86 - The Turgid Truth About 'Heir Dogs Gladiator'

Excerpt from The Unexpurgated Life Is Everything, by Norii Maziel, Imeras Books and Keresin Etyairin YPA 55:


The Turgid Truth About “Heir Dogs Gladiator”

“The Serpent’s Tale” in The Pages for Muunas 2nd, YPA 58, told the story thus:

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Heir Dogs Gladiator

The rumour is all over that the Heir to the Crystal Throne was walked through the City on a leash by a stark naked, drunken ring-fighter on the first day of Jitzmitthra.

Of course we would never credit such an outrageous story, even on Jitzmitthra. A number of purported eyewitnesses swear on their hope of Celestialis to have personally seen Yeoli first-chainer Karas Raikas, wearing only his sword, a money-pouch and bandaging on a leg-wound, leading Minis Aan, costumed as a floppy-eared, spotted canine, on a gaudily-jewelled leash and collar, accompanied by two Mahid in Jitzmitthra whites. Clearly these sources are disgracefully forsworn and therefore bound for eternal smothering in the deepest pits of Hayel.

“He was yanking the leash, scratching him behind the ears, throwing him crisps… and the Spark of the Sun’s Ray was playing right along, barking and sniffing and acting completely dog-like,” an unnamed source, who works at The Puckered Fig, a tony wineshop in the Aitzas quarter, scurrilously lied. “The man’s hair is black as charcoal at midnight. Everywhere. He sipped our 153 Tatzias from a goblet while Blessed Iridescence lapped it up from a bowl on the floor.”

A second usually-reliable-but-in-this-case-clearly-confabulating source speciously claimed: “I know it was Minis in that dog gear because there were two Mahid with them. I thought they were just wearing Jitzmitthra Mahid costumes until I goosed one of them.” The source, whom we didn’t know was such a fine actor, did a consummately-feigned shudder of terror at the memory. “He… looked at me. He was definitely Mahid.”

“I was dressed as a squirrel and the Spark of the Sun’s Ray came after me really fast,” a ten-year-old boy falsified disingenuously. “He got away from his master and he treed me and the fighter was chasing him going ‘Ow! Ow! Ow!’ because one leg was hurt. He was piss drunk. I feel sorry for him when he gets his head chopped off.”

A third dishonest source shamelessly fabricated that which we would never print in a thousand years, were there any truth to this canard. “The Heir loved it when Raikas yanked his lead. If you’re a betting man, take all your chains off everyone else and put them on this wool-hair, because mark my words, he’s going to conquer Arko. Whoever thought anyone could tame Minis?”

Of course the Tale prints this item only because of its sheer implausibility, strictly for our readers’ amusement, in the Jitzmitthran spirit. Such an incident is simply not possible.
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Here the Serpents showed their typical deviousness. The quotes had the ring of truth, but the authors could not be faulted for presenting the incident as genuine. How would Kurkas’s minions answer?

That was worked out over one sweaty evening by the high editor of the Pages, Intharas Terren, and Marble Palace Pages specialist First Eforas Mahid, and the following was published in the next Pages.

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Correction re the “Heir Dogs Gladiator” hoax

In our Muunas 2 edition, “The Serpent’s Tale” included a humorous item inventing the notion that the Heir to the Crystal Throne and Spark of the Sun’s Ray Minis Aan went out in the City during Jitzmitthra accompanied by a ring-fighter in a mode utterly inappropriate even for the season.

By the literary device of an overstated disavowal, as if in fear of Marble Palace censure, we subtly aimed to create the impression that this incident actually happened.

At The Pages we recognize that even a Jitzmitthraic hoax item can overstep the bounds of propriety, and realize belatedly that we did so in this case. We whole-heartedly regret the error.
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No Arkan who had doubted the story’s truth continued to doubt after reading this.

