
The Eyes of the Overworld

Jack Vance

First Published in 1956



I

The Overworld


ON THE HEIGHTS above the river Xzan, at the site of certain
ancient ruins, Iuconnu the Laughing Magician had built a manse to his
private taste: an eccentric structure of steep gables, balconies,
sky-walks, cupolas, together with three spiral green glass towers
through which the red sunlight shone in twisted glints and peculiar
colors.

Behind the manse and across the valley, low hills rolled away like
dunes to the limit of vision. The sun projected shifting crescents of
black shadow; otherwise the hills were unmarked, empty, solitary. The
Xzan, rising in the Old Forest to the east of Almery, passed below,
then three leagues to the west made junction with the Scaum. Here was
Azenomei, a town old beyond memory, notable now only for its fair,
which attracted folk from all the region. At Azenomei Fair Cugel had
established a booth for the sale of talismans.

Cugel was a man of many capabilities, with a disposition at once
flexible and pertinacious. He was long of leg, deft of hand, light of
finger, soft of tongue. His hair was the blackest of black fur,
growing low down his fore-bead, coving sharply back above his
eyebrows. His darting eye, long inquisitive nose and droll mouth gave
his somewhat lean and bony face an expression of vivacity, candor,
and affability. He had known many vicissitudes, gaining therefrom a
suppleness, a fine discretion, a mastery of both bravado and stealth.
Coming into the possession of an ancient lead coffin—after
discarding the contents—he had formed a number of leaden
lozenges.

These, stamped with appropriate seals and runes, he offered for
sale at the Azenomei Fair.

Unfortunately for Cugel, not twenty paces from his booth a certain
Fianosther had established a larger booth with articles of greater
variety and more obvious efficacy, so that whenever Cugel halted a
passerby to enlarge upon the merits of his merchandise, the passerby
would like as not display an article purchased from Fianosther and go
his way.

On the third day of the fair Cugel had disposed of only four
periapts, at prices barely above the cost of the lead itself, while
Fianosther was hard put to serve all his customers. Hoarse from
bawling futile inducements, Cugel closed down his booth and
approached Fianosther's place of trade in order to inspect the mode
of construction and the fastenings at the door.

Fianosther, observing, beckoned him to approach. "Enter, my
friend, enter. How goes your trade?"

"In all candor, not too well," said Cugel. "I am both perplexed
and disappointed, for my talismans are not obviously useless."

"I can resolve your perplexity," said Fianosther. "Your booth
occupies the site of the old gibbet, and has absorbed unlucky
essences. But I thought to notice you examining the manner in which
the timbers of my booth are joined. You will obtain a better view
from within, but first I must shorten the chain of the 'captive erb
which roams the premises during the night."

"No need," said Cugel. "My interest was cursory."

"As to the disappointment you suffer," Fianosther went on, "it
need not persist. Observe these shelves. You will note that my stock
is seriously depleted."

Cugel acknowledged as much. "How does this concern me?"

Fianosther pointed across the way to a man wearing garments of
black. This man was small, yellow of skin, bald as a stone. His eyes
resembled knots in a plank; his mouth was wide and curved in a grin
of chronic mirth. "There stands Iuconnu the Laughing Magician," said
Fianosther. "In a short time he will come into my booth and attempt
to buy a particular red libram, the casebook of Dibarcas Maior, who
studied under Great Phandaal. My price is higher than he will pay,
but he is a patient man, and will remonstrate for at least three
hours. During this time his manse stands untenanted. It contains a
vast collection of thaumaturgical artifacts, instruments, and
activans, as well as curiosa, talismans, amulets and librams. I'm
anxious to purchase such items. Need I say more?"

"This is all very well," said Cugel, "but would Iuconnu leave his
manse without guard or attendant?"

Fianosther held wide his hands. "Why not? Who would dare steal
from Iuconnu the Laughing Magician?"

"Precisely this thought deters me," Cugel replied. I am a man of
resource, but not insensate recklessness."

"There is wealth to be gained," stated Fianosther. "Dazzles and
displays, marvels beyond worth, as well as charms, puissances, and
elixirs. But remember, I urge nothing, I counsel nothing; if you are
apprehended, you have only heard me exclaiming at the wealth of
Iuconnu the Laughing Magician! But here he comes. Quick: turn your
back so that he may not see your face. Three hours he will be here,
so much I guarantee!"

Iuconnu entered the booth, and Cugel bent to examine a bottle
containing a pickled homunculus.

"Greetings, Iuconnu!" called Fianosther. "Why have you delayed? I
have refused munificent offers for a certain red libram, all on your
account! And here—note this casket! It was found in a crypt
near the site of old Karkod. It is yet sealed and who knows what
wonder it may contain? My price is a modest twelve thousand
terces."

"Interesting," murmured Iuconnu. "The inscription— let me
see, . . . Hmm. Yes, it is authentic. The casket contains calcined
fish-bone, which was used throughout Grand Motholam as a purgative.
It is worth perhaps ten or twelve terces as a curio. I own caskets
eons older, dating back to the Age of Glow."

Cugel sauntered to the door, gained the street, where he paced
back and forth, considering every detail of the proposal as
explicated by Fianosther. Superficially the matter seemed reasonable:
here was Iuconnu; there was the manse, bulging with encompassed
wealth. Certainly no harm could result from simple reconnaissance.
Cugel set off eastward along the banks of the Xzan.

The twisted turrets of green glass rose against the dark blue sky,
scarlet sunlight engaging itself in the volutes. Cugel paused, made a
careful appraisal of the countryside. The Xzan flowed past without a
sound. Nearby, half-concealed among black poplars, pale green larch,
drooping pall-willow, was a village—a dozen stone huts
inhabited by bargemen and tillers of the river terraces folk
engrossed in their own concerns.

Cugel studied the approach to the manse: a winding way paved with
dark brown tile. Finally he decided that the more frank his approach
the less complex need be his explanations, if such were demanded. He
began the climb up the hillside, and Iuconnu's manse reared above
him. Gaining the courtyard, he paused to search the landscape. Across
the river hills rolled away into the dimness, as far as the eye could
reach.

Cugel marched briskly to the door, rapped, but evoked no response.
He considered. If Iuconnu, like Fianosther, maintained a guardian
beast, it might be tempted to utter a sound if provoked. Cugel called
out in various tones: growling, mewing, yammering.

Silence within.

He walked gingerly to a window and peered into a hall draped in
pale gray, containing only a tabouret on which, under a glass bell
jar, lay a dead rodent. Cugel circled the manse, investigating each
window as he came to it, and finally reached the great hall of the
ancient castle. Nimbly he climbed the rough stones, leapt across to
one of Iuconnu's fanciful parapets and in a trice had gained access
to the manse.

He stood in a bed chamber. On a dais six gargoyles supporting a
couch turned heads to glare at the intrusion. With two stealthy
strides Cugel gained the arch which opened into an outer chamber.
Here the walls were green and the furnishings black and pink. He left
the room for a balcony circling a central chamber, light.streaming
through oriels high in the walls. Below were cases, chests, shelves
and racks containing all manner of objects: Iuconnu's marvelous
collection.

Cugel stood poised, tense as a bird, but the quality of the
silence reassured him: the silence of an empty place. Still, he
trespassed upon the property of Iuconnu the Laughing Magician, and
vigilance was appropriate.

Cugel strode down a sweep of circular stairs into a great hall. He
stood enthralled, paying Iuconnu the tribute of unstinted wonder. But
his time was limited; he must rob swiftly and be on his way. Out came
his sack; he roved the hall, fastidiously selecting those objects of
small bulk and great value: a small pot with antlers, which emitted
clouds of remarkable gasses when the prongs were tweaked; an ivory
horn through which sounded voices from the past; a small stage where
costumed imps stood ready to perform comic antics; an object like a
cluster of crystal grapes, each affording a blurred view into one of
the demon-worlds; a baton sprouting sweetmeats of assorted flavor; an
ancient ring engraved with runes; a black stone surrounded by nine
zones of impalpable color. He passed by hundreds of jars of powders
and liquids, likewise forebore from the vessels containing preserved
heads. Now he came to shelves stacked with volumes, folios and
librams, where he selected with care, taking for preference those
bound in purple velvet, Phandaal's characteristic color. He likewise
selected folios of drawings and ancient maps, and the disturbed
leather exuded a musty odor.

He circled back to the front of the hall past a case displaying a
score of small metal chests, sealed with corroded bands of great age.
Cugel selected three at random; they were unwontedly heavy. He passed
by several massive engines whose purpose he would have liked to
explore, but time was advancing, and best he should be on bis way,
back to Azenomei and the booth of Fianosther. ...

Cugel frowned. In many respects the prospect seemed impractical.
Fianosther would hardly choose to pay full value for his goods, or,
more accurately, Iuconnu's goods. It might be well to bury a certain
proportion of the loot in an isolated place. . . . Here was an alcove
Cugel had not previously noted. A soft light welled like water
against the crystal pane, which separated alcove from hall. A niche
to the rear displayed a complicated object of great charm. As best
Cugel could distinguish, it seemed a miniature carousel on which rode
a dozen beautiful dolls of seeming vitality. The object was clearly
of great value, and Cugel was pleased to find an aperture in the
crystal pane.

He stepped through, but two feet before him a second pane blocked
his way, establishing an avenue which evidently led to the magic
whirligig. Cugel proceeded confidently, only to be stopped by another
pane which he had not seen until he bumped into it. Cugel retraced
his steps and to his gratification found the doubtlessly correct
entrance a few feet back. But this new avenue led him by several
right angles to another blank pane. Cugel decided to forego
acquisition of the carousel and depart the castle. He turned, but
discovered himself to be a trifle confused. He had come from his
left—or was it his right?

. . . Cugel was still seeking egress when in due course Iuconnu
returned to his manse.

Pausing by the alcove, Iuconnu gave Cugel a stare of humorous
astonishment. "What have we here? A visitor? And I have been so
remiss as to keep you waiting! Still, I see you have amused yourself,
and I need feel no mortification." Iuconnu permitted a chuckle to
escape his lips. He then pretended to notice Cugel's bag. "What is
this? You have brought objects for my examination? Excellent! I am
always anxious to enhance my collection, in order to keep pace with
the attrition of the years. You would be astounded to learn of the
rogues who seek to despoil me! That merchant of claptrap in his
tawdry little booth, for instance—you could not conceive his
frantic efforts in this regard! I tolerate him because to date he has
not been. bold enough to venture himself into my manse. But come,
step out here into the hall, and we will examine the contents of your
bag."

Cugel bowed graciously. "Gladly. As you assume, I have indeed been
waiting for your return. If I recall correctly, the exit is by this
passage . . ." He stepped forward, but again was halted. He made a
gesture of rueful amusement. "I seem to have taken a wrong
turning."

"Apparently so," said Iuconnu, "Glancing upward, you will notice a
decorative motif upon the ceiling. If you heed the flexion of the
lunules you will be guided to the hall."

"Of course!" And Cugel briskly stepped forward in accordance with
the directions.

"One moment!" called Iuconnu. "You have forgotten your sack!"

Cugel reluctantly returned for the sack, once more set forth, and
presently emerged into the half Iuconnu made a suave gesture. "If you
will step this way I will be glad to examine your merchandise."

Cugel glanced reflectively along the corridor toward the front
entrance. "It would be a presumption upon your patience. My little
knickknacks are below notice. With your permission I will take my
leave."

"By no means!" declared Iuconnu heartily. "I have a few visitors,
most of whom are rogues and thieves. I handle them severely, I assure
you! I insist that you at least take some refreshment. Place your bag
on the floor."

Cugel carefully set down the bag. "Recently I was instructed in a
small competence by a sea-hag of White Alster. I believe you will be
interested, I require several ells of stout cord."

"You excite my curiosity!" Iuconnu extended his arm; a panel in
the wainscoting slid back; a coil of rope was tossed to his hand.
Rubbing his face as if to conceal a smile, Iuconnu handed the rope to
Cugel, who shook it out with great care.

"I will ask your cooperation," said Cugel. "A small matter of
extending one arm and one leg."

"Yes, of course." Iuconnu held out his hand, pointed a finger. The
rope coiled around Cugel's arms and legs, pinning him so that he was
unable to move. Iuconnu's grin nearly split his great soft head.
"This is a surprising development! By error I called forth
Thief-taker! For your own comfort, do not strain, as Thief-taker is
woven of wasp-legs. Now then, I will examine the contents of your
bag." He peered into Cugel's sack and emitted a soft cry of dismay.
"You have rifled my collection! I note certain of my most treasured
valuables!"

Cugel grimaced. "Naturally! But I am no thief; Fianosther sent me
here to collect certain objects, and therefore—"

Iuconnu held up his hand. "The offense is far too serious for
flippant disclaimers. I have stated my abhorrence for plunderers and
thieves, and now I must visit upon you justice in its most
unmitigated rigor—unless, of course, you can suggest an
adequate requital."

"Some such requital surely exists," Cugel averred. "This cord
however rasps upon my skin, so that I find cogitation
impossible."

"No matter. I have decided to apply the Charm of Forlorn
Encystment, which constricts the subject in a pore Some forty-five
miles below the surface Of the earth."

Cugel blinked in dismay. "Under these conditions, requital could
never be made."

"True," mused Iuconnu. "I wonder if after all there is some small
service which you can perform for me."

"The villain is as good as dead!" declared Cugel. "Now remove
these abominable bonds!"

"I had no specific assassination in mind," said Iuconnu.
"Come."

The rope relaxed, allowing Cugel to hobble after Iuconnu into a
side chamber hung with intricately embroidered tapestry. From a
cabinet Iuconnu brought a small case and laid it on a floating disk
of glass. He opened the case and gestured to Cugel, who perceived
that the box showed two indentations lined with scarlet fur, where
reposed a single small hemisphere of filmed violet glass.

"As a knowledgeable and traveled man," suggested Iuconnu, "you
doubtless recognize this object. No? You are familiar, of course,
with the Cutz Wars of the Eighteenth Aeon? No?" Iuconnu hunched up
his shoulders in astonishment. "During these ferocious events the
demon Unda-Hrada—he listed as 16-04 Green in Thrump's
Almanac—thought to assist his principals, and to this end
thrust certain agencies up from the sub-world La-Er. In order that
they might perceive, they were tipped with cusps similar to the one
you see before you. When events went amiss, the demon snatched
himself back to La-Er. The hemispheres were dislodged and broadcast
across Cutz. One of these, as you see, I own. You must procure its
mate and bring it to me, whereupon your trespass shall be
overlooked."

Cugel reflected. "The choice, if it lies between a sortie into the
demon-world La-Er and the Spell of Forlorn Encystment, is moot.
Frankly, I am at a loss for decision."

Iuconnu's laugh almost split the big yellow bladder of his head.
"A visit to La-Er perhaps will prove unnecessary. You may secure the
article in that land once known as Cutz."

"If I must, I must," growled Cugel, thoroughly displeased by the
manner in which the day's work had ended. "Who guards this violet
hemisphere? What is its function? How do I go and how return? What
necessary weapons, talismans and other magical adjuncts do you
undertake to fit me out with?"

"All in good time," said Iuconnu. "First I must ensure that, once
at liberty, you conduct yourself with unremitting loyalty, zeal and
singleness of purpose."

"Have no fear," declared Cugel. "My word is my bond."

"Excellent!" cried Iuconnu. "This knowledge represents a basic
security which I do not in the least take lightly. The act now to be
performed is doubtless supererogatory."

He departed the chamber and after a moment returned with a covered
glass bowl containing a small white creature, all claws, prongs,
barbs and hooks, now squirming angrily. "This," said Iuconnu, "is my
friend Firx, from the star Achernar, who is far wiser than he seems.
Firx is annoyed at being separated from his comrade with whom he
shares a vat in my work-room. He will assist you in the expeditious
discharge of your duties." Iuconnu stepped close, deftly thrust the
creature against Cugel's abdomen. It merged into his viscera, and
took up a vigilant post clasped around Cugel's liver.

Iuconnu stood back, laughing in that immoderate glee which had
earned him his cognomen. Cugel's eyes bulged from his head. He opened
his mouth to utter an objurgation, but instead clenched his jaw and
rolled up his eyes.

The rope uncoiled itself. Cugel stood quivering, every muscle
knotted.

Iuconnu's mirth dwindled to a thoughtful grin. "You spoke of
magical adjuncts. What of those talismans whose efficacy you
proclaimed from your booth in Azenomei? Will they not immobilize
enemies, dissolve iron, impassion virgins, confer immortality?"

"These talismans are not uniformly dependable," said Cugel. "I
will require further competences."

"You have them," said Iuconnu, "in your sword, your crafty
persuasiveness and the agility of your feet. Still, you have aroused
my concern and I will help you to this extent." He hung a small
square tablet about Cugel's neck. "You now may put aside all fear of
starvation. A touch of this potent object will induce nutriment into
wood, bark, grass, even discarded clothing. It will also sound a
chime in the presence of poison. So now—there is nothing to
delay us! Come, we will go. Rope? Where is Rope?"

Obediently the rope looped around Cugel's neck, and Cugel was
forced to march along behind Iuconnu.

They came out upon the roof of the antique castle. Darkness had
long since fallen over the land. Up and down the valley of the Xzan
faint lights glimmered, while the Xzan itself was an irregular width
darker than dark.

Iuconnu pointed to a cage. "This will be your conveyance.
Inside."

Cugel hesitated. "It might be preferable to dine well, to sleep
and rest, to set forth tomorrow refreshed."

"What?" spoke Iuconnu in a voice like a horn. "You dare stand
before me and state preferences? You, who came skulking into my
house, pillaged my valuables and left all in disarray? Do you
understand your luck? Perhaps you prefer the Forlorn Encystment?"

"By no means!" protested Cugel nervously. "I am anxious only for
the success of the venture!"

"Into the cage, then."

Cugel turned despairing eyes around the castle roof, then slowly
went to the cage and stepped within.

"I trust you suffer no deficiency of memory," said Iuconnu. "But
even if this becomes the case, and if you neglect your prime
responsibility, which is to say, the procuring of the violet cusp,
Firx is on hand to remind you,"

Cugel said, "Since I am now committed to this enterprise, and
unlikely to return, you may care to learn my appraisal of yourself
and your character. In the first place—"

But Iuconnu held up his hand. "I do not care to listen; obloquy
injures my self-esteem and I am skeptical of praise. So now—be
off!" He drew back, stared up into the darkness, then shouted that
invocation known as Thas-drubal's Laganetic Transfer. From high came
a thud and a buffet, a muffled bellow of rage.

Iuconnu retreated a few steps, shouting up words in an archaic
language; and the cage with Cugel crouching within was snatched aloft
and hurled through the air.

Cold wind bit Cugel's face. From above came a flapping and
creaking of vast wings and dismal lamentation; the cage swung back
and forth. Below all was dark, a blackness like a pit. By the
disposition of the stars Cugel perceived that the course was to the
north, and presently he sensed the thrust of the Maurenron Mountains
below; and then they flew over that wilderness known as the Land of
the Falling Wall. Once or twice Cugel glimpsed the lights of an
isolated castle, and once he noted a great bonfire. For a period a
winged sprite came to fly alongside the cage and peer within. It
seemed to find Cugel's plight amusing, and when Cugel sought
information as to the land below, it merely uttered raucous cries of
mirth. It became fatigued and sought to cling to the cage, but Cugel
kicked it away, and it fell off into the wind with a scream of
envy.

The east flushed the red of old blood, and presently the sun
appeared, trembling like an old man with a chill. The ground was
shrouded by mist; Cugel was barely able to see that they crossed a
land of black mountains and dark chasms. Presently the mist parted
once more to reveal a leaden sea. Once or twice he peered up, but the
roof of the cage concealed the demon except for the tips of the
leathern wings.

At last the demon reached the north shore of the ocean. Swooping
to the beach, it vented a vindictive croak, and allowed the cage to
fall from a height of fifteen feet

Cugel crawled from the broken cage. Nursing his bruises, he called
a curse after the departing demon, then plodded back through sand and
dank yellow spinifex, and climbed the slope of the foreshore. To the
north were marshy barrens and a far huddle of low hills, to east and
west ocean and dreary beach. Cugel shook his fist to the south.
Somehow, at some time, in some manner, he would visit revenge upon
the Laughing Magician! So much he vowed.

A few hundred yards to the west was the trace of an ancient
sea-wall. Cugel thought to inspect it, but hardly moved three steps
before Firx clamped prongs into his liver. Cugel, rolling up his eyes
in agony, reversed his direction and set out along the shore to the
east

Presently he hungered, and bethought himself of the charm
furnished by Iuconnu. He picked up a piece of driftwood and rubbed it
with the tablet, hoping to see a transformation into a tray of
sweetmeats or a roast fowl.

But the driftwood merely softened to the texture of cheese,
retaining the flavor of driftwood. Cugel ate with snaps and gulps.
Another score against Iuconnu! How the Laughing Magician would
pay!

The scarlet globe of the sun slid across the southern sky. Night
approached, and at last Cugel came upon human habitation: a rude
village beside a small river. The huts were like birds' nests of mud
and sticks, and smelled vilely of ordure and filth. Among them
wandered a people as unlovely and graceless as the huts. They were
squat, brutish and obese; their hair was a coarse yellow tangle;
their features were lumps. Their single noteworthy
attribute—one in which Cugel took an instant and keen
interest—was their eyes: blind-seeming violet hemispheres,
similar in every respect to that object required by Iuconnu.

Cugel approached the village cautiously but the inhabitants took
small interest in him. If the hemisphere coveted by Iuconnu were
identical to the violet eyes of these folk, then a basic uncertainty
of the mission was resolved, and procuring the violet cusp became
merely a matter of tactics.

Cugel paused to observe the villagers, and found much to puzzle
him. In the first place, they carried themselves not as the
ill-smelling loons they were, but with a remarkable loftiness and a
dignity which verged at times upon hauteur. Cugel watched in
puzzlement: were they a tribe of dotards? In any event, they seemed
to pose no threat, and he advanced into the main avenue of the
village, walking gingerly to avoid the more noxious heaps of refuse.
One of the villagers now deigned to notice him, and addressed him in
grunting guttural voice. "Well, sirrah: what is your wish? Why do you
prowl the outskirts of our city Smolod?"

"I am a wayfarer," said Cugel. "I ask only to be directed to the
inn, where I may find food and lodging."

"We have no inn; travelers and wayfarers are unknown to us. Still,
you are welcome to share our plenty. Yonder is a manse with
appointments sufficient for your comfort." The man pointed to a
dilapidated hut. "You may eat as you will; merely enter the refectory
yonder and select what you wish; there is no stinting at Smolod."

"I thank you gratefully," said Cugel, and would have spoken
further except that his host had strolled away.

Cugel gingerly looked into the shed, and after some exertion
cleaned out the most inconvenient debris, and arranged a trestle on
which to sleep. The sun was now at the horizon and Cugel went to that
storeroom which had been identified as the refectory. The villager's
description of the bounty available, as Cugel had suspected, was in
the nature of hyperbole. To one side of the storeroom was a heap of
smoked fish, to the other a bin containing lentils mingled with
various seeds and cereals. Cugel took a portion to his hut, where he
made a glum supper.

The sun had set; Cugel went forth to see what the village offered
in the way of entertainment, but found the streets deserted. In
certain of the huts lamps burned, and Cugel peering through the
cracks saw the residents dining upon smoked fish or engaged in
discourse. He returned to his shed, built a small fire against the
chill and composed himself for sleep.

The following day Cugel renewed his observation of the village
Smolod and its violet-eyed folk. None, he noticed, went forth to
work, nor did there seem to be fields near at hand. The discovery
caused Cugel dissatisfaction. In order to secure one of the violet
eyes, he would be obliged to kill its owner, and for this purpose
freedom from officious interference was essential.

He made tentative attempts at conversation among the villagers,
but they looked at him in a manner which presently began to jar at
Cugel's equanimity: it was almost as if they were gracious lords and
he the ill-smelling loutl During the afternoon he strolled south, and
about a mile along the shore came upon another village. The people
were much like the inhabitants of Smolod, but with ordinary-seeming
eyes. They were likewise industrious; Cugel watched them till fields
and fish the ocean.

He approached a pair of fishermen on their way back to the
village, their catch slung over their shoulders. They stopped, eyeing
Cugel with no great friendliness. Cugel introduced himself as a
wayfarer and asked concerning the lands to the east, but the
fishermen professed ignorance otjier than the fact that the land was
barren, dreary and dangerous.

"I am currently guest at the village Smolod," said Cugel. "I find
the folk pleasant enough, but somewhat odd. For instance, why are
their eyes as they are? What Is the nature of their affliction? Why
do they conduct themselves with such aristocratic self-assurance and
suavity of manner?"

"The eyes are magic cusps," stated the older of the fishermen in a
grudging voice. "They afford a view of the Overworld; why should not
the owners behave as lords? So will I when Radkuth Vomin dies, for I
inherit his eyes."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Cugel, marveling. "Can these magic cusps be
detached at will and transferred as the owner sees fit?"

"They can, but who would exchange the Overworld for this?" The
fisherman swung his arm around the dreary landscape. "I have toiled
long and at last it is my turn to taste the delights of the
Overworld. After this there is nothing, and the only peril is death
through a surfeit of bliss."

"Vastly interesting!" remarked Cugel. "How might I qualify for a
pair of these magic cusps?"

"Strive as do all the others of Grodz: place your name on the
list, then toil to supply the lords of Smolod with sustenance.
Thirty-one years have I sown and reaped lentils and emmer and netted
fish and dried them over slow fires, and now the name of Bubach Angh
is at the head of the list, and you must do the same."

"Thirty-one years," mused Cugel. "A period of not negligible
duration." And Firs squirmed restlessly, causing Cugel's liver no
small discomfort.

The fishermen proceeded to their village Grodz; Cugel returned to
Smolod. Here he sought out that man to whom he had spoken upon his
arrival at the village. "My lord," said Cugel, "as you know, I am a
traveler from a far land, attracted here by the magnificence of the
city Smolod."

"Understandable," grunted the other. "Our splendor cannot help but
inspire emulation."

"What then is the source of the magic cusps?"

The elder turned the violet hemispheres upon Cugel as if seeing
him for the first time. He spoke in a surly voice, "It is a matter we
do not care to dwell upon, but there is no harm in it, now that the
subject has been broached. At a remote time the demon Underherd sent
up tentacles to look across Earth, each tipped with a cusp. Simbilis
the Sixteenth pained the monster, which jerked back to his subworld
and the cusps became dislodged. Four hundred and twelve of the cusps
were gathered and brought to Smolod, then as splendid as now it
appears to me. Yes, I realize that I see but a semblance, but so do
you, and who is to say which is real?"

"I do not look through magic cusps," said Cugel.

"True. " The elder shrugged. "It is a matter I prefer to overlook.
I dimly recall that I inhabit a sty and devour the coarsest of
food—but the subjective reality is that I inhabit a glorious
palace and dine on splendid viands among the princes and princesses
who are my peers. It is explained thus: the demon Underherd looked
from the sub-world to this one; we look from this to the Overworld,
which is the quintessence of human hope, visionary longing, and
beatific dream. We who inhabit this world —how can we think of
ourselves as other than splendid lords? This is how we are."

"It is inspiring!" exclaimed Cugel. "How may I obtain a pair of
these magic cusps?"

"There are two methods. Underherd lost four hundred and fourteen
cusps; we control four hundred and twelve. Two were never found, and
evidently lie on the floor of the ocean's deep. You are at liberty to
secure these. The second means is to become a citizen of Grodz, and
furnish the lords of Smolod with sustenance till one of us dies, as
we do infrequently."

"I understand that a certain Lord Radkuth Vomin is ailing."

"Yes, that is he." The elder indicated a potbellied old man with a
slack, drooling mouth, sitting in filth before his hut. "You see him
at his ease in the pleasaunce of his palace. Lord Radkuth strained
himself with a surfeit of lust, for our princesses are the most
ravishing creations of human inspiration, just as I am the noblest of
princes. But Lord Radkuth indulged himself too copiously, and thereby
suffered a mortification. It is a lesson for us alt."

"Perhaps I might make special arrangements to secure his cusps?"
ventured Cugel.

"I fear not. You must go to Grodz and toil as do the others. As
did 1, in a former existence which now seems dim and inchoate. ... To
think I suffered so long! But you are young; thirty or forty or fifty
years is not too long a time to wait."

Cugel put his hand to his abdomen to quiet the fretful stirrings
of Firx. "In the space of so much time, the sun may well have waned.
Look!" He pointed as a black flicker crossed the face of the sun and
seemed to leave a momentary crust. "Even now it ebbs!"

"You are over-apprehensive," stated the elder. "To us who are
lords of Smolod, the sun puts forth a radiance of exquisite
colors."

"This may well be true at the moment," said Cugel, "but when the
sun goes dark, what then? Will you take an equal delight in the gloom
and the chill?"

But the elder no longer attended him. Radkuth Vomin had fallen
sideways into the mud, and appeared to be dead.

Toying indecisively with his knife, Cugel went to look down at the
corpse. A deft cut or two—no more than the work of a
moment—and he would have achieved his goal. He swayed forward,
but already the fugitive moment had passed. Other lords of the
village had approached to jostle Cugel aside; Radkuth Vomin was
lifted and carried with the most solemn nicety into the ill-smelling
precincts of his hut.

Cugel stared wistfully through the doorway, calculating the
chances of this ruse and that.

"Let lamps be brought!" intoned the elder. "Let a final effulgence
surround Lord Radkuth on his gem-encrusted bier! Let the golden
clarion sound from the towers; let the princesses don robes of
samite; let their tresses obscure the faces of delight Lord Radkuth
loved so welll And now we must keep vigil! Who will guard the
bier?"

Cugel stepped forward. "I would deem it honor indeed."

The elder shook his head. "This is a privilege reserved for his
peers. Lord Maulfag, Lord Glus: perhaps you will act in this
capacity." Two of the villagers approached the bench on which Lord
Radkuth Vomin lay.

"Next," declared the elder, "the obsequies must be proclaimed, and
the magic cusps transferred to Bubach Angh, that most deserving
squire of Grodz. Who, again, will go to notify this squire?"

"Again," said Cugel, "I offer my services, if only to requite in
some small manner the hospitality I have enjoyed at Smolod."

"Well spoken!" intoned'the elder. "So, then, at speed to Grodz;
return with that squire who by his faith and dutiful toil deserves
advancement."

Cugel bowed, and ran off across the barrens toward Grodz. As he
approached the outermost fields he moved cautiously, skulking from
tussock to copse, and presently found that which he sought: a peasant
turning the dank soil with a mattock.

Cugel crept quietly forward and struck down the loon with a
gnarled root. He stripped off the best garments, the leather hat, the
leggings and foot-gear; with his knife he hacked off the stiff
straw-colored beard. Taking all and leaving the peasant lying dazed
and naked in the mud, he fled on long strides back toward Smolod. In
a secluded spot he dressed himself in the stolen garments. He
examined the hacked-off beard with some perplexity, and finally, by
tying up tufts of the coarse yellow hair and tying tuft to tuft,
contrived to bind enough together to make a straggling false beard
for himself. That hair which remained he tucked up under the brim of
the flapping leather hat.

Now the sun had set; plum-colored gloom obscured the land. Cugel
returned to Smolod. Oil lamps flickered before the hut of Radkuth
Vomin, where the obese and misshapen village women wailed and
groaned.

Cugel stepped cautiously forward, wondering what might be expected
of him. As for his disguise it would either prove effective or it
would not. To what extent the violet cusps befuddled perception was a
matter of doubt; he could only hazard a trial.

Cugel marched boldly up to the door of the hut Pitching his voice
as low as possible, he called, "I am here, revered princes of Smolod:
Squire Bubach Angh of Grodz, who for thirty-one years has heaped the
choicest of delicacies into the Smolod larders. Now I appear,
beseeching elevation to the estate of nobility."

"As is your right," said the Chief Elder. "But you seem a man
different from that Bubach Angh who so long has served the princes of
Smolod."

"I have been transfigured—through grief at the passing of
Prince Radkuth Vomin and through rapture at the prospect of
elevation."

"This is clear and understandable. Come, then—prepare
yourself for the rites."

"I am ready as of this instant," said Cugel, "Indeed, if you will
but tender me the magic cusps I will take them quietly aside and
rejoice."

The Chief Elder shook his head indulgently. "This is not in accord
with the rites. To begin with you must stand naked here on the
pavilion of this mighty castle, and the fairest of the fair will
anoint you in aromatics. Then comes the invocation to Eddith Bran
Maur. And then—"

"Revered," stated Cugel, "allow me one boon. Before the ceremonies
begin, fit me with the magic cusps so that I may understand the full
portent of the ceremony." The Chief Eider considered. "The request is
unorthodox, but reasonable. Bring forth the cusps!"

There was a wait, during which Cugel stood first on one foot then
the other. The minutes dragged; the garments and the false beard
itched intolerably. And now at the outskirts of the village he saw
the approach of several new figures, coming from the direction of
Grodz. One was almost certainly Bubach Angh, while another seemed to
have been shorn of his beard.

The Chief Elder appeared, holding in each hand a violet cusp.
"Step forward!"

Cugel called loudly, "I am here, sir." "I now apply the potion
which sanctifies the junction of magic cusp to right eye."

At the back of the crowd Bubach Angh raised bis voice. "Hold! What
transpires?"

Cugel turned, pointed. "What jackal is this that interrupts
solemnities? Remove him: hence!"

"Indeed!" called the Chief Elder peremptorily. "You demean
yourself and the dignity of the ceremony." Bubach Angh crouched back,
momentarily cowed. "In view of the interruption," said Cugel, "I had
as lief merely take custody of the magic cusps until these louts can
properly be chastened."

"No," said the Chief Elder. "Such a procedure is impossible." He
shook drops of rancid fat in Cugel's right eye. But now the peasant
of the shorn beard set up an outcry: "My hat! My blouse! My beard! Is
there no justice?"

"Silence!" hissed the crowd. "This is a solemn occasion!"

"But I am Bu—"

Cugel called, "Insert the magic cusp, lord; let us ignore these
louts."

"A lout, you call me?" roared Bubach Angh. "I recognize you now,
you rogue. Hold up proceedings!"

The Chief Elder said inexorably, "I now invest you with the right
cusp. You must temporarily hold this eye closed to prevent a discord
which would strain the brain, and cause stupor. Now the left eye." He
stepped forward with the ointment, but Bubach Angh and the beardless
peasant no longer would be denied.

"Hold up proceedingsl You ennoble an impostor! I am Bubach Angh,
the worthy squirel He who stands before you is a vagabond!"

The Chief Elder inspected Bubach Angh with puzzlement. "For a fact
you resemble that peasant who for thirty-one years has carted
supplies to Smolod. But if you are Bubach Angh, who is this?"

The beardless peasant lumbered forward. "It is the soulless wretch
who stole the clothes from my back and the beard from my face."

"He is a criminal, a bandit, a vagabond—"

"Hold!" called the Chief Elder. "The words are ill-chosen.
Remember that he has been exalted to the rank of prince of
Smolod."

"Not altogether!" cried Bubach Angh. "He has one of my eyes. I
demand the other!"

"An awkward situation," muttered the Chief Elder. He spoke to
Cugel: "Though formerly a vagabond and cutthroat, you are now a
prince, and a man of responsibility. What is your opinion?"

"I suggest a hiding for these obstreperous louts. Then—"

Bubach Angh and the beardless peasant, uttering shouts of rage,
sprang forward. Cugel, leaping away, could not control his right eye.
The lid flew open; into his brain crashed such a wonder of exaltation
that his breath caught in his throat and his heart almost stopped
from astonishment But concurrently his left eye showed the reality of
Smolod. The dissonance was too wild to be tolerated; he stumbled and
fell against a hut. Bubach Angh stood over him with mattock raised
high, but now the Chief Elder stepped between.

"Do you take leave of your senses? This man is a prince of
Smolod!"

"A man I will kill, for he has my eye! Do I toil thirty-one years
for the benefit of a vagabond?"

"Calm yourself, Bubach Angh, if that be your name, and remember
the issue is not yet entirely clear. Possibly an error has been
made—undoubtedly an honest error, for this man is now a prince
of Smolod, which is to say, justice and sagacity personified."

