Page 40 - The Grotesque Children's Book

And think about it. It’s not a bad trade, actually. I don’t mean for
Puermutanto; his trade is purely mercenary, and his story does not concern us
here once we’re past the scene in which we are introduced to the four horses
who dared to buck Helios. Oh, don’t pretend I have spoiled the ending of the
story; you have already peeked at the picture, yes, practically stared at it,
trying to guess whether that one horse in the back...does he escape by flying
downward, or is he plummeting to earth to his death? Ha, to that you don’t
know the answer, do you? Unless of course you are re-reading this story,
looking either for symbolism you missed the first time, or, more likely, for a
smug satisfaction of knowing all the answers. Imagine your certainty at a third
reading, finally knowing the answers to what you only guessed were the
questions the first and second times through. Would that life worked like that,
eh? A smug second time around, then back for a profound and finally
worthwhile third look. At final read, now, that horse in the rear, if you know
whether he survives or dies, now you can finally ask yourself what is the
meaning of that? What’s it all adding up to as far as you’re concerned? Eh?
Who’s so smug now, my friend? No wonder the horses weep at the end of the
day. What’s it all been for? Mere illumination and motion. For what?
For...what...?

But the demigod Puermutanto didn’t ponder any of those questions each
time he exchanged a bag bursting with denari from a sober mother and father
for a lame or protesting child. The parents knew the terms of the bargain, and
no one suffered, really. Puermutanto had his immortality; the parents had
enough money now to take care of all the rest of their children (Puermutanto
was actually very generous, often much more generous than he needed to be by
half, by triple if he were so moved, for he was not a hard-hearted man) -- and
the child who got sold to Helios’s stables, he or she was almost always
delighted, honored even, to become a legendary flying horse. Put yourselves in
their horseshoes; what would you give to be a flying horse?, to have no pain or
troubles the day after your flight, and again, that joy, that rapturous joy of the

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