스노우플뢰르

동행이 한 명 늘었다. 이름은 마르샹이고, 셀레스틴 호수까지 동행해주는 대가로 올레이 금화 세 닢을 지불해주기로 했다. 우리 활을 보고서 자기 호위병으로 삼을 심산이었을 거라는 데 내 두 다리를 걸겠다. 그 무기가 자기한테 겨눠질지도 모른단 생각은 미처 안 든 모양이지. 창조주 맙소사, 리즈에 도착할 즈음에는 정말로 그러고 싶었다. 이 새끼가 글쎄 어느 지체 높은 귀족 아들의 지도 교사가 될 거라고 끊임없이 자랑해대는 거다. 말끝마다 "실크 속옷 영주님이 어쩌고, 실크 속옷 영주님이 저쩌고".

우리에게 그 실크 속옷 영주와 그 부인의 초상화를 보여주기도 했다. 영주 쪽은 한 대 쳐버리고 싶게 생겼지만, 부인 쪽 엉덩이는—따로 불러다 지도 좀 해주고 싶게 생겼더군.

데일스를 지나갈 때쯤, 기다란 코에 짤막한 다리를 가진 돼지와 마주쳤다. 항상 그렇듯 바보같이 큰 뱃살을 바닥에 질질 끌면서 도로를 건너고 있었다. 전지전능하신 창조주께서도, 저걸 창조할 때만큼은 그의 거룩한 황금 잔에 담긴 술에 잔뜩 취해 계셨던 모양이다.

아무튼 난 로키에게 고개를 돌려 말했다, "야, 저기 스너플러 지나간다."

마르샹이 낄낄거리기 시작하자, 로키와 나는 그치를 쳐다봤다.

"스너플러라니!" 마치 내가 지 어머니랑 발가벗은 채로 함께 있는 모습을 보기라도 한 마냥, 그가 소리쳤다. "아니지, '스노우플뢰르'라고 해야지." 이 올레이 양반께서 "스너플러"라는 발음이 거슬린 모양이길래, 나는 그가 말한 대로 따라 말했다. 스노오오우우-플뢰에에에에흐. 도저히 웃음을 참을 수 없었다. 마르샹의 얼굴이 바람에 치마가 뒤집어진 처녀처럼 새빨개지더라. 그리고 내 오랜 친구 로키는 도로를 킁킁거리며 건너던 돼지를 화살로 쏴 버렸다.

"이제 죽었으니, 그냥 '죽은 거'라고 부르자." 로키가 말했다. 이 일은 그렇게 일단락되었다.

—태양월 17일, 서녘언덕의 커얼의 사냥 일지에서 발췌

 

Snoufleur

Picked up someone new. Called himself Marchand and offered three Orlee royals to travel alongside to Celestine. Betting both knees he saw the bows and thought we'd be protection. Didn't think we might turn the weapons on him ourselves. Maker's grapes, by the time we hit Lydes, I wanted to. Little shit couldn't stop bragging about how he was going to be a tutor for some high lord's son. Everything out of his mouth was "Milord Silk-Knickers this" and "Milord Silk-Knickers that."

 

Showed us a little painting of Milord Silk-Knickers and his lady. Milord I wanted to punch, but the rump on milady—I'd like to tutor that.

And then going through the Dales, we see one of those long-nosed pigs with the stump legs. It's just crossing the highway, dragging its stupid belly along the ground, as they do. Bless the Maker and all, but He was deep in His holy golden cups the day He made that thing.

Anyway, I turn to Lockey, and I say, "Hey, it's one of them snufflers."

Marchand starts in with his giggle. Lockey and me, we look at him. 

"Snuffler!" he says, like he just caught me naked with his lady mother. "Non—tu dois dire 'snoufleur.'" Because "snuffler" just isn't fancy enough for Orlee. So I say it like he does: snooooou-fleeeeur. Can't keep a straight face. Marchand goes red like a virgin with skirts blown up. And good old Lockey, he just shoots the thing with an arrow while it's snuffling its way across the road.

"Now it's dead, and we call it dead," he says. That was that.

—From the hunting log of Kerr of West Hill, dated 17 Solace