn silence. Out of the dim interior, wreathed with a cloud of the sweetest perfume, stumbled the pale prince through crushed rose petals-and fell in a swoon, stunned by that awesome access of pa.s.sion. His faithful servants rushed up and, as they lifted his limp limbs, heard him utter in a hoa.r.s.e whisper one solitary word: Amarandina.

Trurl cursed under his breath, for all of it had been in vain, and the prince's mad love had proven stronger than all the megamors and kilocuddles the femfatalatron could bring to bear. The rapturometer, when pressed against the brow of the stupefied prince, registered one hundred and seven, then the gla.s.s shattered and the mercury poured out, still quivering, as if it too had come under the influence of those raging emotions. The first attempt, then, was a complete failure.

Trurl returned to his quarters in the foulest mood, and anyone eavesdropping would have heard how he paced from wall to wall, seeking a solution. Meanwhile there was an awful racket back in the gardens: some stonemasons, or-dered to fix the wall of a small arborium, had out of curiosity crawled into the femfatalatron and accidentally turned it on. It became necessary to summon the fire department, for they jumped out so inflamed, that they started to smoke.

Next Trurl tried a retropruriginous eroginator with heavy-duty volupticles, but that too-to make a long story short- was a flop. The prince was not a whit less smitten with Amarandina's charms; in fact, he was more smitten than ever. Once again Trurl paced the floor of his room, back and forth for many miles, and sat up half the night reading pro-fessional manuals, till he hurled them against the wall. That morning he went to the Grand Seneschal and requested an audience with the King. Admitted to the presence of His Majesty, Trurl spoke in this fashion: "Your Royal Highness and Gracious Sovereign! The dis-enamorment methods which I employed upon Your son are the most powerful possible. He simply will not be dis-enamored, not alive-Your Majesty must know the truth."

The King was silent, crushed by this news, but Trurl went on: "Of course, I could deceive him, synthesizing an Amarandina according to the parameters I have at hand, but sooner or later the prince would find out, when news of the true Amarandina reached his ears. No, I see no other way: the prince must marry the Emperor's daughter!"

"Bah, but that is the whole problem, O foreigner! The Emperor will never agree to such a marriage!"

"And if he were conquered? If he had to sue for peace, beg for mercy?"

"Why then, certainly-but would you have me plunge two large kingdoms into a b.l.o.o.d.y war, which is a risky proposition at best, solely in order to win the hand of the Emperor's daughter for my son? No, that is quite out of the question!"

"Precisely the answer I expected of Your Royal High-ness!" said Trurl calmly.

"However, there are wars and there are wars; the kind I have in mind would be absolutely bloodless. For we would not attack the Emperor's realm with arms; in fact, we would not take the life of a single citizen, but just the opposite!"

"What are you saying? What do you mean?" exclaimed the King.And as Trurl whispered his secret plan into the royal ear, the monarch's careworn face gradually brightened, and he cried: "Go then, and do this thing, good foreigner, and may the G.o.ds be with thee!"

The very next day the royal forges and workshops under-took the construction, according to Trurl's specifications, of a great number of tremendous cannons, though for what purpose intended it was not clear. These were placed around the planet and disguised as defense installations, so that no one would guess a thing. Meanwhile Trurl sat day and night in the royal cybergenetic laboratory, watching over secret cauldrons in which mysterious concoctions gurgled and per-colated. A spy on the premises would have discovered noth-ing, except that now and then behind the double-locked doors there was an odd mewling, puling sound, and tech-nicians and a.s.sistants ran frantically back and forth with piles of diapers.

The bombardment began a week later, at midnight. The cannons, primed by veteran cannoneers, were aimed, muz-zles raised, straight at the white star of the Emperor's em-pire, and they fired-not death-dealing, but life-giving missiles. For Trurl had loaded the cannons with newborn babies, which rained down upon the enemy in gooing, coo-ing myriads and, growing quickly, crawled and drooled over everything; there were so many of them, that the air shook with their ear-splitting ma-ma's, da-da's, kee-kee's and waa's.

