Morning Adoration of the Muses, “Not a man among us would dare what this maskless man has done.”

Ajouté : 2026-05-25

[00:00:00]Heat up here.

[00:00:37]Heat up here.

[00:01:04]Heat.

[00:01:06]Heat.

[00:01:13]Heat up here.

[00:01:53]Heat.

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[00:02:02]Heat. Heat.

[00:02:38]Heat. Heat.

[00:03:04]Heat. Heat.

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[00:03:55]Good morning, beautiful people, and welcome to Drawing Down the Dragon. I'm Snappy, and thank you for joining me for our morning adoration to the muses. And we cry out in loving adoration to the great mother, the twins and the muses, the one duality and generation. And we ask the muses to sing in using us the songs of inspiration to guide us in our daily wanderings and to teach us to listen and perceive with reasoned clarity. Thank you all for joining me on such a lovely morning. Truly appreciate it. Hail the great gods. Hail Hestia.

[00:04:26]And let's give a shout out to the chat.

[00:04:28]Much love Hoopo. Much loved Sonia Howard. Much love, Cyros. Much love.

[00:04:34]It's great to be here with you guys.

[00:04:37]Amazing.

[00:04:39]Sorry for starting so late. I'm been really dealing with this terrible cold.

[00:04:44]If you can't tell, my face is a giant cherry tomato.

[00:04:48]I'm just dealing with the worst allergies. And yeah, couldn't get up this morning, but I managed to be here for now. So, I hope this is okay for you all. And thank you guys for joining me.

[00:05:00]Much love to everyone. All right, and let's begin by discussing our astrology.

[00:05:07]So, we find ourselves under the moon in Leo. Fiery, outgoing, confident Leo. Leo is such passionate, powerful, playful, joyous energy, childlike wonder, and audacity, right? It's really, really incredible. And in the tarot, the energy of Leo, of course, is the strength card, the lust card, Lady Babylon. Right now is a time to inflame yourself and your passions, to inflame yourself and to play, to be in that childlike wonder. In fact, go hang out with some kids. Go hang out with your kids. Go do something fun and silly. Be with family and with friends. Also use this energy to really bring out and know what makes you tick, to know what drives you. Look at the things that you love the most and recognize them. Name them and claim them. That's how this energy goes. You know, it's such a passionate, powerful moment. And if you can seize, if you can seize hold of it, it'll call you into profound action. So, embrace the moment, embrace that loving energy, and take that leap. Engage in the play. really really fun. Beautiful time. All right.

[00:06:19]Amazing. And we're now going to dive over to the magical prayer. The prayer to Seline for any spell. And I love to read this poem every single morning.

[00:06:29]Really gets me going. So let's take a look here. The prayer to Seline for any spell. And this comes to us, of course, from the PGM, the Greek magical papyrie, the book for Oh yeah, you got bad allergies. Yeah, it's always in my nose and in my face.

[00:06:50]It turns me into this this red this red pink like weirdo. Oh, it's so bad. It's so bad. But at least the allergy meds are keeping the sneezing at bay and I can actually present for you guys and chat with you guys. Normally I'm just sneezing my head off. Um the redness is is is okay. I can deal with a little redness.

[00:07:12]Oh man. and living in the woods, you know, by a river. Beautiful, beautiful, but also quite infuriating come spring, you know, and it's been a weird spring here. It's been super, super cold. This morning it was only 4° when I woke up.

[00:07:27]Four degrees, you know. Um, I'm not sure what that is in Fahrenheit for all you Americans. But, uh, yeah. Oh, I've got local honey. It's not helping, you know.

[00:07:38]So, uh, part of the issue here is it's not so much flowers that bother me, but trees, you know. So, yeah, I just got to grit and bear it, unfortunately.

[00:07:51]All right, so let's dive in to the prayer to Seline for any spell.