"He was not that before he received the cusp," argued Bubach Angh,
"which is when the offense was committed."

"I cannot occupy myself with casuistic distinctions," replied the
elder. "In any event, your name heads the list and on the next
fatality—"

"Ten or twelve years hence?" cried Bubach Angh. "Must I toil yet
longer, and receive my reward just as the sun goes dark? No, no, this
cannot be!"

The beardless peasant made a suggestion: "Take the other cusp. In
this way you will at least have half of your rights, and so prevent
the interloper from cheating you totally."

Bubach Angh agreed. "I will start with my one magic cusp; I will
then kill that knave and take the other, and all will be well."

"Now then," said the Chief Elder haughtily. "This is hardly the
tone to take in reference to a prince of Smolod!"

"Bah!" snorted Bubach Angh. "Remember the source of your viands!
We of Grodz will not toil to no avail."

"Very well," said the Chief Elder. "I deplore your uncouth
bluster, but I cannot deny that you have a measure of reason on your
side. Here is the left cusp of Radkuth "Vomin. I will dispense with
the invocation, annointment and the congratulatory paean. If you will
be good enough to step forward and open your left eye—so."

As Cugel had done, Bubach Angh looked through both eyes together
and staggered back in a daze. But clapping his hand to his left eye
he recovered himself, and advanced upon Cugel. "You now must see the
futility of your trick. Extend me that cusp and go your way, for you
will never have the use of the two."

"It matters very little," said Cugel. "Thanks to my friend Firx I
am well content with the one."

Bubach Angh ground his teeth. "Do you think to trick me again?
Your life has approached its end: not just I but all Grodz goes
warrant for this!"

"Not in the precincts of Smolod!" warned the Chief Elder. "There
must be no quarrels among the princes: I decree amity! You who have
shared the cusps of Radkuth Vomin must also share his palace, his
robes, appurtenances, jewels and retinue, until that hopefully remote
occasion when one or the other dies, whereupon the survivor shall
take all. This is my judgment; there is no more to be said."

"The moment of the interloper's death is hopefully near at hand,"
rumbled Bubach Angh. "The instant he sets foot from Smolod will be
his last! The citizens of Grodz will maintain a vigil of a hundred
years, if necessary!"

Firx squirmed at this news and Cugel winced at the discomfort. In
a conciliatory voice he addressed Bubach Angh. "A compromise might be
arranged: to you shall go the entirety of Radkuth Vomin's estate: his
palace, appurtenences, retinue. To me shall devolve only the magic
cusps."

But Bubach Angh would have none of it. "If you value your life,
deliver that cusp to me this moment."

"This cannot be done," said Cugel.

Bubach Angfa turned away and spoke to the beardless peasant, who
nodded and departed. Bubach Angh glowered at Cugel, then went to
Radkuth Vomin's hut and sat on the heap of rubble before the door.
Here he experimented with his new cusp, cautiously closing his right
eye, opening the left to stare in wonder at the Overworld. Cugel
thought to take advantage of his absorption and sauntered off toward
the edge of town. Bubach Angh appeared not to notice. Ha! thought
Cugel. It was to be so easy, then! Two more strides and he would be
lost into the darkness!

Jauntily he stretched his long legs to take those two strides. A
slight sound—a grunt, a scrape, a rustle of
clothes—caused him to jerk aside; down swung a mattock blade,
cutting the air where his head had been. In the faint glow cast by
the Smolod lamps Cugel glimpsed the beardless peasant's vindictive
countenance. Behind him Bubach Angh came loping, heavy head thrust
forward like a bull. Cugel dodged, and ran with agility back into the
heart of Smofod.

Slowly and in vast disappointment Bubach Angh returned, to seat
himself once more. "You will never escape," he told Cugel. "Give over
the cusp and preserve your life!"

"By no means," replied Cugel with spirit. "Rather fear for your
own sodden vitality, which goes in even greater peril!"

From the hut of the Chief Elder came an admonitory call. "Cease
the bickering! I am indulging the exotic whims of a beautiful
princess and must not be distracted." Cugel, recalling the oleaginous
wads of flesh, the leering slab-sided visages, the matted verminous
hair, the wattles and wens and evil odors which characterized the
women of Smolod, marveled anew at the power of the cusps. Bubach Angh
was once more testing the vision of his left eye. Cugel composed
himself on a bench and attempted the use of his right eye, first
holding his hand before his left.. ..

Cugel wqr,e a shirt of supple silver scales, tight scarlet
trousers, a dark blue cloak. He sat on a marble bench before a row of
spiral marble columns overgrown with dark foliage and white flowers.
To either side the palaces of Smolod towered into the night, one
behind the other, with soft lights accenting the arches and windows.
The sky was a soft dark blue, hung with great glowing stars: among
the palaces were gardens of cypress, myrtle, jasmine, sphade,
thyssam; the air was pervaded with the perfume of flowers and flowing
water. From somewhere came a wisp of music: a murmur of soft chords,
a sigh of melody. Cugel took a deep breath and rose to his feet. He
stepped forward, moving across the terrace. Palaces and gardens
shifted perspective; on a dim lawn three girls in gowns of white
gauze watched him over their shoulders.

Cugel took an involuntary step forward, then, recalling the malice
of Bubach Angh, paused to check on his whereabouts. Across the plaza
rose a palace of seven stories, each level with its terrace garden,
with vines and flowers trailing down the walls. Through the windows
Cugel glimpsed rich furnishings, lustrous chandeliers, the soft
movement of liveried chamberlains. On the pavilion before the palace
stood a hawk-featured man with a cropped golden beard in robes of
ocher and black, with gold epaulettes and black buskins. He stood one
foot on a stone griffin, arms on bent knee, gazing toward Cugel with
an expression of brooding dislike. Cugel marveled: could this be the
pig-faced Bubach Angh? Could the magnificent seven-tiered palace be
the hovel of Radkuth Vomin?

Cugel moved slowly off across the plaza, and now came upon a
pavilion lit by candelabra. Tables supported meats, jellies and
pastries of every description; and Cugel's belly, nourished only by
driftwood and smoked fish, urged him forward. He passed from table to
table, sampling morsels from every dish, and found all to be of the
highest quality.

"Smoked fish and lentils I may still be devouring," Cugel told
himself, "but there is much to be said for the enchantment by which
they become such exquisite delicacies. Indeed, a man might do far
worse than spend the rest of his life here in Smolod."

Almost as if Firx had been anticipating the thought, he instantly
inflicted upon Cugel's liver a series of agonizing pangs, and Cugel
bitterly reviled Iuconnu the Laughing Magician and repeated his vows
of vengeance.

Recovering his composure, he sauntered to that area where the
formal gardens surrounding the palaces gave way to parkland. He
looked over his shoulder, to find the hawk-faced prince in ocher and
black approaching, with manifestly hostile intent. In the dimness of
the park Cugel noted other movement and thought to spy a number of
armored warriors.

Cugel returned to the plaza and Bubach Angh followed once more to
stand glowering at Cugel in front of Radkuth Vomin's palace.

"Clearly," said Cugel aloud, for the benefit of Firx, "there will
be no departure from Smolod tonight. Naturally I am anxious to convey
the cusp to Iuconnu, but if I am killed then neither the cusp nor the
admirable Firx will ever return to Almery."

Firx made no further demonstration. Now, thought Cugel, where to
pass the night? The seven-tiered palace of Radkuth Vomin manifestly
offered ample and spacious accommodation for both himself and Bubach
Angh. In essence, however, the two would be crammed together in a
one-roomed hut, with a single heap of damp reeds for a couch.
Thoughtfully, regretfully,'Cugel closed his right eye, opened his
left.

Smolod was as before. The surly Bubach Angh crouched before the
door to Radkuth Votnin's hut. Cugel stepped forward and kicked Bubach
Angh smartly. In surprise and shock, both Bubach Angh's eyes opened,
and the rival impulses colliding in his brain induced paralysis. Back
in the darkness the beardless peasant roared and came charging
forward, mattock on high, and Cugel relinquished his plan to cut
Bubach Angh's throat. He skipped inside the hut, closed and barred
the door. He now closed his left eye and opened his right. He found
himself in the magnificent entry hall of Radkuth Vomin's palace, the
portico of which was secured by a portcullis of forged iron. Without,
the golden-haired prince in ocher and black, holding his hand over
one eye, was lifting himself in cold dignity from the pavement of the
plaza. Raising one arm in noble defiance, Bubach Angh swung his cloak
over his shoulder and marched off to join his warriors.

Cugel sauntered through the palace, inspecting the appointments
with pleasure. If it had not been for the importunities of Firx,
there would have been no haste in trying the perilous journey back to
the Valley of the Xzan.

Cugel selected a luxurious chamber facing to the south, doffed his
rich garments for satin nightwear, settled upon a couch with sheets
of pale blue silk, and instantly fell asleep.

In the morning there was a degree of difficulty remembering which
eye to open, and Cugel thought it might be well to fashion a patch to
wear over that eye not currently in use.

By day the palaces of Smolod were more grand than ever, and now
the plaza was thronged with princes and princesses, all of utmost
beauty.

Cugel dressed himself in handsome garments of black, with a jaunty
green cap and green sandals. He descended to the entry hall, raised
the portcullis with a gesture of command, and went forth into the
plaza.

There was no sign of Bubach Angh. The other inhabitants of Smolod
greeted him with courtesy and the princesses displayed noticeable
warmth, as if they found him good address. Cugel responded politely,
but without fervor: not even the magic cusp could persuade him
against the sour wads of fat, flesh, grime and hair which were the
Smolod women.

He breakfasted on delightful viands at the pavilion, then returned
to the plaza to consider his nest course of action. A cursory
inspection of the parklands revealed Grodz warriors on guard. There
was no immediate prospect of escape.

The nobility of Smolod applied themselves to their diversions.
Some wandered the meadows; others went boating upon the delightful
waterways to the north. The Chief Elder, a prince of sagacious and
noble visage, sat alone on an onyx bench, deep in reverie.

Cugel approached; the Chief Elder aroused himself and gave Cugel a
salute of measured cordiality. "I am not easy in my mind," he
declared. "In spite of all judiciousness, and allowing for your
unavoidable ignorance of our customs, I feel a certain inequity has
been done, and I am at a loss as how to repair it."

"It seems to me," said Cugel, "that Squire Bubach Angh, though
doubtless a worthy man, exhibits a lack of discipline unfitting the
dignity of Smolod. In my opinion he would be all the better for a few
years more seasoning at Grodz."

"There is something in what you say," replied the elder. "Small
personal sacrifices are sometimes essential to the welfare of the
group. I feel certain that you, if the issue arose, would gladly
offer up your cusp and enroll anew at Grodz. What are a few years?
They flutter past like butterflies."

Cugel made a suave gesture. "Or a trial by lot might be arranged,
in which all who see with two cusps participate, the loser of the
trial donating one of his cusps to Bubach Angh. I myself will make do
with one."

The elder frowned. "Well—the contingency is remote.
Meanwhile you must participate in our merrymaking. If I may say so,
you cut a personable figure and certain of the princesses have been
casting sheep's eyes in your direction. There, for instance, the
lovely Udela Narshag —and there, Zokoxa of the Rose-Petals, and
beyond the vivacious Ilviu Lasmal. You must not be backward; here in
Smolod we live an uncircumscribed life."

"The charm of these ladies has not escaped me," said Cugel.
"Unluckily I am bound by a vow of continence."

"Unfortunate man!" exclaimed the Chief Elder. "The princesses of
Smolod are nonpareil! And notice—yet another soliciting your
attention!"

"Surely it is you she summons," said Cugel, and the elder went to
confer with the young woman in question, who had come riding into the
plaza in a magnificent boat-shaped car which walked on six swan-feet.
The princess reclined on a couch of pink down and was beautiful
enough to make Cugel rue the fastidiousness of bis recollection,
which projected every matted hair, mole, dangling underlip, sweating
seam and wrinkle of the Smolod women to the front of his memory. This
princess was indeed the essence of a daydream: slender and supple,
with skin like still cream, a delicate nose, lucent brooding eyes, a
mouth of delightful flexibility. Her expression intrigued Cugel, for
it was more complex than that of the other princesses: pensive, yet
willful; ardent yet dissatisfied.

Into the plaza came Bubach Angh, accoutered in military wise, with
corselet, morion and sword. The Chief Elder went to speak to him; and
now to Cugel's irritation the princess in the walking boat signaled
to him.

He went forward, "Yes, princess; you saluted me, I believe?"

The princess nodded. "I speculate on your presence up here in
these northern lands." She spoke in a soft clear voice like
music.

Cugel said, "I am here on a mission; I stay but a short while at
Smolod, and then must continue east and south."

"Indeed!" said the princess. "What is the nature of your mission?"

"To be candid, I was brought here by the malice of a magician. It
was by no means a yearning of my own."

The princess laughed softly. "I see few strangers. I long for new
faces and new talk. Perhaps you will come to my palace and we will
talk of magic and the strange circumstances which throng the dying
earth."

Cugel bowed stiffly. "Your offer is kind. But you must seek
elsewhere; I am bound by a vow of continence. Control your
displeasure, for it applies not only to you but to Udela Narshag
yonder, to Zokoxa, and to Ilviu Lasmal."

The princess raised her eyebrows, sank back on her down-covered
couch. She smiled faintly. '"Indeed, indeed. You are a harsh man, a
stern relentless man, thus to refuse yourself to so many imploring
women."

"This is the case, and so it must be." Cugel turned away to face
the Chief Elder, who approached with Bubach Angh at his back.

"Sorry circumstances," announced the Chief Elder in a troubled
voice. "Bubach Angh speaks for the village of Grodz. He declares that
no more victuals will be furnished until justice is done, and this
they define as the surrender of your cusp to Bubach Angh, and your
person to a punitive committee who waits in the parkland yonder."

Cugel laughed uneasily. "What a distorted view! You assured them
of course that we of Smolod would eat grass and destroy the cusps
before agreeing to such detestable provisions?"

"I fear that I temporized," stated the Chief Elder. "I feel that
the others of Smolod favor a more flexible course of action."

The implication was clear, and Firx began to stir in exasperation.
In order to appraise circumstances in the most forthright manner
possible, Cugel shifted the patch to look from his left eye.

Certain citizens of Grodz, armed with scythes, mattocks and clubs,
waited at a distance of fifty yards: evidently the punitive committee
to which Bubach Angh had referred. To one side were the huts of
Smolod; to the other the walking boat and the princess of such—
Cugel stared in astonishment. The boat was as before, walking on six
bird-legs, and sitting in the pink down was the princess—if
possible, more beautiful than ever.

But now her expression, rather than faintly smiling, was cool and
still.

Cugel drew a deep breath and took to his heels. Bubach Angh
shouted an order to halt, but Cugel paid no heed. Across the barrens
he raced, with the punitive committee in pursuit.

Cugel laughed gleefully. He was long of limb, sound of wind; the
peasants were stumpy, knot-muscled, phlegmatic. He could easily run
two miles to their one. He paused, and turned to wave farewell. To
his dismay two legs from the walking boat detached themselves and
leapt after him. Cugel ran for his life. In vain. The legs came
bounding past, one on either side. They swung around and kicked him
to a halt.

Cugel sullenly walked back, the legs hopping behind. Just before
he reached the outskirts of Smolod he reached under the patch and
pulled loose the magic cusp. As the punitive committee bore down on
him, he held it aloft. "Stand back—or I break the cusp to
fragments!"

"Hold! Hold!" called Bubach Angh. "This must not be! Come, give me
the cusp and accept your just deserts."

"Nothing has yet been decided," Cugel reminded him. "The Chief
Elder has ruled for no one."

The girl rose from her seat in the boat "I will rule; I am Derwe
Coreme, of the House of Domber. Give me the violet glass, whatever it
is."

"By no means," said Cugel. "Take the cusp from Bubach Angh."

"Never!" exclaimed the squire from Grodz.

"What? You both have a cusp and both want two? What are these
precious objects? You wear them as eyes? Give them to me."

Cugel drew his sword. "I prefer to run, but I will fight if I
must."

"I cannot run," said Bubach Angh. "I prefer to fight." He pulled
the cusp from his own eye. "Now then, vagabond, prepare to die."

"A moment," said Derwe Coreme. From one of the legs of the boat
thin arms reached to seize the wrists of both Cugel and Bubach Angh.
The cusps fell to earth; that of Bubach Angh struck a stone and
shivered to fragments. He howled in anguish and leapt upon Cugel, who
gave ground before the attack.

Bubach Angh knew nothing of "swordplay; he hacked and slashed as
if he were cleaning fish. The fury of his attack, however, was
unsettling and Cugel was hard put to defend himself. In addition to
Bubach Angh's sallies and slashes, Firx was deploring the loss of the
cusp.

Derwe Coreme had lost interest in the affair. The boat started off
across the barrens, moving faster and ever faster. Cugel slashed out
with his sword, leapt back, leapt back once more, and for the second
time fled across the barrens, and the folk of Smolod and Grodz
shouted curses after him.

The boat-car jogged along at a leisurely rate. Lungs throbbing,
Cugel gained upon it, and with a great bound leapt up, caught the
downy gunwhale and pulled himself astride.

It was as he expected. Derwe Coreme had looked through the cusp
and lay back in a daze. The violet cusp reposed in her lap.

Cugel seized it, then for a moment stared down into the exquisite
face and wondered if he dared more. Firx thought not. Already Derwe
Coreme was sighing and moving her head.

Cugel leapt from the boat, and only just in time. Had she seen
him? He ran to a clump of reeds which grew by a pond, and flung
himself into the water. From here he saw the walking-boat halt while
Derwe Coreme rose to her feet She felt through the pink down for the
cusp, then she looked all around the countryside. But the blood-red
light of the low sun was in her eyes when she looked toward Cugel,
and she saw only the reeds and the reflection of sun on water.

Angry and sullen as never before, she set the boat into motion. It
walked, then cantered, then loped to the south.

Cugel emerged from the water, inspected the magic cusp, tucked it
into his pouch, and looked back toward Smolod. He started to walk
south, then paused. He took the cusp from his pocket, closed his left
eye, and held the cusp to his right. There rose the palaces, tier on
tier, tower above tower, the gardens hanging down the terraces. . . .
Cugel would have stared a long time, but Firx became restive.

Cugel returned the cusp to his pouch, and once again set his face
to the south, lor the long journey back to Almery.



II

CIL


SUNSET ACROSS the northern wastelands was a mournful process,
languid as the bleeding of a dead animal; twilight came to find Cugel
toiling across a salt-marsh. The dark red light of afternoon had
deceived him; starting across a low-lying barrens, he first found
dankess underfoot, then a soggy softness, and now on all sides were
mud, bog-grass, a few larches and willows, puddles and sloughs
reflecting the leaden purple of the sky.

To' the east were low hills; toward these Cugel proceeded, jumping
from tussock to tussock, running delicately over the crusted slime.
At times he missed his footing, to sprawl into mud or rotting reeds,
whereupon his threats and imprecations in regard to Iuconnu the
Laughing Magician reached a maximum of rancor.

Dusk held until, tottering with fatigue, he reached the slope of
the eastern hills, where his condition was worsened rather than
improved. Certain half-human bandits had noted his approach, and now
they set upon him. A vile reek reached Cugel even before the sound of
their footsteps; fatigue forgotten, he sprang away, and was pursued
up the slope.

A shattered tower rose against the sky. Cugel clambered over
moldering stones, drew his sword and stepped into the gap which once
had served as doorway. Within was silence, the odor of dust and damp
stone; Cugel dropped to his knee and against the skyline saw the
three grotesque shapes come to a halt at the edge of the ruins.

Odd, thought Cugel, though gratifying—if coincidentally
somewhat ominous. The creatures apparently feared the tpwer.

The last vestige of twilight departed; by various portents Cugel
came to understand that the tower was haunted. Near the middle of
night a ghost appeared, wearing pale robes and a silver fillet
supporting twenty moonstones on long silver stalks. It swirled close
to Cugel, staring down with vacant eye-sockets into which a man might
lose his thoughts. Cugel pressed back against the wall so that his
bones creaked, unable to move a muscle.

The ghost spoke: "Demolish this fort. While stone joins stone I
must stay, even while Earth grows cold and swings through
darkness."

"Willingly," croaked Cugel, "if it were not for those outside who
seek my life."

"To the back of the hall is a passage. Use stealth and strength,
then do my behest."

"The fort is as good as razed," declared Cugel fervently. "But
what circumstances bound you to so unremitting a post?"

"They are forgotten; I remain. Perform my charge, or I curse you
with an everlasting tedium like my own!"

Cugel awoke in the dark, aching with cold and cramp. The ghost had
vanished; how long had he slept? He looked through the door to find
the eastern sky colored by the approach of dawn.

After an interminable wait the sun appeared, sending a flaming ray
through the door and to the back of the hall. Here Cugel found a
stone stairway descending to a dusty passage, which after five
minutes of slow groping returned him to the surface. From concealment
he surveyed the ground and saw the three bandits, at separate points,
each hidden behind a tumbled pillar.

Cugel unsheathed his sword and with great caution stole forth. He
reached the first prone figure, and thrust steel into the corded
neck. The creature flung out its arms, groped at the ground and
died.

Cugel wrenched free his blade and wiped it on the leather of the
corpse. With the deftest and most facile stealth he came up behind
the second bandit, which in its dying made a sound of distress. The
third bandit came to investigate.

Springing from concealment, Cugel ran it through. The bandit
screamed, drew its own dagger and lunged, but Cugel leapt back and
hurled a heavy stone which felled it to the ground. Here it lay,
grimacing in hate.

Cugel came cautiously forward. "Since you face death, tell me what
you know of hidden treasure."

"I know of none," said the bandit. "Were there such you would be
the last to learn, for you have killed me."

"This is no fault of mine," said Cugel. "You pursued me, not I
you. Why did you do so?"

"To eat, to survive, though life and death are equally barren and
I despise both equally."

Cugel reflected. "In this case you need not resent my part in the
transition which you now face. The question regarding hidden
valuables again becomes relevant. Perhaps you have a final word on
this matter?"

"I have a final word. I display my single treasure." The creature
groped in its pouch and withdrew a round white pebble. "This is the
skull-stone of a grue, and at this moment trembles with force. I use
this force to curse you, to bring upon you the immediate onset of
cankerous death."

Cugel hastily killed the bandit, then heaved a dismal sigh. The
night had brought only difficulty. "Iuconnu, if I survive, there
shall be a reckoning indeed!"

Cugel turned to examine the fort Certain of the stones would fall
at a touch; others would require much more effort He might well not
survive to perform the task. What were the terms of the bandit's
curse? "—immediate onset of cankerous death." Sheer
viciousness. The ghost-king's curse was no less oppressive: how had
it gone? "—everlasting tedium."

Cugel rubbed his chin and nodded gravely. Raising his voice, he
called, "Lord ghost, I may not stay to do your bidding: I have killed
the bandits and now I depart Farewell and may the eons pass with
dispatch."

From the depths of the fort came a moan, and Cugel felt the
pressure of the unknown. "I activate my curse!" came a whisper to
Cugel's brain.

Cugel strode quickly away to the southeast "Excellent; all is
well. The 'everlasting tedium' exactly countervenes the 'immedite
onset of death' and I am left only with the 'canker' which, in the
person of Firx, already afflicts me. One must use his wits in dealing
with maledictions."

He proceeded over the barrens until the fort was beyond vision,
and presently came once more to the sea. Mounting the foreshore, he
looked up and down the beach, to see a dark headland to east and
another to west. He descended to the beach, and set off to the east.
The sea, sluggish and gray, sent listless surf against the sand,
which was smooth, unmarked by footprint.

Ahead Cugel spied a dark blot, which a moment later proved to be
an aged man on his knees, passing the sand of the beach through a
sieve.

Cugel halted to watch. The old man gave him a dignified nod and
proceeded with his work.

Cugel's curiosity at last prompted him to speak. "What do you seek
so assiduously?"

The old man put down his sieve and rubbed his arms. "Somewhere
along the beach an amulet was lost by the father of my
great-grandfather. During his entire life he sifted sand, hoping to
find that which he had lost. His son, and after him my grandfather,
then my father and now I, the last of my line, have done likewise.
All the way from Cil we have sifted sand, but there is yet six
leagues to Benbadge Stull."

"These names are unknown to me," said Cugel. "What place is
Bendage Stull?"

The old man indicated the headland to the west. "An ancient port,
though now you will find only a crumbled breakwater, an old jetty, a
hut or two. Yet barques from Benbadge Stull once plied the sea to
Falgunto and Mell."

"Again, regions beyond my knowledge," said Cugel. "What lies
beyond Benbadge Stull?"

"The land dwindles into the north. The sun hangs low over marsh
and bog; there are none to be found here but a few forlorn
outcasts."

Cugel turned his attention to the east. "And what place is
Cil?"

"This entire domain is Cil, which may ancestor forfeited to the
House of Domber. All grandeur is gone; there remains the ancient
palace and a village. Beyond, the land becomes a dark and dangerous
forest, so much has our realm dwindled." The old man shook his head
and returned to his sieving.

Cugel stood watching a moment, then, kicking idly in the sand,
uncovered a glint of metal. Stooping, he picked up a bracelet of
black metal shining with a purple luster. Around the circumference
were thirty studs in the form of carbuncles, each circled by a set of
engraved runes. "Ha!" exclaimed Cuge!, displaying the bracelet.
"Notice this fine object: a treasure indeed!"

The old man put down scoop and sieve, rose slowly to his knees,
then to his feet. He lurched forward, blue eyes round and staring. He
held forth his hand. "You have uncovered the amulet of my ancestors,
the House of Slaye! Give it to me!"

Cugel stepped back. "Come, come, you make a flagrantly
unreasonable request!"

"No no! The amulet is mine; you do wrong by withholding it. Do you
wish to vitiate the work of my lifetime and of four lifetimes before
mine?"

"Why do you not rejoice that the amulet has been found?" demanded
Cugel peevishly. "You are now relieved from further search. Explain,
if you will, the potency of this amulet. It exhales a heavy magic.
How does it profit the owner?"

"The owner is myself," groaned the old man. "I implore you, be
generous!"

"You put me in an uncomfortable position," said Cugel. "My
property is too small to admit of largesse but I cannot consider this
a failure of generosity. If you had found the amulet, would you have
given it to me?"

"No, since it is mine!"

"Here we disagree. Assume, if you will, that your conviction is
incorrect. Your eyesight will attest that the amulet is in my hands,
under my control, and, in short, my property. I would appreciate,
therefore, any information upon its capabilities and mode of
employment."

The old man threw his arms in the air, kicked his sieve with such
wild emotion that he burst out the mesh, and the sieve went trundling
down the beach to the water's edge. A wave swept in and floated the
sieve; the old man made an involuntary motion to retrieve it, then
once more threw up his hands and tottered up the foreshore.

Cugel gave his head a shake of grave disapproval, and turned to
continue east along the beach.

Now occurred an unpleasant altercation with Firx, who was
convinced that the most expeditious return to Almery lay west
through the port of Benbadge Stull. Cugel clasped his hands to his
belly in distress. "There is but one feasible route! By means of the
lands which lie to the south and east. What if the ocean offers a
more direct route? There are no boats to hand; it is not possible to
swim so great a distance!"

Firx administered a few dubious pangs, but finally permitted Cugel
to continue eastward along the shore. Behind, on the ridge of the
foreshore, sat the old man, scoop dangling between his legs, staring
out to sea.

Cugel proceeded along the beach, well pleased with the events of
the morning. He examined the amulet at length: it exuded a rich sense
of magic, and in addition was an object of no small beauty. The
runes, incised with great skill and delicacy, unfortunately were
beyond his capacity to decipher. He gingerly slipped the bracelet on
his wrist, and in so doing pressed one of the carbuncles. From
somewhere came an abysmal groan, a sound of the deepest anguish.
Cugel stopped short, and looked up and down the beach. Gray sea,
pallid beach, foreshore with clumps of spinifex. Benbadge Stull to
west, Cil to east, gray sky above. He was alone. Whence had come the
great groan?

Cautiously Cugel touched the carbuncle again, and again evoked the
stricken protest.

In fascination Cugel pressed another of the carbuncles, this time
bringing forth a wail of piteous despair in a different voice. Cugel
was puzzled. Who along this sullen shore manifested so frivolous a
disposition? Each carbuncle in turn he pressed and caused to be
produced a whole concert of outcries, ranging the gamut of anguish
and pain. Cugel examined the amulet critically. Beyond the evocation
of groans and sobs it displayed no obvious power and Cugel presently
tired of the occupation.

The sun reached its zenith. Cugel appeased his hunger with
seaweed, which he rendered nutritious by rubbing it with the charm
Iuconnu had provided for this purpose. As he ate he seemed to hear
voices and careless prattling laughter, so indistinct that it might
have been the sound of the surf. A tongue of rock protruded into the
ocean nearby; listening carefully, Cugel discovered the voices to be
coming from this direction. They were clear and childlike, and rang
with innocent gaiety.

He went cautiously out upon the rock. At the far end, where the
ocean surged and dark water heaved, four large shells had attached
themselves. These now were open; heads looked forth, attached to
naked shoulders and arms. The heads were round and fair, with soft
cheeks, blue-gray eyes, tufts of pale hair. The creatures dipped
their fingers in the water, and from the drops they pulled thread
which they deftly wove into a fine soft fabric. Cugel's shadow fell
on the water; instantly the creatures clamped themselves into their
shells.

"How so?" exclaimed Cugel jocularly. "Do you always lock
yourselves apart at the sight of a strange face? Are you so timorous
then? Or merely surly?"

The shells remained closed. Dark water swirled over the fluted
surfaces.

Cugel came a step closer, squatted on his haunches and cocked his
head askew. "Or perhaps you are proud? So that you withdraw
yourselves in disdain? Or is it that you lack grace?"

Still no response. Cugel remained as before, and began to whistle,
trilling a tune he bad heard at the Azenomei Fair.

Presently the shell at the far edge of the rock opened a crack,
and eyes peered at him. Cugel whistled another bar or two, then spoke
once more. "Open your shells! Here waits a stranger, anxious to learn
the road to Cil, and other matters of import!"

Another shell opened a crack; another set of eyes glistened from
the dark within.

"Perhaps you are ignorant," scoffed Cugel. "Perhaps you know
nothing save the color of fish and the wetness of water."

The shell of the farthest opened further, enough to show the
indignant face within. "We are by no means ignorant!"

"Nor indolent, nor lacking in grace, nor disdainful," shouted the
second.

"Nor timorous!" added a third.

Cugel nodded sagely. "This well may be. But why do you withdraw so
abruptly at my mere approach?"

"Such is our nature," said the first shell-creature. "Certain
creatures of the sea would be happy to catch us unaware, and it is
wise to retreat first and investigate second."

All four of the shells were now ajar, though none stood as fully
wide as when Cugel had approached.

"Well then," he said, "what can you tell me of Cil? Are strangers
greeted with cordiality, or driven off? Are inns to be found, or must
the wayfarer sleep in a ditch?"

"Such matters He beyond our specific knowledge," said the first
shell-creature. It fully opened its shell, and extruded pale arms and
shoulders. "The folk of Cil, if rumor of the sea goes correctly, are
withdrawn and suspicious, even to their ruler, who is a girl, no
more, of the ancient House of Domber."

"There walks old Slaye now," said another. "He returns early to
his cabin."

Another tittered. "Slaye is old; never will he find his amulet,
and thus the House of Domber will rule Cil till the sun goes
out."

"What is all this?" asked Cugel ingenuously. "Of what amulet do
you speak?"

"As far as memory can return," one of the shell-creatures
explained, "old Slaye has sifted sand, and his father before him, and
yet other Slayes across the years. They seek a metal band, by which
they hope to regain their ancient privileges."

"A fascinating legend!" said Cugel with enthusiasm. "What are the
powers of the amulet, and how are they activated?"

"Slaye possibly would provide this information," said one
dubiously.

"No, for he is dour and crabbed," declared another. "Consider his
petulant manner when he sieves a scoop of sand to no avail!"

"Is there no information elsewhere?" Cugel demanded anxiously. "No
rumor of the sea? No ancient tablet or set of glyphs?"

The shell-creatures laughed in merriment. "You ask so earnestly
that you might be Slaye himself. Such lore is unknown to us."

Concealing his dissatisfaction, Cugel asked further questions, but
the creatures were artless and unable to maintain their attention
upon any single matter. As Cugel listened they discussed the flow of
the ocean, the flavor of pearl, the elusive disposition of a certain
sea-creature they had noted the day previously. After a few minutes
Cugel once more turned the conversation to Slaye and the amulet, but
again the shell-creatures were vague, almost childlike in the
inconsequence of their talk. They seemed to forget Cugel, and,
dipping their fingers in the water, drew pallid threads from the
drops. Certain conches and whelks had aroused their disapproval
through impudence, and they discussed a great urn lying on the
off-shore seabottom.

Cugel finally tired of the conversation and rose to his feet, at
which the shell-creatures once more gave him their attention. "Must
you fare forth so soon? Just when we were about to inquire the reason
for your presence; passers-by are few along Great Sandy Beach, and
you seem a man who has journeyed far."

"This is correct," said Cugel, "and I must journey yet farther.
Notice the sun: it starts down the western curve, and tonight I wish
to house myself at Cil."

One of the shell-creatures lifted up its arms and displayed a fine
garment it had woven from water-threads. "This garment we offer as a
gift. You seem a sensitive man and so may require protection from
wind and cold." It tossed the garment to Cugel. He examined it,
marveling at the suppleness of the cloth and its lucent shimmer.

"I thank you indeed," said Cugel. "This is generosity beyond my
expectation." He wrapped himself in the garment, but at once it
reverted to water and Cugel was drenched. The four in the shells
shouted loud in mischievous glee, and as Cugel stepped wrathfully
forward they snapped their shells shut.

Cugel kicked the shell of the creature which had tossed him the
garment, bruising his foot and exacerbating his rage. He seized a
heavy rock and dashed it down upon the shell, crushing it. Snatching
forth the squealing creature, Cugel hurled it far up the beach, where
it lay staring at him, head and small arms joined to pale
entrails.

In a faint voice it asked, "Why did you treat me so?

For a prank you have taken my life from me, and I have no
other."

"And thereby you will be prevented from further pranks," declared
Cugel. "Notice you have drenched me to the skua!"

"It was merely an act of mischief; a small matter surely." The
shell-creature spoke in a fading voice. "We of the rocks know little
magic, yet I am given the power to curse, and this I now pronounce:
may you lose your heart's-desire, whatever its nature; you shall be
bereft before a single day is gone."

"Another curse?" Cugel shook his head in displeasure. "Two curses
already I have voided this day; am I now inflicted with another?

"This curse you shall not void," whispered the shell-creature. "I
make it the final act of my life."

"Malice is a quality to be deplored," said Cugel fretfully. "I
doubt the efficacy of your curse; nevertheless, you would be
well-advised to clear the air of its odium and so regain my good
opinion."

But the shell-creature said no more. Presently it collapsed into a
cloudy slime which was absorbed into the sand.

Cugel set off down the beach, considering how best to avert the
consequences of the shell-creature's curse. "One must use his wits in
dealing with maledictions," Cugel said for the second time. "Am I
known as Cugel the Clever for nothing?" No stratagem came to mind,
and he proceeded along the beach pondering the matter in all its
aspects.

The headland to the east grew distinct. Cugel saw it to be cloaked
in tall dark trees, through which appeared glimpses of white
buildings.

Slaye showed himself once more, running back and forth across the
beach like one departed of his senses. He approached Cugel and fell
on his knees. "The amulet, I beg of you! It belongs to the House of
Slaye; it conferred upon us the rule of Cil! Give it to me and I will
fulfill your heart's-desire!"

Cugel stopped short. Here was a pretty paradox! If he surrendered
the amulet, Slaye evidently would betray him, or at the very least
fail to make good his promise— assuming the potency of the
curse. On the other hand, if Cugel retained the amulet, he would lose
his heart's-desire to no less a degree—assuming the potency of
the curse—but the amulet would yet be his.

Slaye misinterpreted the hesitation as a sign of pliancy. "I will
make you grandee of the realm!" he cried in a fervent voice. "You
shall have a barge of carved ivory, and two hundred maidens shall
serve your wants; your enemies shall be clamped into a rotating
cauldron—o'nly give me the amulet."

