“No need to cleave too close to ritual. You are not bound by our proscriptions.
“The first is a Task of Body. As Champion, you have the choice of combats; we will select your combatant.” He called out a name, and a huge Thunt rose from his seat, bowed, and stepped down to the floor. The Governor asked him if he understood the task before him, and the big Thunt nodded.
“What form of combat do you choose?”
Bubba swallowed audibly. There was no way in hell he could take this monster in a toe-to-toe fight. He absently took a rag out of his back pocket and began wiping his hands in thought. His opponent looked at the less-than-clean rag with distaste. Suddenly, Bubba smiled, stuck the rag back in his pocket, and stepped forward.
“What are you going to do?” Mike asked.
“It’s an old trick, Mikey, but it just might work.”
“Sir,” he said aloud to the Governors, “do you folks arm-wrestle?”
“Define it, please.” Bubba described the process, placing special emphasis on arm placement and use of leverage.
“This is acceptable.”
A high bench was brought to the center of the floor, and Bubba was escorted to it. The Thunt looked at him speculatively; he was at least three heads taller than the human, and bulked out accordingly. Bubba took his place at the bench, settling his elbow and planting his feet. The Thunt took his time, stretching his arms and opening and closing his fists.
At last, he strode to the bench and laid his elbow next to Bubba’s, setting himself to make the best advantage of his strength and leverage. He rumbled something that Mike interpreted as, “Don’t let me hurt you, little fellow.” Bubba just grinned and looked him directly in the eyes.
They touched hands tentatively, like fencers touching epees. The Governor said, “When I give the word, begin. GO!”
Before the word was fully out of the official’s mouth, Bubba hawked and spat a wad of phlegm into his palm, then quickly grabbed the Thunt’s hand and slammed it to the bench top before the horrified alien could react.
There were shouts from all over, as the defeated warrior screamed “AAAARGHr and ran from the hall, desperately searching for something—anything!—to wipe his hand on.
The protests mounted as Bubba stood in place, clasping his hands over his head in the traditional boxer’s victory stance. Triad Governor M’nath held up his hands to quiet the crowd, and announced, “It was a fair contest. The greatest strength is to know your enemy’s weakness.” He shook his head, but it seemed to Bubba that there was a twinkle in his eyes that belied his apparent disapproval.
“The first Task is complete,” he said in a loud voice. “We will recess briefly; no participants will leave the hall.” With that, the Triad stood and left the dais, gathering their robes about them.
“Well, Bubba,” Mike said. “That went much better than you had any right to expect. What next?”
“I gotta come up with a riddle. Something they can identify with once they have the answer, but nothing they can guess right off.”
“Anything in mind?”
“I can’t just ask ’em a kid’s riddle, they ain’t looking for laughs. Wait,” he said, looking at Mike. “Didn’t we scan The Joys of Yiddish last month?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t I remember that having a fair number of split-hair anecdotes? In particular, one about some kind of test for rabbinical school?”
“I think I know which entry you’re considering. The Goebbels story?”
“Bingo! Bring that bad boy up on the screen and lemme see if I can make it whistle Dixie.” As the words passed by on Mike’s screen, Bubba studied them closely, occasionally asking Mike to back up. Finally he clapped his hands and said, “Gotcha! I’m ready whenever they are.”
When the Triad returned, M’nath again held up his arms and said loudly, “The second Task is a Task of Mind. Champion, are you ready?”
“Damn right. Who do I face off with this time?”
The Governor spoke another name, and a female, mane gray with age, stood and bowed to the council. “Your Intelligence will translate for you,” the Governor said to Bubba. “Begin when you are ready.”
The old Thunt made her way to the floor, where two of the guards had placed high-backed chairs. She and the human sat facing each other.
“OK, Mike, come as close as you can to what I’m saying. It’s important.”
“Right.”
Bubba turned to the old woman. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” he said, again tipping his cap. She nodded in response.
“This conundrum is in three parts, and is a well-known test of wisdom amongst many of my people. I want you to picture a house in the country. On top of this house is a chimney. Are you with me so far?”
“I understand. Continue.”
“Two men fall down the chimney. One comes out covered in soot, the other is clean. Which one washes?”
“The combustion would coat the inside of this chimney’ with particles, yes. Naturally, the soiled man would wash.”
“ ’Fraid not. The clean one washes.”
“Why?”
“Well, when these two unlucky souls look at each other, the clean one sees the dirty one and the dirty one sees the clean one. The dirty one says to himself, ‘Imagine failin’ down a chimney and comin’ out clean. Don’t that beat all?’ The clean one says, ‘Whew, dogies! We sure got filthy comin’ down that thing. I better go wash.’ ” Bubba sat back.
“I see. I suppose that is logical. What is the second part?”
“Two men fall down a chimney. One comes out covered in soot, and the other is clean. Which one—”
“But surely that is the same question!” the old woman exclaimed, shifting a little in her seat.
“Nope, different one. Trust me,” Bubba smiled. “Which one washes?”
“That is simple. The clean one.”
Bubba shook his head. “Wish I could say you were right, ma’am.”
“How do you explain this dichotomy?”
“Well, the clean one sees the dirty one and says, ‘Boy howdy, did we get dirty! But when he looks at his hands, he sees that they’re clean, so he doesn’t wash. The dirty one, now,” he continued, “he looks at the clean one and he says to himself, I don’t believe it. We fell down that dark, dirty chimney and didn’t get sooted up at all?’ Then he looks at his hands, sees they’re filthy, and runs off to find a sink.”
The old woman shook her head. “What you say makes sense, but… no, it is fair; continue.”
“Now this is the important question, ma’am, so listen closely.” The old woman leaned towards him, face set, giving him her full attention.
“Two men fall down a chimney—”
She threw up her hands in frustration. “But this is the same question for the third time! What kind of test is this?”
“Please, ma’am. I promise you that this isn’t the same question, and I promise you that you’ll understand everything.”
“The dirty one washes!” she said.
“No, ma’am—”
“Then the dean one washes!” she cried in exasperation.
“Well, no ma’am, not exactly.”
“WHAT then?!”
“The answer, ma’am, is that it’s a damn silly test from jump. How can any two men fall down the same chimney and not both be covered with soot from top to toe?” He spread his hands and looked at her as if to say “We can’t always help the way things are.”
For a moment, she looked like she would leap from her seat and strangle him. “That is the most specious… ‘damn silly,’ indeed! There’s not a shred of logic… I have NEVER… !” Suddenly, she sat back, then laughed long and hard. “Very well, human,” she said when she caught her breath. “Your ‘conundrum’ is sound, although I can’t say that it pleases me to have been on the sharp end of it. You got me.”