Damon Knight (ed) by Orbit 19

Author:Orbit 19 [19, Orbit]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

A Little Lexicon for Martians

<<Contents>>

TO THE DARK TOWER CAME

Edgar: Child Rowland to the dark tower came,

His word was still,—Fie, foh, and fum,

I smell the blood of a British man.

Gene Wolfe

“He’s senile,” Gloucester said.

Kent, who would die that day, shook his head and shrugged. He was standing at the room’s nearest window looking out, his broad shoulders wrapped in an old goatskin cloak.

“Senile,” Gloucester repeated. Hoping to lighten Kent’s mood he added, “I like to think that the first syllable derives from the Anglo-Saxon sendan, meaning ‘to transmit.’ The second from the Latin Nilus, the name of a mythical, northward-flowing river in Africa. This river was supposed to be lined with antique structures; so that transmission to the Nilotic region indicated that a thing was of ancient age.”

Kent said nothing.

“Can you see anything through that ivy? What are you looking at out there?”

“Fog,” Kent said.

Gloucester walked over to the window. The bronze tip of the scabbard hanging from his belt, weighted by the broad blade of the sword within, scraped the stone flags. He peered out. The window was no wider than the length of a man’s forearm, cut in a gray stone wall several times as thick. “Fog my bung, sir,” he said. “Those are clouds. But never mind, we’ll get down, clouds or no.”

“They might be clouds,” Kent answered mildly. “You never can tell.”

“They blasted well are clouds. Throw your dagger out of there, and it would spit an eagle before it struck the ground. There’s no telling how high up we are.”

“I prefer to believe that it is fog,” Kent said. He turned to face Gloucester and seated himself on the clammy windowsill. “I could leave this place at any time, simply by climbing out this window and jumping to the ground. Conversely, if I leave the window unguarded, it is possible that a bear or jaguar or other wild thing might enter.”

“Poor creature,” Gloucester muttered. And then: “So you say it’s fog. All right, sir, climb out. So soon as your feet are on good, solid ground, call to me, and I’ll come too.”

“I prefer not to,” Kent said. His sad, handsome face creased, though only for a second, in a smile. “I believe in intellectual democracy; I know that I am right, but I concede the possibility that you’re right too.”

Gloucester cleared his throat. “Let’s stop amusing ourselves with fancies and look at this logically.” He thrust his hands behind him, under his own tattered cloak, and began to pace up and down. “The king’s senile. I won’t argue definitions with you. You know what I mean, and I know you agree with me, whatever you may say. Now, let’s list the options available to us.”

“We’ve done this before,” Kent said.

“Granted. But let’s do it again. I pride myself, sir, on being a sound sullen scholar; and when there is nothing more to be done, we triple ‘S’ men recast the data—integrate, integrate, integrate, and three pump handles.”

He took a deep breath. “Now then, what is

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