"The amulet confers so much power?" inquired Cugel. "It is
possible to achieve all this?"

"Indeed, indeed!" cried Slaye, "when one can read the runes!"

"Well then," said Cugel, "what is their import?"

Slaye gazed at him in woeful injury. "That I cannot say; I must
have the amulet!"

Cugel flourished his hand in a contemptuous gesture. "You refuse
to gratify my curiosity; in my turn I denounce your arrogant
ambitions!"

Slaye turned to look toward the headland, where white walls
gleamed among the trees. "I understand all. You intend to rule Cil in
your own right!"

There were less desirable prospects, thought Cugel, and Firx,
appreciating something of this, performed a small monitory
constriction. Regretfully Cugel put aside the scheme; nevertheless,
it suggested a means to nullify the shell-creature's curse. "If I am
to be deprived of my heart's-desire," Cugel told himself, "I would be
wise to fix upon a new goal, a fervent new enthusiasm, for at least
the space of a day. I shall therefore aspire to the rule of Cil,
which now becomes my heart's-desire." So as not to arouse the
vigilance of Firx, he said aloud, "I intend to use this amulet to
achieve highly important ends. Among them may well be the lordship of
Cil, to which I believe I am entitled by virtue of my amulet."

Slaye gave a wild sardonic laugh. "First you must convince Derwe
Coreme of your authority. She is of the House of Domber, gloomy and
fitful; she looks little more than a girl, but she manifests the
brooding carelessness of a forest grue. Beware of Derwe Coreme; she
will order you and my amulet plunged into the ocean's deep!"

"If you fear to this extent," said Cugel with asperity, "instruct
me in the use of the amulet, and I will prevent that calamity."

But Slaye mulishly shook his head. "The deficiencies of Derwe
Coreme are known; why exchange them for the outlandish excesses of a
vagabond?"

For his outspokenness Slaye received a buffet which sent him
staggering. Cugel then proceeded along the shore. The sun wallowed
low upon the sea; he hastened his steps, anxious to find shelter
before dark.

He came at last to the end of the beach. The headland loomed
above, with the tall dark trees standing still higher. A balustrade
surrounding the gardens showed intermittently through the foliage;
somewhat below, a colonnaded rotunda overlooked the ocean to the
south. Grandeur indeed! thought Cugel, and he examined the amulet
with a new attentiveness. His temporary heart's-desire, sovereignty
over Cil, had become no longer felicitious. And Cugel wondered if he
should not fix upon a new heart's-desire—an aspiration to
master the lore of animal husbandry, for instance, or a compelling
urge to excel at acrobatic feats . . . Reluctantly Cugel dismissed
the scheme. In any event, the cogency of the shell-creature's curse
was not yet certain.

A path left the beach, to wind up among bushes and odorous shrubs:
dymphian, heliotrope, black quince, olus, beds of long-stemmed
stardrops, shade ververica, flowering amanita. The beach became a
ribbon fading into the maroon blur of sunset, and the headland at
Benbadge Stull could no longer be seen. The path became level,
traversed a dense grove of bay trees, and issued upon a weed-grown
oval, at one time a parade ground or exercise field.

Along the left boundary was a tall stone wall, broken by a great
ceremonial portico which held aloft a heraldic device of great age.
The gates stood wide upon a marble-flagged promenade a mile in length
leading to the palace: this a richly detailed structure of many
tiers, with a green bronze roof. A terrace extended along the front
of the palace; promenade and terrace were joined by a flight of broad
steps. The sun had now disappeared; gloom descended from the sky.
With no better shelter in prospect, Cugel set off toward the
palace.

The promenade at one time had been a work of monumental elegance,
but now all was in a state of dilapidation which the twilight
invested with a melancholy beauty. To right and left were elaborate
gardens now untended and overgrown. Marble urns festooned with
garlands of carnelian and jade flanked the promenade; down the center
extended a line of pedestals somewhat taller than the height of a
man. Each of these supported a bust, identified by an inscription in
runes which Cugel recognized as similar to those carved on the amulet
The pedestals were five paces apart, and proceeded the entire mile to
the terrace. The carving of the first was softened by wind and rain
until the faces were barely discernible; as Cugel proceeded the
features became more keen. Pedestal after pedestal, bust after bust;
each face stared briefly at Cugel as he marched toward the palace.
The last of the series, obscure in the fading Jight, depicted a young
woman. Cugel stopped short: this was the girl of the walking boat,
whom he had encountered in the land to the north: Derwe Coreme, of
the House of Domber, ruler of Cil!

Beset by misgivings, Cugel paused to consider the massive portal.
He had not departed from Derwe Coreme in amity; indeed she might be
expected to harbor resentment. On the other hand, at their first
encounter she had invited him to her palace, using language of
unmistakable warmth; possibly her resentment had disappeared, leaving
only the warmth. And Cugel, recalling her remarkable beauty, found
the prospect of a second meeting stimulating.

But what if she were still resentful? She must be impressed by the
amulet, provided she did not insist that Cugel demonstrate its use.
If only he knew how to read the runes, all would be simplicity
itself. But since the knowledge was not to be derived from Slaye, he
must seek it elsewhere, which in practicality meant within the
palace.

He stood before a reach of shallow steps leading up to the
terrace. The marble treads were cracked; the balustrade along the
terrace was stained by moss and lichen: a condition which the murk of
twilight invested with a mournful grandeur. The palace behind seemed
in somewhat better repair. An extremely tali arcade rose from the
terrace, with slender fluted columns and an elaborately carved
entablature, the pattern of which Cugel could not discern through the
gloom. At the back of the arcade were tall arched windows, showing
dim lights, and the great portal.

Cugel mounted the steps, beset by renewed doubts. What if Derwe
Coreme laughed at his pretensions, defied him to do his worst? What
then? Groans and outcries might not be enough. He crossed the terrace
on lagging steps, optimism waning as he went, and halted under the
arcade; perhaps after all, it might be wise to seek shelter
elsewhere. But looking back over his shoulder, he thought to see a
tall still shape standing among the pedestals. Cugel thought no more
of seeking shelter elsewhere, and walked quickly to the tall door: if
he presented himself in humble guise he might escape the notice of
Derwe Coreme. There was a stealthy sound on the steps. With great
urgency Cugel plied the knocker. The sound reverberated inside the
palace.

A minute passed, and Cugel thought to hear further sounds behind
him. He rapped again, and again the sound echoed within. A peephole
opened and an eye inspected Cugel with care. The eye moved up; a
mouth appeared. "Who are you?" spoke the mouth. "What do you wish?"
The mouth slid away, to reveal an ear.

"I am a wayfarer, I wish shelter for the night, and with haste for
a creature of dread approaches."

The eye reappeared, looked carefully across the terrace, then
returned to focus on Cugel. "What are your qualities, where are your
certifications?"

"I have none," said Cugel. He glanced over his shoulder. "I much
prefer to discuss the matter within, since the creature step by step
mounts to the terrace."

The peephole slammed shut. Cugel stared at the blank door. He
banged on the knocker, peering back into the gloom. With a scrape and
a creak the portal opened. A small stocky man wearing purple livery
motioned to him. "Inside, with haste."

Cugel slipped smartly through the door, which the footman at once
heaved shut and bolted with three iron pegs. Even as he did so there
came a creak and a pressure upon the door.

The footman struck the door smartly with his fist. "I have
thwarted the creature again," he said with satisfaction. "Had I been
less swift, it would have been upon you, to my distress as well as
yours. This is now my chief amusement, depriving the creature of its
pleasures."

"Indeed," said Cugel, breathing heavily. "What manner of being is
it?"

The footman signified his ignorance. "Nothing definite is known.
It has only appeared of late, to lurk by night among the statues. Its
behavior is both vampirish and unnaturally lustful, and several of my
associates have had cause to complain; in fact, all are dead by its
odious acts. So now, to divert myself, I taunt the creature and cause
it dissatisfaction." The footman stood back, to survey Cugel with
attention. "What of yourself? Your manner, the tilt of your head, the
swing of your eyes from side to side denotes recklessness and
unpredictability. I trust you will hold this quality in abeyance, if
indeed it exists."

"At this moment," said Cugel, "my wants are simple: an alcove, a
couch, a morsel of food for my supper. If I am provided these, you
will find me benevolence personified; indeed I will assist you in
your pleasures; together we will contrive stratagems to bait the
ghoul."

The footman bowed. "Your needs can be fulfilled. Since you are a
traveler from afar, our ruler will wish to speak to you, and indeed
may extend a bounty far more splendid than your minimal
requirements."

Cugel hurriedly disavowed any such ambition. "I am of low quality;
my garments are soiled, my person reeks; my conversation consists of
insipid platitudes. Best not to disturb the ruler of Cil."

"We will repair what deficiencies we may," said the footman.
"Follow, if you will."

He took Cugel along corridors lit by cressets, finally turning
into a set of apartments. "Here you may wash; I will brush your
garments and find fresh linen."

Cugel reluctantly divested himself of his clothes. He bathed,
trimmed the soft black mat of his hair, shaved his beard, rubbed his
body with pungent oil. The footman brought fresh garments, and Cugel,
much refreshed, dressed himself. Donning his jacket he chanced to
touch the amulet at his wrist, pressing one of the carbuncles. From
deep under the floor came a groan of the most profound anguish.

The footman sprang about in terror, and his eye fell upon the
amulet. He stared in gape-mouthed astonishment, then became
obsequious. "My dear sir, had I realized your identity, I would have
conducted you to apartments of state, and brought forth the finest
robes."

"I make no complaints," said Cugel, "though for a fact the linens
were a trifle stale." In jocular emphasis he tapped a carbuncle at
his wrist, and the responsive groan caused the servitor's knees to
knock together.

"I beseech your understanding," he quavered.

"Say no more," said Cugel. "Indeed it was my hope to visit the
palace incognito, so to speak, that I might see how affairs were
conducted."

"This is judicious," agreed the servitor. "Undoubtedly you will
wish to discharge both Sarman the chamberlain and Bilbab the
undercook when their peccancies come to light. As for myself, when
your lordship restores Cil to its ancient grandeur, perhaps there
will be a modest sinecure for Yodo, the most loyal and cooperative of
your servants."

Cugel made a gracious gesture. "If such an event comes to
pass—and it is my heart's-desire—you shall not be
neglected. For the present I shall remain quietly in this apartment.
You may bring hither a suitable repast, with a variety of choice
wines."

Yodo performed a sweeping bow. "As your lordship desires." He
departed. Cugel relaxed upon the most comfortable couch of the
chamber and fell to studying the amulet which had so promptly aroused
Yodo's fidelity. The runes, as before, were inscrutable; the
carbuncles produced only groans, which, while diverting, were of
small practical utility. Cugel attempted every exhortation,
compulsion, rigor and enjoinment his smattering of wizardry provided,
to no avail.

Yodo returned to the apartment, but without the repast Cugel had
ordered.

"Your lordship," stated Yodo, "I have the honor to convey to you
an invitation from Derwe Coreme, erstwhile ruler of Cil, to attend
her at the evening banquet."

"How is this possible?" demanded Cugel. "She has had no
information of my presence; as I recall, I gave you specific
instructions in this regard.'"

Yodo performed another sweeping bow. "Naturally I obeyed your
lordship. The wiles of Derwe Coreme exceed my understanding. By some
device she learned of your presence and so has issued the invitation
which you have just heard."

"Very well," said Cugel glumly, "Be so good as to lead the way.
You mentioned my amulet to her?"

"Derwe Coreme knows all," was Yodo's ambiguous reply. "This way,
your lordship, if you please."

He led Cugel along the old corridors, finally through a tall
narrow arch into a great hall. To either side stood a row of what
appeared to be men-at-arms in brass armor with helmets of checkered
bone and jet; there were forty in all, but only six suits of armor
were occupied by living men, the others being supported on racks.
Telamons of exaggerated elongation and grotesquely distorted visage
supported the smoky beams; a rich rug of green concentric circles on
a black ground covered the floor.

Derwe Coreme sat at the end of a circular table, this so massive
as to give her the seeming of a girl, a sullen brooding girl of the
most delicate beauty. Cugel approached with a confident mien, halted
and bowed curtly. Derwe Coreme inspected him with gloomy resignation,
her eyes dwelling upon the amulet. She drew a deep breath. "Who do I
have the privilege to address?"

"My name is of no consequence," said Cugel. "You may address me as
'Exalted.' "

Derwe Coreme shrugged indifferently. "As you will. I seem to
recall your face. You resemble a vagabond whom lately I ordered
whipped."

"I am that vagabond," said Cugel. "I cannot say that your conduct
has failed to leave a residue of resentment and I am now here to
demand an explanation." And Cugel touched a carbuncle, evoking so
desolate and heartfelt a groan that the crystalware rattled on the
table.

Derwe Coreme blinked and her mouth sagged. She spoke ungraciously.
"It appears that my actions were poorly conceived. I failed to
perceive your exalted condition, and thought you only the
ill-conditioned scapegrace your appearance suggests."

Cugel stepped forward, put his hand under the small pointed chin
and turned up the exquisite face, "Yet you besought me to visit you
at your palace. Do you recall this?"

Derwe Coreme gave a grudging nod.

"Just so," said Cugel. "I am here."

Denve Coreme smiled, and for a brief period became winsome. "So
you are, and knave, vagabond, or whatever your nature, you wear the
amulet by which the House of Slaye ruled across two hundred
generations. You are of this house?"

"In due course you will know me well," said Cugel. "I am a
generous man, though given to caprice, and were it not for a certain
Firx ... Be that as it may, I hunger, and now I invite yon to share
the banquet which I have ordered the excellent Yodo to set before me.
Kindly be good enough to move a place or two aside, and I will be
seated."

Derwe Coreme hesitated, whereupon Cugel's hand went suggestively
toward the amulet. She moved with alacrity and Cugel settled himself
into the seat she had vacated. He rapped on the table: "Yodo? Where
is Yodo?"

"I am here, Exalted!"

"Bring forth the banquet: the finest fare the palace offers!"

Yodo bowed, scuttled away, and presently a line of footmen
appeared bearing trays and flagons, and a banquet more than meeting
Cugel's specifications was arranged on the table.

Cugel brought forth the periapt provided by Iuconnu the Laughing
Magician, which not only converted organic waste to nourishment, but
also chimed warning in the presence of noxious substances. The first
few courses were salubrious and Cugel ate with gusto. The old wines
of Cil were as beneficial, and Cugel drank freely, from goblets of
black glass, carved cinnabar and ivory inlaid with turquoise and
mother-of-pearl.

Derwe Coreme toyed with her food and sipped her wine, watching
Cugel thoughtfully all the while. Further delicacies were brought and
now Derwe Coreme leaned forward. "You truly plan to rule Cil?"

"Such is my heart's-desire!" declared Cugel with fervor.

Derwe Coreme moved close to him. "Do you then take me as your
consort? Say yes; you will be more than content."

"We will see, we will see," said Cugel expansively. "Tonight is
tonight, tomorrow is tomorrow. Many changes will be made, this is
certain."

Derwe Coreme smiled faintly, and nodded to Yodo. "Bring the most
ancient of our vintages—we will drink the health of the new
Lord of Cii."

Yodo bowed, and brought a dull flagon webbed and dusty, which he
decanted with utmost solicitude, and poured into crystal goblets.
Cugel raised his goblet, and the charm purred warning. Cugel abruptly
set down the goblet, and watched as Derwe Coreme raised hers to her
lips. He reached forth, took the goblet, and again the charm purred.
Poison in both? Strange. Perhaps she had not intended to drink.
Perhaps she had already ingested an antidote.

Cugel signaled Yodo. "Another goblet, if you please . .. and the
decanter." Cugel poured a third measure and again the charm signified
direness. Cugel said, "Though my acquaintance with the excellent Yodo
is of short duration, I hereby elevate him to the post of Major-Domo
of the Palace!"

"Exalted," stammered Yodo, "this is a signal honor indeed."

"Drink then of the ancient vintage, to solemnize this new
dignity!"

Yodo bowed low. "With the most heartfelt gratitude, Exalted." He
raised the goblet and drank. Derwe Coreme watched indifferently. Yodo
put down the goblet, frowned, gave a convulsive jerk, turned a
startled glance at Cugel, fell to the rug, cried out, twitched and
lay still.

Cugel frowningly inspected Derwe Coreme. She appeared as startled
as had Yodo. Now she turned to look at him. "Why did you poison
Yodo?"

"It was your doing," said Cugel. "Did you not order poison in the
wine?"

"No."

"You must say 'No, Exalted.' "

"No, Exalted."

"If you did not—who?"

"I am perplexed. The poison perhaps was meant for me." .

"Or both of us." Cugel signaled one of the footmen. "Remove the
corpse of Yodo."

The footman signaled a pair of hooded underservants, who carried
off the unfortunate majordomo.

Cugel took the crystal goblets and stared down into the amber
liquid, but did not communicate his thoughts. Derwe Coreme leaned
back in her chair, and contemplated him at length. "I am puzzled,"
she said presently. "You are a man past the teaching of my
experience. I cannot decide upon the color of your soul."

Cugel was charmed by the quaint turn of phrase. "You see souls in
color, then?"

"Indeed. It was the birth-gift of a lady sorceress, who also
provided me my walking boat. She is dead and I am alone, with no
friend nor any who thinks of me with love. And so I have ruled Cil
with little joy. And now you are here, with a soul which flickers
through many colors, like that of no human man to come before
me."

Cugel forebore to mention Firx, whose own spiritual exhalation,
mingling with that of Cugel's, undoubtedly caused the variegation
Derwe Coreme had noted. "There is a reason for this effect," said
Cugel, "which in due course will be one shining with the purest ray
imaginable."

"I will try to keep this in mind, Exalted."

Cugel frowned. In Derwe Coreme's remarks and the poise of her head
he noted barely concealed insolence, which he found exasperating.
Still, there was ample time to correct the matter after learning the
use of the amulet, a business of prime urgency. Cugel leaned back
into the cushions, and spoke as one who muses idly. "Everywhere at
this time of Earth's dying exceptional circumstances are to be noted.
Recently, at the 'manse of Iuconnu the Laughing Magician, I saw a
great libram which indexed all the writings of magic, and all styles
of thaumaturgical rune. Perhaps you have similar volumes in your
library?"

"It well may be," said Derwe Coreme. "The Fourteenth Garth Haxt of
Slaye was a diligent collator, and compiled a voluminous pandect on
the subject."

Cugel clapped his hands together. "I wish to see this important
work at once!"

Derwe Coreme looked at him in wonder. "Are you then such a
bibliophile? A pity, because The Eighth Rubel Zaff ordered this
particular compendium submerged off Cape Horizon."

Cugel made a sour face. "Are no other treatises at hand?"

"Doubtless," said Derwe Coreme. "The library occupies the whole of
the north wing. But will not tomorrow suffice for your research?"
And, stretching in languid warmth, she contrived to twist her body
into first one luxurious position, then another.

Cugel drank deep from a black glass goblet. "Yes, there is no
haste in this matter. And now—" He was interrupted by a woman
of middle age in voluminous brown garments, evidently one of the
underservants, who at this moment rushed into the hal!. She was
shouting hysterically and several footmen sprang forward to support
her. Between racking sobs she made clear the source of her anguish:
an abominable act only just now committed by the ghoul upon her
daughter.

Derwe Coreme gracefully indicated Cugel. "Here is the new Lord of
Cil; he has vast powers of magic and will order the ghoul destroyed.
Will you not, Exalted?"

Cugel thoughtfully rubbed his chin. A dilemma indeed. The woman
and all the servitors fell down upon their knees. "Exalted, if you
control this corrosive magic, employ it instantly to destroy the vile
ghoul!"

Cugel winced, and turning his head met Derwe Dorerne's thoughtful
gaze. He jumped to his feet. "What need I of magic when I can wield a
sword? I will hack the creature organ from organ!" He signaled the
six men-at-arms who stood by in their brass armor. "Come! Bring
torchesl We fare forth to dismember the ghoul!"

The men-at-arms obeyed without enthusiasm. Cugel herded them
toward the great portal. "When I fling wide the doors, rush forth
with the torches, to create a blaze which will illuminate the evil
being! Have swords drawn so that when I send him reeling you may
strike the coup de grace!"

The men-at-arms each with torch and drawn sword stood before the
portal. Cugel slid back the bolts and flung wide of the portals.
"Out! Shine upon the ghoul the last light of his existence!"

The men-at-arms raced desperately forth, with Cugd swaggering
after, flourishing his sword. The men-at-arms paused at the head of
the steps, to look Uncertainly out over the promenade, frqm which a
quite horrid sound could be heard.

Cugel looked over his shoulder to see Derwe Coreme watching
attentively from the doorway. "Forward!" he shouted. "Surround this
wretched creature, whose death is now upon him!"

The men-at-arms gingerly descended the steps, with Cugel marching
to the rear. "Hack with a will!" he called. "There is ample glory,
for all! The man who fails to deal a stroke I blast t>y
magic!"

The flickering lights shone on the pedestals, ranging in a long
line to merge at last with the darkness. "Forward!" cried Cugel.
"Where is this bestial being? Why does he not appear to receive his
deserts?" And Cugel peered through the wavering shadows, hoping the
ghoul by now would have taken alarm and fled.

At his side came a small sound. Turning, Cugel saw a tall pale
shape standing quietly. The men-at-arms gasped, and fled
incontinently up the broad stones. "Slay the beast by magic,
Exalted!" called the sergeant. "The most expeditious method is often
the best!"

The ghoul came forward; Cugel stumbled back. The ghoul took a
quick step forward. Cugel sprang behind a pedestal. The ghoul swung
out its arm; Cugel hacked with his sword, sprang to the protection of
another pedestal, then raced with great ability back across the
terrace. The door was already closing; Cugel flung himself through
the dwindling aperture. He heaved the door shut, and thrust home the
bolts. The ghoul's weight slammed against the timbers and the bolts
creaked in protest.

Cugel turned to meet the bright-eyed appraisal of Derwe Coreme.
"What ensued?" she asked. "Why did you not slay the ghoul?"

"The warriors decamped with the torches," said Cugel. "I could see
neither where to hack nor where to hew."

"Strange," mused Derwe Coreme. "There seemed ample illumination
for so negligible an exercise. Why did you not employ the power of
the amulet or rend the ghoul limb from limb?"

"So simple and quick a death is unsuitable," stated Cugel with
dignity. "I must cogitate at length, and decide how he may best
expiate his crimes."

"Indeed," said Derwe Coreme. "Indeed."

Cugel strode back into the great hali. "Back to the banquet! Let
the wine flow! Everyone must drink to the accession of the new Lord
of Cil!"

Derwe Coreme said in a silky voice, "If you please, Exalted, make
some display of the power of the amulet, to gratify our
curiosity!"

"Certainly!" And Cugel touched carbuncle after carbuncle,
producing rumbles and groans of grievous woe, with occasionally a
wail or scream.

"Can you do more?" inquired Derwe Coreme, smiling the soft smile
of an impish child.

"Indeed, should I so choose. But enough! Drink one and all!"

Derwe Coreme signaled the sergeant of the guard. "Take sword and
strike off the fool's arm; bring me the amulet."

"With pleasure, Great Lady." The sergeant advanced with bared
blade.

Cugel shouted, "Stay! One more step and magic will turn each of
your bones at right angles!"

The sergeant looked at Derwe Coreme, who laughed. "As I bade you,
or fear my revenge, which is as you know."

The sergeant winced, and marched forward again. But now an
under-servitor rushed to Cugel, and under his hood Cugel saw the
seamed face of old Slaye, "I will save you. Show me the amulet!"

Cugel allowed the eager fingers to grope among the carbuncles.
Slaye pressed one of these, and called something in a voice so
exultant and shrill that the syllables were lost. There was a great
fluttering, and an enormous black shape stood at the back of the
hall. "Who torments me?" it moaned. "Who will give me surcease?"

"I!" cried Slaye. "Advance through the hall, kill all but
myself!"

"No!" cried Cugel. "It is I who possess the amulet! I whom you
must obey! Kill all but me!"

Derwe Coreme clutched at Cugel's arm, striving to see the amulet.
"It avajls nothing unless you call him by name. We are all lost!"

"What is his name?" cried Cugel. "Counsel me!" "Hold back!"
declared Slaye. "I have considered—" Cugel dealt him a blow and
sprang behind the table. The demon was approaching, pausing to pluck
up the men-at-arms and dash them against the walls. Derwe Coreme ran
to Cugel. "Let me see the amulet; do you know nothing whatever? I
will order him!"

"By no means!" said Cugel. "Am I Cugel the Clever for nothing?
Show me which carbuncle, recite me the name."

Derwe Coreme bent her head, read the rune, thrust out to press a
carbuncle, but Cugel knocked her arm aside. "What name? Or we all
die!"

"Call on Vanille! Press here, call on Vanille!" Cugel pressed the
carbuncle. "Vanille! Halt this strife." The black demon heeded not at
all. There was a second great sound, and a second demon appeared.
Derwe Coreme cried out in terroor. "It was not Vanille; show me the
amulet once more!"

But there was insufficient time; the black demon was upon
them.

"Vanille!" bellowed Cugel. "Destroy this black monster!"

Vanille was low and broad, and of a swimming green color, with
eyes like scarlet lights. It flung itself upon the first demon, and
the terrible bellow of the encounter stunned the ears, and eyes could
not follow the frenzy of the fight. The walls shuddered as the great
forces struck and rebounded. The table splintered under great splayed
feet; Derwe Coreme was flung into a corner. Cugel _ crawled after, to
find her crumpled and staring, half-conscious but bereft of will.
Cugel thrust the amulet before her eyes. "Read the runes! Call forth
the names; each I will try in turn! Quick, to save our lives!"

But Derwe Coreme merely made a soft motion with her lips. Behind,
the black demon, mounted astride Vanille, was methodically clawing up
handfuls of his substance and casting it aside, while Vanille
bellowed and screamed and turned his ferocious head this way and
that, snapping and snarling, striking with great green arms. The
black demon plunged its arms deep, seized some central node and
Vanille became a sparkling green slime of a myriad parts, each gleam
and sparkle flitting and quivering and dissolving into the stone.

Slaye stood grinning above Cugel. "Do you wish your life? Hand
here the amulet and I spare you. Delay one instant and you are
dead!"

Cugel divested himself of the amulet, but could not bring himself
to relinquish it. He said with sudden cunning, "I can give the amulet
to the demon."

Slaye glared down at him. "And then we all are dead. To me it does
not matter. Do so. I defy you. If you want life—the
amulet."

Cugel looked down at Derwe Coreme. "What of her?"

"Together you shall be banished. The amulet, for here is the
demon."

The black demon towered above; Cugel hastily handed the amulet to
Slaye, who uttered a sharp cry and touched a carbuncle. The demon
whimpered, involuted and disappeared.

Slaye stood back, grinning in triumph. "Now away with you and the
girl. I keep my word to you, no more. You have your miserable lives:
depart."

"Grant me one desire!" pled Cugel. "Transport us to Almery, to the
Valley of the Xzan, where I may rid myself of a canker called
Firx!"

"No," said Slaye. "I deny your heart's-desire. Go at once."

Cugel lifted Derwe Coreme to her feet. Still dazed, she stared at
the wreckage of the hall. Cugel turned to Slaye. "The ghoul waits in
the promenade."

Slaye nodded. "This may well be true. Tomorrow I shall chastise
him. Tonight I call sub-world artisans to repair the hall and restore
the glory of Cil. Hence! Do you think I care how you fare with the
ghoul?" His face became suffused and his hand strayed toward the
carbuncles of the amulet. "Hence, at once!"

Cugel took Derwe Coreme's arm and led her from the hall to the
great front portal. Slaye stood with feet apart, shoulders hunched,
head bent forward, eyes following Cugel's every move. Cugel eased
back the bolts, opened the door and stepped out upon the terrace.

There was silence along the promenade. Cugel led Derwe Coreme down
the steps and off to the side, into the rank growth of the old
garden. Here he paused to listen. From the palace came sounds of
activity: rasping and scraping, hoarse shouts and bellows, the flash
of many-colored lights. Down the center of the promenade came a tall
white shape, stepping from the shadow of one pedestal to the next. It
paused to listen to the sounds and watch the flaring lights in
wonder. While it was so absorbed Cugel led Derwe Coreme away, behind
the dark banks of foliage, and so off into the night



III

The Mountains of Magnatz


SHORTLY AFTER SUNRISE Cugel and Derwe Coreme emerged from the
hillside byre where they had huddled the night. The air was chill and
the sun, a wine-colored bubble behind high mist, produced no warmth.
Cugel clapped his arms and jigged back and forth, while Derwe Coreme
stood pinch-faced and limp beside the old byre.

Cugel presently became irritated by her posture, which implied a
subtle disparagement of himself. "Fetch wood," he told her curtly. "I
will strike a fire; we will breakfast in comfort."

Without a word the erstwhile princess of Cil went to gather furze.
Cugel turned to inspect the dim expanse to the east, voicing an
automatic curse upon Iuconnu the Laughing Magician, whose rancor had
flung him into this northern wasteland.

Derwe Coreme returned with an armful of twigs; Cugel gave a nod of
approval. For a brief period after their expulsion from Cil she had
carried herself with an inappropriate hauteur, which Cugel had
tolerated with a quiet smile for himself. Their first couching had
been both eventful and taxing; thereafter Derwe Coreme had modified
at least her overt behavior. Her face, delicate and clear of feature,
had lost little of its brooding melancholy, but the arrogance had
altered, as milk becomes cheese, to a new and wakeful appreciation of
reality.

The fire crackled cheerfully; they ate a breakfast of rampion and
pulpy black gallberries, while Cugel put questions regarding the
lands to the east and south.

Derwe Coreme could return only small information, none of which
was optimistic. "The forest is said to be endless. I have heard it
called several names: the Great Erm, the Forest of the East, the Lig
Thig. To the south you see the Mountains of Magnatz, which are
reputedly dreadful."

"In what respect?" demanded Cugel. "The knowledge is of
importance; we must cross these mountains on our way to Almery."

Derwe Coreme shook her head. "I have heard only hints, and paid no
great heed, as never did I expect to visit the region."

"Nor I," grumbled Cugel. "Were it not for Iuconnu I would be
elsewhere."

A spark of interest animated the listless face. "Who is this
Iuconnu?"

"A detestable wizard of Almery. He has a boiled squash for a head,
and flaunts a mindless grin. In every way he is odious, and displays
the spite of a scalded eunuch."

Derwe Coreme's mouth moved in a small cool smile. "And you
antagonized this wizard."

"Bah! It was nothing. For a trivial slight he flung me north on an
impossible mission. I am not Cugel the Clever for nothing! The
mission is achieved and now I return to Almery."

"And what of Almery—is this a pleasant land?"

"Pleasant enough, compared to this desolation of forest and mist.
Still, imperfections exist. Wizardry is rife, and justice is not
invariable, as I have intimated."

"Tell me more of Almery. Are there cities? Are there folk other
than rogues and wizards?"

Cugel frowned. "Certain cities exist, sad shadows of bygone glory.
There is Azenomei, where the Xzan joins Scaum Flow, and Kaiin in
Ascolais, and others along the shore opposite Kauchique, where the
folk are of great subtlety."

Derwe Coreme nodded thoughtfully. "I will go to Almery. In your
company, from which I can soon recover."

Cugel glanced at her sidewise, not liking the flavor of the
remark, but before he could particularize, she asked, "What lands lie
between us and Almery?"

"They are wide and dangerous and peopled by gids, erbs, and
deodands, as well as leucomorphs, ghouls and grues. Otherwise I am
ignorant. If we survive the journey, it will be a miracle
indeed."

Derwe Coreme looked wistfully back toward Cil, then shrugged and
became silent.

The frugal meal was at its end. Cugel leaned back against the
byre, to enjoy the warmth of the fire, but Firx would allow no
respite, and Cugel, grimacing, jumped to his feet. "Come; we must set
forth. The spite of Iuconnu permits no less."

Down the slope they walked, following what appeared to be an old
road. The landscape changed. Heath gave way to' a damp bottomland;
presently they came to the forest Cugel eyed the gloomy shadows with
distrust. "We must go quietly, and hope to arouse nothing baneful. I
will watch ahead, and you behind, to ensure that nothing follows to
leap on our backs."

"We will lose our way."

"The sun hangs in the south: this is our guide."

Derwe Coreme shrugged once more; they plunged forward into the
shade. The trees stood tall overhead and the sunlight, filtered
through the foliage, only exaggerated the gloom. Coming upon a
stream, they walked along its banks and presently entered a glade
where flowed a brimming river.

On the bank near a moored raft sat four men in ragged garments.
Cugel looked Derwe Coreme over critically, and took the jeweled
buttons from her garments. "These by all odds are bandits and we must
lull their cupidity, even though they seem a poor lot."

"Better that we avoid them," said Derwe Coreme. "They are animals,
no better."

Cugel demurred. "We need their raft and their guidance, which we
must command; if we supplicate, they will believe themselves to have
a choice, and become captious." He strode forward and Derwe Coreme
willy-nilly was forced to follow.

The rogues did not improve upon closer view. Their hair was long
and, matted, their faces gnarled, with eyes like beetles and mouths
showing foul yellow teeth. Withal, their expressions were mild
enough, and they watched Cugel and Derwe Coreme approach with
wariness rather than belligerence. One of them, it so appeared, was a
woman, though this was hardly evident from garments, face or
refinement of manner. Cugel gave them a salute of lordly
condescension, at which they blinked in puzzlement.

"What people are you?" asked Cugel.

"We call ourselves Busiacos," responded the oldest of the men. "It
is both our race and our family; we make no differentiation, being
somewhat polyandrous by habit."

"You are denizens of the forest, familiar with its routes and
trails?"

"Such is a fair description," admitted the man, "though our
knowledge is local. Remember, this is the Great Erm, which sweeps on
league after league without termination."

"No matter," said Cugel. "We require only transfer across the
river, then guidance upon a secure route to the lands of the
south."

The man consulted the others of his group; all shook their heads.
"There is no such route; the Mountains of Magnate lie in the
way."

"Indeed," said Cugel.

"If I were to ferry you across the river," continued the old
Busiaco, "you would be as good as dead, for the region is haunted by
erbs and grues. Your sword would be useless, and you carry only the
weakest magic—this I know for we Busiacos smell magic as an erb
sniffs out meat."

"How then may we Achieve our destination?" demanded Cugel.

The Busiacos showed little interest in the question. But the man
next in age to the eldest, glancing at Derwe Coreme, had a sudden
idea, and looked across the river as if pondering. The effort
presently overwhelmed him, and he shook his head in defeat.

Cugel, observing carefully, asked, "What baffles you?"

"A problem of no great complexity," replied the Busiaco. "We have
small practice in logic and any difficulty thwarts us. I only
speculated as to which of your belongings you would exchange for
guidance through the forest."

Cugel laughed heartily. "A good question. But I own only what you
see: namely garments, shoes, cape and sword, all of which are
necessary to me. Though, for a fact, I know an incantation which can
produce a jeweled button or two."

"These would be small inducement. In a nearby crypt jewels are
heaped as high as my head."

Cugel rubbed his jaw reflectively. "The generosity of the Busiacos
is everywhere known; perhaps you will lead us past this crypt."

The Busiaco made a gesture of indifference. "If you wish, although
it is adjacent to the den of a great mother gid, now in oestrus."

"We will proceed directly toward the south," said Cugel. "Come,
let us depart at once."

The Busiaco maintained his stubborn crouch. "You have no
inducement to offer?"

"Only my gratitude, which is no small matter."

"What of the woman? She is somewhat gaunt, but not unappealing.
Since you must die in the Mountains of Magnatz, why waste the
woman?"

"True." Cugel turned to look at Derwe Coreme. "Perhaps we can come
to terms."

"What?" she gasped in outrage. "Do you dare suggeest such a thing?
I will drown myself in the river!"

Cugel took her aside. "I am not called Cugel the Clever for
nothing," he hissed in her ear. "Trust me to outwit this
moon-calf!"