[00:07:58]Come to me, oh beloved mistress, three-face Seline, kindly hear my sacred chants. Knights ornament, young, bringing light to mortals. Oh child of mourn who ride upon fierce bulls. Oh queen who drive your car on equal course with Helios. Who with the triple forms of triple graces dance and revel with the stars. Your justice and the moiraous threads cloth and lacasis and atropose threeheaded your pesphananya allecto many formed who arm your hands with dreaded murky lamps. Who shake your locks of fearful serpents on your brow.

[00:08:35]Who sound the roar of bulls out from your mouths. Whose womb is decked out with the scales of creeping things with poisonous rows of serpents down the back bound down your backs with horrifying chains. Night crier bullfaced loving solitude bullheaded. You of eyes of bulls the voice of dogs. You hide your forms in shanks of lions. Your ankle is wolf-shaped. Fierce dogs are dear to you. Wherefore they call you Hkate, many named men, cleaving air, just like dart, shooter, Artemis, Pphanie, shooter of deer, night shining, triple sounding, triple-headed, triplevoiced, Celib, triple pointed, triple-faced, triple necked, and goddess of the triple ways, who hold on tiring flaming fire in triple baskets. And you who oft frequent the triple way and rule the triple decades. Unto me whom calling you be gracious and with kindness give heed. You who protect the spacious world at night before whom diamonds quake in fear in gods a mortal tremble. Goddess who exalt men you of many names who bear fair offspring. Bullyed horned mother of gods and men and nature. Mother of all things. For you frequent Olympus in the broad and boundless chasm you traverse.

[00:09:54]Beginning and end are you. And you alone rule all. For all things are from you, and in you do all things, eternal one, come to their end. As everlasting band around your temples, you wear great Kronis's chains, unbreakable and unreovable. And you hold in your hands a golden scepter, letters round your scepter Kronos wrote himself and gave to you to wear that all things stay steadfast. Subduer and subdued. Mankind subduer and force subduer. Chaos too.

[00:10:27]You rule. Aurora car episcare. Hail goddess and attend your epithets. I burn for you this spice. Oh child of Zeus, dartshooter, heavenly one, goddess of harbors who roam the mountains. Goddess of crossroads. Oh nether and nocturnal and infernal. Goddess of dark, quiet and frightful one. Oh you who have your meal amid the graves. Night, darkness, broad chaos, necessity, hard to escape. Are you your Moira and Aronyes, torment justice and destroyer, and you keep Cberus in chains, with scales of serpents. Are you dark, oh you with hair of serpents, serpent girded, who drink blood, who bring death and destruction, and who feast on hearts, flesh eater, who devour those dead untimely, and you who make grief resound and spread madness, come to my sacrifices. And now for me, do you fulfill this matter? Hail Artemis. Hail Hecati. Hail Seline. What a beautiful, beautiful prayer. I hope it got you as pumped as it gets me.

[00:11:35]Absolutely love it. Beautiful. I'm in such a good mood today in spite of the sickness. Life is so beautiful. Right.

[00:11:43]Just feel that Leo energy in your soul today. Right? Embrace the joy. Embrace life and pursue what you love. Recognize that life is always going forward.

[00:11:54]Everything is so glorious in the moment is what you make of it. Recognize the beauty in your life and let the negativity fall. Right? Be in that bic energy in adoration of Venus. See the joy inherent in all things.

[00:12:12]Love it. Love it. Love it. All right.

[00:12:14]We're now going to dive into our short story readings for the day and we're going to be continuing where we left off with the book of imaginary beings by Ho Jorge Louie Borges. And this is such a fun book because it's part fiction, part digging into other people's fictions, right? Looking for the mystical and magical across world literature. I just absolutely absolutely love it. So let's dive in here and give it a beautiful read. Oh, there we go. All right. And last we left off with is BAK. Back. So let's take a look.

