[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
"Mugza," said Brockle Buhn. "He's still out. Let's kick him."
They proceeded to do it with vast enthusiasm, while Crockett watched and
decided never to allow himself to be knocked unconscious. It definitely wasn't
safe. At last, however, Gru Magru tired of the sport and took Crockett by the
arm again. "Come along," he said, and they sauntered along the tunnel, leaving
Brockle Buhn jumping up and down on the senseless Mugza's stomach.
"You don't seem to mind hitting people when they're knocked out," Crockett
hazarded.
"It's much more fun," Gru said happily. "That way you can tell just where you
want to hit 'em.
Come along. You'll have to be inducted. Another day, another gnome. Keeps the
population stable,"
he explained, and fell to humming a little song.
"Look," Crockett said. "I just thought of something. You say human beings are
turned into gnomes to keep the population stable. But if gnomes don't die,
doesn't that mean that there are more gnomes now than ever? The population
keeps rising, doesn't it?"
"Be still," Gru Magru commanded. "I'm singing."
It was a singularly tuneless song. Crockett, his thoughts veering madly,
wondered if the gnomes had a national anthem. Probably "Rock Me to Sleep." Oh,
well.
"We're going to see the Emperor," Gru said at last. "He always sees the new
gnomes. You'd better make a good impression, or he'll put you to placer-mining
lava."
"tJh-" Crockett glanced down at his grimy tunic. "Hadn't I better clean up a
bit? That fight made me a mess."
"It wasn't the fight," Gru said insultingly. "What's wrong with you, anyway? I
don't see anything amiss."
"My clothes-they're dirty."
"Don't worry about that," said the other. "It's good filthy dirt, isn't it?
Here!" He halted, and, stooping, seized a handful of dust, which he rubbed
into Crockett's face and hair. "That'll fix you up."
"I-pffht! . . Thanks . . . pff hI" said the newest gnome. "I hope I'm
dreaming. Because if I'm not-
" He didn't finish. Crockett was feeling unwell.
They went through a labyrinth, far under Dornsef Mountain, and emerged at last
in a bare, huge chamber with a throne of rock at one end of it. A small gnome
was sitting on the throne paring his toenails. "Bottom of the day to you," Gru
said. "Where's the Emperor?"
"Taking a bath," said the other. "I hope he drowns. Mud, mud, mud-morning,
noon and night. First it's too hot. Then it's too cold. Then it's too thick. I
work my fingers to the bone mixing his mud baths, and all I get is a kick,"
the small gnome continued plaintively. "There's such a thing as being too
dirty. Three mud baths a day-that's carrying it too far. And never a thought
for me!
Oh, no. I'm a mud puppy, that's what I am. He called me that today. Said there
were lumps in the mud. Well, why not? That damned loam we've been getting is
enough to turn a worm's stomach. You'll find His Majesty in there," the little
gnome finished, jerking his foot toward an archway in the wall.
Crockett was dragged into the next room, where, in a sunken bath filled with
steaming, brown mud, a very fat gnome sat, only his eyes discernible through
the oozy coating that covered him. He was filling his hands with mud and
letting it drip over his head, chuckling in a senile sort of way as he did so.
"Mud," he remarked pleasantly to Cru Magru, in a voice like a lion's bellow.
"Nothing like it.
Good rich mud. AhI"
Gru was bumping his head on the floor, his large, capable hand around
Crockett's neck forcing the other to follow suit.
file:///F|/rah/Henry%20Kuttner/Kuttner%20-%20The%20Best%20of%20Kuttner%201%20U
C.txt (138 of 166) [2/4/03 10:15:50 PM]
Page 185
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
file:///F|/rah/Henry%20Kuttner/Kuttner%20-%20The%20Best%20of%20Kuttner%201%20U
C.txt
"Oh, get up," said the Emperor. "What's this? What's this gnome been up to?
Out with it."
"He's new," Gru explained. "I found him topside. The Nid law, you know."
"Yes, of course. Let's have a look at you. Ugh! I'm Podrang the Second,
Emperor of the Gnomes.
What have you to say to that?"
All Crockett could think of was: "How-how can you be Podrang the Second? I
thought Podrang the
Third was the first emperor."
"A chatterbox," said Podrang II, disappearing beneath the surface of the mud
and spouting as he rose again. "Take care of him, Gru. Easy work at first.
Digging anthracite. Mind you don't eat any while you're on the job," he
cautioned the dazed Crockett. "After you've been here a century, you're
allowed one mud bath a day. Nothing like 'em," he added, bringing up a gluey
handful to smear over his face.
Abruptly he stiffened. His lion's bellow rang out.
"Drook! Drook!"
The little gnome Crockett had seen in the throne room scurried in, wringing
his hands. "Your
Majesty! Isn't the mud warm enough?"
"You crawling blob!" roared Podrang II. "You slobbering, offspring of six
thousand individual offensive stenches! You mica-eyed, incompetent,
draggle-eared, writhing blot on the good name of gnomes! You geological
mistake! You-you-"
Drook took advantage of his master's temporary inarticulacy. "It's the best
mud, Your Majesty! I
refined it myself. Oh, Your Majesty, what's wrong?"
"There's a worm in it!" His Majesty bellowed, and launched into a stream of
profanity so horrendous that it practically made the mud boil. Clutching his
singed ears, Crockett allowed Gru
Magru to drag him away.
"I'd like to get the old boy in a fight," Gru remarked, when they were safely
in the depths of a tunnel, "but he'd use magic, of course. That's the way he
is. Best emperor we've ever had. Not a scrap of fair play in his bloated
body."
"Oh," Crockett said blankly. "Well, what next?"
"You heard Podrang, didn't you? You dig anthracite. And if you eat any, I'll
kick your teeth in."
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