Derwe Coreme surveyed him with distrust, then turned away, tears
of bitter anger streaming down her cheeks. Cugel addressed the
Busiaco. "Your proposal is clearly the better part of wisdom; so now,
let us be off."

"The woman may remain here," said the Busiaco, rising to his feet
"We walk an enchanted path and rigid discipline is necessary."

Derwe Coreme took a determined stride toward the river. "No!"
cried Cugel hastily. "She is of sentimental temperament, and wishes
to see me safely on my way to the Mountains of Magnatz, even though
it means my certain death."

The Busiaco shrugged. "It is all one." He led them aboard the
raft, cast off the rope, and poled across the river. The water seemed
shallow, the pole never descending more than a foot or two. It seemed
to Cugel that wading across would have been simplicity itself.

The Busiaco, observing, said, "The river swarms with glass
reptiles, and an unwary man, stepping forth, is instantly
attacked."

"Indeed!" said Cugel, eying the river dubiously.

"Indeed. And now I must caution you as to the path. We will meet
all manner of persuasions, but as you value your life, do not step
aside from where I lead."

The raft reached the opposite bank; the Busiaco stepped ashore and
made it fast to a tree. "Come now, after me." He plunged confidently
off among the trees. Derwe Coreme followed, with Cugel coming in the
rear. The trail was so faint that Cugel could not distinguish it from
the untrodden forest, but the Busiaco never faltered. The sun,
hanging low behind the trees, could be glimpsed only infrequently,
and Cugel was never certain of the direction they traveled. So they
proceeded, through sylvan solitudes where not so much as a bird-call
could be heard.

The sun, passing its zenith, began to descend, and the trail
became no more distinct. Cugel at last called ahead, "You are certain
of the trail? It seems that we veer left and right at random."

The Busiaco stopped to explain. "We of the forest are an ingenuous
folk, but we have this peculiar facility." He tapped his splayed nose
significantly. "We can smell out magic. The trail we follow was
ordained at a time too remote to be recalled, and yields its
direction only to such as ourselves."

"Possibly so," said Cugel petulantly. "But it seems overly
circuitous, and where are the fearsome creatures you mentioned? I
have seen only a vole, and nowhere have I sensed the distinctive odor
of the erb."

The Busiaco shook his head in perplexity. "Unaccountably they have
taken themselves elsewhere. Surely you do not complain? Let us
proceed, before they return." And he set forth once again, by a track
no less indistinguishable than before.

The sun sank low. The forest thinned somewhat; scarlet rays
slanted along the aisles, burnishing gnarled roots, gilding fallen
leaves. The B.usiaco stepped into a clearing, where he swung about
with an air of triumph. "I have successfully achieved our goal!"

"How so?" demanded Cugel. "We are still deep in the forest."

The Busiaco pointed across the clearing. "Notice the four
well-marked and distinct trails?"

"This seems to be the case," Cugel admitted grudgingly.

"One of these leads to the southern verge. The others plunge into
the forest depths, branching variously along the way."

Derwe Coreme, peering through the branches, uttered a sharp
ejaculation. "There, fifty paces yonder, is the river and the
raft!"

Cugel turned the Busiaco a dire look. "What of all this?"

The Busiaco nodded solemnly. "Those fifty paces lack the
protection of magic. I would have been scamping my responsibility to
convey us here by the direct route. And now—" He advanced to
Derwe Coreme, took her arm, then turned back to Cugel. "You may cross
the glade, whereupon I will instruct you as to which trail leads to
the southern verge." And he busied himself fixing a cord about Derwe
Coreme's waist. She resisted with a fervor and was only subdued by a
blow and a curse. "This is to prevent any sudden leaps or
excursions," the Busiaco told Cugel with a sly wink. "I am not too
fleet of foot and when I wish the woman I do not care to pursue her
here and there. But are you not in haste? The sun declines, and after
dark the leucomorphs appear."

"Well then, which of the trails leads to the southern verge?"
Cugel asked in a frank manner.

"Cross the clearing and I will so inform you. Of course, if you
distrust my instructions, you may make your own choice. But remember,
I have vigorously exerted myself for a waspish, gaunt and anemic
woman. As of now we are at quits."

Cugel looked dubiously across the clearing, then to Derwe Coreme,
who watched in sick dismay. Cugel spoke cheerfully. "Well, it seems
to be for the best. The Mountains of Magnatz are notoriously
dangerous. You are at least secure with this uncouth rogue."

"No!" she screamed. "Let me free of this rope! He is a cheat; you
have been duped! Cugel the Clever? Cugel the Fool!"

"Such language is vulgar," stated Cugel. "The Busiaco and I struck
a bargain, which is to say, a sacred covenant, which must be
discharged."

"Kill the brute!" cried Derwe Coreme. "Employ your swordl The edge
of the forest cannot be far away!"

"An incorrect trail might lead into the heart of the Great Erm,"
argued Cugel. He raised his arm in farewell. "Far better to drudge
for this hirsute ruffian than risk death in the Mountains of
Magnatz!"

The Busiaco grinned in agreement, and gave the line a proprietary
jerk. Cugel hurried across the clearing with Derwe Coreme's
imprecations ringing in his ears, until she was silenced by some
means Cugel did not observe. The Busiaco called, "By chance you are
approaching the correct path. Follow and you shall presently come to
an inhabited place."

Cugel returned a final salute and set forth. Derwe Coreme gave a
scream of hysterical mirth: "Cugel the Clever he calls himself! What
an extravagant joke!"

Cugel proceeded quickly along the trail, somewhat troubled. "The
woman is a monomaniac!" he told himself. "She lacks clarity and
perceptiveness; how could I have done else, for her welfare and my
own? I am rationality personified; it is unthinking to insist
otherwise!"

Scarcely a hundred paces from the clearing the trail emerged from
the forest Cugel stopped short. Only a hundred paces? He pursed his
lips. By some curious coincidence three other trails likewise left
the forest nearby, all converging to one near where he stood.
"Interesting," said Cugel. "It is almost tempting to return to seek
out the Busiaco and exact some sort of explanation. ..."

He fingered his sword thoughtfully, and even took a step or two
back toward the forest. But the sun was low and shadows filled the
gaps between the gnarled trunks. As Cugel hesitated, Firx impatiently
drew several of his prongs and barbs across Cugel's liver, and Cugel
abandoned the project of returning into the forest

The trail led across a region of open land, with mountains riding
across the southern sky. Cugel strode along at a smart pace,
conscious of the dark shadow of the forest behind, and not completely
settled in his mind. From time to time, at some particularly
unsettling thought, he slapped his thigh sharply. But what folly! He
had obviously managed affairs to their optimum! The Busiaco was gross
and stupid; how could he have hoped to trick Cugel? The concept was
untenable. As for Derwe Coreme, no doubt she would soon come to terms
with her new life. ...

As the sun dropped behind the Mountains of Magnatz he came upon a
rude settlement and a tavern beside the crossroads. This was a
staunch structure of stone and timber, with round windows each formed
of a hundred blue bull's eyes. Cugel paused at the door and took
stock of his resources, which were scant. Then he remembered the
jeweled buttons he had taken from Derwe Coreme, and congratulated
himself on his forethought.

He pushed through the door, into a long room hung with old bronze
lamps. The publican presided at a short buffet where he poured grogs
and punches to the three men who were his present customers. All
turned to stare as Cugel entered the room.

The publican spoke politely enough. "Welcome, wanderer; what is
your pleasure?"

"First a cup of wine, then supper and a night's lodging, and
finally such knowledge regarding the road south as you can
provide."

The publican set forth a cup of wine. "Supper and lodging in due
course. As to the road south, it leads into the realm of Magnatz,
which is enough to know."

"Magnatz then is a creature of dread?"

The publican gave his head a dour shake. "Men have fared south
never to return. No man in memory has come north. I can vouch for
only so much."

The three men who sat drinking nodded in solemn coroboration. Two
were peasants of the region, while the third wore the tall black
boots of a professional witch-chaser. The first peasant signaled the
publican: "Pour this unfortunate a cup of wine, at my expense."

Cugel accepted the cup with mixed feelings. "I drink with thanks,
though I specifically disavow the appellation unfortunate' lest the
virtue of the word project upon my destiny."

"As you will," responded the peasant indifferently, "though in
these melancholy times, who is otherwise?" And for a space the
peasants argued the repair of the stone fence which separated their
lands.

"The work is arduous, but the advantages great," declared one.

"Agreed," stated the other, "but my luck is such that no sooner
would we complete the task than the sun would go black, with all the
toil for naught."

The first flourished his arms in derisive rejection of the
argument. "This is a risk we must assume. Notice: I drink wine,
though I may not live to become drunk. Does this deter me? No! I
reject the future; I drink now, I become drunk as circumstances
dictate."

The publican laughed and pounded the buffet with his fist. "You
are as crafty as a Busiaco, of whom I hear there is an encampment
nearby. Perhaps the wanderer met them?" And he looked questioningly
at Cugel, who nodded grudgingly.

"I encountered such a group: crass rather than crafty, in my
opinion. In reference once more to the road south, can anyone here
supply specific advice?"

The witch-chaser s.aid gruffly, "I can: avoid it. You will first
encounter deodands avid for your flesh. Beyond is the realm of
Magnatz, beside whom the deodands appear as angels of mercy, if a
tenth of the rumors are true."

"This is discouraging news," said Cugel. "Is there no other route
to the lands of the south?"

"Indeed there is," said the witch-chaser, "and I recommend it.
Return north along the trail to the Great Erm, and proceed eastward
across the extent of the forest, which becomes even denser and more
dread. Needless to say, you will need a stout arm and feet with wings
to escape the vampires, grues, erbs and leucomorphs. After
penetrating to the remote edge of the forest you must swing south to
the Vale of Dharad, where according to rumor an army of basilisks
besieges the ancient city Mar. Should you win past the raging battle,
the Great Central Steppe lies beyond; where is neither food nor water
and which is the haunt of the pelgrane. Crossing the steppe, you turn
your face back to the west, and now you wade a series of poisonous
swamps. Beyond lies an area of which I know nothing except that it is
named the Land of Evil Recollection. After crossing this region you
will find yourself at a point to the south of the Mountains of
Magnatz."

Cugel mused a moment or two. "The route which you delineate, while
it may be safer and less taxing than the direct way south, seems of
inordinate length. I am disposed to risk the Mountains of
Magnatz."

The first peasant inspected him with awe. "I surmise you to be a
noted wizard, seething with spells."

Cugel gave his head a smiling shake. "I am Cugel the Clever; no
more, no less. And now—wine!"

The landlord presently brought forth supper: a stew of tentils and
land-crabs garnished with wild ramp and bilberries.

After the meal the two peasants drank a final cup of wine and
departed, while Cugel, the host and the witch-chaser sat before the
fire discussing various aspects of existence. The witch-chaser
finally arose to retire to his chamber. Before departing he
approached Cugel, and spoke in a frank manner. "I have noticed tfour
cloak, which is of quality rarely seen in this backward region. Since
you are as good as dead, why do you not bestow this cloak upon me,
who has need of it?"

Cugel tersely rejected the proposal and went to his own
chamber.

During the night he was aroused by a scraping sound near the foot
of his bed. Leaping to his feet, he captured a person of no great
stature. When hauled out into the light, the intruder proved to be
the pot-boy, still clutching Cugel's shoes, which he evidently had
intended to purloin. "What is the meaning of this outrage?" demanded
Cugel, cuffing the lad. "Speak! How dare you attempt such an
act!"

The pot-boy begged Cugel to desist. "What difference does it make?
A doomed man needs no such elegant footwear!"

"I will be the judge of that," said Cugel. "Do you expect me to
walk barefoot to my death in the Mountains of Magnatz? Be off with
you!" And he sent the wretched lad sprawling down the hall.

In the morning at breakfast he spoke of the incident to the
landlord, who showed no great interest. When it came time to settle
his score, Cugel tossed one of the jeweled buttons upon the counter.
"Fix, if you will, a fair value upon this gem, subtract the score and
give me my change in gold coins."

The landlord examined the ornament, pursed his lips and cocked his
head to the side. "The total of the charges to your account exactly
equals the worth of this trinket —there is no change
forthcoming."

"What?" stormed Cugel. "This clear aquamarine flanked by four
emeralds? For a cup or two of poor wine, a porridge and sleep
disturbed by the villainy of your pot-boy? Is this a tavern or a
bandit lair?"

The landlord shrugged. "The charges are somewhat in excess of the
usual fee, but money moldering in the pockets of a corpse serves no
one."

Cugel at last extracted several gold coins from the landlord
together with a parcel of bread, cheese, and wine. The landlord came
to the door and pointed. "There is but a single trail, that leading
south. The Mountains of Magnatz rise before you. Farewell."

Not without foreboding, Cugel set off to the south. For a space
the trail led past the tillage of local peasants; then as the
foothills bulked to either side the trail became first a track, then
a trace winding along a dry riverbed beside thickets of prickle-bush,
spurge, yarrow, asphodel. Along the crest of the hill paralleling the
trail grew a tangle of stunted oak, and Cugel, thinking to improve
his chances for going unobserved, climbed to the ridge and continued
in the shelter of the foliage.

The air was clear, the sky a brilliant dark blue. The sun wallowed
up to the zenith and Cugel bethought himself of the food he carried
in his pouch. He seated himself, but as he did so the motion of a
skipping dark shadow caught his eye. His blood chilled. The creature
surely meant to leap upon his back.

Cugel pretended not to notice, and presently the shadow moved
forward again: a deodand, taller and heavier than himself, black as
midnight except for shining white eyes, white teeth and claws,
wearing straps of leather to support a green velvet shirt.

Cugel debated his best course of action. Face to face chest to
chest, the deodand would tear him to pieces. With his sword ready,
Cugel might hack and stab and hold the creature at bay until its
frenzy for blood overcame its fear of pain and it flung itself
forward regardless of hurt. Possibly Cugel was more fleet, and might
outdistance the creature, but only after a long and dogged pursuit.
... It slipped forward again, to stand behind a crumbling outcrop
twenty paces downslope from where Cugel sat. As soon as it had
disappeared, Cugel ran to the outcrop and jumped to the top. Here he
lifted a heavy stone and, as the deodand came skulking below, threw
it down upon the creature's back. It toppled and lay kicking, and
Cugel jumped down to deliver the death-stroke.

The deodand had pulled himself against the rock and hissed in
horror at the sight of Cugel's naked blade. "Hold your stroke," it
said. "You gain nothing by my death."

"Only the satisfaction of killing one who planned to devour
me."

"A sterile pleasure!"

"Few pleasures are otherwise," said Cugel. "But while you live,
inform me regarding the Mountains of Magnatz."

"They are as you see: stern mountains of ancient black rock."

"And what of Magnatz?"

"I have no knowledge of any such entity."

"What? The men to the north shudder at the very word!"

The deodand pulled himself slightly more erect. "This well may be.
I have heard the name, and consider it no more than a legend of
old."

"Why do travelers go south and none go north?"

"Why should anyone seek to travel north? As for those coming
south, they have provided food for myself and my fellows." And the
deodand inched himself up. Cugel picked up a great stone, held it
aloft and dashed it down upon the black creature, which fell back,
kicking freely. Cugel picked up another stone.

"Hold!" called the deodand in a faint voice. "Spare me, and I will
aid you to life."

"How is this?" asked Cugel.

"You seek to travel south; others like me inhabit caves along the
way: how can you escape them unless I guide you by ways they do not
frequent?"

"You can do this?"

"If you undertake to spare my life."

"Excellent. But I must take safeguards; in your lust for blood you
might ignore the agreement."

"You have maimed me; what further security do you need?" cried the
deodand. Cugel nevertheless bound the creature's arms and arranged a
halter around the thick black neck.

In such fashion they proceeded, the deodand limping and hopping,
and directing Cugel by a circuitous route above certain caves.

The mountains lifted higher; winds boomed and echoed down the
stone canyons. Cugel continued to question the deodand regarding
Magnatz, but elicted only the opinion that Magnatz was a creature of
fable.

At last they came to a sandy flat high above the lowlands, which
the deodaud declared beyond the zone of bis particular sept.

"What lies beyond?" asked Cugel. "I have no knowledge; this is the
limit of my wandering. Now release me and go your way, and I will
return to my people."

Cugel shook his head. "Night is not too far distant. What is to
prevent you from following to attack me once "again? Best that I kill
you."

The deodand laughed sadly. "Three others follow us. They have kept
their distance only because I waved them back. Kill me and you will
never wake to see the morning sun."

"We will travel further together," said Cugel. "As you wish."

Cugel led the way south, the deodand limping to the boulders, and
looking back Cugel saw black shapes moving among the shadows. The
deodand grinned meaningfully at Cugel. "You would do well to halt at
once; why wait until dark? Death comes with less horror while the
light shines."

Cugel made no response, but pressed forward with all speed. The
trail left the valley, climbing to a high meadow where the air blew
cool. Larch, kaobab and balm-cedar grew to either side, and a stream
ran among grasses and herbs. The deodand began to evince uneasiness,
jerking at its halter, limping with exaggerated debility. Cugel could
see no reason for the display: the countryside, except for the
presence of the deodands, seemed without threat. Cugel became
impatient. "Why do you delay? I hope to find a mountain hospice
before the coming of dark. Your lagging and limping discommode
me."

"You should have considered this before you maimed me with a
rock," said the deodand. "After all, I do not accompany you of my own
choice."

Cugel looked behind. The three deodands who previously had skulked
among the rocks now followed quite casually. "You have no control
over the grisly appetites of your fellows?" Cugel demanded.

"I have no control over my own," responded the deodand. "Only the
fact of my broken limbs prevents me from leaping at your throat."

"Do you wish to live?" asked Cugel, putting his hand significantly
to sword-hilt.

"To a certain extent, though with not so fervent a yearning as do
true men."

"If you value life even an iota, order your fellows to turn back,
to give over their sinister pursuit,"

"It would be a futile exercise. And in any event what is life to
you? Look, before you tower the Mountains of Magnatz!"

"Ha!" muttered Cugel. "Did you not claim the repute of the region
to be purely fabulous?"

"Exactly; but I did not enlarge upon the nature of the fable."

As they spoke there catne a swift sigh in the air; looking about,
Cugel saw that the three deodands had fallen, transfixed by arrows.
From a nearby grove stepped four young men in brown hunting costume.
They were of a fair, fresh complexion, brown hair, good stature, and
seemed of good disposition.

The foremost called out, "How is it that you come from the
uninhabited north? And why do you walk with this dire creature of the
night?"

"There is no mystery to either of your questions," said Cugel.
"First, the north is not uninhabited; some hundreds of men yet remain
alive. As to this black hybrid of demon and cannibal, I employed it
to lead me safely through the mountains, but I am dissatisfied with
its services."

"I did all expected of me," declared the deodand. "Release me in
accordance with our pact."

"As you will," said Cugel. He released the halter which secured
the creature's throat, and it limped away glaring over its shoulder.
Cugel made a sign to the leader of the huntsmen; he spoke a word to
his fellows; they raised their bows and shot the deodand with
arrows.

Cugel gave a curt nod of approval. "Wbat of yourselves? And what
of Magnatz who reputedly makes the mountains unsafe for travel?"

The huntsmen laughed. "A legend merely. At one time a terrible
creature named Magnatz did indeed exist, and in deference to the
tradition we of Vull Village still appoint one of our number to serve
as Watchman. But this is all the credit to be given the tale."

"Strange," said Cugel, "that the tradition wields so wide an
influence."

The huntsmen shrugged indifferently. "Night approaches; it is time
to turn back. You are welcome to join us, and at Vull there is a
tavern where you may rest the night."

"I gladly avail myself of your company."

The group set off up the trail. As they marched Cugel made inquiry
regarding the road to the south, but the huntsmen were of little
assistance. "Vull Village is situated on the shores of Lake Vull,
which is unnavigable for its Whirlpools, and a few of us have
explored the mountains to the south. It is said that they are barren
and drop off into an inhospitable gray waste."

"Possibly Magnatz roams the mountains across the lake?" inquired
Cugel delicately.

"Tradition is silent on this score," replied the huntsman.

After an hour's march the group reached Vull, a village of an
affluence surprising to Cugel. The dwellings were solidly constructed
of stone and timber, the streets neatly laid-out and well-drained;
there was a public market, a granary, a hall, a repository, several
taverns, a number of modestly luxurious mansions. As the huntsmen
marched up the main street, a.man called out to them. "Important
newsl The Watchman has perished!"

"Indeed?" inquired the leader of the huntsmen with keen interest.
"Who serves in the interim?"

"It is Lafel, son to the hetman—who else?"

"Who else indeed?" remarked the huntsman, and the group passed
on.

"Is the post of Watchman held in such high-esteem then?" asked
Cugel.

The huntsman shrugged. "It is best described as a ceremonial
sinecure. A permanent functionary will no doubt be chosen tomorrow.
But notice in the door of the hall!" And he pointed to a stocky
broad-shouldered man wearing brown fur-trimmed robes and a black
bifold hat "That is Hylam Wiskode, the hetman himself. Ho, Wiskode!
We have encountered a traveler from the north!"

Hylam Wiskode approached, and saluted Cugel with courtesy.
"Welcome! Strangers are a novelty; our hospitality is yours!"

"I thank you indeed," said Cuge!. "I had expected no such
affability in the Mountains of Magnatz, which all the world holds in
dread."

The hetman chuckled. "Misapprehensions are common everywhere; you
may well find certain of our notions quaint and archaic, like our
Watch for Magnatz. But cornel here is our best tavern. After you have
established yourself we will sup."

Cugel was taken to a comfortable chamber, furnished various
conveniences, and presently, clean and refreshed, he rejoined Hylam
Wiskode in the common room. An appetizing supper was set before him,
together with a flagon of wine.

After the meal the hetman conducted Cugel on a tour of the town,
which enjoyed a pleasant aspect above the lake.

Tonight seemed to be a special occasion: everywhere cressets threw
up plumes of flame, while the folk of Vull walked the streets,
pausing to confer in small knots and groups. Cugel inquired the
reason for the obvious perturbation. "Is it because your watchman has
died?"

"This is the case," said the hetman. "We treat our traditions with
all earnestness, and the selection of a new Watchman is a matter for
public debate. But observe: here Is the public repository, where the
common wealth is collected. Do you care to look within?"

"I abide your pleasure," said Cugel. "If you wish to inspect the
communal gold, I will be glad to join you."

The hetman threw back the door. "Here is much more than gold! In
this bin are jewels; that rack holds antique coins. Those bales
contain fine silks and embroidered damask; to the side are cases of
precious spice, even more precious liquors, and subtle pastes without
value.

But I should not use these terms on you, a traveler and man of
experience, who has looked upon real wealth." Cugel insisted that the
riches of Vull were by no means to be deprecated. The hetman bowed
appreciatively and they proceeded to an esplanade beside the lake,
now a great dark expanse illuminated by feeble starlight.

The hetman indicated a cupola supported five hundred feet in the
air by a slender pillar. "Can you guess the function of that
structure?"

"It would seem to be the post of the Watchman," said Cugel.

"Correct! You are a man of discernment. A pity you are in such
haste and can not linger in Vull!"

Cugel, considering his empty wallet and the riches of the
storehouse, made a suave gesture. "I would not be averse to such a
sojourn, but in all candor, I travel in penury, and would be forced
to seek some sort of gainful employment. I wonder regarding the
office of Watchman, which I understand to be a post of some
prestige."

"Indeed it is," said the hetman. "My own son stands watch tonight.
Still, there is no reason why you should not be a suitable candidate
for the position. The duties are by no means arduous; indeed the post
is something of a sinecure."

Cugel became conscious of Firx's fretful stirrings. "And as to the
emoluments?"

"They are excellent The Watchman enjoys great prestige here in
Vull, since, in a purely formal sense, he protects us all from
danger."

"They are, specifically, what?"

The hetman paused to reflect, and ticked off the points on his
fingers. "First, he is provided a comfortable watch-tower, complete
with cushions, an optical device whereby distant objects are made to
seem close at hand, a brazier to provide heat and an ingenious
communications system. Next, bis food and drink are of the highest
quality and provided free of charge, at his pleasure and to his
order. Next, he is generally granted the subsidiary title 'Guardian
of the Public Repository,' and to simplify matters he is invested
with full title to, and powers of dispensation over, the total wealth
of Vull. Fourth, he may select as his spouse that maiden who seems to
him the most attractive. Fifthly, he is accorded the title of 'Baron'
and must be saluted with profound respect."

"Indeed, indeed," said Cugel. "The position appears worthy of
consideration. What responsibilities are entailed?"

"They are as the nomenclature implies. The Watchman must keep
watch, for this is one of the old-fashioned customs we observe. The
duties are hardly onerous, but they must not be scamped, because that
would signify farce, and we are serious folk, even in connection with
our quaint traditions."

Cugel nodded judiciously. "The conditions are straightforward. The
Watchman watches; nothing could be more clearly expressed. But who is
Magnate, in what direction should he be apprehended, and how may he
be recognized?"

"These questions are of no great application," said the hetman,
"since the creature, in theory, has no existence."

Cugel glanced up at the tower, across the lake, back toward the
public repository. "I hereby make application for the position,
providing all is as you state."

Firx instantly impinged a series of racking pangs upon Cugel's
vitals. Cugel bent double, clasped his abdomen, straightened, and
making excuses to the perplexed hetman, moved to the side.
"Patience!" he implored Firx. "Temperance! Have you no concept of
realities? My purse is empty; there are long leagues ahead! To travel
with any degree of expedition, I must restore my strength and
replenish my wallet. I plan to work at this office only long enough
to do both, then it is post-haste to Almery."

Firx reluctantly diminished the demonstrations, and Cugel returned
to where the hetman waited.

"All is as before," said Cugel. "I have taken counsel with myself
and believe I can adequately fulfill the obligations of the job."

The hetman nodded. "I am pleased to hear this. You will find my
presentation of the facts to be accurate in every essential aspect. I
likewise have been reflecting, and I can safely say that no other
person of the town aspires to so august a position, and I hereby
pronounce you Watchman of the Town!" Ceremoniously the hetman brought
forth a golden collar, which he draped around Cugel's neck.

They returned toward the tavern, and as they went, the folk of
Vull, noting the golden collar, pressed upon the hetman with eager
questions. "Yes," was his answer. "This gentleman has demonstrated
his capabilities, and I have pronounced him Watchman of the
Town!"

At the news the folk of Vull became generously expansive, and
congratulated Cugel as if he had been a resident the whole of his
life.

AH repaired to the tavern; wine and spiced meat were set out;
pipers appeared and there was decorous dancing and merrymaking.

Daring the course of the evening Cugel spied an extremely
beautiful girl dancing with a young man who had been part of the
hunting party. Cugel nudged the hetman, directed his attention to the
girl.

"Ah yes: the delightful Marlinka! She dances with the lad whom I
believe she plans to espouse."

"Her plans possibly are subject to alteration?" inquired Cugel
meaningfully.

The hetman winked slyly. "You find her attractive?"

"Indeed, and since this is a prerequisite of my office, I hereby
declare this delightful creature my bride-elect Let the ceremonies be
performed at once."

"So swiftly?" inquired the hetman. "Ah, well, the hot blood of
youth brooks no delay." He signaled the girl and she danced merrily
over to the table. Cugel arose and performed a deep bow. The hetman
spoke. "Marlinka, the Watchman of the Town finds you desirable and
wishes you for his spouse."

Marlinka seemed first surprised, then amused. She glanced
roguishly at Cugel, and performed an arch curtsy. "The Watchman does
me great honor."

"Further," intoned the hetman, "he requires that the marital
ceremonies be performed on the instant."

Marlinka looked dubiously at Cugel, then over her shoulder at the
young man with whom she had been dancing. "Very well," she said. "As
you will."

The ceremony was performed, and Cugel found himself espoused to
Marlinka, whom, on closer examination, he saw to be a creature of
delightful animation, charming manners and exquisite appearance. He
put his arm around her waist. "Come," he whispered, "let us slip away
for a period and solemnize the connubiality."

"Not so soon," whispered Marlinka. "I must have time to order
myself; I am overexcited!" She released herself, and danced away.

There was further feasting and merrymaking, and to his vast
displeasure Cugel noted Marlinka again dancing with the youth to whom
she formerly had been betrothed. As he watched she embraced this
young man with every evidence of ardor. Cugel marched forward, halted
the dance, and took his bride aside. "Such an act is hardly
appropriate; you have only been married an hour !"

Marlinka, both surprised and nonplused, laughed, then frowned,
then laughed again and promised to behave with greater decorum. Cugel
attempted to lead her to his chamber, but she once again declared the
moment unsuitable.

Cugel drew a deep sigh of vexation, but was consoled by the
recollection of his other perquisites: the freedom of the repository,
for instance. He leaned over to the hetman. "Since now I am titular
guardian to the public repository, it is only prudent that I acquaint
myself in detail with the treasure I am charged with guarding. If you
will be so good as to turn over the keys, I will go to make a quick
inventory."

"Even better," said the hetman, "I will accompany you, and do what
I can in the way of assistance."

They crossed to the repository. The hetman unlocked the door and
held a light. Cugel entered and examined the valuables. "I see that
all is in order, and perhaps it is advisable to wait till my head is
settled before undertaking a detailed inventory. But in the
meantime—" Cugel went to the jewel bin, selected several gems,
and began to tuck them into his pouch.

"A moment," said the hetman. "I fear you inconvenience yourself.
Shortly you will be fitted with garments of rich cloth deserving of
your rank. The wealth is most conveniently kept here in the treasury;
why trouble yourself with the weight, or incur the possibility of
loss?"

"There is something jn what you say," remarked Cugel, "but I wish
to order the construction of a mansion overlooking the lake and I
will need wealth to pay the costs of construction."

"In due time, in due time. The actual work can hardly commence
until you have examined the countryside and chosen the most
felicitous site."

"True," agreed Cugel. "I can see that there are busy times ahead.
But now—back to the tavern! My spouse is overmodest and now I
will brook no further delay!"

But upon their return Marlinka was nowhere to be found. "Doubtless
she has gone to array herself in seductive garments," suggested the
hetman. "Have patience!"

Cugel compressed his lips in displeasure, and was further annoyed
to find that the young huntsman had likewise departed.

The merrymaking waxed apace, and after many toasts, Cugel became a
trifle fuddled, and was carried up to his chamber.

Early in the morning the hetman rapped at the door, and entered at
Cugel's summons. "We must now visit the watchtower," said the hetman.
"My own son guarded Vull this last night, since our tradition demands
incessant vigilance."

With poor grace Cugel dressed himself and followed the hetman out
into the cool air of morning. They walked to the watchtower, and
Cugel was astounded both by its height and by the elegant simplicity
of its construction, the slender stem rearing five hundred feet into
the air to support the cupola.

A rope ladder was the only means of ascent. The hetman started up
and Cugel came below, the ladder swaying and jiggling in such a
fashion as to cause Cugel vertigo.

They gained the cupola in safety and the hetman's weary son
descended. The cupola was furnished in rather less luxury than Cugel
had expected, and indeed seemed almost austere. He pointed out this
fact to the hetman, who stated that the deficiencies were readily
repaired. "Merely state your requirements: they shall be met!"

"Well then: I will want a heavy rug for the floor—tones of
green and gold might be the most felicitous. I require a more elegant
couch, of greater scope than that disreputable pallet I see against
the wall, as my spouse Marlinka will be spending much of her time
here. A cabinet for gems and valuables there, a compartment for
sweetmeats there, a tray for perfume essences there. At this location
I will require a taboret with provision for chilling wines."

The hetman assented readily to all. "It shall be as you say. But
now we must discuss your duties, which are so simple as almost to
require no elaboration: you must keep watch for Magnatz."

"This I understand, but as before a corollary thought occurs to
me: in order to work at optimum efficiency I should know what or whom
I am to watch for. Magnatz might stalk unhindered along the esplanade
were I unable to recognize him. What then is his semblance?"

The hetman shook his head. "I cannot say; the information is lost
in the fog of ages. The legend reports only that he was tricked and
baffled by a sorcerer, and taken away." The hetman went to the
observation post. "Notice: here is an optical device. Working by an
ingenious principle, it bloats and augments those scenes toward which
you direct it. From time to tune you may choose to inspect landmarks
of the area. Yonder is Mount Temus; below is Lake Vull, where no one
can sail for vortices and whirlpools. In this direction is Padagar
Pass, leading eastward into the land of Merce. You can barely discern
that commemorative cairn decreed by Guzpah the Great when he brought
eight armies to attack Magnatz. Magnatz erected another
cairn—see that great mound to the north?—in order to
cover their mangled corpses. And there is the notch Magnatz broke
through the mountains so that cooling air might circulate through the
valley. Across the lake lie certain titanic ruins, where Magnatz had
his palace."

Cugel inspected the various landmarks through the optical device.
"Magnatz was by all accounts a creature of vast potency,"

"So the legends assert. Now, a final matter. If Magnatz
appears—a laughable whimsy, of course—you must pull this
rod, which rings the great gong. Our laws stringently forbid ringing
the gong, except at the sight of Magnatz. The penalty for such a
crime is intensely severe; in fact, the last Watchman betrayed his
high office by wantonly ringing the gong. Needless to say, he was
judged harshly, and after he had been torn to bits by a criss-cross
of chains his fragments were cast into a whirlpool,"

"What an idiotic fellow!" remarked Cugel. "Why forfeit so much
wealth, good cheer and honor for a footling amusement?"

"We are all of like opinion," stated the hetman. Cugel frowned. "I
am puzzled by his act. Was he a young man, to yield so readily to a
frivolous whim?"

"Not even this plea can be made in his behalf. He was a sage of
four-score years, three-score of which he had served the town as
Watchman,"

"His conduct becomes all the more incredible," was Cugel's
wondering comment.

"All of Vull feel the same." The hetman rubbed his hands briskly.
"I believe that we have discussed all the essentials; I will now
depart and leave you to the enjoyment of your duties."

"One moment," said Cugel. "I insist upon certain alterations and
improvements: the rug, the cabinet, the cushions, the tray, the
couch."

"Of course," said the hetman. He bent his head over the rail,
shouted instructions to those below. There was no instant response,
and the hetman became exasperated. "What a nuisance!" he exclaimed.
"It appears I must see to the matter myself." He began to climb down
the rope ladder.

Cugel called after him, "Be good enough to send up my spouse
Marlinka, as there are certain matters I wish to take up with
her."

"I shall seek her out at once," called the hetman over his
shoulder.

Several minutes later there was a creaking of the great pulley;
the ladder was lowered at the end of the rope which supported it.
Looking over the side, Cugel saw that the cushions were about to be
raised. The heavy rope supporting the ladder rattled through the
pulley, bringing up a light line—hardly more than a stout
cord—and on this cord the cushions were raised. Cugel inspected
them with disapproval; they were old and dusty, and not at all of the
quality he had envisioned. Most certainly he would insist upon
furnishings superior to this! Possibly the hetman intended these
merely as a stop-gap until cushions of the requisite elegance could
be provided. Cugel nodded: this was obviously the situation.

He looked around the horizon. Magnatz was nowhere to be seen. He
swung his arms once or twice, paced back and forth, and went to look
down at the plaza, where he expected to find artisans assembling the
appurtenances he had ordered. But there was no such activity; the
townspeople appeared to be going about their usual affairs. Cugel
shrugged, and went to make another inspection of the horizon. As
before, Magnatz was invisible. Once more he surveyed the plaza. He
frowned, squinted: was that his spouse Marlinka walking past in the
company of a young man? He focused the optical device upon the supple
shape: it was Marlinka indeed, and the young man who clasped her
elbow with insolent intimacy was the huntsman to whom she had at one
time been affianced. Cugel clamped his jaw in outrage. This sort of
behavior could not continue! When Marlinfca presented herself, he
would speak emphatically upon the subject

The sun reached zenith; the cord quivered. Looking over the side
Cugel saw that his noon repast was being hoisted in a basket, and he
clapped his hands in anticipation. But the basket, when he lifted the
cloth, contained only a half-loaf of bread, a chunk of tough meat and
a flask of thin wine. Cugel stared at the sorry fare in shock, and
decided to descend on the moment to set matters straight. He cleared
his throat and called down for the ladder. No one appeared to hear
him. He called more loudly. One or two of the folk looked up in mild
curiosity, and passed on about their business. Cugel jerked angrily
at the cord and hauled it over the pulley, but no heavy rope appeared
nor a rope ladder. The light line was an endless loop, capable of
supporting approximately the weight of a basket of food.

