” ‘What bullshit!’ swore the knight. ‘Beggars eat what they deserve.’
” ‘Precisely, precisely!’ exclaimed the wizard. ‘But it was Stromo who first proved it.’
“At this point the cleric, clearly irritated, resumed his discourse. ‘Yes, yes, this is no doubt interesting, and goes to show once again the spiritual essence of Stromo’s mind—but the essential feature of the saint’s work was the further elaboration of God’s justice. This is proven by the very event which we so recently witnessed, the blessed squashing of this holy man. “How so?” you ask—for is it not passing strange that such a virtuous soul should come to such a grisly end? Is this not, on the face of it, an ethical mystery?’ ‘Preposterous!’ interrupted the wizard. ‘No mystery, but a paradox, obvious to any half-wit.’ The cleric pressed on, his lips pursed with rising ire—’Not so! Rather we see here the greatest example of God’s mercy—for look you, sirrahs and madame, the enigma—’ ‘Clearly we deal here with a third-wit,’ commented the wizard.
” ‘You are impudent, sirrah!’ stormed the cleric.
” ‘In no wise!’ contradicted the sorcerer. ‘My characterization of your mentality has throughout been guided by the dictates of science, without a trace of spleen or personal malice. Quite the contrary! I find your intellect admirably shaped for your calling—for are you not a shepherd of the Lord, tending his spiritual flock?’
” ‘Why, quite so,’ admitted the cleric, somewhat mollified by these soft words.
” ‘There you have it, then!’ spoke the wizard, smiling at the parson in a most cordial manner, his hands outspread in a gesture of conciliation. ‘What could be more fitting? For as sheep are amongst the stupidest of beasts, it is entirely proper that the shepherd’s brain be suited for his work. As lambs stray about the field, it is necessary that the shepherd grasp the difference between right and left; as sheep rise in the morning and sleep at night, so must the tender of the flock be able to distinguish night from day; as they bleat—’
“This was too much. Bellowing with fury, the parson rose from his seat and made to fall upon the wizard. Things might have come to a pretty pass, but for the intervention of the Company messenger. This latter had ignored the entire exchange till then, gazing out the window in the same moody fashion he had maintained since boarding the coach. Without moving his eyes, he snapped, ‘It is forbidden to quarrel in a vehicle operated by the Consortium. The fine is ruinously heavy.’ The cleric paled slightly and resumed his seat.
“Conversation lagged. Soon Il Conde dozed off, and the knight took advantage of this opportunity to make his approach to La Contessa. Casually extending his leg, he began a surreptitious stroking of the lady’s shapely ankle with his mailed and spurred boot. The hot blood of the Grenadine flowed freely; La Contessa uttered several remarks concerning rustic chivalry. Aside from this one-sided romance, the rest of the day passed quietly. Toward the end of the afternoon, the scattered clouds began massing. By evening, the sunny afternoon had become a dreary dusk of pouring rain.
“Fortunately, before long we arrived at the first way station. The coach came to a halt, and the passengers disembarked. Looming in the rain near the coach was a slovenly edifice built of logs and wattle. Above the doorway hung a crude sign which proclaimed this to be the Inn of the Two Whiches. The explanation for this peculiar name was soon forthcoming; for upon the main counter, behind which stood the dumpy form of the innkeeper, rose a rudely lettered placard bearing the inscription: Which do you want? Pallet or cot? Porridge or gruel? Opting for porridge and cot, I soon finished the meal—if such it could be called—and went to sleep in a corner of the attic.
“It was still raining the next morning when I arose, though not so heavily as the night before. I descended to the ground floor and made to pay my bill. Ahead of me, the wizard and the innkeeper were quarreling. ‘I don’t care,’ snarled the innkeeper, ‘you still owe me money.’ ‘Nonsense!’ spoke the wizard. ‘Honest hostels charge only for the services which they provide, and no other. This fine establishment is called the Inn of the Two Whiches for the good and proper reason that it offers a twofold option of two services—porridge or gruel; pallet or cot. As my apprentice and I slept on the floor and eschewed supper, we availed ourselves of none of your services. Hence, we owe you nothing.’ And with that the sorcerer strode out the door, followed by the gnome tottering beneath his sack.