Page 36 - Fables volume 2

The Narwhals Renege

The narwhal brothers, Olaf and Gustav, escaped a dragnet by
signing a management deal with Sven Haraldsen, a disreputable
promoter and carnival barker. They would have put themselves in the
hands of the devil himself to save their tusks and hides; this open-
ended contract was slightly better.
Sven’s bright idea was to exploit the public’s ignorance of the
function of his performers’ single long protruding spiral tooth. Most
people in the modern era had given up the notion that narwhal tusks
must have sprouted from the foreheads of unicorns, and the
descendants of the middlemen making that pitch had found new
customers for other magical animal parts on late-night infomercials.
But the opinion died hard that the spiky prominences were weapons
of masculine intraspecific competition, like rams’ horns.
Fiskland alone among its neighbors permitted animal combat in
public venues. The narwhals polished their routine for weeks; then
Sven booked them into Arctic World, a marine amusement park
catering to tourists and locals alike.
“En Garde! Swashbuckling Heroes of the Ivory Sword. 14:00
(except Sunday)” proclaimed a garish banner above the entrance to
an amphitheater wrapped around a large seawater tank. Expecting
blood in the water and the illicit pleasure of viewing a member of an
endangered species killed not by human agency but in a “natural”
contest of rivals, ticket-buyers poured into the stands hours early to
secure a ringside seat.
The brothers entered the arena from separate passages and
splashed around the perimeter, giving the spectators a good look at
their tusks and splashing anyone within range. Then the booming
voice of Sven announced, “Attention, ladies and gentlemen, boys and
girls! These animals may appear docile, but do not be misled: they
have nothing to do but fish and play all day—until an eligible female
comes into their orbit. Arctic World has no narwhal of the fair sex,
but watch what happens when I pour a tiny amount of her scent into
the water!”

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