“As for the capture of snarls,” he continued, “here there is some confusion in the popular mind. ‘Tis not true, as many of the common folk think, that snarls cannot be captured. The beasts are not, after all, supernatural! They can be, and have been, captured on occasion—though very rarely, for the cost in life and limb is invariably immense. And the reward poor! For while snarls can be captured, they cannot be kept in captivity. All too often the creatures escape, for they are not only fearsome in size, strength and swiftness, but cunning beyond all other beasts. And when they do not escape, they invariably perish within a relatively short time, due, it would appear, to heartbreak.”
‘Twas clear as day, from the deliberate pacing which he now assumed in his progress down the corridor, that the sorcerer was well into his lecture mode. Under most circumstances, his not-academically-inclined companions would no doubt have interrupted him with rude and uncouth remarks. But on this occasion, they listened attentively. So does the prospect of encountering a snarl concentrate even the lowlife mind!
“In all recorded history, there is but one instance of a systematic attempt to entrap snarls. I refer, of course, to the reign of the legendary Panjandrum of the Voracious Regime, whose domain appears to have covered all of Grotum. As recounted by Herodotus Laebmauntsforcynneweëld, this great monarch developed, in the first year of his reign, an obsession with snarl fur. Thus was his army commanded to go forth and hunt down the snarls of the land for their pelts—prairie snarls, meadow snarls, mountain snarls, and the like. By his second year on the throne, the Panjandrum had enough pelts to carpet his throne room. Alas, he had no army. Then was his navy commanded to sail forth and hunt down the snarls of the coastal regions—delta snarls, bayou snarls, mangrove snarls, and the like. By his third year on the throne, the Panjandrum had sufficient pelts to carpet his bedroom as well. Alas, he had no navy. Then were his officials, the whole of his great bureaucracy, sent forth to hunt down the snarls of the cities and towns—street snarls, alley snarls, house snarls, and the like. Of course, there were no such snarls, for the beasts detested settled regions—as they do to this day. Displeased, the Panjandrum ordered the army to execute the officials. Of course, this mass execution did not take place, as he had no army. Displeased still further, the Panjandrum ordered the navy to execute the army. This mass execution likewise did not take place, as he had no navy. Now greatly displeased, the Panjandrum ordered the bureaucracy to execute the navy. Again he failed in his purpose, due, of course, to the absence of a navy to execute. Now displeased beyond measure, the Panjandrum ordered his lowly subjects to execute the bureaucracy. This they immediately did, with vigor and enthusiasm. Now again pleased, in his fourth year on the throne the Panjandrum ordered his subjects to sally forth and hunt down such snarls as they could find wherever they could find them. By his fifth year on the throne, he had but one additional pelt, enough to cover only his closet. Alas, he had no subjects.”
The wizard now stroked his beard, always a sign of deep thought. Then:
“To this point in the tale, all ancient chronicles agree. But here opens up the famed and furious dispute between Herodotus and his arch-rival in ancient historiography, I refer, of course, to Thucydides Sfondrati-Piccolomini. For where Herodotus would have it that the Panjandrum soon died from his inability to feed, clothe and bathe himself—never having needed to learn these simple skills—Thucydides claims, to the contrary, that his palace was invaded by a horde of snarls who tore him limb from limb. ‘Tis difficult to choose between these two alternative accounts, for documentation is entirely lacking and the higher truth of Poetic Justice would seem to lie, with equal force, on either side of the dispute. I myself, however, am inclined to place more weight than most scholars on the point advanced by Thucydides’ cousin, Xenophon Sfondrati-Piccolomini, in his—”
But there the lecture ended, for at that moment our heroes rounded a bend in the corridor and saw before them the very subject of discussion. A rock snarl ’twas indeed, a most large one to boot. And one which had, at the selfsame moment, espied our heroes.