Universe Twister - Keith Laumer [165]
But instead of turning back, he thrust the note into his pocket and let himself out the gate. Here in the narrow side street, the wind seemed chiller, bearing with it a whiff from the palace sty, where a pair of prize China pigs awaited the next feast day. Lafayette heard a mournful snort as he passed. In the far corner of the enclosure, George, the four-hundred-pound boar, huddled against the wall, as if recoiling from the advances of the scarcely less bulky Jemimah.
"Poor George," Lafayette murmured. "Maybe you've been cursed with too much imagination—like me."
At that moment, George seemed to catch his eye. With a frantic lunge he eluded the amorous sow, scrambled toward Lafayette, making piteous gobbling sounds.
"Don't make the same mistake I do, George, of not appreciating what you've got while you've got it," Lafayette advised the giant hog as it attempted unsuccessfully to rear up against the fence only to fall back with a loud squelch! into the mud.
"Go to Jemimah, tell her you're sorry, and forget the inevitable barbecue—" Lafayette broke off as George hurled himself at the fence, eliciting an ominous creak from the stout boards.
"Shhh!" he hissed. "You'll rouse the palace guards! Be sensible, George. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may . . ." But as he hurried off along the dark street, the mournful sounds followed him.
Few of the leaded glass windows set in the half-timbered gables overhanging the cobbled street showed lights; the honest folk of the capital were abed at this hour. Only dubious characters like himself—and the man he was going to meet—were abroad now, Lafayette reflected guiltily. In the distance he heard the haloo of a city watchman making his rounds, the barking of a dog, the tinkle of a bell. A steam-carriage rumbled past the intersection ahead, a red lantern swaying at its tailgate, its iron-shod wheels groaning against the paving blocks. Beyond, he saw a signboard bearing a familiar device: the prow of a Viking ship and a two-handed battle-ax. Below it was a low, wide, oaken door, iron bound, with heavy strap hinges. The sight brought back piquant memories. The Axe and Dragon had been the scene of his arrival in Artesia some years before—transported instantaneously from Colby Corners, USA, by the Psychic Energies focused by the Hypnotic Art, as described by Professor Doktor Hans Joseph Schimmerkopf in his massive volume on Mesmeric Science. It had also been the scene of his immediate arrest by the King's musketeers on a charge of sorcery, brought about by his careless decanting of several gallons of vintage wine from a one-liter bottle. He had managed to quash the indictment only by the desperate expedient of promising to slay a dragon. Well, in the end he had slain the dragon—one of them. The other had become his pet and favorite steed. He had also eliminated the fearsome two-headed giant Lod, which was rather a shame in a way; one of the heads hadn't been a bad sort of chap at all. Lafayette had gone on to depose the usurper, Goruble, and restore the throne to Princess Adoranne. Ever since, he—and his charming former chambermaid, Daphne—had been honored citizens of the quaint kingdom of Artesia, occupying a spacious apartment in the West Palace Annex, and on the closest terms with Adoranne and Prince Alain, her consort.
And now, here he was, back out in the cold, dark street, again approaching the door that had led him to such adventures, so long ago.
But there'd be no adventures this time, he told himself sternly. He had learned his lesson the last time he had found himself impatient with the peaceful life. His meddling had gotten him involved on a mad assignment from Central—head office of the Inter-dimensional Monitor Service—which had almost