[00:12:53]In George Sales translation, the opening verse of chapter 7 17 of the Quran consists of these words. Praise be unto him who transported his servant by night from the sacred temple of Mecca to his farther temple of Jerusalem. the circuit of which we have blessed that we might show him some of our signs. Commentators say that the one praised is God, that his servant is Muhammad, that the sacred temple is that of Mecca, that the distant temple is that of Jerusalem, and that from Jerusalem the prophet was transported to the seventh heaven. In the oldest versions of the legend, Muhammad is guided by a man or an angel.

[00:13:37]In those of a later date, he is furnished with a heavenly steed, larger than an ass and smaller than a mule.

[00:13:44]This steed is Back, whose name means shining. According to Richard Burton, translator of the book of a thousand nights, a thousand nights in a night. Muslims in India usually picture Back with a man's face, the ears of an ass, a horse's body, and the wings and tail of a peacock. One of the Islamic legends tells that on leaving the ground tipped a jar of water. The prophet was taken up to the seventh heaven. Along the way, speaking in each of the heavens with the patriarchs and angels living there, and he crossed the unity and felt a coldness that chilled his heart when the Lord laid a hand on his shoulder. Man's time is not commeasurate with God's time. On his return, the prophet raised the jar out of which not a single drop had yet been spilled. Miguel Ams Paleo Palios, the 20th century Spanish orientalist, speaks of a mystic from Mercia of the 1200s who in an allegory entitled the book of the night journey to the majesty of the all generous has seen in Barack a symbol of divine love. In another text, he speaks of the Barack of the puress of heart. Now, this is an interesting one, Barack. There's so many legends around this figure, right? Um Dion and I actually discuss him in a couple episodes of the um cult explorers, our ongoing podcast. And uh Barack is also said to foretell the future and be able to speak. And sometimes he is just a donkey, right? Other times he is this weird amalgam of creatures. In my mind when I hear this story in the way that I always have interpreted it is that this is a reinvention a reimagining of the story of Addis. Addis who rides upon the great beast and travels to the highest heaven in divine imitation of the great mother, right? Who is driven mad by that beast. And to me, this is such perfect perfect energy for for Leo because Leo is the beast upon which the great mother Addis rises. Right. Powerful powerful stuff. Love it. All right. And we continue.

[00:16:08]The next one we're going to check out is called the carbuncle.

[00:16:12]In minology, the carbuncle from the Latin carbunculus, a little coal, is a ruby. As to the carbuncle of the ancients, it is supposed to have been a garnet. In 16th century South America, the name was given by the Spanish concistadors to a mysterious animal.

[00:16:30]Mysterious because nobody ever saw it well enough to know whether it was a bird or a mammal, whether it had feathers or fur. The poet priest Martin del Barco Sentinara who claims to have seen it in Paraguay describes it in his Argentina only as a smalish animal with a shining mirror on its head like a glowing coal. Another concistador, Gonzalo Fernandez del Oedto, associates this mirror or light shining out of the darkness, two of which he glimpsed in the straight of Mellin with the precious stone that dragons were thought to have hidden in their brain. He took his knowledge from Isidor of Seville, who wrote in his ethmologies, "It is taken from the dragon's brain, but does not harden into a gem, unless the head is cut from the living beast.

[00:17:21]Wizards for this reason cut the head from sleeping dragons. Men behold enough to venture into dragons layers. Scatter grain that has been doctorred to make these beasts drowsy. When they have fallen asleep, their heads are struck off and the gems plucked out.

[00:17:40]Here we are reminded of Shakespeare's toad, As You Like It, which though ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head. Possession of the carbuncle's jewel offered fortune and luck. Barco sentinara underwent many hardships hunting the reaches of the Paraguayan rivers and jungles for the elusive creature. He never found it.

[00:18:02]Down to this day, we know nothing more about the beast and it is secret and its secret headstone.

[00:18:09]Right? This is actually an ongoing trope that you'll see in a bunch of different world literature of the stone inside the dragon's brain. But this actually corresponds to something real. This actually corresponds to something real.