Thoughtfully Cugel sat back, and assessed the situation. Then,
directing the optical device once more upon the plaza, he searched
for the hetman, the one man to whom he might turn for
satisfaction.

Late in the afternoon, Cugel chanced to observe the door to the
tavern, just as the hetman came staggering forth, obviously much
elevated by wine. Cugel called peremptorily down; the hetman stopped
short, looked about for the source of the voice, shook his head in
perplexity and continued across the plaza.

The sun slanted across Lake Vull; the whirlpools were spirals of
maroon and black. Cugel's supper arrived: a dish of boiled leeks and
a bowl of porridge. He inspected it with small interest, then went to
the side of the cupola. "Send up the ladder!" he called. "Darkness
comesl In the absence of light, it is futile to watch for Magnate or
anyone else!"

As before, his remarks passed unheeded. Pint suddenly seemed to
take cognizance of the situation and visited several sharp twinges
upon Cugel's vitals.

Cugel passed a fitful night. As merrymakers left the tavern Cugel
called to them and made representations regarding his plight, but he
might as well have saved his breath.

The sun appeared over the mountains. Cugel's morning meal was of
fair quality, but by no means up to the standard described by Hylam
Wiskode, the double tongued hetman of Vull. In a rage, Cugel bellowed
orders to those below, but was ignored. He drew a deep breath: it
seemed then that he was cast upon his own resources. But what of
this? Was he Cugel the Clever for nothing? And he considered various
means for descending the tower.

The line by which his food ascended was far too light. If doubled
and redoubled so that it bore his weight, it would yield, at most, a
quarter of the distance to the ground. His clothes and leathers, if
torn and knotted, might provide another twenty feet, leaving him
dangling in mid-air. The stem of the tower provided no foothold. With
appropriate tools and sufficient time he might be able to chisel a
staircase down the outside of the tower, or even chip away the tower
in its entirety, eventually reducing it to a short stump from which
he might leap to earth. . . . The project was not feasible. Cugel
slumped on the cushions in despair. Everything was now clear. He had
been fooled. He was a prisoner. How long had the previous Watchman
remained at his post? Sixty years? The prospect was by no means
cheerful.

Firx, of like opinion, jabbed furiously with barb and prong,
adding to Cugel's woes.

So passed days and nights. Cugel brooded long and darkly, and
contemplated the folk of Vull with great revulsion. On occasion he
considered ringing the great gong, as his predecessor had been driven
to do—but, recalling the penalty, he restrained himself.

Cugel became familiar with every aspect of town, lake and
landscape. In the morning heavy mists covered the lake; after two
hours a breeze thrust them aside. The whirlpools sucked and groaned,
swinging here and there, and the fishermen of Vull ventured hardly
more than the length of their boats off-shore. Cugel grew to
recognize all the villagers, and learned the personal habits of each.
Marlinka, his perfidious spouse, crossed the plaza often, but seldom
if ever thought to turn her glance upward. Cugel marked well the
cottage where she lived and gave it constant surveillance through the
optical device. If she dallied with the young huntsman, her
discretion was remarkable, and Cugel's dark suspicions were never
documented.

The food failed to improve in quality and not infrequently was
forgotten altogether. Firx was persistently acrimonious, and Cugel
paced the confines of the cupola with ever more frantic strides.
Shortly after sundown, after a particularly agonizing admonishment by
Firx, Cugel stopped short in his tracks. To descend the tower was a
matter of simplicityl Why had he delayed so long? Cugel the Clever
indeed!

He ripped into strips every fragment of cloth the cupola provided,
and from the yield plaited a rope twenty feet long. Now he must wait
till the town grew quiet: yet an hour or two.

Firx assailed him once more, and Cugel cried out. "Peace,
scorpion, tonight we escape this turret! Your acts are
redundant!"

Firx gave over his demonstration, and Cugel went to investigate
the plaza. The night was cool and misty: ideal for his purposes, and
the folk of Vull were early to bed.

Cugel cautiously raised the line on which his food was hoisted;
doubled, redoubled and redoubled it again and so produced a cable
amply strong to support him. He tied a loop on one end, and made the
other fast to the pulley. After one last look around the horizon, he
lowered himself over the side. He descended to the end of the cable,
thrust himself into the loop and sat swaying some four hundred feet
above the plaza. To one end of his twenty-foot rope he tied his shoe
for a weight, and after several casts, flung a loop around the stem
of the column, and pulled himself close. With infinite caution he
slipped himself free and, using the loop around the column as a
brake, slid slowly to the ground. He took himself quickly into the
shadows and donned his shoes. Just as he rose to his feet the door to
the tavern swung opea and out reeled Hylam Wiskode, much the worse
for drink. Cugel grinned unpleasantly and followed the staggering
hetman into a side-street.

A single blow on the back of the head was enough; the hetman
toppled into a ditch. Cugel was instantly upon him, and with deft
fingers took his keys. Going now to the public repository, he opened
the door, slipped inside and filled a sack with gems, coins, flasks
of costly essences, relics, and the like.

Returning to the street, Cugel carried the sack to a dock beside
the lake, where he hid it under a net. Now he proceeded to the
cottage of his spouse Marlinka. Prowling beside the wall, he came to
an open window, and stepping through found himself in her
chamber.

She was awakened by his hands at her throat. When she tried to
scream he cut off her wind. "It is I," he hissed, "Cugel, your
spousel Arise and come with me. Your first sound will be your
last!"

In great terror, the girl obeyed. At Cugel's order she threw a
cloak about her shoulders and clasped sandals upon her feet. "Where
are we going?" she whispered in a tremulous voice.

"No matter. Come now—through the window. Make not a
sound!"

Standing outside in the dark, Marlinka cast a horror-stricken
glance toward the tower. "Who is on watch? Who guards Vull from
Magnate?"

"No one is on watch," said Cugel, "The tower is empty!"

Her knees gave way; she sagged to the ground. "Up!" said Cugel.
"Up! We must proceed!"

"But no one is on watch! This voids the spell the sorcerer cast
upon Magnate, who swore to return when vigilance ceased!"

Cugel lifted the girl to her feet. "This is no concern of mine; I
disclaim responsibility. Did you not seek to fool and victimize me?
Where were my cushions? Where was the fine food? And my
spouse—where were you?"

The girl wept into her hands, and Cugel led her to the dock. He
pulled close a fisherman's boat, ordered her aboard, threw in his
loot

Untying the boat, he shipped oars and rowed out upon the lake.
Marlinka was aghast. "The whirlpools will drown us! Have you lost
your reason?"

"Not at all! I have studied the whirlpools with care and know
precisely the range of each."

Out upon the face of the lake moved Cugel, counting each stroke of
his oars, and watching the stars. "Two hundred paces east ... a
hundred paces north . . . two hundred paces east... fifty paces south
..."

So Cugel rowed while to right and left of them sounded the suck of
whirling water. But the mist had gathered to blot out the stars and
Cugel was forced to throw out the anchor. "This is well enough," he
said. "We are safe now, and there is much that lies between us."

The girl shrank to her end of the boat. Cugel stepped astern and
joined her. "Here I am, your spousel Are you not overjoyed that
finally we are alone? My chamber at the inn was far more comfortable,
but this boat will suffice."

"No," she whimpered. "Do not touch me! The ceremony was
meaningless, a trick to persuade you to serve as Watchman."

"For three-score years perhaps, until I rang the gong from utter
desperation?"

"It is not my doing! I am guilty only of merriment! But what will
become of Vull? No one watches, and the spell is broken!"

"So much the worse for the faithless folk of Vull! They have lost
their treasure, their most beautiful maiden, and when day breaks
Magnatz will march upon them."

Marlinka uttered a poignant cry, which was muffled in the mist.
"Never speak the cursed name!"

"Why not? I shall shout it across the water! I will inform Magnatz
that the spell is gone, that now he may come for his revenge!"

"No, no, indeed not!"

"Then you must behave toward me as I expect."

Weeping, the girl obeyed, and at last a wan red light filtering
through the mist signaled dawn. Cugel stood up in the boat, but all
landmarks were yet concealed.

Another hour passed; the sun was now aloft. The folk of Vull would
discover that their Watchman was gone, and with him their treasure,
Cugel chuckled, and now a breeze lifted the mists, revealing the
landmarks he had memorized. He leapt to the bow and hauled on the
anchor line, but to his annoyance the anchor had fouled itself.

He jerked, strained, and the line gave a trifle. Cugel pulled with
all his strength. From below came a great bubbling. "A whirlpool!"
cried Marlinka in terror.

"No whirlpool here," panted Cugel, and jerked once more. The line
seemed to relax and Cugel hauled in the rope. Looking over the side,
he found himself staring into an enormous pale face. The anchor had
caught in a nostril. As he looked the eyes blinked open.

Cugel threw away the line, leapt for the oars and frantically
rowed for the southern shore.

A hand as large as a house raised from the water, groping.
Marlinka screamed. There was a great turbulence, a prodigious surge
of water which flung the boat toward the shore like a chip, and
Magnatz sat up in the center of Lake Vult.

From the village came the sound of the warning gong, a frenzied
clanging.

Magnatz heaved himself to his knees, water and muck draining from
his vast body. The anchor which had pierced his nostril still hung in
place, and a thick black fluid issued from the wound. He raised a
great arm and slapped petulantly at the boat. The impact threw up a
wall of foam which engulfed the boat, spilled treasure, Cugel and the
girl toppling through the dark depths of the lake.

Cugel kicked and thrust, and propelled himself to the seething
surface. Magnatz had gained his feet and was looking toward Vull.

Cugel swam to the beach and staggered ashore. Marlinka had
drowned, and was nowhere to be seen. Across the lake Magnatz was
wading slowly toward the village.

Cugel waited no longer. He turned and ran with all speed up the
mountainside.



IV

The Sorcerer Pharesm


THE MOUNTAINS WERE BEHIND: the dark defiles, the tarns, the
echoing stone heights—all now a sooty bulk to the north. For a
time Cugel wandered a region of low rounded hills the color and
texture of old wood, with groves of blue-black trees dense along the
ridges, then came upon a faint trail which took him south by long
swings and slants, and at last broke out over a vast dim plain. A
half-mile to the right rose a line of tall cliffs, which instantly
attracted his attention, bringing him a haunting pang of deja-vu. He
stared mystified. At some time in the past he had known these cliffs:
how? when? His memory provided no response.

He settled himself upon a low lichen-covered rock to rest, but now
Firx became impatient and inflicted a stimulating pang. Cugel leapt
to his feet, groaning with weariness and shaking his fist to the
southwest, the presumable direction of Almery. "Iuconnu, lucouuu! If
I could repay a tenth of your offenses, the world would think me
harsh!"

He set off down the trail, under the cliffs which had affected him
with such poignant but impossible recollections. Far below spread the
plain, filling three-quarters of the horizon with colors much like
those of the Uchened rock Cugel had just departed: black patches of
woodland: a gray crumble where ruins filled an entire valley;
nondescript streaks of gray-green, lavender, gray-brown; the leaden
glint of two great rivers disappearing into the haze of distance.

Cugel's brief rest had only served to stiffen his joints; he
limped, and the pouch chafed his hip. Even more distressing was the
hunger gripping his belly. Another tally against Iuconnu! True, the
Laughing Magician had furnished an amulet converting such normally
inedible substances as grass, wood, horn, hair, humus and the like
into a nutritious paste. Unfortunately—and this was a measure
of Iuconnu's mordant humor—the paste retained the flavor of the
native substance, and during his passage of the mountains Cugel bad
tasted little better than spurge, cullion, blackwort, oak-twigs and
galls, and on one occasion, when all else had failed, certain-refuse
discovered in the cave of a bearded thawn. Cugel had eaten only
minimally; his long spare frame had become gaunt; his cheekbones
protruded like sponsons; the black eyebrows which once had crooked so
jauntily now lay flat and dispirited. Truly, truly, Iuconnu had much
to answer for! And Cugel, as he proceeded, debated the exact quality
of revenge he would take if ever he found his way back to Almery.

The trail swung down upon a wide stony flat where the wind had
carved a thousand grotesque figures. Surveying the area, Cugel
thought to perceive regularity among the eroded shapes, and halted to
rub his long chin in appraisal. The pattern displayed an extreme
subtlety —so subtle indeed that Cugel wondered if it had not
been projected by his own mind. Moving closer, he discerned further
complexities, and elaborations upon complexities: twists, spires,
volutes; disks, saddles, wrenched spheres; torsons and flexions;
spindles, cardioids, lanci-fonn pinnacles: the most laborious,
painstaking and intricate rock-carving conceivable, manifestly no
random effort of the elements. Cugel frowned in perplexity, unable to
imagine a motive for so complex an undertaking.

He went on and a moment later heard voices together with the clank
of tools. He stopped short, listened cautiously, then proceeded to
come upon a gang of about fifty men ranging in stature from three
niches to well over twelve feet. Cugel approached on tentative feet,
but after a glance the workers paid him no heed, continuing to
chisel, grind, scrape, probe and polish with dedicated zeal.

Cugel watched for several minutes, then approached the overseer, a
man three feet in height who stood at a lectern consulting the plans
spread before him, comparing them to the work in progress by means of
an ingenious optical device. He appeared to note everything at once,
calling instructions, chiding, exhorting against error, instructing
the least deft in the use of their tools. To exemplify his remarks he
used a wonderfully extensible forefinger, which reached forth thirty
feet to tap at a section of rock, to scratch a quick diagram, then as
swiftly retract

The foreman drew back a pace or two, temporarily satisfied with
the work in progress, and Cugel came forward. "What intricate effort
is this and what is its object?"

"The work is as you see," replied the foreman in a voice of
penetrating compass. "From natural rock we produce specified shapes,
at the behest of the sorcerer Pharesm. . . . Now then! Now then!" The
cry was addressed to a man three feet taller than Cugel, who had been
striking the stone with a pointed maul. "I detect Qverconfidence!"
The forefinger shot forth. "Use great care at this juncture; note how
the rock tends to cleave? Strike here a blow of the sixth intensity
at the vertical, using a semi-clenched grip; at this point a
fourth-intensity blow groin-wise; then employ a quarter-gauge
bant-iron to remove the swange."

With the work once more going correctly, he fell to studying his
plans, shaking his head with a frown of dissatisfaction. "Much too
slow! The craftsmen toil as if in a drugged torpor, or else display a
mulish stupidity. Only yesterday Dadio Fessadil, he of three ells
with the green kerchief yonder, used a nineteen-gauge freezing-bar to
groove the bead of a small inverted quatrefoil."

Cugel shook his head in surprise, as if never had he heard of so
egregious a blunder. And he asked: "What prompts this inordinate
rock-hewing?"

"I cannot say," replied the foreman. "The work has been in
progress three hundred and eighteen years, but during this time
Pharesm has never clarified his motives. They must be pointed and
definite, for he makes a daily inspection and is quick to indicate
errors." Here he turned aside to consult with a man as tall as
Cugel's knee, who voiced uncertainty as to the pitch of a certain
volute. The foreman, consulting an index, resolved the matter; then
be turned back to Cugel, this time with an air of frank
appraisal.

"You appear both astute and deft; would you care to take
employment? We lack several craftsmen of the half-ell category, or,
if you prefer more forceful manifestations, we can nicely use an
apprentice stone-breaker of sixteen-ells. Your stature is adjusted in
either direction, and there is identical scope for advancement As you
see, I am a man of four ells. I reached the position of Stirker in
one year, Molder of Forms in three, Assistant Chade in ten, and I
have now served as Chief Chade for nineteen years. My predecessor was
of two ells, and the Chief Chade before him was a ten-ell man." He
went on to enumerate advantages of the work, which included
sustenance, shelter, narcotics of choice, nympharium privileges, a
stipend starting at ten terces a day, various other benefits
including Pharesm's services as diviner and exorciser. "Additionally,
Pharesm maintains a conservatory where all may enrich their
intellects. I myself take instruction in Insect Identification, the
Heraldry of the Kings of Old Gomaz, Unison Chanting, Practical
Catalepsy and Orthodox Doctrine. You will never find master more
generous than Pharesm the Sorcerer!"

Cugel restrained a smile for the Chief Cbade's enthusiasm; still,
his stomach was roiling with hunger and he did not reject the proffer
out of hand. "I had never before considered such a career," he said.
"You cite advantages of which I was unaware."

"True; they are not generally known."

"I cannot immediately say yes or no. It is a decision of
consequence which I feel I should consider in all its aspects."

The Chief Chade gave a nod of profound agreement "We encourage
deliberation in our craftsmen, when every stroke must achieve the
desired effect. To repair an inaccuracy of as much as a fingernail's
width the entire block must be removed, a new block fitted into the
socket of the old, whereupon all begins anew. Until the work has
reached its previous stage nympharium privileges are denied to all.
Hence, we wish no opportunistic or impulsive newcomers to the
group."

Fine, suddenly apprehending that Cugel proposed a delay, made
representations of a most agonizing nature.

Clasping his abdomen, Cugel took himself aside and, while the
Chief Chade watched in perplexity, argued heatedly with Firx. "How
may I proceed without sustenance?" Firx's response was an incisive
motion of the barbs. "Impossible!" exclaimed Cugel. "The amulet of
Iuconnu theoretically suffices, but I can stomach no more spurge;
remember, if I fall dead in the trail, you will never rejoin your
comrade in Iuconnu's vats!"

Firx saw the justice of the argument and reluctantly became quiet.
Cugel returned to the lectern, where the Chief Chade had been
distracted by the discovery of a large tourmaline opposing the flow
of a certain complicated helix. Finally Cugel was able to engage his
attention. "While I weigh the proffer of employment and the
conflicting advantages of diminution versus elongation, I will need a
couch on which to recline. I also wish to test the perquisites you
describe, perhaps for the period of a day or more."

"Your prudence is commendable," declared the Chief Chade. "The
folk of today tend to commit themselves rashly to courses they later
regret. It was not so in my youth, when sobriety and discretion
prevailed. I will arrange for your admission into the compound, where
you may verify each of my assertions. You will find Pharesm stern but
just, and only the man who hacks the rock willy-nilly has cause to
complain. But observe! here is Pharesm the Sorcerer on his daily
inspection!"

Up the trail came a man of imposing stature wearing a voluminous
white robe. His countenance was benign; his hair was like yellow
down; his eyes were turned upward as if rapt in the contemplation of
an ineffable sublimity. His arms were sedately folded, and he moved
without motion of his legs. The workers, doffing their caps and
bowing in unison, chanted a respectful salute, to which Pharesm
returned an inclination of the head. Spying Cugel, he paused, made a
swift survey of the work so far accomplished, then glided without
haste to the lectern. "All appears reasonably exact," he told the
Chief Chade. "I believe the polish on the underside of Epiprojectioo
56-16 is uneven and I detect a minute chip on the secondary cinctor
of the nineteenth spire. Neither circumstance seems of major import
and I recommend no disciplinary action."

"The deficiencies shall be repaired and the careless artisans
reprimanded: this at the very least!" exclaimed the Chief Chade in an
angry passion. "Now I wish to introduce a possible recruit to our
work-force. He claims no experience at the trade, and will deliberate
before deciding to join our group. If he so elects, I envision the
usual period as rubble-gatherer, before he is entrusted with
tool-sharpening and preliminary excavation." "Yes; this would accord
with our usual practice. However . . ." Pharesm glided effortlessly
forward, took Cugel's left hand and performed a swift divination
upon the fingernails. His bland countenance became sober. "I see
contradictions of four varieties. Still it is clear that your optimum
bent lies elsewhere than in the hewing and shaping of rock. I advise
that you seek another and more compatible employment."

"Well spoken!" cried the Chief Chade. "Pharesm the Sorcerer
demonstrates his infallible altruism! In order that I do not fall
short of the mark I hereby withdraw my proffer of employment! Since
no purpose can now be served by reclining upon a couch or testing the
perquisites, you need waste no more irreplaceable tune." Cugel made a
sour face. "So casual a divination might well be inaccurate."

The Chief Chade extended his forefinger thirty feet vertically in
outraged remonstrance, but Pharesm gave a placid nod. "This is quite
correct, and I will gladly perform a more comprehensive divination,
though the process requires six to eight hours."

"So long?" asked Cugel in astonishment, "This is the barest
minimum. First you are swathed head to foot in the intestines of
fresh-killed owls, then immersed in a warm bath containing a number
of secret organic substances. I must, of course, char the small toe
of your left foot, and dilate your nose sufficiently to admit an
explorer beetle, that he may study the conduits leading to and from
your sensorium. But let us return to my diviuatory, that we may
commence the process in good time."

Cugel pulled at his chin, torn this way and that. Finally he said,
"I am a cautious man, and must ponder even the advisability of
undertaking such a divination; hence, I will require several days of
calm and meditative somnolence. Your compound and the adjacent
nympharium appear to afford the conditions requisite to such a state;
hence—"

Pharesm indulgently shook his head. "Caution, like any other virtue, 
can be carried to an extreme. The divination must proceed at once."

Cugel attempted to argue further but Pharesm was adamant, and
presently glided off down the trail.

Cugel, disconsolately went to the side, considering first this
stratagem, then that. The sun neared the zenith, and the workmen
began to speculate as to the nature of the viands to be served for
their mid-day meal. At last the Chief Chade signaled; all put down
their tools and gathered about the cart which contained the repast,
Cugel jocularly called out that he might be persuaded to share the
meal, but the Chief Chade would not hear of it. "As in all of
Pharesm's activities, an exactitude of consequence must prevail. It
is an unthinkable discrepancy that fifty-four men should consume the
food intended for fifty-three."

Cugel could contrive no apposite reply, and sat in silence while
the rock-hewers munched at meat pies, cheeses and salt fish. All
ignored him save for one, a quarter-ell man whose generosity far
exceeded his stature, and who undertook to reserve for Cugel a
certain portion of his food. Cugel replied that he was not at all
hungry, and rising to his feet wandered off through the project,
hoping to discover some forgotten cache of food.

He prowled here and there, but the rubble-gatherers —had
removed every trace of substance extraneous to the pattern. With
appetite unassuaged Cugel arrived at the center of the work where,
sprawled on a carved disk, he spied a most peculiar creature:
essentially a gelatinous globe swimming with luminous particles from
which a number of transparent tubes or tentacles dwindled away to
nothing. Cugel bent to examine the creature, which pulsed with a slow
internal rhythm. He prodded it with his finger, and bright little
flickers rippled away from the point of contact. Interesting: a
creature of unique capabilities!

Removing a pin from his garments, he prodded a tentacle, which
emitted a peevish pulse of light, while the golden flecks in its
substance surged back and forth.

More intrigued than ever, Cugel hitched himself close, and gave
himself to experimentation, probing here and . there, watching the
angry flickers and sparkles with great amusement.

A new thought occurred to Cugel. The creature displayed qualities
reminiscent of both coelenterate and echinoderm. A terrene
nudibranch? A mollusc deprived of its shell? More importantly, was
the creature edible?

Cugel brought forth bis amulet and applied it to the central globe
and to each of the tentacles. He heard neither chime nor buzz: the
creature was non-poisonous. He unsheathed his knife and sought to
excise one of the tentacles, but found the substance too resilient
and tough to be cut. There was a brazier nearby, kept aglow for
forging and sharpening the workers' tools. He lifted the creature by
two of its tentacles, carried it to the brazier and arranged it over
the fire. He toasted it carefully and, when he deemed it sufficiently
cooked, sought to eat it Finally, after various undignified efforts,
he crammed the entire creature down his throat, finding it without
taste or sensible nutritive volume.

The stone-carvers were returning to their work. With a significant
glance for the foreman Cugel set off down the trail.

Not far distant was the dwelling of Pharesm the Sorcerer: a long
low building of melted rock surmounted'by eight oddly shaped domes of
copper, mica and bright blue glass. Pharesm himself sat at leisure
before the dwelling, surveying the valley with a serene and
all-inclusive magnanimity. He held up a hand in calm salute. "I wish
you pleasant travels and success in all future endeavors."

"The sentiment is naturally valued," said Cugel with some
bitterness. "You might however have rendered a more meaningful
service by extending a share of your noon meal."

Pharesm's placid benevolence was as before. "This would have been
an act of mistaken altruism. Too fulsome a generosity corrupts the
recipient and stultifies his resource."

Cugel gave a bitter laugh. "I am a man of iron principle, and I
will not complain, even though, lacking any better fare, I was forced
to devour a great transparent insect which I found at the heart of
your rock-carving."

Pharesm swung about with a suddenly intent expression. "A great
transparent insect, you say?"

"Insect, epiphyte, mollusc—who knows? It resembled no
creature I have yet seen, and its flavor even after carefully
grilling at the brazier, was not distinctive."

Pharesm floated seven feet into the air, to turn the full power of
his gaze down at Cugel. He spoke in a low harsh voice: "Describe this
creature in detail!"

Wondering at Pharesm's severity, Cugel obeyed. "It was thus and
thus as to dimension." He indicated with his hands. "In color it was
a gelatinous transparency shot with numberless golden specks. These
flickered and pulsed when the creature was disturbed. The tentacles
seemed to grow flimsy and disappear rather than terminate. The
creature evinced a certain sullen determination, and ingestion proved
difficult."

Pharesm clutched at his head, hooking his fingers into the yellow
down of his hair. He rolled his eyes upward and uttered a tragic cry.
"Ah! Five hundred years I have toiled to entice this creature,
despairing, doubting, brooding by night, yet never abandoning hope
that my calculations were accurate and my great talisman cogent.
Then, when finally it appears, you fall upon it for no other reaeson
than to sate your repulsive gluttony!"

Cugel, somewhat daunted by Pharesm's wrath, asserted his absence
of malicious intent. Pharesm would not be mollified. He pointed out
that Cugel had committed trespass and hence had forfeited the option
of pleading innocence. "Your very existence is a mischief, compounded
by bringing the unpleasant fact to my notice. Benevolence prompted me
to forebearance, which now I perceive for a grave mistake."

"In this case," stated Cugel with dignity, "I will depart your
presence at once. I wish you good fortune for the balance of the day,
and now, farewell."

"Not so fast," said Pharesm in the coldest of voices. "Exactitude
has been disturbed; the wrong which has been committed demands a
counteract to validate the Law of Equipoise. I can define the
gravity of your act in this manner: should I explode you on this
instant into the most minute of your parts the atonement would
measure one ten-millionth of your offense. A more stringent
retribution becomes necessary."

Cugel spoke in great distress. "I understand that an act of
consequence was performed, but remember! my participation was
basically casual. I categorically declare first my absolute
innocence, second my lack of criminal intent, and third my effusive
apologies. And now, since I have many leagues to travel, I
will—"

Pharesm made a peremptory gesture. Cugel fell silent. Pharesm drew
a deep breath. "You fail to understand the calamity you have visited
upon me. I will explain, so that you may not be astounded by the
rigors which await you. As I have adumbrated, the arrival of the
creature was the culmination of my great effort. I determined its
nature through a perusal of forty-two thousand librams, all written
in cryptic language: a task requiring a hundred years. During a
second hundred years I evolved a pattern to draw it in upon itself
and prepared exact specification. Next I assembled stone-cutters, and
across a period of three hundred years gave solid form to my pattern.
Since like subsumes like, the variates and intercongeles create a
suprapullulation of all areas, qualities and intervals into a
crystorrhoid whorl, eventually exciting the ponentiation of a
proubietal chute. Today occurred the concatenation; the 'creature,'
as you call it, pervolved upon, itself; in your idiotic malice you
devoured it."

Cugel, with a trace of haughtiness, pointed out that the "idiotic
malice" to which the distraught sorcerer referred was In actuality
simple hunger. "In any event, what is so extraordinary about the
'creature'? Others equally ugly may be found in the net of any
fisherman."

Pharesm drew himself to his full height, glared down at Cugel.
"The 'creature,' " he said In a grating voice, "is TOTALITY. The
central globe is all of space, viewed from the inverse. The tubes are
vortices into various eras, and what terrible acts you have
accomplished with your prodding and poking, your boiling and chewing,
are impossible to imagine!"

"What of the effects of digestion?" inquired Cugel delicately.
"Will the various components of space, time and existence retain
their identity after passing the length of my inner tract?"

"Bah. The concept is jejune. Enough to say that you have wreaked
damage and created a serious tension in the ontological fabric.
Inexorably you are required to restore equilibrium."

Cugel held out his hands. "Is it not possible a mistake has been
made? That the 'creature' was no more than pseudo-TOTALITY? Or is it
conceivable that the 'creature' may by some means be lured forth once
more?"

"The first two theories are untenable. As to the last, I must
confess that certain frantic expedients have been forming in my
mind." Pharesm made a sign, and Cugel's feet became attached to the
soil. "I must go to my divinatory and learn the full significance of
the distressing events. In due course I will return,"

"At which time I will be feeble with hunger," said Cugel
fretfully. "Indeed, a crust of bread and a bite of cheese would have
averted all the events for which I am now reproached."

"Silence!" thundered Pharesm. "Do not forget that your penalty
remains to be fixed; it is the height of impudent recklessness to
hector a person already struggling to maintain his judicious
calm!"

"Allow me to say this much," replied Cugel. "If you return from
your divining to find me dead and desiccated here on the path, you
will have wasted much time fixing upon a penalty."

"The restoration of vitality is a small task," said Pharesm. "A
variety of deaths by contrasting processes may well enter into your
judgment," He started toward his divinatory, then turned back and
made an impatient gesture. "Come, it is easier to feed you than
return to the road."

Cugel's feet were once more free and he followed Pharesm through a
wide arch into the divinatory. In a broad room with splayed gray
walls, illuminated by three-colored polyhedra, Cugel devoured the
food Pharesm caused to appear. Meanwhile Pharesm secluded himself in
his work-room, where he occupied himself with his divinations. As
time passed Cugel grew restless, and on three occasions approached
the arched entrance. On each occasion, a Presentment came to deter
him, first in the shape of a leaping ghoul, next as a zig-zag blaze
of energy, and finally as a score of glittering purple wasps.

Discouraged, Cugel went to a bench, and sat waiting with elbows on
long legs, hands under his chin.

Pharesm at last reappeared, his robe wrinkled, the fine yellow
down of his hair disordered into a multitude of small spikes. Cugel
slowly rose to his feet.

"I have learned the whereabouts of TOTALITY," said Pharesm, in a
voice like the strokes of a great gong. "In indignation, removing
itself from your stomach, it has recoiled a million years into the
past."

Cugel gave his head a solemn shake. "Allow me to offer my
sympathy, and my counsel, which is: never despair! Perhaps the
'creature' will choose to pass this way again."

"An end to your chatter! TOTALITY must be recovered. Come."

Cugel reluctantly followed Pharesm into a small room walled with
blue tile, roofed with a tall cupola of blue and orange glass.
Pharesm pointed to a black disk at the center of the floor. "Stand
there."

Cugel glumly obeyed. "In a certain sense, I feel that—"

"Silence!" Pharesm came forward. "Notice this object!" He
displayed an ivory sphere the size of two fists, carved in
exceedingly fine detail. "Here you see the pattern from which my
great work is derived. It expresses the symbolic significance of
NULLITY to which TOTALITY must necessarily attach itself, by
Kratinjae's Second Law of Cryptorrhoid Affinities, with which you are
possibly familiar."

"Not in every aspect," said Cugel. "But may I ask your
intentions?"

Pharesm's mouth moved in a cool smile. "I am about to attempt one
of the most cogent spells ever evolved: a spell so fractious, harsh,
and coactive, that Phandaal, Ranking Sorcerer of Grand Motholam,
barred its use. If I am able to control it, you will be propelled one
million years into the past. There you will reside until you have
accomplished your mission, when you may return."

Cugel stepped quickly from the black disk. "I am not the man for
this mission, whatever it may be. I fervently urge the use of someone
else!"

Pharesm ignored the expostulation. "The mission, of course, is to
bring the symbol into contact with TOTALITY." He brought forth a wad
of tangled gray tissue. "In order to facilitate your search, I endow
you with this instrument which relates all possible vocables to every
conceivable system of meaning." He thrust the net into Cugel's ear,
where it swiftly engaged itself with the nerve of consonant
expression. "Now," said Pharesm, "you need listen to a strange
language for but three minutes when you become proficient in its use.
And now, another article to enhance the prospect of success: this
ring. Notice the jewel: should you approach to within a league of
TOTALITY, darting lights within the gem will guide you. Is all
clear?"

Cugel gave a reluctant nod. "There is another matter to be
considered. Assume that your calculations are incorrect and that
TOTALITY has returned only nine hundred thousand years into the past:
what then? Must I dwell out my life in this possibly barbarous
era?"

Pharesm frowned in displeasure. "Such a situation involves an
error of ten percent. My system of reckoning seldom admits of
deviation greater than one percent."

Cugel began to make calculations, but now Pharesm signaled to the
black disk. "Back! And do not again move hence, or you will be the
worse for it!"

Sweat oozing from his glands, knees quivering and sagging, Cugel
returned to the place designated.

Pharesm retreated to the far end of the room, where he stepped
into a coil of gold tubing, which sprang spiraling up to clasp his
body. From a desk he took four black disks, which he began to shuffle
and juggle with such fantastic dexterity that they blurred in Cugel's
sight. Pharesm at last flung the disks away; spinning and wheeling,
they hung in the air, gradually drifting toward Cugel.

Pharesm next took up a white tube, pressed it tight against his
lips and spoke an incantation. The tube swelled and bulged into a
great globe. Pharesm twisted the end shut and, shouting a thunderous
spell, hurled the globe at the spinning disks, and all exploded.
Cugel was surrounded, seized, jerked in all directions outward,
compressed with equal vehemence: the net result, a thrust in a
direction contrary to all, with an impetus equivalent to the tide of
a million years. Among dazzling lights and distorted visions Cugel
was transported beyond his consciousness.

Cugel awoke in a glare of orange-gold sunlight, of a radiance he
had never known before. He lay on his back looking up into a sky of
warm blue, of lighter tone and softer texture than the indigo sky of
his own time.

He tested arms and legs and, finding no damage, sat upright, then
slowly rose to his feet, blinking in the unfamiliar radiance.

The topography had changed only slightly. The mountains to the
north were taller and of harsher texture, and Cugel could not
identify the way he had come (or, more properly, the way he would
come). The site of Pharesm's project was now a low forest of
feather-light green trees, on which hung clusters of red berries. The
valley was as before, though the rivers flowed by different courses
and three great cities were visible at varying distances. The air
drifting up from the valley carried a strange tart fragrance mingled
with an antique exhalation of molder and must, and it seemed to Cugel
that a peculiar melancholy hung in the air; in fact, he thought to
hear music: a slow plaintive melody, so sad as to bring tears to his
eyes. He searched for the source of the music, but it faded and
disappeared even as he sought it, and only when he ceased to listen
did it return.

For the first time Cugel looked toward the cliffs which rose to
the west, and now the sense of deja-vu was stronger than ever. Cugel
pulled at his chin in puzzlement. The time was a million years
previous to that other occasion on which he had seen the cliffs, and
hence, by definition, must be the first. But it was also the second
time, for he well remembered his initial experience of the cliffs. On
the other hand, the logic of time could not be contravened, and by
such reckoning this view preceded the other. A paradox, thought
Cugel: a puzzle indeed! Which experience had provided the background
to the poignant sense of familiarity he had felt on both
occasions?

. . . Cugel dismissed the subject as unprofitable and was starting
to turn away when movement caught his eye. He looked back up the face
of the cliffs, and the air was suddenly full and rich with the music
he had heard before, music of anguish and exalted despair. Cugel
stared in wonder. A great winged creature wearing white robes flapped
on high along the face of the cliff. The wings were long, ribbed with
black chitin, sheathed with gray membrane. Cugel watched in awe as it
swooped into a cave high up in the face of the cliffs. A gong tolled,
from a direction Cugel could not determine. Overtones shuddered
across the air, and when they died the unheard music became almost
audible. From far over the valley came one of the Winged Beings,
carrying a human form, of what age and sex Cugel could not determine.
It hovered beside the cliff and dropped its burden. Cugel thought to
hear a faint cry and the music was sad, stately, sonorous. The body
seemed to fall slowly down the great height and struck at last at the
base of the cliff. The Winged Being, after dropping the body, glided
to a high ledge, where it folded its wings and stood like a man,
staring over the valley.