This infant inundation lasted until the economy began to collapse under the strain and the kingdom was faced with the dread specter of a depression, and still out of the sky came tots, tads, moppets and toddlers, all chubby and chuckling, their diapers fluttering. The Emperor was forced to capitulate to King Protuberon, who promised to call a halt to the hostilities on the condition that his son be granted Amarandina's hand in marriage-to which the Em-peror hastily agreed. Whereupon the baby cannons were all carefully spiked and put away, and, to be safe, Trurl himself took apart the femfatalatron. Later, as best man, in a suit of emeralds and holding the ceremonial baton, he played toastmaster at the riotous wedding feast. Afterwards, he loaded his rocket with the t.i.tles, diplomas and citations which both the King and the Emperor had bestowed upon him, and then, sated with glory, he headed for home.

The Fifth Sally

Or The Mischief of King Balerion

Not by being cruel did Balerion, King of Cymberia, oppress his people, but by having a good time. And again, it wasn't feasts or all-night orgies that were dear to His Majesty's heart, but only the most innocent games-tiddlywinks, mumbledypeg, old maid and go fish into the wee hours of the morning, then hopscotch, leapfrog, but more than any-thing he loved to play hide-and-seek. Whenever there was an important decision to be made, a State doc.u.ment to be signed, interstellar emissaries to be received or some Com-modore requesting an audience, the King would hide, and they would have to find him, else suffer the most dreadful punishments. So the whole court would chase up and down the palace,check the dungeons, look under the drawbridge, comb the towers and turrets, tap the walls, turn the throne inside out, and quite often these searches lasted a long time, for the King was always thinking up new places to hide. Once, a terribly important war never got declared, and all because the King, decked in spangles and crystal pendants, hung three days from the ceiling of the main hall and pa.s.sed for a chandelier, holding his mouth to keep from laughing out loud at the ministers rushing about frantically below. Whoever found the King was instantly given the t.i.tle of Royal Discoverer-there were already seven hundred and thirty-six of those at court. But he who would gain the King's special favor had to beguile him with some new game, one the King had never heard of. Which was by no means easy, considering that Balerion was unusually well-versed in the subject; he knew all the ancient games, like jackstones or knucklebones, and all the latest games, like spin the electron, and he often said that everything was a game, his Crown included, and for that matter the whole wide world.

These thoughtless and frivolous words outraged the ven-erable members of the King's privy council; the prime min-ister in particular, My Lord Papagaster of the great house of Pentaperihelion, was much provoked, saying the King held nothing sacred and even dared expose his own Exalted Person to ridicule.

Then, when the King unexpectedly announced it was time for riddles, terror filled the hearts of everyone. He had always had a pa.s.sion for riddles; once, right in the middle of the coronation, he confounded the Lord High Chancellor with the question, why was antimatter like an antimaca.s.sar?

It wasn't very long before the King realized that his cour-tiers weren't putting forth the proper effort in solving the conundrums he posed. They replied in any which way, said whatever came into their heads, and this infuriated the King. However, as soon as he began to base all royal appointments and promotions upon the answers to his riddles, things improved considerably. Decorations and dismissals came thick and fast, and the whole court, like it or not, had to play the game in earnest. Unfortunately, many dignitaries attempted to deceive the King, who, though basically good-natured, could simply not tolerate a cheater. The Keeper of the Great Seal was sent into exile because he had used a crib (con-cealed beneath his cuira.s.s) in the Royal Presence; he never would have been discovered, had not one of his old enemies, a certain general, brought this to the King's attention. Papagaster himself had to part with his high post, for he didn't know what was the darkest place in outer s.p.a.ce. In time, the King's Cabinet was composed of the most ac-complished solvers of crosswords, acrostics and rebuses in the land, and his ministers never went anywhere without their encyclopedias. The courtiers soon became so proficient, that they could supply the correct answer before the King had finished asking the question, though this was hardly surprising when you considered that they were all avid sub-scribers to the "Official Register," which, instead of a te-dious list of acts and administrative decisions, contained nothing but puzzles, puns and parlor games.

As the years went by, however, the King liked less and less to have to think, and gradually returned to his first and greatest love, hide-and-seek. One day, in a particularly play-ful mood, he offered a most handsome prize to the one who could find for him the best hiding place in all the world. The prize was to be nothing less than the Royal Diadem of the Cymberanide Dynasty, a cl.u.s.ter of truly priceless jewels. No one had laid eyes on this wonder for many centuries, for it lay locked and coffered in the Royal Vault.