[00:18:24]There are certain species of snake that actually will produce a type of stone inside of its head. Right? It's actually a form of it's a disease that these snakes get when they can't properly shed their skin and it's a blockage of the scent glands. But these things will harden black and people will use them in various magical rights.

[00:18:48]Wild stuff.

[00:18:50]Barack Tangu could very well be related to Pegasus. Of course, right? Pegenam Harmala might have been invol. Yeah.

[00:18:58]Yeah. Like it's hard to know, but there's definitely all of these ideas of magical beasts that carry you to the highest heavens, right? Certainly not simply Addis alone. And Pegasus is another magical one, right? Born from the death of Medusa along with Kiasaur, the living sword, right? And then Pegasus of course becomes the mount of the greatest hero of all Greek literature right Bellafront who dies in hubris and is cast out as a you know and what ends up happening with him is he's so successful with Pegasus that he believes that he is better than Zeus. So then Zeus spooks the horse and the horse causes him to fall. You know Pegasus gets scared. He falls to the ground and he becomes crippled and deformed. And then he is forced to wander the earth as a deformed wreck until he dies alone.

[00:19:55]Wild, wild stuff, right?

[00:19:59]So much interesting stuff in mythology, you know, and I'm sure there's a ton that I'm missing. Right.

[00:20:05]Absolutely love it. Yeah, bazaurs.

[00:20:08]That's exactly right, Howard. That's what the uh the snake stones are called.

[00:20:12]Yeah. And there's several different lizard species that will produce this.

[00:20:17]So, you know, it's understandable that they would appear in dragon mythology as well.

[00:20:23]All right, so we're going to read one last one here and then we're going to hop over to our main story for the morning. This is the Kato Bellpass.

[00:20:33]Plenty relates that somewhere on the borders of Ethiopia near the head of the Nile, there is found a wild beast called the Kato Bellpass, an animal of moderate size, and in other respects sluggish in movement of the rest of its limbs. Its head is remarkably heavy, and it only carries it with the greatest difficulty, being always bent down towards the earth.

[00:20:57]Were it not for this circumstance, it would prove the destruction of the human race, for all who behold its eyes fall dead upon the spot. Kathlepass in Greek means that which looks downward. The French naturalist Kuier has conjectured that the new contaminated by the basilisk in the Gorgon suggested the kato bell pass to the ancients. At the close of the temptation of St. Anthony Flobear describes it and has it speak in this way. Black buffalo with the head of a hog hanging close to the ground joined to its body by a thin neck long and loose as its empty intestine. It wallows in the mud and its legs are smothered under the huge mane of stiff bristles that hide its face. Obese, downhearted, wary. I do nothing but feel under my belly the warm mud. My head is so heavy that I cannot bear its weight. I wind it slowly around my body with halfopen jaws. I pull up my tongues of poisonous plants dampened by my breath. Once I ate up my forlegs unawares. No one Anthony has ever seen my eyes. Or else those who may have seen them have died. If I were to lift my eyelids, my pink and swollen eyelids, you would die on the spot.

[00:22:17]>> Wow.

[00:22:18]>> Right. Similar to the cockatrix and the basilisk for sure and of course Medusa.

[00:22:24]Interesting, interesting, interesting.

[00:22:27]All right, let's now dive in to our short story of the day. And this one's actually going to be a little bit long for a short story, but I'm really excited to share it with you. This comes from Jack Vance.

[00:22:43]And if you were tuning in with me a few days ago, I can't remember when, but we read another one of Jack Vance's stories called Green Magic, one of my favorites about wizards pursuing pursuing this ineffable empowered magic, exploring another wild realm. And then when they gain the knowledge that they so desired, it prevents them from being human, from enjoying the simple pleasures, from loving life. and their human body prevents them from fully embracing the green realm and the green magic. So, they are left in limbo, you know, distraught and broken with too much knowledge and we're left with a cliffhanger. Do the wizards who explored the green realm wipe out their me memories and return to a simple human life? Or do they bear the weight of the knowledge they have gained and live in suffering? Wild story. I I highly suggest everyone go check it out, Green Magic. But today we're going to check out another one from the same collection. This is called The Moon Moth. And this is a really, really, really weird one, so bear with it. And this is widely considered to be Jack Vance's most celebrated story. I believe he won a Hugo for it. Correct me if I'm wrong, but it's certainly the one that I've seen most mentioned online. So, I'm really excited to read this for you. I know you guys are going to enjoy it. It gets wild and weird. All right, so this is the Moon Moth by Jack Vance.