Cugel shrank back behind a rock. Had he been seen? He could not be
sure. He heaved a deep sigh. This sad golden world of the past was
not to his liking; the sooner he could leave the better. He examined
the ring which Pharesm had furnished, but the gem shone like dull
glass, with none of the darting glitters which would point the
direction to TOTALITY. It was as Cugel feared. Pharesm had erred in
his calculations and Cugel could never return to his own time.

The sound of flapping wings caused him to look into the sky. He
shrank back into such concealment as the rock offered. The music of
woe swelled and sighed away, as in the light of the setting sua the
winged creature hovered beside the cliff and dropped its victim. Then
it landed on a ledge with a great flapping of wings and entered a
cave.

Cugel rose to his feet and ran crouching down the path through the
amber dusk.

The path presently entered a grove of trees, and here Cugel paused
to catch his breath, after which he proceeded more circumspectly. He
crossed a path of cultivated ground on which stood a vacant hut.
Cugel considered it as shelter for the night, but thought to see a
dark shape watching from the interior and passed it by.

The trail led away from the cliffs, across rolling downs, and just
before the twilight gave way to night Cugel came to a village
standing on the banks of a pond.

Cugel approached warily, but was encouraged by the signs of
tidiness and good husbandry. In a park beside the pond stood a
pavilion possibly intended for music, miming or declamation;
surrounding the park were small narrow houses with high gabies, the
ridges of which were raised in decorative scallops. Opposite the pond
was a larger building, with an ornate front of woven wood and
enameled plaques of red, blue and yellow. Three tall gables served as
its roof, the central ridge supporting an intricate carved panel,
while those to either side bore a series of small spherical blue
lamps. At the front was a wide pergola sheltering benches, tables and
an open space, all illuminated by red and green fire-fans. Here
townsfolk took their ease, inhaling incense and drinking wine, while
youths and maidens cavorted in an eccentric high-kicking dance, to
the music of pipers and a concertina.

Emboldened by the placidity of the scene, Cugel approached. The
villagers were of a type he had never before encountered, of no great
stature, with generally large heads and long'restless arms. Their
skin was a rich pumpkin orange; their eyes and teeth were black;
their hair, likewise black, hung smoothly down beside the faces of
the men to terminate in a fringe of blue beads, while the women wound
their hair around white rings-atid pegs, to arrive at a coiffure of
no small complexity. The features were heavy at jaw and cheek-bone;
the long wide-spaced eyes drooped in a droll manner at the outer
corners. The noses and ears were long and were under considerable
muscular control, endowing the faces with great vivacity, The men
wore flounced black kirtles, brown surcoats, headgear consisting of a
wide black disk, a black cylinder, another lesser disk, surmounted by
a gilded ball. The women wore black trousers, brown jackets with
enamled disks at the navel, and at each buttock a simulated tail of
green or red plumes, possibly an indication as to marital status.

Cugel stepped into the light of the fire-fans; instantly all talk
ceased. Noses became rigid, eyes stared, ears twisted about in
curiosity. Cugel smiled to left and right, waved his hands in a
debonair all-inclusive greeting, and took a seat at an empty
table.

There were mutters of astonishment at the various tables, too
quiet to reach Cugel's ears. Presently one of the elders arose and
approaching Cugel's table spoke a sentence, which Cugel found
unintelligible, for with insufficient scope, Pharesm's mesh as yet
failed to yield meaning. Cugel smiled politely, held wide his hands
in a gesture of well-meaning helplessness. The elder spoke once more,
in a rather sharper voice, and again Cugel indicated his inability to
understand. The elder gave his ears a sharp disapproving jerk and
turned away. Cugel signaled to the proprietor, pointed to the bread
and wine on a nearby table and signified his desire that the same be
brought to him.

The proprietor voiced a query which, for all its
unintelligibility, Cugel was able to interpret He brought forth a
gold coin, and, satisfied, the proprietor turned away.

Conversation recommenced at the various tables and before long the
vocables conveyed meaning to Cugel. When he had eaten and drunk, he
rose to his feet and walked to the table of the elder who had first
spoken to him, where he bowed respectfully. "Do I have permission to
join you at your table?"

"Certainly; if you are so inclined. Sit." The elder indicated a
seat. "From your behavior I assumed that you were not only deaf and
dumb, but also guilty of mental retardation. It is now clear, at
least, that you hear and speak."

"I profess rationality as well," said Cugel. "As a traveler from
afar, ignorant of your customs, I thought it best to watch quietly a
few moments, lest in error I commit a solecism."

"Ingenious but peculiar," was the elder's comment "Still, your
conduct offers no explicit contradiction to orthodoxy. May I inquire
the urgency which brings you to Farwan?"

Cugel glanced at his ring; the crystal was dull and lifeless:
TOTALITY was clearly elsewhere. "My homeland is uncultured; I travel
that I may learn the modes and styles of more civilized folk."

"Indeed!" The elder mulled the matter over for a moment, and
nodded in qualified approval. "Your garments and physiognomy are of a
type unfamilar to me; where is this homeland of yours?"

"It lies in a region so remote,"' said Cugel, "that never till
this instant had I knowledge of the land of Farwan!"

The elder flattened his ears in surprise. "What? Glorious Farwan,
unknown? The great cities Impergos, Tharawe, Rhaverjand—all
unheard of? What of the illustrious Sembers? Surely the fame of the
Sembers has reached you? They expelled the star-pirates; they brought
the sea to the Land of Platforms; the splendor of Padara Palace is
beyond description!"

Cugel sadly shook his head. "No rumor of this extraordinary
magnificence has come to my ears."

The elder gave his nose a saturnine twitch. Cugel was clearly a
dolt. 'He said shortly, "Matters are as I state."

"I doubt nothing," said Cugel. "In fact I admit to ignorance. But
tell me more, for I may be forced to abide long in this region. For
instance, what of the Winged Beings that reside in the cliff? What
manner of creature are they?"

The elder pointed toward the sky. "If you had the eyes of a
nocturnal titvit you might note a dark moon which reels around the
earth, and which cannot be seen except when it casts its shadow upon
the sun. The Winged Beings are denizens of this dark world and their
ultimate nature is unknown. They serve,the Great God Yelisea in this
fashion: whenever comes the time for man or woman to die, the Winged
Beings are informed by a despairing signal from the dying person's
norn. They thereupon descend upon the unfortunate and convey him to
their caves, which in actuality constitute a magic opening into the
blessed land Byssom."

Cugel leaned back, black eyebrows raised in a somewhat quizzical
arch. "Indeed, indeed," he said, in a voice which the elder found
insufficiently earnest.

"There can be no doubt as to the truth of the facts as I have
stated them. Orthodoxy derives from this axiomatic foundation, and
the two systems are mutually reinforcing: hence each is doubly
validated."

Cugel frowned. "The matter undoubtedly goes as you aver—but
are the Winged Beings consistently accurate in their choice of
victim?"

The elder rapped the table in annoyance. "The doctrine is
irrefutable, for those whom the Winged Beings take never survive,
even when they appear in the best of health. Admittedly the fall upon
the rocks conduces toward death, but it is the mercy of Yelisea which
sees fit to grant a speedy extinction, rather than the duration of a
possibly agonizing canker. The system is wholly beneficent. The
Winged Beings summon only the moribund, which are then thrust through
the cliff into the blessed land Byssom. Occasionally a heretic argues
otherwise and in this case—but I am sure that you share the
orthodox view?"

"Wholeheartedly," Cugel asserted. "The tenets of your belief are
demonstrably accurate." And he drank deep of his wine. Even as he set
down the goblet a murmur of music whispered through the air: a
concord infinitely sweet, infinitely melancholy. All sitting under
the pergola became silent—though Cugel was unsure that he in
fact had heard music.

The elder huddled forward a trifle, and drank from his own goblet.
Only then did he glance up. "The Winged Beings are passing over even
now."

Cugel pulled thoughtfully at his chin. "How does one protect
himself from the Winged Beings?"

The question was ill-put; the elder glared, an act which included
the curling forward of his ears. "If a person is about to die, the
Winged Beings appear. If not, he need have no fear."

Cugel nodded several times. "You have clarified my perplexity.
Tomorrow—since you and I are manifestly in the best of
health—let us walk up the hill and saunter back and forth near
the cliff."

"No," said the elder, "and for this reason: the atmosphere at such
an elevation is insalubrious; a person is likely to inhale a noxious
fume, which entails damage to the health."

"I comprehend perfectly," said Cugel. "Shall we abandon this
dismal topic? For the nonce we are alive and concealed to some extent
by the vines which shroud the pergola. Let us eat and drink and watch
the merrymaking. The youths of the village dance with great
agility."

The elder drained his goblet and rose to his feet. "You may do as
you please; as for me, it is time for my Ritual Abasement, this act
being an integral part of our belief."

"I will perform something of a like nature by and by," said Cugel.
"I wish you the enjoyment of your rite."

The elder departed the pergola and Cugel was left by himself.
Presently certain youths, attracted by curiosity, joined him, and
Cugel explained his presence once again, though with less emphasis
upon the barbaric crudity of his native land, for several girls had
joined the group, and Cugel was stimulated by their exotic coloring
and the vivacity of their attitudes. Much wine was served and Cugel
was persuaded to attempt the kicking, jumping local dance, which he
performed without discredit.

The exercise brought him into close proximity with an especially
beguiling girl, who announced her name to be Zhiaml Vraz. At the
conclusion of the dance, she put her arm around his waist, conducted
him back to the table, and settled herself upon his lap. This act of
familiarity excited no apparent disapproval among the others of the
group, and Cugel was emboldened further. "I have not yet arranged for
a bed-chamber; perhaps I should do so before the hour grows
late."

The girl signaled the innkeeper. "Perhaps you have reserved a
chamber for this chisel-faced stranger?"

"Indeed; I will display it for his approval."

He took Cugel to a pleasant chamber on the ground floor, furnished
with couch, commode, rug and lamp. On one wall hung a tapestry woven
in purple and black; on another was a representation of a peculiarly
ugly baby which seemed trapped or compressed in a transparent globe.
The room suited Cugel; he announced as much to the innkeeper and
returned to the pergola, where now the merrymakers were commencing to
disperse. The girl Zhiaml Vraz yet remained, and she welcomed Cugel
with a warmth which undid the last vestige of his caution. After
another goblet of wine, he leaned close to her ear. "Perhaps I am
overprompt; perhaps I overindulge my vanity; perhaps I contravene
the normal decorum of the village—but is there reason why we
should not repair to my chamber, and there amuse ourselves?"

"None whatever," the girl said. "I am unwed and until this time
may conduct myself as I wish, for this is our custom."

"Excellent," said Cugel. "Do you care to precede me, or walk
discreetly to the rear?"

"We shall go together; there is no need for furtiveness!"

Together they went to the chamber and performed a number of erotic
exercises, after which Cugel collapsed into a sleep of utter
exhaustion, for his day had been taxing.

During the middle hours he awoke to find Zhiaml Vraz departed from
the chamber, a fact which in his drowsiness caused him no distress
and he once more returned to sleep.

The sound of the door angrily flung ajar aroused him; he sat up on
the couch to find the sun not yet arisen, and a deputation led by the
elder regarding him with horror and disgust.

The elder pointed a long quivering finger through the gloom. "I
thought to detect heretical opinion; now the fact is known! Notice:
he sleeps with neither head-covering nor devotional salve on his
chin. The girl Zhiaml Vraz reports that at no time in their congress
did the villain call out for the approval of Yelisea!"

"Heresy beyond a doubt!" declared the others of the
deputation.

"What else could be expected of an outlander?" asked the elder
contemptuously. "Look! even now he refuses to make the sacred
sign."

"I do not know the sacred sign!" Cugel expostulated. "I know
nothing of your rites! This is not heresy, it is simple
ignorance!"

"I cannot believe this," said the elder. "Only last night I
outlined the nature of orthodoxy."

"The situation is grievous," said another in a voice of portentous
melancholy. "Heresy exists only through putrefaction of the Lobe of
Correctitude."

"This is an incurable and fatal mortification," stated another, no
less dolefully.

"True! Alas, too true!" sighed one who stood by the door.
"Unfortunate man!"

"Come!" called the elder. "We must deal with the matter at once."

"Do not trouble yourself," said Cugel. "Allow me to dress myself
and I will depart the village never to return."

"To spread your detestable doctrine elsewhere? By no means!"

And now Cugel was seized and hauled naked from the chamber. Out
across the park he was marched, and to the pavilion at the center.
Several of the group erected an enclosure formed of wooden posts on
the platform of the pavilion and into this enclosure Cugel was
thrust. "What do you do?" he cried out. "I wish no part of your
rites!"

He was ignored, and stood peering between the interstices of the
enclosure while certain of the villagers sent aloft a large balloon
of green paper buoyed by hot air, carrying three green fire-fans
below.

Dawn showed sallow in the west. The villagers, with all arranged
to their satisfaction, withdrew to the edge of the park. Cugel
attempted to climb from the enclosure, but the wooden rods were of
such dimension and spacing as to allow him no grip.

The sky lightened; high above burnt the green fire-fans. Cugel,
hunched and in goose-flesh from the morning chill, walked back and
forth the length of the enclosure. He stopped short, as from afar
came the haunting music. It grew louder, seeming to reach the very
threshold of audibility. High in the sky appeared a Winged Being,
white robes trailing and flapping. Down it settled, and Cugel's
joints became limp and loose.

The Winged Being hovered over the enclosure, dropped, enfolded
Cugel in its white robe and endeavored to bear him aloft. But Cugel
had seized a bar of the enclosure and the Winged Being flapped in
vain. The bar creaked, groaned, cracked. Cugel fought free of the
stifling cloak and tore at the bar with hysterical strength; it
snapped and splintered. Cugel seized a fragment and stabbed at the
Winged Being. The sharp stick punctured the white cloak, and the
Winged Being buffeted Cugel with a wing. Cugel seized one of the
chitin ribs and with a mighty effort twisted it around backward, so
that the substance cracked and broke and the wing hung torn. The
Winged Being, aghast, gave a great bound which carried both it and
Cugel out upon the pavilion, and now it hopped through the village
trailing its broken wing.

Cugel ran behind belaboring it with a cudgel he had seized up. He
glimpsed the villagers staring in awe; their mouths were wide and
wet, and they might have been screaming but he heard nothing. The
Winged Being hopped faster, up the trail toward the cliff, with Cugel
wielding the cudgel with all his strength. The golden sun rose over
the far mountains; the Winged Being suddenly turned to face Cugel,
and Cugel felt the glare of its eyes, though the visage, if such
there was, was concealed beneath the hood of the cloak. Abashed and
panting, Cugel stood back, and now it occurred to him that adjust he
stood almost defenseless should others drop on him from on high. So
now he shouted an imprecation at the creature and turned back to the
village.

All had fled. The village was deserted. Cugel laughed aloud. He
went to the inn, dressed himself in his garments and buckled on his
sword. He went out into the taproom and looking into the till, found
a number of coins, which he transferred to his pouch, alongside the
ivory representation of NULLITY. He returned outdoors: best to depart
while none were on hand to detain him.

A flicker of light attracted his attention: the ring on his finger
glinted with dozens of streaming sparks, and all pointed up the
trail, toward the cliffs.

Cugel shook his head wearily, then checked the darting lights once
again. Without ambiguity they directed him back the way he had come.
Pharesm's calculations, after all, had been accurate. He had best act
with decision, lest TOTALITY once more drift beyond his reach.

He delayed only long enough to find an axe, and hastened up the
trail, following the glittering sparks of the ring.

Not far from where he had left it, he came upon the maimed Winged
Being, now sitting on a rock beside the road, the hood drawn over its
head. Cugel picked up a stone and heaved it at the creature, which
collapsed into sudden dust, leaving only a tumble of white cloth to
signal the fact of its existence.

Cugel continued up the road, keeping to such cover as offered
itself, but to no avail. Overhead hovered Winged Beings, flapping and
swooping. Cugel made play with the axe, striking at the wings, and
the creatures flew high, circling above.

Cugel consulted the ring and was led on up the trail, with the
Winged Beings hovering just above. The ring coruscated with the
intensity of its message: there was TOTALITY, resting blandly on a
rock!

Cugel restrained the cry of exultation which rose in his throat.
He brought forth the ivory symbol of NULLITY, raji forward and
applied it to the gelatinous central globe.

As Pharesm had asserted, adherence was instant. With the contact
Cugel could feel the spell which bound him to the olden time
dissolving.

A swoop, a buffet of great wings! Cugel was knocked to the ground.
White cloth enveloped him, and with one hand holding NULLITY he was
unable to swing his axe. This was now wrenched from his grasp. He
released NULLITY, gripped a rock, kicked, somehow freed himself, and
sprang for his axe. The Winged Being seized NULLITY, to which
TOTALITY was attached, and bore both aloft and toward a cave high in
the cliffs.

Great forces were pulling at Cugel, whirling in all directions at
once. There was a roaring in his ears, a flutter of violet lights,
and Cugel fell a million years into the future.

He recovered consciousness in the blue-tiled room with the sting
of an aromatic liquor at his lips. Pharesm, bending over him, patted
his face and poured more of the liquor into his mouth. "Awake!
Whereas TOTALITY? How are you returned?"

Cugel pushed him aside, and sat up on the couch.

"TOTALITY!" roared Pharesm. "Where is it? Where is my talisman?"

"I will explain," said Cugel in a thick voice. "I had it in my
grasp, and it was wrenched away by winged creatures in the service of
Great God Yelisea."

"Tell me, tell me!"

Cugel recounted the circumstances which had led first to gaining
and then losing that which Pharesm sought. As he talked, Pharesm's
face became damp with grief, and his shoulders sagged. At last he
marched Cugel outside, into the dim red light of late afternoon.
Together they scrutinized the cliffs which now towered desolate and
lifeless above them. "To which cave did the creature fly?" asked
Pharesm. "Point it out, if you are able!"

Cugel pointed. "There, or so it would seem. All was confusion, all
a tumble of wings and white robes. . . ."

"Remain here." Pharesm went inside the workroom and presently
returned. "I give you light," he said, and handed Cugel a cold white
flame tied into a silver chain. "Prepare yourself."

At Cugel's feet he cast a pellet which broke into a vortex, and
Cugel was carried dizzily aloft to that crumbling ledge which he had
indicated to Pharesm. Nearby was the dark opening into a cave. Cugel
turned the flame within. He saw a dusty passage, three strides wide
and higher than he could reach. It led back into the cliff, twisting
slightly to the side. It seemed barren of all life.

Holding the lamp before him, Cugel slowly moved along the passage,
his heart thumping for dread of something he could not define. He
stopped short: music? The memory of music? He listened and could hear
nothing; but when he tried to step forward fear clamped bis legs. He
held high the lantern and peered down the dusty passage. Where did it
lead? What lay beyond? Dusty cave? Demonland? The blessed land
Byssom? Cugel slowly proceeded, every sense alert. On a ledge he
spied ajihriveled brown spheroid: the talisman he had carried into
the past. TOTALITY had long since disengaged itself and departed.

Cugel carefully lifted the object, which was brittle with the age
of a million years, and returned to the ledge. The vortex, at a
command from Pharesm, conveyed Cugel back to the ground.

Dreading the wrath of Pharesm, Cuge! tendered the withered
talisman.

Pharesm took it and held it between thumb and forefinger. "This
was all?"

"There was nothing more."

Pharesm let the object fall. It struck and instantly became dust.
Pharesm looked at Cugel, took a deep breath, then turned with a
gesture of unspeakable frustration and marched back to his
divinatory.

Cugel gratefully moved off down the trail, past the workmen
standing in an anxious group waiting for orders. They eyed Cugel
sullenly and a two-ell man hurled a rock. Cugel shrugged and
continued south along the trail. Presently he passed the site of the
village, now a waste overgrown with gnarled old trees. The pond had
disappeared and the ground was hard and dry. In the valley below were
ruins, but none of these marked the sites of the ancient cities
Impergos, Tharuwe and Rhaverjand, now gone beyond memory.

Cugel walked south. Behind him the cliffs merged with haze and
presently were lost to view.



V

The Pilgrims



1: At the Inn


FOR THE BETTER PART of a day Cugel had traveled a dreary waste
where nothing grew but salt-grass; then, only a few minutes before
sunset, he arrived at the bank of a broad slow river, beside which
ran a road. A half-mile to his right stood a tall structure of timber
and dark brown stucco, evidently an inn. The sight gave Cugel vast
satisfaction, for he had eaten nothing the whole of the day, and had
spent the previous night in a tree. Ten minutes later he pushed open
the heavy iron-bound door, and entered the inn.

He stood in a vestibule. To either side where diamond-paned
casements, burnt lavender with age, where the setting sun scattered a
thousand refractions. From the common room came the cheerful hum of
voices, the clank of pottery and glass, the smell of ancient wood,
waxed tile, leather and simmering cauldrons. Cugel stepped forward to
find a score of men gathered about the fire, drinking wine and
exchanging the large talk of travelers.

The landlord stood behind a counter: a stocky man hardly as tall
as Cugel's shoulder, with a high-domed bald head and a black beard
hanging a foot below his chin. His eyes were protuberant and
heavy-lidded; his expression was as placid and calm as the flow of
the river. At Cugel's request for accommodation he dubiously pulled
at his nose. "Already I am over-extended, with pilgrims upon the
route to Erze Damath. Those you see upon the benches are not even
half of all I must lodge this night.

I will put down a pallet in the hall, if such will content you; I
can do no more."

Cugel gave a sigh of fretful dissatisfaction. "This fails to meet
my expectations. I strongly desire a private chamber with a couch of
good quality, a window overlooking the river, a heavy carpet to
muffle the songs and slogans of the pot-room."

"I fear that you will be disappointed," said the landlord without
emotion. "The single chamber of this description is already occupied,
by that man with the yellow beard sitting yonder: a certain
Lodermuleh, also traveling to Erze Damath."

"Perhaps, on the plea of emergency, you might persuade him to
vacate the chamber and occupy the pallet in my stead," suggested
Cugel.

"I doubt if he is capable of such abnegation," the innkeeper
replied. "But why not put the inquiry yourself? I, frankly, do not
wish to broach the matter."

Cugel, surveying Lodermulch's strongly-marked features, his
muscular arms and the somewhat disdainful manner in which he listened
to the talk of the pilgrims, was inclined to join the innkeeper in
his assessment of Lodermulch's character, and made no move to press
the request. "It seems that I must occupy the pallet. Now, as to my
supper: I require a fowl, suitably stuffed, trussed, roasted and
garnished, accompanied by whatever side-dishes your kitchen
affords."

"My kitchen is overtaxed and you must eat lentils with the
pilgrims," said the landlord. "A single fowl is on hand, and this
again has been reserved to the order of Lodermulch, for his evening
repast."

Cugel shrugged in vexation. "No matter. I will wash the dust of
travel from my face, and then take a goblet of wine."

"To the rear is flowing water and a trough occasionally used for
this purpose. I furnish unguents, pungent oils and hot cloths at
extra charge."

"The water will suffice." Cugel walked to the rear of the inn,
where he found a basin. After washing he looked about and noticed at
some small distance a shed, stoutly constructed of timber. He started
back into the inn, then halted and once more examined the shed. He
crossed the intervening area, opened the door and looked within;
then, engrossed in thought, he returned to the common room. The
landlord served him a mug of mulled wine, which he took to an
inconspicuous bench.

Lodermuleh had been asked his opinion of the so-called Funambulous
Evangels, who, refusing to place their feet upon the ground, went
about their tasks by tightrope. In a "curt voice Lodermuleh exposed
the fallacies of this particular doctrine. "They reckon the age of
the earth at twenty-nine eons, rather than the customary
twenty-three. They stipulate that for every square ell of soil two
and one quarter million men have died and laid down their dust, thus
creating a dank and ubiquitous mantle of lich-mold, upon which it is
sacrilege to walk. The argument has a superficial plausibility, but
consider: the dust of one desiccated corpse, spread over a square
ell, affords a layer one thirty-third of an inch in depth. The total
therefore represents almost one mile of compacted corpse-dust
mantling the earth's surface, which is manifestly false."

A member of the sect, who, without access to his customary ropes,
walked in cumbersome ceremonial shoes, made an excited expostulation.
"You speak with neither logic nor comprehension! How can you be so
absolute?"

Lodermuleh raised his tufted eyebrows in surly displeasure. "Must
I really expatiate? At the ocean's shore, does a cliff one mile in
altitude follow the demarcation between land and sea? No. Everywhere
is inequality. Headlands extend into the water; more often beaches of
pure white sand are found. Nowhere are the massive buttresses of
gray-white tuff upon which the doctrines of your sect depend."

"Inconsequential claptrap!" sputtered the Funambule.

"What is this?" demanded Lodermuleh, expanding his massive chest.
"I am not accustomed to derision!"

"No derision, but hard and cold refutal of your dogmatism! We
claim that a proportion of the dust is blown into the ocean, a
portion hangs suspended in the air, a portion seeps through crevices
into underground caverns, and another portion is absorbed by trees,
grasses and certain insects, so that little more than a half-mile of
ancestral sediment covers the earth upon which it is sacrilege to
tread. Why are not the cliffs you mention everywhere visible? Because
of that moistness exhaled and expelled by innumerable men of the
past! This has raised the ocean an exact equivalence, so that no
brink or precipice can be noted; and herein lies your fallacy."

"Bah," muttered Lodermulch, turning away. "Somewhere there is a
flaw in your concepts."

"By no means!" asserted the evangel, with that fervor which
distinguished his kind. "Therefore, from respect to the dead, we talk
aloft, on ropes and edges, and when we must travel, we use specially
sanctified footgear."

During the conversation Cugel had departed the room. Now a
moon-faced stripling wearing the smock of a porter approached the
group. "You are the worthy Lodermulch?" he asked the person so
designated.

Lodermulch squared about in his chair. "I am he."

"I bear a message, from one who has brought certain sums of money
due you. He waits in a small shed behind the inn."

Lodermulch frowned increduously. "You are certain that this person
required Lodermulch, Provost of Barlig Township?"

"Indeed, sir, the name was specifically so."

"And what man bore the message?"

"He was a tall man, wearing a voluminous hood, and described
himself as one of your intimates,"

"Indeed," ruminated Lodermulch. "Tyzog, perhaps? Or conceivably
Krednip. . . . Why would they not approach me directly? No doubt
there is some good reason." He heaved his bulk erect. "I suppose I
must investigate."

He stalked from the common room, circled the inn, and looked
through the dim light toward the shed, "Ho there!" he called. "Tyzog?
Krednip? Come forth!"

There was no response. Lodermulch went to peer into the shed. As
soon as he had stepped within, Cugel came around from the rear,
slammed shut the door, and threw bar and bolts.

Ignoring the muffled pounding and angry calls, Cugel returned into
the inn. He sought out the innkeeper. "An alteration in arrangements:
Lodermulch has been called away. He will require neither his chamber
nor his roast fowl and has kindly urged both upon me!"

The innkeeper pulled at his beard, went to the door, and looked up
and down the road. Slowly he returned.

"Extraordinary! He has paid for both chamber and fowl, and made no
representations regarding rebate."

"We arranged a settlement to our mutual satisfaction. To
recompense you for extra effort, I now pay an additional three
terces."

The innkeeper shrugged and took the coins. "It is all the same to
me. Come, I will lead you to the chamber."

Cugel inspected the chamber and was well satisfied. Presently his
supper was served. The roast fowl was beyond reproach, as were the
additional dishes Lodermulch had ordered and which the landlord
included with the meal.

Before retiring Cugel strolled behind the inn and satisfied
himself that the bar at the door of the shed was in good order and
that Lodermulch's hoarse calls were unlikely to attract attention.
He rapped sharply on the door. "Peace, Lodermulch!" he called out
sternly. "This is I, the innkeeper! Do not bellow so loudly; you will
disturb my guests at their slumber."

Without waiting for reply, Cugel returned to the common room,
where he fell into conversation with the leader of the pilgrim band.
This was Garstang, a man spare and taut, with a waxen skin, a fragile
skull, hooded eyes and a meticulous nose so thin as to be translucent
when impinged across a fight. Addressing him as a man of experience
and erudition, Cugel inquired the route to Almery, but Garstang
tended to believe the region sheerly imaginary.

Cugel asserted otherwise. "Almery is a region distinct; I vouch
for this personally."

"Your knowledge, then, is more profound than my own," stated
Garstang. "This river is the Asc; the land to this side is Sudun,
across is Leilas. To the south lies Erze Damath, where you would be
wise to travel, thence perhaps west across the Silver Desert and the
Songan Sea, where you might make new inquiry."

"I will do as you suggest," said Cugel.

"We, devout Gilfigites all, are bound for Erze Damath and the
Lustral Rite at the Black Obelisk," said Garstang. "Since the route
lies through wastes, we are banded together against the erbs and the
gids. If you wish to join the group, to share both privileges and
restrictions, you are welcome."

"The privileges are self-evident," said Cugel. "As to the
restrictions?"

"Merely to obey the commands of the leader, which is to say,
myself, and contribute a share of the expenses."

"I agree, without qualification," said Cugel.

"Excellent! We march on the morrow at dawn." Garstang pointed out
certain other members of the group, which numbered fifty-seven.
"There is Vitz, locator to our little band, and there sits Casmyre,
the theoretician. The man with iron teeth is Arlo, and he of the blue
hat and silver buckle is Voynod, a wizard of no small repute. Absent
from the room is the estimable though agnostic Lodermulch, as well as
the unequivocally devout Subucule. Perhaps they seek to sway each
other's convictions. The two who game with dice are Parso and
Sayanave. There is Hant, there Cray." Garstang named several others,
citing their attributes. At last Cugel, pleading fatigue, repaired to
his chamber. He relaxed upon the couch and at once fell asleep.

During the small hours he was subjected to a disturbance.
Lodermulch, digging into the floor of the shed, then burrowing under
the wall, had secured his freedom, and went at once to the inn. First
he tried the door to Cugel's chamber, which Cugel had been at pains
to lock.

"Who is there?" called Cugel.

"Open! It is I, Lodermulch. This is the chamber where I wish to
sleep!"

"By no means," declared Cugel. "I paid a princely sum to secure a
bed, and was even forced to wait while the landlord evicted a
previous tenant. Be off with you now; I suspect that you are drunk;
if you wish further revelry, rouse the wine-steward."

Lodermulch stamped away. Cugel lay back once more.

Presently he heard the thud of blows, and the landlord's cry as
Lodermulch seized his beard. Lodermulch was eventually thrust from
the inn, by the joint efforts of the innkeeper, his spouse, the
porter, the pot-boy and others; whereupon Cugel gratefully returned
to sleep.

Before dawn the pilgrims, together with Cugel, arose and took
their breakfast. The innkeeper seemed somewhat sullen of mood, and
displayed bruises, but he put no questions to Cugel, who in his turn
initiated no conversation.

After breakfast the pilgrims assembled in the road, where they
were joined by Lodermulch, who had spent the night pacing up and down
the road.

Garstang made a count of the group, then blew a great blast on his
whistle. The pilgrims marched forward, across the bridge, and set off
along the south bank of the Asc toward Erze Damath.



2: The Raft on the River


For three days the pilgrims proceeded beside the Asc, at night
sleeping behind a barricade evoked by the wizard Voynod from a
circlet of ivory slivers: a precaution of necessity, for beyond the
bars, barely visible by the rays of the fire, were creatures anxious
to joiu the company: deodands softly pleading, erbs shifting posture
back and forth from four feet to two, comfortable in neither style.
Once a gid attempted to leap the barricade; on another occasion three
hoons joined to thrust against the posts—backing off, racing
forward, to strike with grunts of effort, while from within the
pilgrims watched in fascination.

Cugel stepped close, to touch a flaming brand to one of the
heaving shapes, and elicited a scream of fury. A great gray arm
snatched through the gap; Cugel jumped back for his life. The
barricade held and presently the creatures fell to quarreling and
departed.

On the evening of the third day the party came to the confluence
of the Asc with a great slow river which Garstang identified as the
Scamander. Nearby stood a forest of tall baldamas, pines and spinth
oaks. With the help of local woodcutters trees were felled, trimmed
and conveyed to the water's edge, where a raft was fabricated. With
all the pilgrims aboard, the raft was poled out into the current,
where it drifted downstream in ease and silence.

For five days the raft moved on the broad Scamander, sometimes
almost out of sight of the banks, sometimes gliding close beside the
reeds which lined the shore. With nothing better to do, the pilgrims
engaged in lengthy disputatious, and the diversity of opinion upon
every issue was remarkable. As often as not the talk explored
metaphysical arcana, or the subtleties of GUfigite principle.

Subucule, the most devout of the pilgrims, stated his credo in
detail. Essentially he professed the orthodox Gilfigite theosophy, in
which Zo Zam, the eight-headed deity, after creating cosmos, struck
off his toe, which then became Gilfig, while the drops of blood
dispersed to form the eight races of mankind. Roremaund, a skeptic,
attacked the doctrine: "Who created this hypothetical 'creator' of
yours? Another 'creator'? Far simpler merely to presuppose the end
product: in this case, a blinking sun and a dying earth!" To which
Subucule cited the Gilfigite Text in crushing refutal.

One named Bluner staunchly propounded his own creed. He believed
the sun to be a cell in the corpus of a great deity, who had created
the cosmos in a process analogous to the growth of a lichen along a
rock.

Subucule considered the thesis over-elaborate: "If the sun were a
cell, what then becomes the nature of the earth?"

"An animalcule deriving nutriment," replied Bluner. "Such
dependencies are known elsewhere and need not evoke
astonishment."

"What then attacks the sun?" demanded Vitz in scorn, "Another
animalcule similar to earth?"

Bluner began a detailed exposition of his organon, but before long
was interrupted by Pralixus, a tall thin man with piercing green
eyes. "Listen to me; I know all; my doctrine is simplicity itself. A
vast number of conditions are possible, and there are an even greater
number of impossibilities. Our cosmos is a possible condition: it
exists. Why? Time is infinite, which is to say that every possible
condition must come to pass. Since we reside in this particular
possibility and know of no other, we arrogate to ourselves the
quality of singleness. In truth, any universe which is possible
sooner or later, not once but many times, will exist."

"I tend to a similar doctrine, though a devout Gilfigite," stated
Casmyre the theoretician. "My philosophy presupposes a succession of
creators, each absolute in his own right. To paraphrase the learned
Pralixus, if a deity is possible, it must exist! Only impossible
deities will not exist! The eight-headed Zo Zam who struck off his
Divine Toe is possible, and hence exists, as is attested by the
GUfigite Texts!"

Subucule blinked, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it once
more. Roremaund, the skeptic, turned away to inspect the waters of
the Scamander.

Garstang, sitting to the side, smiled thoughtfully. "And you,
Cugel the Clever, for once you are reticent. What is your
belief?"

"It is somewhat inchoate," Cugel admitted. "I have assimilated a
variety of viewpoints, each authoritative in its own right: from the
priests at the Temple of Teleologues; from a bewitched bird who
plucked messages from a box; from a fasting anchorite who drank a
bottle of pink elixir which I offered him in jest. The resulting
visions were contradictory but of great profundity. My world-scheme,
hence, is syncretic."

"Interesting," said Garstang. "Lodermulch, what of you?"

"Ha," growled Lodermulch. "Notice this rent in my garment; I am at
a loss to explain its presence! I am even more puzzled by the
existence of the universe."

Others spoke. Voynod the wizard defined the known cosmos as the
shadow of a region ruled by ghosts, themselves dependent for
existence upon the psychic energies of men. The devout Subucule
denounced this scheme as contrary to the Protocols of Gilfig.

The argument continued at length. Cugel and one or two others
including Lodermulch became bored and instituted a game of chance,
using dice and cards and counters. The stakes, originally nominal,
began to grow. Lodermulch at first won scantily, then lost ever
greater sums, while Cugel won stake after stake. Lodermulch presently
flung down the dice and seizing Cugel's elbow shook it, to dislodge
several additional dice from the cuff of his jacket. "Well then!"
bawled Lodermulch, "what have we here? I thought to detect knavery,
and here is justification! Return my money on the instant!"