Now it so happened that Trurl and Klapaucius chanced upon Cymberia in the course of one of their travels. News of the King's proclamation, having quickly spread through-out the realm, reached our constructors too; they learned of it from the local villagers at the inn where they were spend-ing the night.The next day they repaired to the palace to announce that they knew a hiding place unequaled by any other. Unfortunately, so many others had come to claim the prize, that it was next to impossible to get by the crowd at the gate. Trurl and Klapaucius therefore returned to their lodgings and resolved to try their luck the following day. Though they didn't leave it to luck alone; this time the prudent constructors came prepared. To every guard who barred the way and then to every court official who challenged them, Trurl quietly slipped a few coins and, whenever that didn't work, a few more, and in less than five minutes they were standing before the throne of His Royal Highness. His Royal Highness was of course delighted to hear that such famous wise men had come so far for the sole purpose of imparting to him the secret of the perfect hiding place. It took them a little time to explain the how and the why of it to Balerion, but his mind, schooled from childhood in the ways of tricks and puzzles, finally grasped the idea. Burning with enthusiasm, the King jumped down from his throne, a.s.sured the two friends of his undying grat.i.tude, promised they would receive the prize without fail-pro-vided only they let him try out their secret method at once. Klapaucius was reluctant on this point, muttering to him-self that they ought to write up a proper contract first, with parchment, seals and ta.s.sels; but the King was so insistent, and pleaded with such vehemence, swearing great oaths the prize was as good as theirs, that the constructors had to give in.

Trurl opened a small box he had brought with him, took out the necessary device and showed it to the King. This invention actually had nothing to do with hide-and-seek, but could be applied to that game wonderfully well. It was a portable bilateral personality transformer, with retroreversible feedback, of course. Using it, any two individuals could quickly and easily exchange minds. The device, fitted onto one's head, resembled a pair of horns; when these came into contact with the forehead of the one with whom one wished to effect the exchange, and were lightly pressed, the device was activated and instantaneously set up two oppos-ing series of antipodal impulses. Through one horn, one's own psyche flowed into the other, and through the other, the other into one's own.

Hence the total deenergizing of the one memory and the simultaneous energizing of the other in its place, and contrariwise. Trurl had set the apparatus on his head for purposes of demonstration and was explaining the procedure to the King, bringing the royal forehead into proximity with the horns, when the King impulsively b.u.t.ted against them, which triggered the mechanism and imme-diately brought about a personality transfer. It all happened so quickly that Trurl, who had never really tested the device on himself, didn't notice. Nor did Klapaucius, standing to one side; it did strike him rather odd that Trurl suddenly stopped in the middle of a sentence and Balerion instantly took up where Trurl had left off, , using such words as "the potentials involved with nonlinear conversion of submnemonic quanta" and "the adiabatic flux differential of the id." The King went on in his squeaky voice for almost a minute before Klapaucius realized there was something wrong. Balerion, finding himself inside the body of Trurl, was no longer listening to the lecture, but wiggled his fingers and toes, as if making himself more comfortable in this novel shape, which he inspected with the greatest curiosity. Meanwhile Trurl, in a long purple robe, was waving his arms and explaining the reversed entropy of mutually trans-posed systems, until he grew aware that something was in the way, looked down at his hand and was dumbfounded to find himself holding a scepter. He was about to speak, but the King burst out laughing and took to his heels. Trurl started after him, but tripped over the royal robe and fell flat on his face. This commotion quickly brought the royal bodyguards, who straightway threw themselves upon Kla-paucius, thinking he had attacked the Royal Person. By the time Trurl managed to get his royal personage off the floor and convince the guards it stood in no danger, Balerion was far away, rollicking somewhere in Trurl's body. Trurl at-tempted to give chase, but the courtiers wouldn't permit it, and when he protested he wasn't the King at all but there had been a personality transfer, they concluded that excessive puzzle-solving had finally unhinged the Royal Reason and politely but firmly locked him in the royal bedchamber, then sentfor the royal physicians while he roared and pounded on the door. Klapaucius meanwhile, thrown out of the palace on his ear, headed back to the inn, thinking-not without alarm-of the complications that might arise from what had just taken place.