[00:24:17]The Housebo had been built to the most exacting standards of Sirenese craftsmanship, which is to say as close to the absolute as human eye could detect. The planking of waxy dark wood showed no joints. The fastenings were platinum rivets, counter sunk and polished flat. In style the boat was massive, broadbeamed, steady as the shore itself, without ponderity, ponderosity, or slackness of line. The bow bulged like a swan's breast, the stem rising high, then crooking forward to support an iron lantern. The doors were carved from slats of modeled black greenwood. The windows were many sectioned, pained with squares of micica, stained rose, blue, pale green, and violet. The bow was given to service facilities and quarters for slaves. A midship where a pair of sleeping cabins, a dining saloon, and a parlor saloon, opening up an observation deck at the stern. Such was Edward Thistle's house bout. But ownership brought him neither pleasure nor pride. The housebo had become shabby. The carpeting had lost its pile. The carved screens were chipped. The iron lantern at the bow sagged with rust. 70 years ago, the first owner on accepting the boat had honored the builder and had been likewise honored. The transaction, for the process represented a great deal more than simple giving and taking, had augmented the prestige of both. That time was far gone. The houseboat now commanded no prestige whatever. Edward Thistle, resident onsirene, only three months, recognized the lack, but could do nothing about it. This particular housebo was the best he could get. He sat on the rear deck practicing the Ganga, a zither-like instrument, not much larger than his hand. A 100 yards inshore, surf defined a strip of white beachy beyond rose jungle with the silhouette of craggy black hills against the sky. Mielle shone hazy and white overhead, as if through a tangle of spiderweb. The face of the ocean had become as familiar, though not as boring, as the Gunga, at which he had worked two hours, twanging out the siren scales, forming chords, traversing simple progressions. Now he put down the Gunga for the zakino. S this a small soundbox studded with keys, played with the right hand. Pressure on the keys forced air through readaths in the keys themselves, producing a concertinaike tone. This ran off a dozen quick scales, making very few mistakes. Of the six instruments he had set himself to learn, the zakino had proved the least refractory, with the exception, of course, of the Himin, that clacking, slapping, clattering device of wood and stone used exclusively with the slaves.

[00:27:19]Thistle practiced another 10 minutes, then put aside the zakino. He flexed his arms, rung his aching fingers. Every waking moment since his arrival had been given to the instruments, the highin, the ganga, the zakino, the ke, the straan, and the gap up. He had practiced scales in 19 keys and four modes. Chords without number, intervals never imagined on the home planets. trills, arpeggios, slurs, click stops and nasolations, damping and augmentation of overtones, vibrators and wolf tones, concavities and convexities. He practiced with a dogged deadly diligence in which his original concept of music as a source of pleasure had long become lost. Looking all over the instruments, Thistle resisted an urge to fling all six into the Titanic. He rose to his feet, went forward through the parlor saloon, the dining saloon, along a corridor past the galley, and came out on the for deck. He bent over the rail, peered down into the underwater pans, were Toby and Rex. The slaves were harnessing the drefish for the weekly trip to Fan 8 miles north.

[00:28:33]The youngest fish, either playful or capitious, ducked and plunged. Its streaming black muzzle broke water, and Thistle, looking into its face, felt a peculiar calm. The fish wore no mask.

[00:28:47]Thistle laughed uneasily, fingering his own mask, the moon moth. No question about it. He was becoming acclimated to Sirene. A significant stage had been reached when the naked face of a fish caused him shock. The fish were finally harnessed. Toby and Rex climbed aboard.

