Dramocles: An Intergalactic Soap Opera Read Online Free PDF Page B

deed.”
    “Old bones,” Rux growled. “These foolish kings have put their planets into your hands. If you don’t take them, you’ll be as foolish as they. This is the supreme moment for the Dramocletian line. If your father were alive now–”
    “–he’d feel a lot better about this than I do.”
    “It is for you to say,” Rux replied. “I am but a simple soldier, though I can recite poetry and play the accordion.”
    The loneliness of supreme command! Dramocles felt light-headed. Was he doing the right thing? It was impossible now to know.
    “Rux,” he said, “get me Lekk.”
    “You’ve as good as got it,” the Sberrian said, in his matter-of-fact way.

 
    10
    When Prince Chuch arrived in Glorm, he found an air of disquiet and apprehension throughout the city. News of the intervention in Lekk was now widespread, and the populace seemed stunned. Crowds moved through the gaily bedecked streets in whispering clusters. Although every effort was made to continue the elaborate pageants and mimes that had been planned, the actors were stumbling and self-conscious, and they played to silent audiences.
    Chuch went directly to Ultragnolle Castle and asked if the King would receive him. After a considerably delay, the Chamberlain came out and explained that Dramocles was in seclusion. “He is greatly disturbed,” said Rudolphus, “over the cruel necessity that was imposed on him.”
    “What necessity was that?” asked Chuch.
    “Why, that of sending troops to Lekk, and this so soon after Aardvark.”
    “You speak of necessity?”
    “Of course, my Lord. An alien invasion of any of the Local Planets is an attack against all. Dramocles had no choice but to respond immediately.”
    Chuch would have asked more, but a bell tolled within the castle and the Chamberlain excused himself and hurried off.
    Chuch telephoned Count John’s residence in Ultragnolle. John was out, he was told, but might be found at the nearby Tavern of the Green Sheep. Chuch took a palanquin there.
    The Green Sheep was an old-fashioned saloon, typically Glormish with its bay window, its geranium pots, and its calico cat. Chuch went down three steps and entered a twilight haze of beer, tobacco, and wet wool–for it had rained earlier–and passed through a low hum of conversation punctuated by an occasional clink of glasses. He noticed many older men standing at the bar, most of them with a distinctive rosette in their lapels, throwing down tiny cups of schnopp, the national drink, a liqueur very much like anisette. A radio in the background droned out the results of sports events all over the province. There was a small fire in the fireplace, and points of light were reflected from the polished copper plates on the walls, the antique steel sword over the bar, and from the commemorative pewter mugs hanging from the ceiling. Chuch passed through into the inner room, a low-ceilinged place indistinctly lit by fifteen-watt light bulbs in imitation candlestick holders. There was a fine long oak table and four plush-padded armchairs drawn up to it. John was seated in one chair, Snint in another. Adalbert was sprawled half across the table, head down, drunk and snoring. There were a dozen bottles of potent crinkleberry wine on the table, and five muggards, some of them spilled.
    Chuch sat down without being invited, poured himself a muggard of wine, sipped at it fastidiously.
    John, red-faced from drink, said, “Well, my Lord Chuch, have you been off discussing this latest treachery with your father, two-faced Dramocles?”
    “Neither of the King’s faces wished to see me,” said Chuch. “Rudolphus told me that the King’s heart was sore vexed over what he’d had to do. There was some mention of aliens. What did he say to you, King Snint?”
    Snint said, “He took me aside for private audience. His face portrayed distress, his voice trembled, yet he rarely met my eye. ‘Snint,’ said he, ‘I am much embarrassed by a recent turn of events,