"Undoubtedly," he thought, "had I been in Trurl's shoes, my great presence of mind would have saved the day. Instead of making a scene and ranting on about telepsychic transfers, which couldn't help but create suspicions as to his sanity, I would have taken advantage of the King's body and ordered them to seize Trurl, namely Balerion, at once--whereas now he's running around free somewhere in the city-and also, I would have had the other constructor remain at my side, in the capacity of special adviser. But that complete idiot"-by which he meant Trurl-"completely lost his head, and now I'll have to bring all my tactical talents into play, else this business may end badly..."

He tried to recall everything he knew about the per-sonality transformer, which was considerable. By far the greatest danger, as he saw it, was that Balerion, heedlessly rushing about in Trurl's body, might stumble and hit some inanimate object with his horns. In which case Balerion's consciousness would immediately enter that object and, since inanimate things had no consciousness and conse-quently the object could offer the transformer nothing in return, Trurl's body would fall lifeless to the ground; as for the King, he would be trapped for all eternity inside some stone, or lamppost, or discarded shoe. Uneasy, Klapaucius quickened his pace, and not far from the inn he overheard some villagers talking excitedly of how his col-league, Trurl, had flown out of the royal palace like one possessed, and how, racing down the long, steep steps that led to the harbor, he'd taken a spill and broken his leg. How this drove him into a most amazing frenzy; how, lying there, he bellowed that he was King Balerion Himself, called for the royal physicians, a stretcher with feather pil-lows, sweet essences and balm; and how, when the people laughed at this madness, he crawled along the pavement, cursing terribly and rending his garments, until one pa.s.serby took pity on him and bent over to help. How then the fallen constructor tore the hat off his head, revealing-and there were witnesses to swear to this-devil's horns. How with those horns he rammed the good Samaritan in the head, then fell senseless, strangely stiff and groaning feebly, while the good Samaritan suddenly changed, "as if an evil spirit had taken hold of him," and dancing, skipping, shoving aside everyone who stood in his way, galloped down the steps to the harbor.

Klapaucius grew faint when he heard all of this, for he understood that Balerion, having damaged Trurl's body (and after using it for so short a time), had cunningly switched to the body of some stranger. "Now it's started," he thought with horror. "And how will I ever find Balerion, hidden in a body I don't even know? Where do I begin to look?!" He tried to learn from the villagers who this pa.s.serby was, who had so n.o.bly approached the injured pseudo-Trurl, and also, what had become of the horns. Of the good Samaritan they knew only that his dress was foreign, though unmistakably naval, which suggested he'd stepped off a vessel from distant skies; concerning the horns, nothing. But then a certain mendicant whose legs had rusted through (a widower, he had no one to keep them taped and tarred) and who was therefore obliged to go around on wheels attached to his hips, which indeed gave him a better vantage point on what transpired at ground level, told Klapaucius that the worthy mariner had s.n.a.t.c.hed the horns from the p.r.o.ne constructor's head with such speed, that no one but himself had seen it. So, apparently Balerion was again in possession of the transformer and could continue this hair-raising business of jumping from body to body. The news that he now occupied the person of a sailor was especially disturbing. "Of all things, a sailor!" thought Klapaucius. "When sh.o.r.e leave is up and he doesn't appear on board (and how can he, not knowing which ship is his?), the captain is bound to notify the authorities, they'll arrest the deserter of course, and Our Highness will find himself in a dungeon! And if at any time he beats his head against the dungeon wall in despair-with the horns on-then mayheaven help us all!!" There was little chance, if any, of locating the sailor who was Balerion, but Klapaucius hastened to the harbor. Luck was with him, for he saw a sizable crowd gathered up ahead. Certain he was on the right track, he mingled with the crowd and soon learned, from what was said here and there, that his worst fears were being realized. Only minutes earlier, a certain respectable skipper, the owner of an entire fleet of merchant ships, had recognized a crewman of his, a person of sterling character; yet now this worthy individual was hurling insults at all who went by, and to those who cautioned him to be on his way lest the police come, he shouted he could become whoever he wanted, and that included the whole police force. Scandalized by such behavior, the skipper remon-strated with his crewman, who replied by striking him with a large stick.