[00:29:05]Red bodies glistening black cloth masks clinging to their faces. Ignoring thistle, they stowed the pen hoisted anchor. The drefish strained. The harness caughtened. The houseboat moved north. Returning to the after deck, Thistle took up the straan. This a circular soundbox 8 in in diameter. 46 wires radiated from a central hub to the circumference where they connected to either a bell or a tinkle bar. When plucked, the bells rang, the bars chimed. When strummed, the instrument gave off a twanging, jingling sound.

[00:29:43]When played with competence, the pleasantly acid dissonances produced an expressive effect. In an unskilled hand, the results were less felicitus, and might even approach random noise. The straan was Thistle's weakest instrument, and he practiced with concentration during the entire trip north. In due course, the houseboat approached the floating city. The dreish were curbed, the houseboat wrapped to a mooring.

[00:30:11]Along the deck, a line of idlers weighed and gauged every aspect of the housebo.

[00:30:16]The slaves and Thistle himself, according to Sirenese habit. This not yet accustomed to such penetrating inspection, found the scrutiny unsettling, all the more so for the imo immobility of the masks.

[00:30:30]Self-consciously adjusting his own moon, he climbed the ladder to the deck.

[00:30:39]A slave rose from where he had been squatting, touched knuckles to the black cloth at his forehead, and sang on a three-tonone phrase of interrogation.

[00:30:49]The moon moth before me possibly expresses the identity of Sir Edward Thistle. Thistle tapped the Himin which hung at his belt and sang. I am Sir Thistle. I have been honored by a trust, sang the slave. Three days from dawn to dusk I have waited on the dock. Three nights from dusk to dawn I have crouched on a raft below the same dock, listening to the feet of the nightmen. At last I behold the mask of Sir Thistle. Thistle evoked an impatient clatter from the high. What is the nature of this trust?

[00:31:23]I carry a message.

[00:31:26]Sir Thistle, it is intended for you.

[00:31:29]This head out his left hand playing the herin with his right. Give me the message. Instantly, Sir Thistle, the message bore a heavy superscription.

[00:31:39]Emergency communication. Rush.

[00:31:42]Thistle ripped open the envelope. The message was signed by Castell Corartin, chief executive of the Interworld Policies Board, and after the formal salutation read, "Absolutely urgent. The following orders be executed aboard Karina Kuerio. Destination fan. Date of arrival. January 10 UT is notorious assassin Hoangmark.

[00:32:08]Meet landing with adequate authority.

[00:32:10]Effect detention and incarceration of this man. These instructions must be successfully implemented. Failure is unacceptable.

[00:32:20]Attention. Haxo Angmark is superlatively dangerous. Kill him without hesitation at any show of resistance.

[00:32:32]This considered the message with dismay and coming to Fan as consular representative, he had expected nothing like this. He felt neither inclination nor competence in the matter of dealing with dangerous assassins. Thoughtfully he rubbed the fuzzy gray cheek of his mask. The situation was not completely dark. Estabban Rolver, director of the spaceport, would doubtless cooperate and perhaps furnish a platoon of slaves.

[00:32:59]More thoughtfully, Thistle reread the message. January 10, universal time. He consulted a conversion calendar. Today, 40th in the season of bitter nectar.

[00:33:09]Thessal ran his finger down the column.

[00:33:12]Stopped. January 10. Today. A distant rumble caught his attention. Dropping from the mist came a dull shape. The lighter returning from contact with the Corino Cruserio.

[00:33:25]Thissle once more reread the note and raised his head, studied the descending lighter. Aboard would be Haxo Angmar. In five minutes he would emerge upon the soil of Sirene. Landing formalities would detain him possibly 20 minutes.

[00:33:41]The landing field lay a mile and a half distant, joined to fan by a widening path through the hills. This turned to the slave. When did this message arrive?