†

Excerpt from A Recent History of the Mezem by Roras Jaenenem, Imeras Books YPA 53:

The Director of the Mezem, unable to punish Karas Raikas in a visible way since that would reveal the truth of the rumour, decided instead to scold him.

The Director meant to call Raikas into his office, but impatiently came downstairs, angered by the fighter’s tardiness, just as a wounded Raikas was limping down from the fighters’ quarters, and so they met near the parlour where I was able to, indeed could not help but, overhear.

The conversation went as follows, verbatim.

Director: You fikken black-sheep-wool-hair, what the fik did you think you were doing, are you out of your flea-sized fikken shen-ball of a mind?

Raikas: I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. I am only just learning Arkan. Please speak more slowly.

Director: I said, you fikken black-sheep-wool-hair, what in Hayel did you shennen think you were doing even if it is fikken Jitzmitthra what do you dirt-haired barbarians know from Jitzmitthra anyway that you have the effrontery to celebrate it?

Raikas: I’m sorry, I don’t understand, please, more slowly.

Director: Look, you ant-brained barbarian man-eating savage, why the fik weren’t you born speaking Arkan like any sensible civilized human being so that I can ask you what the fik did you think in your snot-speck of a brain you were doing? And [audible gasp] how dare you speak to me equal-to-equal!?

Raikas: (equal-to-equal) I don’t understand, I’m sorry.

Director: Iiiiiis-kaaaaaaaaah!

[The erstwhile healer and administrator of the Mezem, Iskanzas Muras, fessas, came quickly.]

Director: Iska, you tell that black-haired ape of an idiot Yeoli that if he wants to be long for this fikken world he can't do that sort of thing!

Iska (to Raikas, in Enchian): The Director advises you to be more cautious in the future.

Raikas: (in Enchian): Tell that over-stuffed-satin pickle-up-his-ass moron that he doesn't have enough wit in his farts to tell me how to behave.

Iska (to the Director): He says that's very sage advice, Ser.

Raikas: (in Enchian) Oh, and also tell the over-fed pompous fik-wit windbag that I wag my dick at him, too.

Iska: (to the Director) He adds that he offers his most grateful thanks to your ever-wise self.

Director: That’s not what the impertinent bastard looks like he’s saying, Iskanzas Muras! Or sounds like with one word anyway…! Or that… gesture! Are you translating the bug-eating primitive’s belchings disguised as words entirely accurately?

Iska: Assuredly this one is, Ser Director. In Enchian “fik” is actually the root of the word “grateful,” and I think that was not so much a gesture as an, em, itch.

Director: Oh. Well, good, then. I am mollified… but tell the uppity black-haired scab-eater to get that defiance out of his dirt-brown eyes and get his fikken cursed sack of bones out of my sight.

Iska: (to Raikas in Enchian) The Director thanks you kindly for your considerate attention and grants you leave to go.

Raikas: (in Enchian) Iska, I know enough Arkan, as well as what an ugly slavering fat face looks like when its jowls are quivering in rage, to know cursed well that’s not quite exactly what he said to me. What did he really say?

Iska: Raikas, please… you don’t want to know… I gave you the important part, the gist of it.

Raikas: Hey, I bet you’re not translating accurately what I’m saying to him either! Fikket, Iska, how am I supposed to get under his skin with insults if you don’t faithfully pass them on?

Iska: Raikas, he’ll have your skin taken off!

Director: What the fik are the two of you talking about, you fikken cursed low-life worms? I heard him shennen swear, where did he learn such fikken language?

Iska: (to Raikas in Enchian) If you don't mind being flogged, very well, but please don't pull me along with you. He wants you to go…

Director: Iska, you fikken shennen shennen fikken fikken… fikken… fik!

Raikas: (in Enchian) Hey! I got every word in that one! (In Arkan, to the Director) I understand! (In Enchian) Tell him I am impressed to the point of overwhelm with his wit and erudition.

[At this point Iskanzas pushed Raikas bodily, crutch and all, towards the fighters’ stairs, bringing the repartee to a close.]

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