Time Voyage - Boxed Set. Филип Дик

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Time Voyage - Boxed Set - Филип Дик

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know why she hadn’t, the thing had never come up in her mind. So here she was, forecasting the veritable history of future prisoners of the Castle d’If, without knowing it. It seemed plain to me now, that with her training, those inherited prisoners were merely property — nothing more, nothing less. Well, when we inherit property, it does not occur to us to throw it away, even when we do not value it.

      When I brought my procession of human bats up into the open world and the glare of the afternoon sun — previously blindfolding them, in charity for eyes so long untortured by light — they were a spectacle to look at. Skeletons, scarecrows, goblins, pathetic frights, every one; legitimatest possible children of Monarchy by the Grace of God and the Established Church. I muttered absently:

      “I wish I could photograph them!”

      You have seen that kind of people who will never let on that they don’t know the meaning of a new big word. The more ignorant they are, the more pitifully certain they are to pretend you haven’t shot over their heads. The queen was just one of that sort, and was always making the stupidest blunders by reason of it. She hesitated a moment; then her face brightened up with sudden comprehension, and she said she would do it for me.

      I thought to myself: She? why what can she know about photography? But it was a poor time to be thinking. When I looked around, she was moving on the procession with an axe!

      Well, she certainly was a curious one, was Morgan le Fay. I have seen a good many kinds of women in my time, but she laid over them all for variety. And how sharply characteristic of her this episode was. She had no more idea than a horse of how to photograph a procession; but being in doubt, it was just like her to try to do it with an axe.

      Chapter XIX.

       Knight-Errantry as a Trade

       Table of Contents

      Sandy and I were on the road again, next morning, bright and early. It was so good to open up one’s lungs and take in whole luscious barrels-ful of the blessed God’s untainted, dew-fashioned, woodland-scented air once more, after suffocating body and mind for two days and nights in the moral and physical stenches of that intolerable old buzzard-roost! I mean, for me: of course the place was all right and agreeable enough for Sandy, for she had been used to high life all her days.

      Poor girl, her jaws had had a wearisome rest now for a while, and I was expecting to get the consequences. I was right; but she had stood by me most helpfully in the castle, and had mightily supported and reinforced me with gigantic foolishnesses which were worth more for the occasion than wisdoms double their size; so I thought she had earned a right to work her mill for a while, if she wanted to, and I felt not a pang when she started it up:

      “Now turn we unto Sir Marhaus that rode with the damsel of thirty winter of age southward — ”

      “Are you going to see if you can work up another half-stretch on the trail of the cowboys, Sandy?”

      “Even so, fair my lord.”

      “Go ahead, then. I won’t interrupt this time, if I can help it. Begin over again; start fair, and shake out all your reefs, and I will load my pipe and give good attention.”

      “Even so standeth the history, fair Sir Boss. Now ye shall wit that that very duke and his six sons are they whom but few days past you also did overcome and send to Arthur’s court!”

      “Why, Sandy, you can’t mean it!”

      “An I speak not sooth, let it be the worse for me.”

      “Well, well, well, — now who would ever have thought it? One whole duke and six dukelets; why, Sandy, it was an elegant haul. Knight-errantry is a most chuckleheaded trade, and it is tedious hard work, too, but I begin to see that there is money in it, after all, if you have luck. Not that I would ever engage in it as a business, for I wouldn’t. No sound and legitimate business can be established on a basis of speculation. A successful whirl in the knight-errantry line — now what is it when you blow away the nonsense and come down to the cold facts? It’s just a corner in pork, that’s all, and you can’t make anything else out of it. You’re rich — yes, — suddenly rich — for about a day, maybe a week; then somebody corners the market on you , and down goes your bucket-shop; ain’t that so, Sandy?”

      “Whethersoever it be that my mind miscarrieth, bewraying simple language in such sort that the words do seem to come endlong and overthwart — ”

      “There’s no use in beating about the bush and trying to get around it that way, Sandy, it’s so , just as I say. I know it’s so. And, moreover, when you come right down to the bedrock, knight-errantry is worse than pork; for whatever happens, the pork’s left, and so somebody’s benefited anyway; but when the market breaks, in a knight-errantry whirl, and every knight in the pool passes in his checks, what have you got for assets? Just a rubbish-pile of battered corpses and a barrel or two of busted hardware. Can you call those assets? Give me pork, every time. Am I right?”

      “Ah, peradventure my head being distraught by the manifold matters whereunto the confusions of these but late adventured haps and fortunings whereby not I alone nor you alone, but every each of us, meseemeth — ”

      “No, it’s not your head, Sandy. Your head’s all right, as far as it goes, but you don’t know business; that’s where the trouble is. It unfits you to argue about business, and you’re wrong to be always trying. However, that aside, it was a good haul, anyway, and will breed a handsome crop of reputation in Arthur’s court. And speaking of the cowboys, what a curious country this is for women and men that never get old. Now there’s Morgan le Fay, as fresh and young as a Vassar pullet, to all appearances, and here is this old duke of the South Marches still slashing away with sword and lance at his time of life, after raising such a family as he has raised. As I understand it, Sir Gawaine killed seven of his sons, and still he had six left for Sir Marhaus and me to take into camp. And then there was that damsel of sixty winter

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