[00:33:51]The slave leaned forward uncomprehendingly. Thissell reiterated his question, singing to the clack of the American. This message, you have enjoyed the honor of its custody. How long? The slave sang, "Long days have I waited on the wararf, retreating only to the raft at the onset of dusk. Now my vigil is rewarded. I beur I behold Sir Thistle." Thistle turned away, walked furiously up the dock. Infective, inefficient sirenes. Why had they not delivered the message to his housebo? 25 minutes. 22 now. At the esplenade, Thistle stopped. look right then left hoping for a miracle some sort of air transport to whisk him to the spaceport where the rollover's aid Hako Angmark might still be detained or better yet a second message cancelling the first something but air cars were not to be found on Sirene and no second message appeared across the esplanade rose a meager row of permanent structures built of stone and iron and so proof against the efforts of the nightmen A holster occupied one of these structures structures, and Thistle watched a man in a splendid pearl and silver mask emerging, riding on one of the lizard-like mounts of Sirene.

[00:35:11]Thistle sprang forward. There was still time. With like with luck, he might intercept Haxo. He hurried across the esplanade. Before the line of stalls stood the holster, inspecting his stock with solicitude, occasionally burnishing a scale or whisking away an insect.

[00:35:29]There were five of the beasts in prime condition, each as tall as a man's shoulder, with massive legs, thick bodies, heavy wedge-shaped heads from their four fangs, which had been artificially lengthened and curved into near circles. Gold rings depended. The scales of each hand had been stained in a diaper pattern. Purple and green, orange and black, red and blue, brown and pink, yellow and silver. This came to a breathless halt in front of the holster. He reached for his kee then hesitated. Could this be considered a casual personal encounter? The zakeno perhaps? But the statement of his need hardly seemed to demand the formal approach. Better the ke after all. He struck a cord, but Bayer found himself stroking the Gunga. Beneath his mask, this grinned apologetically.

[00:36:22]His relationship with this holster was by no means an intimate basis.

[00:36:26]He hoped that the holster was of a sanguine disposition. In any event, the urgency of the occasion allowed no time to select an exactly appropriate instrument. He struck a second chord, and playing as well as agitation, breathlessness, and lack of skill, aloud, sang out a request. Sir Hustler, I have immediate need of a swift mount.

[00:36:47]Allow me to select from your herd. The hustler wore a mask of considerable complexity which Thistle could not identify. A construction of varnished brown cloth, pleated gray leather, and high on the forehead two large green scarlet globes minutely segmented like insect eyes. He inspected Thistle a long moment, then rather ostentatiously selecting his stomach, executed a brilliant progression of trills and rounds of an import Thistle failed to grasp. The hostler sang, "Sir Moon Moth, I fear that my steeds are unsuitable to a person of your distinction."

[00:37:24]This earnestly twanged at the Ganga. "By no means they seem adequate. I am in great haste and will gladly accept any of the group." The hustler played a brittle cascading crescendo. "Sir Moon," he sang. The steeds are ill and dirty. I am flattered that you consider them adequate to your use. I cannot accept the merit you offer me. And here switching instruments, he struck a cool trinkle from his kadach. Somehow I failed to recognize the boon companion and craftsman who accosted me so familiarly with his ganga. The implication was clear. This would receive no mount. He turned, set off at a run for the landing field. Stick a three flute-like tubes equipped with plungers. Thumb and forefinger squeeze a bag to force air across the mouthpieces.

[00:38:10]The second, third, and fourth little fingers manipulate the slide. The stomach is an instrument well adapted to the sentiments of cool withdrawal, even disapproval.

[00:38:22]Cadat Crodach, a small square soundbox strung with resined gut. The musician scratches the strings with his fingernails or strokes them with his fingertips to produce a variety of quietly formal sounds. The croach is also used as an instrument of insult.

[00:38:40]Behind him sounded a clatter of the holster's.