Then a police squad, patrolling the harbor as a place of frequent altercations and disorders, arrived on the scene, and it so happened the Commissioner himself was in charge. The Commissioner, seeing that the unruly sailor refused to listen to reason, ordered him thrown in jail. But while they were making the arrest, the sailor suddenly hurled himself at the Commissioner like one possessed and b.u.t.ted him with what seemed to resemble horns. Directly after that, he began to howl that he was a policeman, and not just any policeman, but chief commander of the har-bor patrol, while the Commissioner, instead of being an-gered by this insolent raving, laughed as if it were a tre-mendous joke, but then ordered his subordinates to escort the troublemaker to prison without further delay, nor to be sparing with their clubs and fists in the process.

Thus, in less than an hour, Balerion had managed to change his corporeal quarters three times, presently occupy-ing the body of a police commissioner, who, though Lord knew he was innocent, had to sit and stew in some dark, dank cell. Klapaucius sighed and went directly to the police station. It was situated on the coast, a heavy stone edifice. No one barred the way, so he went inside and walked through a few empty rooms, until he found himself standing in front of a veritable giant several sizes too large for his uniform and armed to the teeth. This hulk of an individual glowered at Klapaucius and stepped forward, as if to throw him out bodily-but suddenly gave a wink (though Kla-paucius certainly had never met him before) and burst out laughing. The voice was gruff, a policeman's voice beyond a shadow of a doubt, yet the laugh-and particularly that wink-brought to mind Balerion, and indeed, it was Baler-ion on the other side of that desk, though obviously not in his own person!

"I knew you right off," said Balerion the policeman. "You were at the palace, you're the friend of the one who had the apparatus. Well, what do you think? Isn't this a fabulous hiding place? They'll never find me, you know, not in a million years! And it's so much fun being a big, strong policeman! Watch!"

And he brought his huge policeman's fist down on the desk with such force that it split in half-though there was a cracking in the hand as well. Balerion winced and said: "Ow, I snapped something. But that's okay. If need be, I can always change-into you, for example!"

Klapaucius backed off in the direction of the door, but the policeman blocked the way with his colossal frame and went on: "Not that I have anything against you personally, you understand. But you know too much, old boy. So I really think it's best we put you in the clink. Yes, into the clink with you!" And he gave a nasty laugh. "That way, when I leave the force, no one-not even you-will have the fog-giest notion where, or rather who, I am! Ha-ha!"

"But Your Majesty!" Klapaucius protested. "You don't know all the dangers of thedevice. Suppose you entered the body of someone with a fatal illness, or a hunted criminal..."

"No problem," said the King. "All I have to do is remem-ber one thing: after every switch, grab the horns!"

And he pointed to the broken desk, where the device lay in an open drawer.

"As long as, each time," he said, "I pull it off the head of the person I just was and hold on to it, nothing can harm me!"

Klapaucius did his best to persuade the King to abandon the idea of future personality transfers, but it was quite hopeless; the King only laughed and made jokes, then finally said, clearly enjoying himself: "I won't go back to the palace-you can forget about that! Anyway, I'll tell you: I see before me a great voyage, traveling among my loyal subjects from body to body, which, after all, is very much in keeping with my democratic principles. And then for dessert, so to speak, the body of some fair maiden-that ought to be a most edifying ex-perience, don't you think? Ha-ha!"

And he threw open the door with a great, hairy paw and bawled for his subordinates.

Klapaucius, seeing they would lock him up for sure unless he acted at once, grabbed an inkwell and tossed its contents into the King's face, then in the general confusion leaped out a window into the street. By a great stroke of luck, there were no witnesses about, and he was able to make it to a populous square and lose himself in the crowd before the police began pouring from the station, straightening their shakos and waving their weapons in the air.

Plunged in thoughts that were far from pleasant, Klapaucius walked away from the harbor. "It would be best, really," he said to himself, "to leave that incorrigible Balerion to his fate, go to the hospital where Trurl's body is stay-ing, occupied by the honest sailor, and bring it to the palace, so my friend can be himself again, body and soul. Though it's true that that would make the sailor King instead of Balerion-and serve that rascal right!" Not a bad plan perhaps, but inoperable for the lack of a small but indispensable item, namely the transformer with the horns, which at present lay in the drawer of a policeman's desk. For a moment Klapaucius considered the possibility of constructing another such device-no, there was neither the time nor the means. "But here's an idea,"

he thought. "I'll go to Trurl, who's the King and by now has surely come to his senses, and I'll tell him to have the army surround the harbor police station. That way, we'll recover the device and Trurl can get back to his old self!"