"Stanislaw Lem - The Offer Of King Krool" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lem Stanislaw)

with the other pulled out a warrant from his breast pocket; the third, apparently a rookie,
assumed a horizontal position beneath the feet of the first two, to cushion their fall—after
which, however, he jumped up and carefully dusted off his uniform.
Meanwhile the first policeman had handcuffed the dumbfounded King and the second
slapped the sword from his hand. Feebly protesting, the suspect was then summarily trotted
off the field.
The entire hunting procession stood rooted to the spot for a minute or two, then gave a
yell and followed in hot pursuit The snorting cybersteeds had practically caught up with the
abductors, and swords and sabers were unsheathed and raised to strike, but the third
policeman bent over, depressed his bellybutton and immediately the arms grew into two
shafts, the legs coiled up, sprouting spokes, and began to turn, while the back formed the
seat of a green racing gig to accommodate the other two policemen, who were vigorously
plying the now harnessed King with a whip, to make him run faster. The King obliged and broke
into a mad gallop, waving his arms frantically to ward off the blows that descended upon his
royal head; but now the huntsmen were gaining again, so the policemen jumped on the King's
back and one slipped down between the shafts, huffed and puffed and turned into a spinning
top, a dancing whirlwind, which gave wings to the little gig and whisked it away over hill and
dale till it disappeared altogether in a cloud of dust.
The King's retinue split up and began a desperate search with Geiger counters and
bloodhounds, and a special detachment came running up with shovels and flame-throwers and
left ¹bone unburned in all the neighboring cemeteries—an obvious error, occasioned most likely
by the trembling hand that hastily telegraphed the order from the observation balloon that had
monitored the hunt. Several police divisions rushed here and there, searched the grounds,
every bush, every weed, and both x-rays and laboratory samples were diligently taken of
everything imaginable. The King's charger was ordered to appear before a special board of
inquiry appointed by the Prosecutor General. A unit of paratroopers with vacuum cleaners and
sieves was dropped on the royal game preserve to sift through every last particle of dust.
Finally, the order was issued that anyone resembling a policeman was to be detained and held
without bail, which naturally created difficulties—one half of the police force, as it turned out,
had arrested the other, and vice versa. At dusk the huntsmen and soldiers returned to the
village dazed and bedraggled with the woeful tidings that neither hide nor hair of the King's
person was anywhere to be found.


The Constructors' Demands

By torchlight and in the dead of night, the chained constructors were taken before the
Great Chancellor and Keeper of the Royal Seal, who addressed them in the following way:
“Whereas ye have falsely conspired and perversely plotted against the Crown and Life of
Our Beloved Sovereign and Most Noble Ruler Krool and therewith dared to raise a treacherous
hand and vilely devise his demise, not to mention impersonating an officer, a great
aggravation of your crimes, so shall ye be quartered without quarter, impaled and pilloried,
disemboweled, buried alive, crucified and burnt at the stake, after which your ashes shall be
sent into orbit as a warning and perpetual reminder to all would-be regicides, amen.”
“Can't you wait a bit?” asked Trurl. “You see, we were expecting a letter...”
“A letter, thou-most scurrilous and scurvy knave?!”
Just then the guards made way for the Postmaster General himself—indeed, how could they
bar that dignitary's entrance with their poleaxes? The Postmaster approached in full regalia,
his medals jingling impressively, pulled a letter from a sapphire satchel and handed it to the
Chancellor, saying, “Mannequin though I be, I come from His Majesty,” whereupon he