"How can you say so?" demanded Cugel. "Where have you demonstrated
chicanery? I carry dice—what of that? Am I required to throw my
property into the Scamander, before engaging in a game? You demean my
reputation!"

"I care nothing for this," retorted Lodermulch. "I merely wish the
return of my money."

"Impossible," said Cugel. "For all your bluster you have proved no
malfeasance."

"Proof?" roared Lodermulch. "Need there be further? Notice these
dice, all askew, some with identical markings on three sides, others
rolling ouly with great effort, so heavy are they at one edge."

"Curios only," explained Cugel. He indicated Voynod the wizard,
who had been watching. "Here is a man as keen of eye as he is agile
of brain; ask if any illicit transaction was evident."

"None was evident," stated Voynod. "In my estimation Lodermulch
has made an over-hasty accusation,"

Garstang came forward, and heard the controversy. He spoke in a
voice both judicious and conciliatory: "Trust is essential in a
company such as ours, comrades and devout Gilfigites all. There can
be no question of malice or deceit! Surely, Lodermulch, you have
misjudged our friend, Cugel!"

Lodermulch laughed harshly. "If this is conduct characteristic of
the devout, I am fortunate not to have fallen in with ordinary folk!"
With this remark, he took himself to a corner of the raft, where he
seated himself and fixed Cugel with a glance of menace and
loathing.

Garstang shook his head in distress. "I fear Lodermulch has been
offended. Perhaps, Cugel, if in a spirit of amity you were to return
his gold—"

Cugel made a firm refusal. "It is a matter of principle.
Lodermulch has assailed my most valuable possession, which is to say,
my honor."

"Your nicety is commendable," said Garstang, "and Lodermulch has
behaved tactlessly. Still, for the sake of good-fellowship—no?
Well, I cannot argue the point. Ha hum. Always small troubles to fret
us." Shaking his head,, he departed.

Cugel gathered his winnings, together with the dice which
Lodermulch had dislodged from his sleeve. "An unsettling incident,"
he told Voynod. "A boor, this Lodermulch! He has offended everyone;
all have quit the game."

"Perhaps because all the money is in your possession," Voynod
suggested.

Cugel examined his winnings with an air of surprise. "I never
suspected that they were so substantial! Perhaps you will accept this
sum to spare me the effort of carrying it?"

Voynod acquiesced and a share of the winnings changed hands.

Not long after, while the raft floated placidly along the river,
the sun gave an alarming pulse. A purple film formed upon the surface
like tarnish, then dissolved. Certain of the pilgrims ran back and
forth in alarm, crying, "The sun goes dark! Prepare for the
chill!"

Garstang, however, held up his hands in reassurance. "Calm, all!
The quaver has departed, the sun is as before!"

"Think!" urged Subucule with great earnestness. "Would Gilfig
allow this cataclysm, even while we travel to worship at the Black
Obelisk?"

The group became quiet, though each had his personal
interpretation of the event. Vitz, the locutor, saw an analogy to the
blurring of vision, which might be cured by vigorous blinking. Voynod
declared, "If all goes well at Erze Damath, I plan to dedicate the
next four years of life to a scheme for replenishing the vigor of the
sun!" Lodermulch merely made an offensive statement to the effect
that for all of him the sun could go dark, with the pilgrims forced
to grope their way to the Lustral Rites.

But the sun shone on as before. The raft drifted along the great
Scamander, where the banks were now so low and devoid of vegetation
as to seem distant dark lines. The day passed and the sun seemed to
settle into the river itself, projecting a great maroon glare which
gradually went dull and dark as the sun vanished.

In the twilight a fire was built around which the pilgrims
gathered to eat their supper. There was discussion of the sun's
alarming flicker, and much speculation along eschatological lines.
Subucule relinquished all responsibility for life, death, the future
and past to Gilfig. Haxt, however, declared that he would feel easier
if Gilfig had heretofore displayed a more expert control over the
affairs of the world. For a period the talk became intense. Subucule
accused Haxt of superficiality, while Haxt used such words as
"credulity" and "blind abasement." Garstang intervened to point out
that as yet all facts were not known, and that the Lustral Rites at
the Black Obelisk might clarify the situation.

The next morning a great weir was noted ahead: a line of stout
poles obstructing navigation of the river. At one area only was
passage possible, and even this gap was closed by a heavy iron chain.
The pilgrims allowed the raft to float close to this gap, then
dropped the stone which served as an anchor. From a nearby but
appeared a zealot, long of hair and gaunt of limb, wearing tattered
black robes and flourishing an iron staff. He sprang out along the
weir to gaze threateningly down at those aboard the raft. "Go back,
go back!" he shouted. "The passage of the river is under my control;
I permit none to go by!"

Garstang stepped forward. "I beg your indulgence! We are a group
of pilgrims, bound for the Lustral Rites at Erze Damath. If necessary
we will pay a fee to pass the weir, though we trust that in your
generosity you will remit the toll."

The zealot gave a cry of harsh laughter and waved his iron staff.
"My fee may not be remitted! I demand the life of the most evil in
your company—unless one among you can to my satisfaction
demonstrate his virtue!" And legs astraddle, black robe flapping in
the wind, he stood glaring down at the raft.

Among the pilgrims was a stir of uneasiness, and all looked
furtively at one another. There was a mutter, which presently became
a confusion of assertions and claims. Casmyre's strident tones at
last rang forth. "It cannot be I who am most evil! My life has been
clement and austere and during the gambling I ignored an ignoble
advantage."

Another called out, "I am even more virtuous, who eat only dry
pulses for fear of taking life."

Another: "I am even of greater nicety, for I subsist solely upon
the discarded husks of these same pulses, and bark which has fallen
from trees, for fear of destroying even vegetative vitality."

Another: "My stomach refuses vegetable matter, but I uphold the
same exalted ideals and allow only carrion to pass my lips."

Another: "I once swam on a lake of fire to notify an old woman
that the calamity she dreaded was unlikely to occur."

Cugel declared: "My life is incessant humility, and I am
unswerving in my dedication to justice and equivalence, even though I
fare the worse for my pains."

Voynod was no less staunch: "I am a wizard, true, but I devote my
skill only to the amelioration of public woe."

Now it was Garstang's turn: "My virtue is of the quintessential
sort, being distilled from the erudition of the ages. How can I be
other than virtuous? I am dispassionate to the ordinary motives of
mankind."

Finally all had spoken save Lodermulch, who stood to the side, a
sour grin on his face. Voynod pointed a finger. "Speak, Lodermulch!
Prove your virtue, or else be judged most evil, with the consequent
forfeit of your life!"

Lodermulch laughed. He turned and made a great jump which carried
him to an outlying member of the weir. He scrampled to the parapet,
drew his sword and threatened the zealot "We are all evil together,
you as well as we, for enforcing this absurd condition. Relax the
chain, or prepare to face my sword."

The zealot flung high his arms. "My condition is fulfilled; you,
Lodermulch, have demonstrated your virtue. The raft may proceed. In
addition, since you employ your sword in the defense of honor, I now
bestow upon you this salve which when applied to your blade enables
it to slice steel or rock as easily as butter. Away, then, and may
all profit by the lustral devotions!"

Lodermulch accepted the salve and returned to the raft. The chain
was relaxed and the raft slid without hindrance past the weir.

Garstang approached Lodermulch to voice measured approval for his
act. He added a caution: "In this case an impulsive, indeed almost
insubordinate, act redounded to the general benefit. If a similar
circumstance arises in the future, it would be well to take counsel
with others of proved sagacity: myself, Casmyre, Voynod or
Subucule."

Lodermulch grunted indifferently. "As you wish, so long as the
delay involves me in no personal inconvenience." And Garstang was
forced to be content with this. The other pilgrims eyed Lodermulch
with dissatisfaction, and drew themselves apart, so that Lodermulch
sat by himself at the forward part of the raft.

Afternoon came, then sunset, evening and night; when morning
arrived it was seen that Lodermulch had disappeared.

There was general puzzlement. Garstand made inquiries, but none
could throw light upon the mystery, and there was no general
consensus as to what in fact had occasioned the disappearance.

Strangely enough, the departure of the unpopular Lodermulch failed
to restore the original cheer and fellowship to the group. Thereafter
each of the pilgrims sat dourly silent, casting glances to left and
right; there were no further games, nor philosophical discussions,
and Garstang's announcement that Erze Damath lay a single day's
journey ahead aroused no great enthusiasm.



3: Erze Damath


On the last night aboard the raft a semblance of the old
camaraderie returned. Vitz the locutor performed a number of vocal
exercises and Cugel demonstrated a high-kneed capering dance typical
of the lobster fishermen of Kauchique, where he had passed his youth.
Voynod in his turn performed a few simple metamorphoses, and then
displayed a small silver ring. He signaled Haxt. "Touch this with
your tongue, press it to your forehead, then look through."

"I see a procession!" exclaimed Haxt. "Men and women by the
hundreds, and thousands, marching past. My mother and my father walk
before, then my grandparents—but who are the others?"

"Your ancestors," declared Voynod, "each in his characteristic
costume, back to the primordial homuncule from which all of us are
derived." He retrieved the ring, and reaching into his pouch brought
forth a dull blue and green gem.

"Watch now, as I fling this jewel into the Scamander!" And he
tossed the gem off to the side. It flickered through the air and
splashed into the dark water. "Now, I merely fold forth my palm, and
the gem returns!" And indeed, as the company watched there was a wet
sparkle across the firelight and upon Voynod's palm rested the gem.
"With this gem a man need never fear penury. True, it is of no great
value, but he can sell it repeatedly. . ..

"What else shall I show you? This small amulet perhaps. Frankly an
erotic appurtenance, it arouses intense emotion in that person toward
whom the potency is directed. One must be cautious in its use; and
indeed, I have here an indispensable ancillary: a periapt in the
shape of a ram's head, fashioned to the order of Emperor Dalmasmius
the Tender, that he might not injure the sensibilities of any of his
ten thousand concubines. . . . What else can I display? Here: my
wand, which instantly affixes any object to any other. I keep it
carefully sheathed so that I do not inadvertently weld trouser to
buttock or pouch to fingertip. The object has many uses. What else?
Let us see. . . . Ah, here! A horn of singular quality. When thrust
into the mouth of a corpse, it stimulates the utterance of twenty
final words. Inserted into the cadaver's ear it allows the
transmission of information into the lifeless brain. . . . What have
we here? Yes, indeed: a small device which has brought much
pleasure!" And Voynod displayed a doll which performed a heroic
declamation, sang a somewhat raffish song and engaged in repartee
with Cugel, who squatted close in front, watching all with great
attentiveness.

At last Voynod tired of his display, and the pilgrims one by one
reposed themselves to sleep.

Cugel lay awake, hands behind his head, staring up at the stars
thinking of Voynod's unexpectedly large collection of thaumaturgical
instruments and devices.

When satisfied that all were asleep, he arose to his feet and
inspected the sleeping form of Voynod. The pouch was securely locked
and tucked under Voynod's arm, much as Cugel had expected. Going to
the little pantry where stores were kept, he secured a quantity of
lard, which he mixed with flour to produce a white salve. From a
fragment of heavy paper he folded a small box, which he filled with
the salve. He then return to to his couch.

On the following morning he contrived that Voynod, as if by
accident, should see him anointing his sword blade with the
salve.

Voynod became instantly horrified. "It cannot bel I am astoundedl
Alas, poor Lodermulch!"

Cugel signaled him to silence. "What are you saying?" he muttered.
"I merely protect my sword against rust."

Voynod shook his head with inexorable determination. "All is
clear! For the sake of gain you have murdered Lodermulch! I have no
choice but to lodge an information with the thief-takers at Erze
Damath!"

Cugel made an imploring gesture. "Do not be hasty! You have
mistaken all; I am innocent!"

Voynod, a tall saturnine man with purple flush under his eyes, a
long chin and a tall pinched forehead, held up his hand. "I have
never, been one to tolerate homicide. The principle of equivalence
must in this case apply, and a rigorous requital is necessary. At
minimum, the evildoer may never profit by his act!"

"You refer to the salve?" inquired Cugel delicately.

"Precisely," said Voynod. "Justice demands no less."

"You are a stern man," exclaimed Cugel in distress. "I have no
choice but to submit to your judgment."

Voynod extended his hand. "The salve, then, and since you are
obviously overcome by remorse I will say no more of the matter."

Cugel pursed his lips reflectively. "So be it. I have already
anointed my sword. Therefore I will sacrifice the remainder of the
salve in exchange for your erotic appurtenance and its ancillary,
together with several lesser talismans."

"Do I hear correctly?" stprmed Voynod. "Your arrogance transcends
all! Such effectuants are beyond value!"

Cugel shrugged. "This salve is by no means an ordinary article of
commerce."

After dispute Cugel relinquished the salve in return for a tube
which projected blue concentrate to a distance of fifty paces,
together with a scroll listing eighteen phases of the Laganetic
Cycle; and with these items he was forced to be content.

Not long afterward the outlying ruins of Erze Damath appeared
upon the western banks: ancient villas now toppled and forlorn among
overgrown gardens.

The pilgrims plied poles to urge the raft toward the shore. In the
distance appeared the tip of the Black Obelisk, at which all emitted
a glad cry. The raft moved slantwise across the Scamander and was
presently docked at one of the crumbling old jetties.

The pilgrims scrambled ashore, to gather around Garstang, who
addressed the group: "It is with vast satisfaction that I find myself
discharged of responsibility. Behold! The holy city where Gilfig
issued the Gneustic Dogma! where he scourged Kazue and denounced
Enxis the Witch! Not impossibly the sacred feet have trod this very
soil!" Garstang made a dramatic gesture toward the ground, and the
pilgrims, looking downward, shuffled their feet uneasily. "Be that as
it may, we are here and each of us must feel relief. The way was
tedious and not without peril. Fifty-nine set forth from Pholgus
Valley, Bamish and Randol were taken by grues at Sagma Field; by the
bridge across the Asc Cugel joined us; upon the Scamander we lost
Lodermulch. Now we muster fifty-seven, comrades all, tried and true,
and it is a sad thing to dissolve our association, which we all will
remember forever."

"Two days hence the Lustral Rites begin. We are in good time.
Those who have not disbursed all their funds gaming"—here
Garstand turned a sharp glance toward Cugel—"may seek
comfortable inns at which to house themselves. The impoverished must
fare as best they can. Now our journey is at its end; we herewith
disband and go our own ways, though all will necessarily meet two
days hence at the Black Obelisk, Farewell until this time!"

The pilgrims now dispersed, some walking along the banks of the
Scamander toward a nearby inn, others turning aside and proceeding
into the city proper.

Cugel approached Voynod. "I am strange to this region, as you are
aware; perhaps you can recommend an inn of large comfort at small
cost."

"Indeed," said Voynod. "I am bound for just such an inn: the Old
Dastric Empire Hostelry, which occupies the precincts of a former
palace. Unless conditions have changed, sumptuous luxury and
exquisite viands are offered at no great cost."

The prospect met with Cugel's approval; the two set out through
the avenues of old Erze Damath, past clusters of stucco huts, then
across a region where no buildings stood and the avenues created a
vacant checkerboard, then into a district of great mansions still
currently in use: these set back among intricate gardens. The folk of
Erze Damath were handsome enough, if somewhat swarthier than the folk
of Almery. The men wore only black: tight trousers and vests with
black pompoms; the women were splendid in gowns of yellow, red,
orange and magenta, and their slippers gleamed with orange and black
sequias. Blue and green were rare, being unlucky colors, and purple
signified death.

The women displayed tall plumes in their hair, while the men wore
jaunty black disks, their scalps protruding through a central hole. A
resinous balsam seemed very much the fashion, and everyone Cugel met
exuded a waft of aloes or myrrh or carcynth. All in all the folk of
Erze Damath seemed no less cultivated than those of Kauchique, and
rather more vital than the listless citizens of Azenomei.

Ahead appeared the Old Dastric Empire Hostelry, not far from the
Black Obelisk itself. To the dissatisfaction of both Cugel and
Voynod, the premises were completely occupied, and the attendant
refused them admittance. "The Lustra! Rites have attracted all manner
of devout folk," he explained. "You will be fortunate to secure
lodging of any kind."

So it proved: from inn to inn went Cugel and Voynod, to be turned
away in every case. Finally, on the western outskirts of the city, at
the very edge of the Silver Desert, they were received by a large
tavern of somewhat disreputable appearance: the Inn of the Green
Lamp.

"Until ten minutes ago I could not have housed you," stated the
landlord, "but the thief-takers apprehended two persons who lodged
here, naming them footpads and congenital rogues."

"I trust this is not the general tendency of your clientele?"
inquired Voynod.

"Who is to say?" replied the innkeeper. "It is my busij ness to
provide food and drink and lodging, no more. Ruffians and deviants
must eat, drink, and sleep, no less than savants and zealots. All
have passed on occasion through my doors, and, after all, what do I
know of you?"

Dusk was falling and without further ado Cugel and Voynod housed
themselves at the Sign of the Green Lamp. After refreshing themselves
they repaired to the common room for their evening meal. This was a
hall of considerable extent, with age-blackened beams, a floor of
dark brown tile, and various posts and columns of scarred wood, each
supporting a lamp. The clientele was various, as the landlord had
intimated, displaying a dozen costumes and complexions. Desert-men
lean as snakes, wearing leather smocks, sat on one hand; on the other
were four with white faces and silky red top-knots who uttered never
a word. Along a counter to the back sat a group of bravos in brown
trousers, bl ck rapes and leather berets, each with a spherical jewel
dangling by a gold chain from his ear.

Cugel and Voynod consumed a meal of fair quality, though somewhat
rudely served, then sat drinking wine and considering how to pass the
evening. Voynod decided to rehearse cries of passion and devotion
frenzies to be exhibited at the Lustral Rites. Cugel thereupon
besought him to lend his talisman of erotic stimulation. "The women
of Erze Damath show to good advantage, and with the help of the
talisman I will extend my knowledge of their capabilities."

"By no means," said Voynod, hugging his pouch close to his side.
"My reasons need no amplification."

Cugel put on a sullen scowl. Voynod was a man whose grandiose
personal conceptions seemed particularly farfetched and distasteful,
by reason of his unhealthy, gaunt and saturnine appearance.

Voynod drained his mug, with a meticulous frugality Cugel found
additionally irritating, and rose to his feet. "I will now retire to
my chamber."

As he turned away a bravo swaggering across the room jostled him.
Voynod snapped an acrimonious instruction, which the bravo did not
choose to ignore. "How dare you use such words to me! Draw and defend
yourself, or I cut your nose from your face!" And the bravo snatched
forth his blade.

"As you will," said Voynod. "One moment until I find my sword."
With a wink at Cugel he annointed his blade with the salve, then
turned to the bravo. "Prepare for death, my good fellow!" He leapt
grandly forward. The bravo, noting Voynod's preparations, and
understanding that he faced magic, stood numb with terror. With a
flourish Voynod ran him through, and wiped his blade on the bravo's
hat.

The dead man's companions at the counter started to their feet,
but halted as Voynod with great aplomb turned to face them. "Take
care, you dunghill cocksl Notice the fate of your fellow! He died by
the power of my magic blade, which is of inexorable metal and cuts
rock and steel like butter. Behold!" And Voynod struck out at a
pillar. The blade, striking an iron bracket, broke into a dozen
pieces. Voynod stood non-plussed, but the bravo's companions surged
forward.

"What then of your magic blade? Our blades are ordinary steel but
bite deep!" And in a moment Voynod was cut to bits.

The bravos now turned upon Cugel. "What of you? Do you wish to
share the fate of your comrade?"

"By no means!" stated Cugel. "This man was but my servant,
carrying my pouch. I am a magician; observe this tube! I will project
blue concentrate at the first man to threaten me!"

The bravos shrugged and turned away. Cugel secured Voynod's pouch,
then gestured to the landlord. "Be so good as to remove these
corpses; then bring a further mug of spiced wine."

"What of your comrade's account?" demanded the landlord
testily.

"I will settle it in full, have no fear." The corpses were carried
to the rear compound: Cugel consumed a last mug of wine, then retired
to bis chamber, where he spread the contents of Voynod's pouch upon
the table. The money went into his purse; the talismans, amulets and
instruments he packed into his own pouch; the salve be tossed aside.
Content with the day's work, he reclined upon the couch, and was soon
asleep. On the following day Cugel roamed the city, climbing the
tallest of the eight hills. The vista which spread before him was
both bleak and magnificent. To right and left rolled the great
Scamander. The avenues of the city marked off square blocks of ruins,
empty wastes, the stucco huts of the poor and the palaces of the
rich. Erze Damath was the largest city of Cugel's experience, far
vaster than any of Almery or Ascolais, though now the greater part
lay tumbled in moldering ruin. Returning to the central section,
Cugel sought out the booth of a professional geographer, and after
paying a fee inquired the most secure and expeditious route to
Almery.

The sage gave no hasty nor ill-considered answer, but brought
forth several charts and directories. After profound deliberation he
turned to Cugel. "This is my counsel. Follow the Scarnander north to
the Asc, proceed along the Asc until you encounter a bridge of six
piers. Here turn your face to the north, proceed across the Mountains
of Magnatz, whereupon you will find before you that forest known as
the Great Erm. Fare westward through this forest and approach the
shore of the Northern Sea. Here you must build a coracle and entrust
yourself to the force of the wind and current. If by chance you
should reach the Land of the Falling Wall, then it is a comparatively
easy journey south to Almery."

Cugel made an impatient gesture. "In essence this is the way I
came. Is there no other route?"

"Indeed there is. A rash man might choose to risk the Silver
Desert, whereupon he would find the Songan Sea, across which lie the
impassable wastes of a region contiguous to East Almery,"

"Well then, this seems feasible. How may I cross the Silver
Desert? Are there caravans?"

"To what purpose? There are none to buy the goods thus
conveyed—only bandits who prefer to preempt the merchandise. A
minimum force of forty men is necessary to intimidate the
bandits."

Cugel departed the booth. At a nearby tavern he drank a flask of
wine and considered how best to raise a force of forty men. The
pilgrims, of course, numbered fifty-six —no, fifty-five, what
with the death of Voynod. Still, such a band would serve very
well....

Cugel drank more wine and considered further.

At last he paid his score and turned his steps to the Black
Obelisk. "Obelisk" perhaps was a misnomer, the object being a great
fang of solid black stone rearing a hundred feet above the city. At
the base five statues had been carved, each facing a different
direction, each the Prime Adept of some particular creed. GUfig faced
to the south, his four hands presenting symbols, his feet resting
upon the necks of ecstatic supplicants, with toes elongated and
curled upward, to indicate elegance and delicacy.

Cugel sought information of a nearby attendant. "Who, in regard to
the Black Obelisk, is Chief Hierarch, and where may he be found?"

"Precursor Hulm is that individual," said the attendant and
indicated a splendid structure nearby. "Within that gem-encrusted
structure his sanctum may be found."

Cugel proceeded to the building indicated and after many vehement
declarations was ushered into the presence of Precursor Hulm: a man
of middle years, somewhat stocky and round of face. Cugel gestured to
the under-hierophant who so reluctantly had brought him hither. "Go;
my message is for the Precursor alone."

The Precursor gave a signal; the hierophant departed. Cugel
hitched himself forward. "I may talk without fear of being
overheard?" "Such is the case."

"First of all," said Cugel, "know that I am a powerful wizard.
Behold: a tube which projects blue concentrate! And here, a screed
listing eighteen phases of the Laganetic Cycle! And this instrument:
a horn which allows the dead to speak, and used in another fashion,
allows information to be conveyed into the dead brain! I possess
other marvels galore!"

"Interesting indeed," murmured the Precursor. "My second
disclosure is this: at one time I served as incense-blender at the
Temple of Teleologues in a far land, where I learned that each of the
sacred images was constructed so that the priests, in case of
urgency, might perform acts purporting to be those of the divinity
itself."

"Why should this not be the case?" inquired the Precursor
benignly. "The divinity, controlling every aspe6t of existence,
persuades the priests to perform such acts." Cugel assented to the
proposition. "I therefore assume that the images carved into the
Black Obelisk are somewhat similar?"

The Precursor smiled. "To which of the five do you specifically
refer?"

"Specifically to the representation of Gilfig."

The Precursor's eyes went vague; he seemed to reflect.

Cugel indicated the various talismans and instruments.

"In return for a service I will donate certain of these
contrivances to the care of this office."

"What is the service?"

Cugel explained in detail, and the Precursor nodded thoughtfully.
"Once more, if you will demonstrate your magic goods."

Cugel did so.

"These are all of your devices?"

Cugel reluctantly displayed the erotic stimulator and explained
the function of the ancillary talisman. The Precursor nodded his
head, briskly this time. "I believe that we can reach agreement; all
is as omnipotent Gilfig desires."

"We are agreed, then?"

"We are agreed!"

The following morning the group of fifty-five pilgrims assembled
at the Black Obelisk. They prostrated themselves before the image of
Gilfig, and prepared to proceed with their devotions. Suddenly the
eyes of the image flashed fire and the mouth opened. "Pilgrims!" came
a brazen voice. "Go forth to do my bidding! Across the Silver Desert
you must travel, to the shore of the Songan Seal Here you will find a
fane, before which you must abase yourselves. Go! Across the Silver
Desert, with all despatch!"

The voice quieted. Garstang spoke in a trembling voice. "We hear,
O Gilfig! We obey!"

At this moment Cugel leapt forward. "I also have heard this
marvel! I too will make the journey! Come, let us set forth!"

"Not so fast," said Garstang. "We cannot run skipping and bounding
like dervishes. Supplies will be needed, as well as beasts of burden.
To this end funds are required. Who then will subscribe?"

"I offer two hundred terces!" "And I, sixty terces, the sum of my
wealth!" "I, who lost ninety terces gaming with Cugel, possess only
forty terces, which I hereby contribute." So it went, and even Cugel
turned sixty-five terces into the common fund.

"Good," said Garstang. "Tomorrow then I will make arrangements,
and the following day, if all goes well, we depart Erze Damath by the
Old West Gate!"



4: The Silver Desert and the Songan Sea


In the morning Garstang, with the assistance of Cugel and Casmyre,
went forth to procure the necessary equipage. They were directed to
an outfitting yard, situated on one of the now-vacant areas bounded
by the boulevards of the old city. A wall of mud brick mingled with
fragments of carved stone surrounded a compound, whence issued
sounds: crying, calls, deep bellows, throaty growls, barks, screams
and roars, and a strong multiphase odor, combined of ammonia,
ensilage, a dozen sorts of dung, the taint of old meat, general
acridity.

Passing through a portal, the travelers entered an office
overlooking the central yard, where pens, cages and stockades held
beasts of so great variety as to astound Cugel.

The yard-keeper came forward: a tall, yellow-skinned man, much
scarred, lacking his nose and one ear. He wore a gown of gray leather
belted at the waist and a tall conical black hat with flaring
ear-flaps.

Garstang stated the purpose of the visit. "We are pilgrims who
must journey across the Silver Desert, and wish to hire pack-beasts.
We number fifty or more, and anticipate a journey of twenty days in
each direction with perhaps five days spent at our devotions: let
this information be a guide in your thinking. Naturally we expect
only the staunchest, most industrious and amenable beasts at your
disposal."

"All this is very well," stated the keeper, "but my price for hire
is identical to my price for sale, so you might as well have the full
benefit of your money, in the form of title to the beasts concerned
in the transaction."

"And the price?" inquired Casmyre.

"This depends upon your choice; each beast commands a different
value."

Garstang, who had been surveying the compound, shook his head
ruefully. "I confess to puzzlement. Each beast is of a different
sort, and none seem to fit any well-defined categories."

The keeper admitted that such was the case. "If you care to
listen, I can explain all. The tale is of a continuing fascination,
and will assist you in the management of your beasts."

"We will doubly profit to hear you, then," said Garstang
gracefully, though Cugel was making motions of impatience.

The keeper went to a shelf and took forth a leather-bound folio.
"In a past eon Mad King Kutt ordained a menagerie like none before,
for his private amazement and the stupefaction of the world. His
wizard, Follinense, therefore produced a group of beasts and
teratoids unique, combining the wildest variety of plasms; to the
result that you see."

"The menagerie has persisted so long?" asked Garstang in
wonder.

"Indeed not. Nothing of Mad King Kutt is extant save the legend,
and a casebook of the wizard Follinense"— here he tapped the
leather folio—'Vhich describes his bizarre systemology. For
instance—" He opened the folio. "Well . . . hmmm. Here is a
statement, somewhat less explicit than others, in which he analyzes
the half-men, little more than a brief set of notes:

'Gid: hybrid of man, gargoyle, whorl, leaping insect.

Deodand: wolverine, basilisk, man.

Erb: bear, man, lank-lizard, demon,

Grue: man, ocular bat, the unusual hoon.

Leucomorph: unknown

Bazil: felinodore, man, (wasp?).'"

Casmyra clapped his hands in astonishment. "Did Follinense then
create these creatures, to the subsequent disadvantage of
humanity?"

"Surely not," said Garstang. "It seems more an exercise in idle
musing. Twice he admits to wonder."

"Such is my opinion, in this present case," stated the keeper,
"though elsewhere he is less dubious."

"How are the creatures before us then connected with the
menagerie?" inquired Casmyre.

The keeper shrugged. "Another of the Mad King's jocularities. He
loosed the entire assemblage upon the countryside, to the general
disturbance. The creatures, endowed with an eclectic fecundity,
became more rather than less bizarre, and now they roam the Plain of
Oparona and Blanwalt Forest in great numbers."

"So then, what of us?" demanded Cugel. "We wish pack-animals,
docile and frugal of habit, rather than freaks and curiosities, no
matter how edifying."

"Certain of my ample stock are capable of this function," said the
keeper with dignity. "These command the highest prices. On the other
hand, for a single terce you may own a long-necked big-bellied
creature of astounding voracity."

"The price is attractive," said Garstang with regret
"Unfortunately, we need beasts to carry food and water across the
Silver Desert."

"In this case we must be more pointed." The keeper fell to
studying his charges. '"The tall beast on two legs is perhaps less
ferocious than he appears. . . ."

Eventually a selection of beasts numbering fifteen was made, and a
price agreed upon. The keeper brought them to the gate; Garstang,
Cugel and Casmyre took possession and led the fifteen ill-matched
creatures at a sedate pace through the streets of Erze Damath, to the
West Gate. Here Cugel was left in charge, while Garstang and Casmyre
went to purchase stores and other necessaries.

By nightfall all preparations were made, and on the following
morning, when the first maroon ray of sunlight struck the Black
Obelisk, the pilgrims set forth. The beasts carried panniers of food
and bladders of water; the pilgrims all wore new shoes and
broad-brimmed hats. Garstang had been unable to hire a guide, but had
secured a chart from the geographer, though it indicated no more than
a small circle labeled "Erze Damath" and a larger area marked "Songan
Sea."

Cugel was given one of the beasts to lead, a twelve-legged
creature twenty feet in length, with a small foolishly grinning
child's head and tawny fur covering all. Cugel found the task irking,
for the beast blew a reeking breath upon his neck, and several times
pressed so close as to tread on his heels.

Of the fifty-seven pilgrims who had disembarked from the raft,
forty-nine departed for the fane on the shores of the Songan Sea, and
the number was almost at once reduced to forty-eight A certain
Tokharin, stepping off the trail to answer a call of nature, was
stung by a monster scorpion, and ran northward in great leaps,
screaming hoarsely, until presently he disappeared from view.

The day passed with no further incident The land was a dry gray
waste, scattered with flints, supporting only ironweed. To the south
was a range of low hills, and Cugel thought to perceive one or two
shapes standing motionless along the crest At sunset the caravan
halted; and Cugel, recalling the bandits who reputedly inhabited the
area, persuaded Garstang to post two sentries: Lippelt and
Mirch-Masen.

In the morning they were gone, leaving no trace, and the pilgrims
were alarmed and oppressed. They stood in a nervous cluster looking
in all directions. The desert lay flat and dim in the dark low light
of dawn. To the south were a few hills, only their smooth top
surfaces illuminated; elsewhere the land lay flat to the horizon.

Presently the caravan started off, and now there were but
forty-six. Cugel, as before, was put in charge of the long
many-legged beast, who now engaged in the practice of butting its
grinning face into Cugel's shoulder blades.

The day passed without incident; miles ahead became miles behind.
First marched Garstang, with a staff, then came Vitz and Casmyre,
followed by several others. Then came the packbeasts, each with its
particular silhouette: one low and sinuous; another tall and
bifurcate, almost of human conformation, except for its head, which
was small and squat like the shell of a horseshoe crab. Another,
convex of back, seemed to bounce or prance on its six stiff legs;
another was like a horse sheathed in white feathers. Behind the
packbeasts straggled the remaining pilgrims, with Bluner
characteristically walking to the rear, in accordance with the
exaggerated humility to which he was prone. At the camp that evening
Cugel brought forth the expansible fence, once the property of
Voynod, and enclosed the group in a stout stockade.

The following day the pilgrims crossed a range of low mountains,
and here they suffered an attack by bandits, but it seemed no more
than an exploratory skirmish, and the sole casualty was Haxt, who
suffered a wound in the heel. But a more serious affair occurred two
hours later. As they passed below a slope a boulder became dislodged,
to roll, through the caravan, killing a pack-beast, as well as Andle
the Funambulous Evangel and Roremaund the Skeptic. During the night
Haxt died also, evidently poisoned by the weapon which had wounded
him.

With grave faces the pilgrims set forth, and almost at once were
attacked from ambush by the bandits. Luckily the pilgrims were alert,
and the bandits were routed with a dozen dead, while the pilgrims
lost only Cray and Magasthen.

Now there was grumbling and long looks turned eastward toward Erze
Damath. Garstang rallied the flagging spirits: "We are Gilfigites;
Gilfig spoke! On the shores of the Songan Sea we will seek the sacred
fane! Gilfig is all-wise and all-merciful; those who fall in his
service are instantly transported to paradaisical Gamameret Pilgrims!
To the west!"

Taking heart, the caravan once more set forth, and the day passed
without further incident. During the night, however, three of the
pack-beasts slipped their tethers and decamped, and Garstang was
forced to announce short rations for all.

During the seventh day's march, Thilfox ate a handful of poison
berries and died in spasms, whereupon his brother Vitz, the locutor,
went raving mad and ran up the line of pack-beasts, blaspheming
Gilfig and slashing water bladders with his knife, until Cugel
finally killed him.

Two days later the haggard band came upon a spring. In spite of
Garstang's warning, Sayanave and Arlo flung themselves down and drank
in great gulps. Almost at once they clutched their bellies, gagged
and choked, their lips the color of sand, and presently they were
dead.

A week later fifteen men and four beasts came over the rise to
look out across the placid waters of the Songan Sea. Cugel had
survived,'as well as Garstang, Casmyre and Subucule. Before them lay
a marsh, fed by a small stream. Cugel tested the water with that
amulet bestowed upon him by Iuconnu, and pronounced it safe. All
drank to repletion, ate reeds converted to a nutritious if insipid
substance by the same amulet, then slept.

Cugel, aroused by a sense of peril, jumped up, to note a sinister
stir among the reeds. He roused his fellows, and all readied their
weapons; but whatever had caused the motion took alarm and retired.
The time was middle afternoon; the pilgrims walked down to the bleak
shore to take stock of the situation. They looked north and south but
found no trace of the fane. Tempers flared; there was a quarrel which
Garstang was able to quell only by dint of the utmost
persuasiveness.

Then Balch, who had wandered up the beach, returned in great
excitement: "A village!"

All set forth in hope and eagerness, but the village, when the
pilgrims approached, proved a poor thing indeed, a huddle of reed
huts inhabited by lizard people who bared their teeth and lashed
sinewy blue tails in defiance. The pilgrims moved off down the beach
and sat on hummocks watching the low surf of the Songan Sea.

Garstang, frail and bent with the privations he had suffered, was
the first to speak. He attempted to infuse his voice with cheer. "We
have arrived, we have triumphed over the terrible Silver Desert! Now
we need only locate the fane and perform our devotions; we may then
return to Erze Damath and a future of assured bliss!"