[00:38:44]Whether directed towards the hustler slaves or towards himself, this did not pause to learn. The previous consular representative of the home planets of Sirene had been killed at Sundar, masked as a tavern bravo. He had accosted a girl be ribboned for the equinox equinoxial attitudes a solicism for which he had been instantly beheaded by a red demiurge a sun sprite and a magic hornet. Edward Thistle recently graduated from the institute had been named his successor and allowed three days to prepare himself. Normally of a contemplative, even cautious disposition, Thistle had regarded the appointment as a challenge. He learned the Sirenese language by subscerebral techniques and found it uncomplicated.

[00:39:34]Then in the journal of universal anthropology, he read the population of the Titanic latoral is highly individualistic, possibly in response to a bountiful environment which puts no premium upon group activity. The language reflecting this trait expresses the individual's moods as emotion or latitude toward a given situation.

[00:39:58]Factual information is regarded as secondary conccommatant. Moreover, the language is sun characteristically to the accompaniment of a small instrument.

[00:40:08]As a result, there is great difficulty in ascertaining fact from a native Aon or the forbidden city of Zunder. one will be regailed with elegant aryas and demonstrations of astonishing virtuosity upon one or another of the numerous musical instruments. The visitor to this fascinating world, unless he cares to be treated with the most con consumate contempt, must therefore learn to express himself after the approved local fashion.

[00:40:36]This made a note in his memorandum book.

[00:40:39]Procure small musical instrument together with directions as to use. He read on. There is everywhere and at all times a planitude not to say superfluity of food and the climate is benign with a fund of racial energy and a great deal of leisure time. The population occupies itself with intricacy. intricacy in all things. Intricate craftsmanship such as the carved panels which adorn the housebo. Intricate symbolism as exemplified in the masks worn by everyone. The intricate half musical language which admirably expresses subtle moods and emotions and above all the fantastic intricacy of interpersonal relationships. Prestige, face, mana, repute, glory. The Sirenese word is struck. Every man has his characteristics struck, which determines whether when he needs a housebo, he will be urged to avail himself of a floating palace rich with gems, alabaster, lanterns, peacock, fiance, and carved wood, or grudgingly permitted an abandoned shack on a raft. There is no medium of exchange on Sirene. The single and sole currency is struck.

[00:41:55]This rubbed his chin and further read.

[00:41:57]Masks are worn at all times in accordance with the philosophy that a man should not be compelled to use the similitude forced upon him by factors beyond his control. That he should be at liberty to choose that semblance most conssonant with his track. In the civilized areas of Sirene, which is to say the Titanic latoral, a man literally never shows his face. It is his basic secret. Gambling by this token is unknown onsirene. It would be catastrophic to Sirenese self-respect to gain advantage by means other than the exercise of stro. The word luck has no counterpart in the Sirenese language.

[00:42:40]Distle made another note. Get mask museum drama guild.

[00:42:46]He finished the article, hastened forth to complete his preparations, and the next day embarked aboard the Robert Astrogard for the first leg of the passage to Sirene.

[00:42:59]The lighter settled upon the Sirenese spaceboat port, a topaz disc isolated among the black, green, and purple hills.

[00:43:08]The lighter grounded, and Edward Thistle stepped forth. He was met by Estabbon Rover, the local agent for Spaceways.

[00:43:16]Rover threw up his hand, stepped back.

[00:43:19]"Your mask?" he cried huskally. "Where is your mask?" "This held it up rather self-cautiously." "I wasn't sure." "Put it on," said Rolver, turning away. He himself wore a fabrication of dull green scales, blue lacquered wood, black quills protruded at the cheeks, and under his chin hung a black and white checkered pompom. the total effect creating a sense of sardonic supple personality. Thistle adjusted the mask to his face, undecided whether to make a joke about the situation or to maintain a reserve suitable to the dignity of his post. "Are you masked?" Rolver inquired over his shoulder. This replied in the affirmative, and Rolver returned. The mask hid the expression of his face, but his hand unconsciously flickered a set of keys strapped to his thigh.

[00:44:09]The instrument Oh,