The wilds of Ennedi began about fifty feet beyond the edge of Something, though sadly the riches did not. By the time we had gone a hundred feet from the edge of town, the land was so rough and wild that no one would have believed that human inhabitation lay within a hundred miles. Three hundred feet beyond the edge of town, I saw a snake hanging from a tree, that had it a mind to, could have eaten Hysteria, myself still in the saddle. Half a mile from Something, I saw my first elephant. Just like the stories say, it had five legs, counting the one on his face. And I was less than three miles from the bastion of civilization when I saw not one but a whole flock of hippoleptimus.
“The jungles continue on to the southeast,” said Percival. “I must confess I don’t much like the thought of searching among these giant leaves for any wealth that may be lying on the ground.”
“And I don’t much like the thought of being eaten by a snake or an elephant,” said I. “I am also anxious lest we run into the dreaded frog-bear.”
“If we continue directly south, we’ll run into the swamplands of the Amazons,” he continued. “I don’t much like the idea of wading through mud and tar, even though we have gold pans.”
“And I don’t care much for either of the alternatives facing captives of the Amazons,” said I.
“But if we go to the southwest, we can skirt along the edge of the savannahs.”
“We will have to avoid the centaurs.”
“And we will,” he said. “All we have to do is keep our eyes open for horse-men and great pieces of gold just lying around on the ground.”
“Don’t forget about diamonds and rubies,” said I.
“Indeed, we shall pick up diamonds and rubies when we see them,” he assured me.
And so that is what we did. By the next day, we were balancing the line between the lands of the centaurs and the lands of the Amazons. To our right lay endless miles of green grasslands, dotted here and there with small copses of trees, which grew around little ponds or along rivers. To our left were endless miles of grey swamps—great stretches of fetid, steaming, brown water broken only by large bubbling pools of black tar.
“Why don’t you tell me the rest of your story?” said Percival, as we rode along at a leisurely pace; leisurely so that we would not miss any riches with happened to be lying around.
“What story would that be?” I asked.
“The one you started in the inn—your story. You know all of mine, after all.”
“Oh, that story is not really about me,” said I. “I should tell you the story of Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Irascible Monkey People. That story is about me.”
“I would rather hear the story that you started at the inn.”
“How about the story of Eaglethorpe Buxton and Hamlet, a Prince of Denmark?”
“No, the one from the inn.”
“Very well,” said I. “Though it is not my best story. Eaglethorpe Buxton and the… I mean The Mercenary Warrior Who Ought Not to be a Woman but Secretly Was and Eaglethorpe Buxton wasn’t even there.”
“Excellent,” said Percival.
“As I recall, I had just left off where they killed a great horde of goblins…”
“You left off where the goblins were just attacking.”
“Well, they killed them. Then Hawkthorpe and Eldridge went to relax in a nearby inn…”
“And this Hawkthorpe isn’t you?”
“Of course not. His name is Hawkthorpe and my name is Eaglethorpe—two entirely different names—Eaglethorpe being the better of the two, because an eagle is a better bird than a hawk, and a thorpe is just a thorpe.”
“It means town,” he offered.
“Yes, of course it does. So Hawkthorpe and Eldridge went to relax in a nearby inn…”
“And Eldridge isn’t this Ellwood you’re always going on about?”
“Of course not! I mean, they do look alike, but Ellwood’s birthday is in October and Eldridge’s birthday is in… I don’t know, sometime in spring.”
“Okay. Just checking. Don’t get upset.”
“I’m not upset,” said I. “Only do you want to hear the story or not?”
“Go on.”
“At the inn…” I stopped to see if I was going to be interrupted again. “So Ellwood and I were relaxing at the inn.”
“You mean Hawkthorpe and Eldridge.”
“That’s what I said. Hawkthorpe and Eldridge. At the inn, Hawthorpe looked into the window to see Eldridge undressing…”
“Why was he looking in the window? Was this Hawkthorpe a pervert?”
“Of course not! It was an accident, which is to say that it was an accident that Hawkthorpe saw Eldridge undressing and not an accident that Eldridge undressed himself. Hawkthorpe happened to look into the window by accident. There could be no other reason for Hawkthorpe to look into the window of another man except by accident, unless he was looking for said man to kill him. Kill him in a very manly way, with blood and other manly effects. When Hawkthopre looked into the window, he saw Eldridge undress. And no, he didn’t wait and watch him undress. Eldridge was already in the process of undressing and he undressed very quickly. The result was that for the first time, I saw Ellwood without clothing, which is to say naked. I mean Hawkthorpe saw Ellwood naked. I mean I saw Eldridge naked. And he was a girl.”
“Wait a second,” said Percival. “Was it you or Eldridge or Ellwood or Hawkthorpe who was naked and was it Hawkthorpe or Ellwood or Eldridge or you who was a girl?”
“Wait a while,” said I. “I am so cunning that I have confused myself.” I thought for a moment and then began again. “It was Hawkthorpe who looked in the window and he saw that Eldridge was naked and was also a girl.”
“Well that was lucky,” said Percival.
“Lucky? How is that lucky?” I demanded. “She lied to him for years.”
“It was a deception that harmed no one. Hawkthorpe and Eldridge are already good friends. Now they can be together as more than friends.”
“No they can’t.”
“Why not?” he asked. “Doesn’t Eldridge love Hawkthorpe?”
“Yes.”
“And doesn’t Hawkthorpe love Eldridge?”
“No, he loves another woman entirely who is also Eldridge.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” said I.
“So, this Eldridge is a woman pretending to be a man and also a woman pretending to be another woman?”
“No. Eldridge is a woman pretending to be another woman pretending to be a man.”
“Well, I’m glad you told me this was a fictional story,” said Percival. “If you had told me it was true life, I would have called you a liar.”
That evening, we set our camp about a mile into the grassland, amid a copse of trees by a small pond. Here, we reasoned, the woods would protect us from the prying eyes of centaurs and we would be far enough away from the swamp to avoid crocodiles, giant leeches, and the dreaded and feared frog-bear. We ate a bit of cheese and dried mutton and fell fast asleep.