"All very well," grumbled Balch, "but where may the fane be found?
To right and left is the same bleak beach!"

"We must put our trust in the guidance of Gilfig!" declared
Subucule. He scratched an arrow upon a bit of wood, and touched it
with his holy ribbon. He called, "Gilfig, O Gilfig! Guide us to the
fane! I hereby toss high a marked pointer!" And he flung the chip
high into the air. When it alighted, the arrow pointed south. "South
we must fare!" cried Garstand. "South to the fane!"

But Balch and certain others refused to respond. "Do you not see
that we are fatigued to the point of death? In my opinion Gilfig
should have guided our steps to the fane, instead of abandoning us to
uncertainty!"

"Gilfig has guided us indeed!" responded Subucule. "Did you not
notice the direction of the arrow?"

Balch gave a croak of sardonic laughter. "Any stick thrown high
must come down, and it will point south as easily as north,"

Subucule drew back in horror. "You blaspheme Gilfig!"

"Not at all; I am not sure that Gilfig heard your instruction, or
perhaps you gave him insufficient time to react. Toss up the stick
one hundred times; if it points south on each occasion, I will march
south in haste."

"Very well," said Subucule. He once again called upon Gilfig and
threw up the chip, but when it struck the ground the arrow pointed
north.

Balch said nothing- Subucule blinked, then grew red in the face.
"Gilfig has no time for games. He directed us once, and deemed it
sufficient."

"I am unconvinced," said Balch,

"And I."

"And I."

Garstang held up his arms imploringly. "We have come far; we have
toiled together, rejoiced together, fought and suffered
together—let us not now fall in dissidence!"

Balch and the others only shrugged. "We will not plunge blindly
south."

"What will you do, then? Go north? Or return to Erze Damath?"

"Erze Damath? Without food and only four pack-beasts? Bah!"

"Then let us fare south in search of the fane."

Balch gave another mulish shrug, at which Subucule became angry.
"So be it! Those who fare south to this side, those who cast in with
Balch to that!"

Garstang, Cugel and Casmyre joined Subucule; the others stayed
with Balch, a group numbering eleven, and now they fell to whispering
among themselves, while the four faithful pilgrims watched in
apprehension.

The eleven jumped to their feet. "Farewell."

"Where do you go?" asked Garstang.

"No matter. Seek your fane if you must; we go about our own
affairs." With the briefest of farewells they marched to the village
of the lizard folk, where they slaughtered the males, filed the teeth
of the females, dressed them in garments of reeds, and installed
themselves as lords of the village.

Garstang, Subucule, Casmyre and Cugel meanwhile traveled south
along the shore. At nightfall they pitched camp and dined upon
molluscs and crabs. In the morning they found that the four remaining
pack-beasts had departed, and now they were alone.

"It is the will of Gilfig," said Subucule. "We need only find the
fane and die!"

"Courage!" muttered Garstang. "Let us not give way to
despair!"

"What else is left? Will we ever see Pholgus Valley again?"

"Who knows? Let us first perform our devotions at the fane."

With that they proceeded, and marched the remainder of the day. By
nightfall they were too tired to do more than slump to the sand of
the beach.

The sea spread before them, flat as a table, so calm that the
setting sun cast only its exact image rather than a trail. Clams and
crabs once more provided a meager supper, after which they composed
themselves to sleep on the beach.

Somewhat after the first hours of night Cugel was awakened by a
sound of music. Starting up, he looked across the water to find that
a ghostly city had come into existence. Slender towers reared into
the sky, lit by glittering motes of white light which drifted slowly
up and down, back and forth. On the promenades sauntered the gayest
of crowds, wearing pale luminous garments and blowing horns of
delicate sound. A barge piled with silken cushions, moved by an
enormous sail of cornflower silk, drifted past Lamps at the bow and
stern-post illuminated a deck thronged with merrymakers: some singing
and playing lutes, others drinking from goblets.

Cugel ached to share their joy. He struggled to his knees, and
called out. The merrymakers put down their instruments and stared at
him, but now the barge had drifted past, tugged by the great blue
sail. Presently the city flickered and vanished, leaving only the
dark night sky.

Cugel stared into the night, his throat aching with a sorrow he
had never known before. To his surprise he found himself standing at
the edge of the water. Nearby were Subucule, Garstang and Casmyre.
All gazed at each other through the dark, but exchanged no words. Ail
returned up the beach, where presently they fell asleep on the
sand.

Throughout the next day, there was little conversation, and even a
mutual avoidance, as if each of the four wished to be alone with his
thoughts. From time to time one or the other looked half-heartedly
toward the south, but no one seemed in a mood to leave the spot, and
no one spoke of departure.

The day passed while the pilgrims rested in a half-torpor. Sunset
came, and night; but none of the group sought to sleep.

During the middle evening the ghost city reappeared, and tonight a
fete was in progress. Fireworks of a wonderful intricacy bloomed in
the sky: laces, nets, starbursts of red and green and blue and
silver. Along the promenade came a parade, with ghost-maidens dressed
in iridescent garments, ghost-musicians in voluminous garments of red
and orange and capering ghost-harlequins. For hours the sound of
revelry drifted across the water, and Cugel went out to stand
knee-deep, and here he watched until the fete quieted and the city
dimmed. As he turned away, the others followed him back up the
shore.

On the following day all were weak from hunger and thirst. In a
croaking voice Cugel muttered that they must proceed. Garstang nodded
and said huskily, "To the fane, the fane of Gilfig!"

Subucule nodded. The cheeks of his once plump face were haggard;
his eyes were filmed and clouded. "Yes," he wheezed. "We have rested;
we must go on."

Casmyre nodded dully. "To the fane!"

But none set forth to the south. Cugel wandered up the fore-shore
and seated himself to wait for nightfall. Looking to his right, he
saw a human skeleton resting in a posture not dissimilar to his own.
Shuddering, Cugel turned to the left, and here was a second skeleton,
this one broken by time and the seasons, and beyond yet another, this
a mere heap of bones.

Cugel rose to his feet and ran tottering to the others. "Quick!"
he called. "While strength yet remains to us! To the south! Come,
before we die, like those others whose bones rest above!"

"Yes, yes," mumbled Garstang. "To the fane." And he heaved himself
to his feet. "Corne!" he called to the others. "We fare south!"

Subucule raised himself erect, but Casmyre, after a listless
attempt, fell back. "Here I stay," he said. "When you reach the fane,
intercede for me with Gilfig; explain that the entrancement overcame
the strength of my body."

Garstang wished to remain and plead, but Cugel pointed to the
setting sun. "If we wait till darkness, we are lostl Tomorrow our
strength will be gone!"

Subucule took Garstang's arm. "We must be away, before
nightfall."

Garstang made a final plea to Casmyre. "My friend and fellow,
gather your strength. Together we have come, from far Pholgus Valley,
by raft down the Scamarider, and across the dreadful desert! Must we
part before attaining the fane?"

"Come to the fane!" croaked Cugel. But Casmyre turned his face
away. Cugel and Subucule led Garstang away, with tears coursing down
his withered cheeks; and they staggered south along the beach,
averting their eyes from the clear smooth face of the sea.

The old sun set and cast up a fan of color. A high scatter of
cloud-flakes glowed halcyon yellow on a strange bronze-brown sky. The
city now appeared, and never had it seemed more magnificent, with
spires catching the light of sunset Along the promenade walked youths
and maidens with flowers in their hair, and sometimes they paused to
stare at the three who walked along the beach. Sunset faded; white
lights shone from the city, and music wafted across the water. For a
long time it followed the three pilgrims, at last fading into the
distance and dying. The sea lay blank to the west, reflecting a few
last umber and orange glimmers.

About this time the pilgrims found a stream of fresh water, with
berries and wild plums growing nearby, and here they rested the night
In the morning Cugel trapped a fish and caught crabs along the beach.
Strengthened, the three continued south, always seeking ahead for the
fane, which now Cugel had almost come to expect, so intense was the
feeling of Garstang and Subucule. Indeed, as the days passed, it was
the devout Subucule who began to despair, to question the sincerity
of Gilfig's command, to doubt the essential virtue of Gilfig himself.
"What is gained by this agonizing pilgrimage? Does Gilfig doubt our
devotion? Surely we proved ourselves by attendance at the Lustral
Rite; why has he sent us so far?" "The ways of Gilfig are
inscrutable," said Garstang. "We have come so far; we must seek on
and on and on!"

Subucule stopped short, to look back the way they had come. "Here
is my proposal. At this spot let us erect an altar of stones, which
becomes our fane; let us then perform a rite. With Gilfig's
requirement satisfied, we may turn our faces to the north, to the
village where our fellows reside. Here, happily, we may recapture the
pack-beasts, replenish our stores, and set forth across the desert,
perhaps to arrive once more at Erze Damath."

Garstang hesitated. "There is much to recommend your proposal. And
yet—"

"A boat!" cried Cugel. He pointed to the sea where a half-mile
offshore floated a fishing boat propelled by a square sail hanging
from a long limber yard. It passed behind a headland which rose a
mile south of where the pilgrims stood, and now Cugel indicated a
village along the shore.

"Excellent!" declared Garstang. "These folk may be fellow
Gilfigites, and this village the site of the fane! Let us
proceed!"

Subucule still was reluctant. "Could knowledge of the sacred texts
have penetrated so far?"

"Caution is the watchword," said Cugel. "We must reconnoiter with
great care." And he led the way through a forest of tamarisk and
larch, to where they could look down into the village. The huts were
rudely constructed of black stone and housed a "folk of ferocious
aspect. Black half in spikes surrounded the round clay-colored faces;
coarse black bristles grew off the burly shoulders like epaulettes.
Fangs protruded from the mouths of male and female alike and ali
spoke in harsh growling shouts. Cugel, Garstang and Subucule drew
back with the utmost caution, and, hidden among the trees, conferred
in low voices.

Garstang at last was discouraged and found nothing more to hope
for. "I am exhausted, spiritually as well as physically; perhaps here
is where I die."

Subucule looked to the north. "I return to take my chances on the
Silver Desert. If all goes well, I will arrive once more at Erze
D?math, or even Pholgus Valley."

Garstang turned to Cugel. "And what of you, since the fane of
Gilfis is nowhere to be found?"

Cugel pointed to a dock at which a number of boats were moored.
"My destination is Almery, across the Songan Sea. I propose to
commandeer a boat and sail to the west."

"I then bid you farewell," said Subucule. "Garstang, will you
come?"

Garstang shook his head. "It is too far. I would surely die on the
desert. I will cross the sea with Cugel and take the Word of Gilfig
to the folk of Almery."

"Farewell, then, to you as well," said Subucule. Then be turned
swiftly, to bide the emotion in his face, and started north.

Cugel and Garstang watched the sturdy form recede into the
distance and disappear. Then they turned to a consideration of the
dock. Garstang was dubious. "The boats seem seaworthy enough, but to
'commandeer' is to 'steal1: an act specifically discountenanced by
Gilfig."

"No difficulty exists," said Cugel. "I will place gold coins upon
the dock, to a fair valuation of the boat."

Garstang gave a dubious assent "What then of food and water?"

"After securing the boat, we will proceed along the coast until we
are able to secure supplies, after which we sail due west."

To this Garstang assented and the two fell to examining the boats,
comparing one against the other. The final selection was a staunch
craft some ten or twelve paces long, of ample beam, with a small
cabin.

At dusk they stole down to the dock. All was quiet: the fishermen
had returned to the village. Garstang boarded the craft and reported
all in good order. Cugel began casting off the lines, when from the
end of the dock came a savage outcry and a dozen of the burly
villagers came lumbering forth.

"We are lost!" cried Cugel. "Run for your life, or better, swim!"

"Impossible," declared Garstang. "If this is death, I will meet it
with what dignity I am able!" Aad he climbed up on the dock.

In short order they were surrounded by folk of all ages, attracted
by the commotion. One, an elder of the village, inquired in a stern
voice, "What do you here, skulking on our dock, and preparing to
steal a boat?"

"Our motive is simplicity itself," said Cugle. "We wish to cross
the sea."

"What?" roared the elder. "How is that possible? The boat carries
neither food nor water, and is poorly equipped. Why did you not
approach us and make your needs known?"

Cugel blinked and exchanged a glance with Garstang. He shrugged.
"I will be candid. Your appearance caused us such alarm that we did
not dare."

The remark evoked mingled amusement and surprise in the crowd. The
spokesman said, "All of us are puzzled; explain if you will."

"Very well," said Cugel. "May I be absolutely frank?"

"By all means!"

"Certain aspects of your appearance impress us as feral and
barbarous: your protruding fangs, the black mane which surrounds your
faces, the cacophony of your speech —to name only a few
items."

The villagers laughed incredulously. "What nonsense!" they cried.
"Our teeth are long that we may tear the coarse fish on which we
subsist We wear our hair thus to repel a certain noxious insect, and
since we are afl rather deaf, we possibly tend to shout Essentially
we are a gentle and kindly folk."

"Exactly," said the elder, "and in order to demonstrate this,
tomorrow we shall provision our best boat and send you forth with
hopes and good wishes. Tonight there shall be a feast in your
honor!"

"Here is a village of true sainttiness," declared Garstang. "Are
you by chance worshippers of Gilfig?"

"No; we prostrate ourselves before the fish-god Yob, who seems as
efficacious as any. But come, let us ascend to the village. We must
make preparations for the feast."

They climbed steps hewn in the rock of the cliff, which gave upon
an area illuminated by a dozen flaring torches. The elder indicated a
hut more commodious than the others: "This is where you shall rest
the night; I will sleep elsewhere."

Garstang again was moved to comment upon the benevolence of the
fisher-folk, at which the elder bowed his head. "We try to achieve a
spiritual unity. Indeed, we symbolize this ideal in the main dish of
our ceremonial feasts." He turned, clapping his hands. "Let us
prepare!"

A great cauldron was hung over a tripod; a block and a cleaver
were arranged, and now each of the villagers, marching past the
block, chopped off a finger and cast it into the pot

The elder exxplained, "By this simple rite, which naturally you
are expected to join, we demonstrate our common heritage and our
mutual dependence. Come, let us step into the line." And Cugel and
Garstang had no choice but to excise fingers and cast them into the
pot with the others.

The feast continued long into the night. In the morning the
villagers were as good as their word. An especially seaworthy boat
was provided and loaded with stores, including food left over from
the previous night's feast.

The villagers gathered on the dock. Cugel and Garstang voiced
their gratitude, then Cugel hoisted the sail and Garstang threw off
the mooring lines. A wind filled the sail and the boat moved out on
the face of the Songan Sea. Gradually the shore became one with the
murk of distance, and the two were alone, with only the black
metallic shimmer of the water to all sides.

Noon came, and the boat moved in an elemental emptiness: water
below, air above; silence in all directions. The afternoon was long
and torpid, unreal as a dream; and the melancholy grandeur of sunset
was followed by a dusk the color of watered wine.

The wind seemed to freshen and all night they steered west. At
dawn the wind died and with sails flapping idly both Cugel and
Garstang slept

Eight times the cycle was repeated. On the morning of the ninth
day a low coastline was sighted ahead. During the middle afternoon
they drove the prow of their boat through gentle surf up on a wide
white beach. "This then is Almery?" asked Garstang.

"So I believe," said Cugel, "but which quarter I am uncertain.
Azenoraei may lie to north, west or south. If the forest yonder is
that which shrouds East Almery, we would do well to pass to the side,
as it bears an evil reputation."

Garstang pointed down the shore. "Notice: another Tillage. If the
folk here are like those across the sea, they will help us on our
way. Come, let us make our wants known."

Cugel bung back. "It might be wise to reconnoiter, as before."

"To what end?" asked Garstang, "On that occasion we were only
misled and confused." He led the way down the beach toward the
village. As they approached they could see folk moving across the
central plaza: a graceful golden-haired people, who spoke to each
other in voices like music.

Garstang advanced joyfully, expecting a welcome even more
expansive than that they had received on the other shore; but the
villagers ran forward and caught them under nets. "Why do you do
this?" called Garstang. "We are strangers and intend no harm!"

"You are strangers; just so," spoke the tallest of the
golden-haired villagers. "We worship that inexorable god known as
Dangott. Strangers are automatically heretics, and so are fed to the
sacred apes." With that they began to drag Cugel and Garstang over
the sharp stones of the fore-shore while the beautiful children of
the village danced joyously to either side.

Cugel managed to bring forth the tube he had secured from Voynod
and expelled blue concentrate at the villagers. Aghast, they toppled
to the ground and Cugel was able to extricate himself from the net.
Drawing his sword, he leapt forward to cut Garstang free, but now the
villagers rallied. Cugel once more employed his tube, and the
villagers fled in dismal agony.

"Go, Cugel," spoke Garstang. "I am an old man, of little vitality.
Take to your heels; seek safety, with all my good wishes."

"This normally would be my impulse," Cugel conceded. "But these
people have stimulated me to quixotic folly; so clamber from the net;
we retreat together." Once more he wrought dismay with the blue
projection, while Garstang freed himself, and the two fled along the
beach. The villagers pursued with harpoons. Their first cast pierced
Garstang through the back. He fell without a sound. Cugel swung about
and aimed the tube, but the spell was exhausted and only a limpid
exudation appeared. The villagers drew back their arms to hurl a
second volley; Cugel shouted a curse, dodged and ducked, and the
harpoons plunged past him into the sand of the beach.

Cugel shook his fist a final time, then took to his heels and fled
into the forest.



VI

The Cave in the Forest


THROUGH THE Old Forest came Cugel, step by furtive step, pausing
often to listen for breaking twig or quiet footfall or even the
exhalation of a breath. His caution, though it made for slow
progress, was neither theoretical nor impractical; others wandered
the forest with anxieties and yearnings greatly at odds with his own.
All one terrible dusk he had fled and finally outdistanced a pair of
deodands; on another occasion he had stopped short at the very brink
of a glade where a leucomorph had stood musing: whereupon Cugel had
become more diffident and furtive than ever, skulking from tree to
tree, peering and listening, darting across open spaces with an
extravagantly delicate gait, as if contact with the ground pained his
feet.

During a middle afternoon he came upon a small dank glade
surrounded by black mandouars, tall and portentuous as hooded monks.
A few red rays slanting into the glade, illumined a single twisted
quince tree, where hung a strip of parchment Standing back in the
shadows Cugel studied the glade at length, then stepping forward took
the parchment. In crabbed characters a message was indicated:

Zaraides the Sage makes a generous offer! He who finds this
message may request and obtain an hour of judicious counsel at no
charge. Into a nearby hillock opens a cave; the Sage will be found
within.

Cugel studied the parchment with puzzlement large question hung in
the air: why should Zaraides give forth his lore with such casual
largesse? The purportedly free was seldom as represented; in one
guise or another the Law of Equivalence must prevail. If Zaraides
offered counsel—7-dismissing the premise of absolute
altruism—he expected some commodity in return: at minimum an
inflation of self-esteem, or knowledge regarding distant events, or
polite attention at a recitation of odes, or some such service. And
Cugel re-read the message, his skepticism, if anything augmented. He
would have flung the parchment aside had not he felt a real and
urgent need for information: specifically knowledge regarding the
most secure route to the manse of Iuconnu, together with a method for
rendering the Laughing Magician helpless.

Cugel looked all about, seeking the hillock to which Zaraides
referred. Across the glade the ground seemed to rise, and lifting his
eyes Cugel noticed gnarled limbs and clotted foliage on high, as if a
number of daobados grew on lofty ground.

With maximum vigilance Cugel proceeded through the forest, and
presently was halted by a sudden up-thrust of gray rock crowned with
trees and vines: undoubtedly the hillock in question.

Cugel stood pulling at his chin, showing his teeth in a grimace of
doubt. He listened: quiet, utter and complete. Keeping to the
shadows, he continued around the hillock, and presently came upon the
cave: an arched opening into the rock as high as a man, as wide as
bis outstretched arms. Above hung a placard printed in untidy
characters:

ENTER: ALL ARE WELCOME!

Gugel looked this way and that No sight nor sound in the forest.
He took a few careful steps forward, peered into the cave, and found
only darkness.

Cugel drew back. In spite of the genial urgency of the sign, he
felt no inclination to thrust himself forward, and squatting on his
haunches he watched the cave intently.

Fifteen minutes passed. 'Cugel shifted his position; and now, to
the right, he spied a man approaching, using a caution hardly less
elaborate than his own. The newcomer was of medium stature and wore
the rude garments of a peasant: gray trousers, a rust-colored blouse,
a cocked brown hat with bill thrust forward. He had a round, somewhat
coarse face, with a stub of a nose, small eyes set far apart, a heavy
chin besrubbled with a fuscous growth. Clutched in his hand was a
parchment like that which Cugel had found.

Cugel rose to his feet The newcomer halted, then came forward.
"You are Zaraides? If so, know me for Fabeln the herbalist; I seek a
rich growth of wild leeks. Further, my daughter moons and languishes,
and will no longer carry panniers; therefore—"

Cugel held up his hand. "You err; Zaraides keeps to his cave."

Fabeln narrowed his eyes craftily. "Who then are you?"

"I am Cugel: like yourself, a seeker after enlightenment."

Fabeln nodded in full comprehension. "You have consulted Zaraides?
He is accurate and trustworthy? He demands no fee as his prospectus
purports?"

"Correct in every detail," said Cugel. "Zaraides, who is
apparently omniscient, speaks from the sheer joy of transmitting
information. My perplexities are resolved."

Fabeln inspected Him sidelong. "Why then do you wait beside the
cave?"

"I also am a herbalist, and I formulate new questions,
specifically in regard to a nearby glade profuse with wild
leeks."

"Indeed!" ejaculated Fabeln, snapping his fingers in agitation.
"Formulate with care, and while you arrange your phrases, I will step
within and inquire regarding the lassitude of my daughter."

"As you will," said Cugel. "Still, if you care to delay, I will be
only a short time composing my question."

Fabeln made a jovial gesture. "In this short period, I will be
into the cave, out and away, for I am a man swift to the point of
brusqueness."

Cugel bowed. "In that case, proceed."

"I will be brief." And Fabeln strode into the cave. "Zaraides?" he
called. "Where is Zaraides the Sage? I am Fabeln; I wish to make
certain inquiries. Zaraides? Be so good as to come forth!" His voice
became muffled. Cugel, listening intently, heard the opening and
closing of a door, and then there was silence. Thoughtfully he
composed himself to wait.

Minutes passed . . . and an hour. The red sun moved down the
afternoon sky and passed behind the hillock. Cugel became restive.
Where was Fabeln? He cocked his head: once more the opening and
closing of a door? Indeed, and here was Fabeln: all then was
well!

Fabeln looked forth from the cave. "Where is Cugel the herbalist?"
He spoke in a harsh brusque voice. "Zaraides will not sit down to the
banquet nor will be discuss leeks, except in the most general terms,
until you present yourself."

"A banquet?" asked Cugel with interest "Does the bounty of
Zaraides extend so far?"

"Indeed: did you not notice the tapestried hall, the carved
goblets, the silver tureen?" Fabeln spoke with a certain saturnine
emphasis which puzzled Cugel. "But come; I am in haste, and do not
care to wait. If you already have dined, I will so inform
Zaraides."

"By no means," said Cugel, with dignity. "I would burn with
humiliation thus to slight Zaraides. Lead on; I follow."

"Come, then." Fabeln turned; Cugel followed him into the cave,
where his nostrils were assailed by a revolting odor. He paused. "I
seem to notice a stench—one which affects me unpleasantly."

"I noticed the same," said Febeln. "But through the door and the
foul odor is no more!"

"I trust as much," said Cugel peevishly. "It would destroy my
appetite. Where then—"

As he spoke he was swarmed upon by small quick bodies, clammy of
skin and tainted with the odor he found so detestable. There was a
clamor of high-pitched voices; his sword and pouch were snatched; a
door was opened; Cugel was pitched into a low burrow. In the light of
a flickering yellow flame he saw his captors: creatures half his
height, pallid of skin, pointed of face, with ears on the tops of
their heads. They walked with a slight forward hunch, and their knees
seemed pointed opposite to those of true men, and their feet, in
sandals, seemed very soft and supple.

Cugel looked about in bewilderment. Nearby crouched Fabeln,
regarding him with loathing mingled with malicious satisfaction.
Cugel saw now that a metal band encircled Fabeln's neck, to which was
connected a long metal chain. At the far end of the burrow huddled an
old man with long white hair, likewise fitted with collar and chain.
Even as Cugel looked about him, the rat-people clamped a collar to
his own neck. "Hold off!" exclaimed Cugel in consternation. "What
does this mean? I deplore such treatment!"

The rat-folk gave him a shove and ran away. Cugel saw that long
squamous tails depended from theh' pointed rumps, which protruded
peculiarly from the black smocks which they wore.

The door closed; the three men were alone.

Cugel turned angrily upon Fabehi. "You tricked me; you led me to
capture! This is a serious offense!"

Fabehi gave a bitter laugh. "No less serious than the deceit you
practiced upon me! By your knavish trick, I was taken; I therefore
ensured that you should not escape."

"This is inhuman malice!" roared Cugel. "I shall see to it that
you receive your just desserts!"

"Bah," said Fabeln. "Do not anaoy me with your complaints. In any
event, I did not lure you into the cave from malice alone."

"No? You have a further perverse motive?"

"It is simple: the rat-folk are nothing if not clever! Whoever
entices two others into the cave wins his own freedom. You represent
one item to my account; I need furnish a second and I go free. Is
this not correct, Zaraides?"

"Only in a broad sense," replied the old man. "You may not tally
this man to your account; if justice were absolute you and he would
fulfill my score; did not my parchments bring you to the cave?"

"But not within!" declared Fabeln. "Here lies the careful
distinction which must be made! The rat-folk concur, and hence you
have not been released."

"In this case," said Cugel, "I hereby claim you as an item upon my
score, since I sent you into the cave to test the circumstances to be
encountered."

Fabeln shrugged. "This is a matter you must take up with the
rat-folk." He frowned and blinked his small eyes.

"Why should I not claim myself as a credit to my own account? It
is a point worth asserting."

"Not so, not so," came a shrill voice from behind a grate. "We
tally only those items provided after impoundment. Fabeln is tallied
to no one's account. He however is adjudged one item: namely, the
person of Cugel. Zaraides has a score of null."

Cugel felt the collar at bis neck. "What if we fail to provide two
items?"

"A month is your tune; no more. If you fail in this month, you are
devoured."

Fabeln spoke in a voice of sober calculation. "I believe that I am
as good as free. At no great distance my daughter waits. She is
suddenly impatient with wild leeks and hence redundant to my
household. It is fitting that by her agency I am released." And
Fabehi nodded with ponderous satisfaction.

"It will be interesting to watch your methods," Cugel remarked.
"Precisely where is she to be found and how will she be
summoned?"

Fabeln's expression became both cunning and rancorous. "I tell you
nothing! If you wish to tally items, devise the means yourself!"

Zaraides gestured to a board where lay strips of parchment. "I tie
persuasive messages to winged seeds, which are then liberated into
the forest. The method is of questionable utility, luring passersby
to the mouth of the cave, but enticing them no further. I fear that I
have only five days to live. If only I had my Hbrams, my folios, my
work-books! What spells, what spells! I would rive this warren end to
end; I would convert each of these man-rodents into a blaze of green
fire. I would punish Fabeln for cheating me. . . . Hmmm. The Gyrator?
Lugwiler's Dismal Itch?"

"The Spell of Forlorn Encystment has its advocates," Cugel
suggested.

Zaraides nodded. "The idea has much to recommend it ... But this
is an idle dream: my spells were snatched away and conveyed to some
secret place."

Fabeln snorted and turned aside. From behind the grate came a
shrill admonition: "Regrets and excuses are poor substitutes for
items upon your score. Emulate Fabeln! Already he boasts one item and
plans a second on the morrow! This is the sort we capture by
choice!"

"I captured him!" asserted Cugel. "Have you no probity? I sent him
into the cave; he should be credited to my account!"

Zaraides cried out in vehement protest. "By ho means! Cugel
distorts the case! If pure justice were done, both Cugel and Fabeln
should be tallied to my score!"

"All is as before!" called out the shrill voice.

Zaraides threw up his hands and went to writing parchments with
furious zeal, Fabeln hunched himself on a stool and sat in placid
reflection. Cugel, in crawling past, kicked a leg from the stool and
Fabeln fell to the floor. He rose and sprang at Cugel, who threw the
stool at him.

"Order!" called the shrill voice. "Order or penalties will be
inflicted!"

"Cugel dislodged the stool, to send me sprawling," complained
Fabeln. "Why is he not punished?"

"The sheerest mischance." stated Cueel. "In my opinion the
irascible Fabeln should be placed incommunicado, for at least two, or
more properly, three weeks."

Fabeln began to sputter, but the shrill voice behind the grate
enjoined an impartial silence upon all.

Food was presently brought, a coarse porridge of offensive odor.
After the meal all were forced to crawl to a constricted burrow on a
somewhat lower level, where they were chained to the wall. Cugel fell
into a troubled sleep, to be awakened by a call through the door to
Fabeln: "The message has been delivered—it was read with great
attention."

"Good news!" came Fabeln's voice. "Tomorrow I shall walk the
forest a free man!"

"Silence," croaked Zaraides from'the dark. "Must I daily write
parchments for everyone's benefit but my own, only to lie awake by
night to your vile gloating?"

"Ha ha!" chortled Fabeln. "Hear the voice of the ineffectual
wizard!"

"Alas for my lost librams!" groaned Zaraides. "You would sing a
vastly different tune!"

"In what quarter are they to be found?" inquired Cugel
cautiously.

"As to that, you must ask these foul murids; they seized me
unawares."

Fabeln raised his head to complain. "Do you intend to exchange
reminiscences the whole night through? I wish to sleep."

Zaraides, infuriated, began to upbraid Fabeln in so violent a
manner that the rat-folk ran into the burrow and dragged him away,
leaving Cugel and Fabeln alone.

In the morning Fabeln ate his porridge with great rapidity. "Now
then," he called to the grating, "detach this collar, that I may go
forth to summon the second of my tallies, Cugel being the first."

"Bah," muttered Cugel. "Infamous!"

The rat-folk, paying no heed to Fabeln's protests, adjusted the
collar even more tightly around his neck, affixed the chain and
pulled him forth on hands and knees, and Cugel was left alone.

He tried to sit erect, but the damp dirt pressed on his neck, and
he slumped back down on his elbows. "Cursed rat-creatures! Somehow I
must evade them! Unlike Fabeln, I have no household to draw from, and
the efficacy of Zaraides' parchments is questionable. . . .
Conceivably, however, others may wander close, in the fashion, of
Fabeln and myself." He turned to the gate, behind which sat the
sharp-eyed monitor. "In order to recruit the required two items, I
wish to wait outside the cave."

"This is permitted," announced the monitor. "Supervision must of
course be rigid."

"Supervision is understandable," agreed Cugel. "I request however
that the chain and collar be removed from my neck. With a constraint
so evident, even the most credulous will turn away."

"There is something in what you say," admitted the monitor. "But
what is there to prevent you from taking to your heels?"

Cugel gave a somewhat labored laugh. "Do I seem one to betray a
trust? Further, why should I do so, when I can easily procure tally
after tally for my score?"

"We shall make certain adjustments." A moment later a number of
the rat-folk swarmed into the burrow. The collar was loosened from
Cugel's neck, his right leg was seized and a silver pin driven
through his ankle, to which, while Cugel called out in anguish, a
chain was secured.

"The chain is now inconspicuous," stated one of his captors. "You
may now stand before the cave and attract passers-by as best you
may."

Still groaning in pain, Cugel crawled up through the burrow and
into the cave-mouth, where Fabeln sat, a chain about his neck,
awaiting the arrival of his daughter. "Where do you go?" he asked
suspiciously.

"I go to pace before the cave, to attract passers-by and direct
them within!"

Fabeln gave a sour grunt, and peered off through the trees.

Cugel went to stand before the cave-mouth. He looked in all
directions, then gave a melodious call. "Does anyone walk near?"

He received no reply, and began to pace back and forth, the chain
jingling along the ground.

Movement through the trees: the flutter of yellow and green cloth,
and here came Fabeln's daughter, carrying a basket and an axe. At the
sight of Cugel she paused, then hesitantly approached. "I seek
Fabeln, who has requested certain articles."

"I will take them," said Cugel, reaching for the axe, but the
rat-folk were alert and hauled him quickly back into the cave. "She
must place the axe on that far rock," they hissed into Cugel's ear.
"Go forth and so inform her."

Cugel limped forth once more. The girl looked at him in
puzzlement. "Why did you leap back in that fashion?"

"I will tell you," said Cugel, "and it is an odd matter, but first
you must place your basket and axe on that rock yonder, where the
true Fabeln will presently arrive."

From within the cave came a mutter of angry protest, quickly
stifled.

"What was that sound?" inquired the girl.

"Do with the axe as I require, and I will make all known."

The girl, puzzled, took axe and basket to the designated spot,
then returned. "Now, where Js Fabeln?"

"Fabeln is dead," said Cugel. "His body is currently possessed by
a malicious spirit; do not on any grounds heed it: this is my
warning."

At this Fabeln gave a great groan, and called from the cave. "He
lies, he lies. Come hither, into the cave!"

Cugel held up a hand in restraint. "By no means. Be cautious!"

The girl peered in wonder and fear toward the cave, where now
Fabeln appeared, making the most earnest gesticulations. The girl
drew back. "Come, come!" cried Fabeln. "Enter the cave!"

The girl shook her head, and Fabeln in a fury attempted to tear
loose his chain. The rat-folk dragged him hastily back into the
shadows, where Fabeln fought so vigorously the rat-folk were obliged
to kill him and drag his body back into the burrow.

Cugel listened attentively, then turned to the girl and nodded.
"All is now well. Fabeln left certain valuables in my care; if you
will step within the cave, I will relinquish them to you."

The girl shook her head in bewilderment "Fabeln owned nothing of
value!"

"Be good enough to inspect the objects." Cugel courteously
motioned her to the cave. She stepped forward, peered within, and
instantly the rat-folk seized her and dragged her down into the
burrow.

"This is item one on my score," called Cugel within. "Do not
neglect to record it!"

"The tally is duly noted," came a voice from within. "One more
such and you go free."

The remainder of the day Cugei paced back and forth before the
cave, looking this way and that through the trees, but saw no one. At
nightfall he was drawn back into the cave and pent in the low-level
burrow where he had passed the previous night. Now it was occupied by
Fabeln's daughter. Naked, bruised, vacant-eyed, she stared at him
fixedly. Cugel attempted an exchange of conversation, but she seemed
bereft of speech.

The evening porridge was served. While Cugel ate, he watched the
girl surreptitiously. She was by no means uncomely, though now
bedraggled and soiled. Cugel crawled closer, but the odor of the
rat-folk was so strong that his lust diminished, and he drew
back.

During the night there was furtive sound in the burrow: a
scraping, scratching, grating sound. Cugel, blinking sleepily, raised
on an elbow, to see a section of the floor tilt stealthily ajar,
allowing a seep of smoky yellow light to play on the girl. Cugel
cried out; into the burrow rushed rat-folk carrying tridents, but it
was too late: the girl had been stolen.

The rat-folk were intensely angry. They raised the stone, screamed
curses and abuse into the gap. Others poured into the hole, with
further vituperation. One aggrievedly explained the situation to
Cugel. "Other beings live below; they cheat us at every turn. Someday
we will exact revenge; our patience is not inexhaustible! This night
you must sleep elsewhere lest they make another sortie." He loosened
Cugel's chain, but now was called by those who cemented the hole in
the floor.

Cugel moved quietly to the entrance, and when the attention of all
were distracted he slipped out into the passage. Gathering up the
chain, he crawled in that direction which he thought led to the
surface, but encountering a side-passage became confused. The tunnel
turned downward and, becoming narrow, constricted his shoulders; then
it diminished in height, pressing down on him from above, so that he
was forced to writhe forward, jerking himself by his elbows.

His absence was discovered; from behind caine squeals of rage, as
the rat-folk rushed this way and that.

The passage made a sharp twist, at an angle into which Cugel found
it impossible to twist his body. Writhing and jerking, he squeezed
himself into a new posture, and now could no. longer move. He exhaled
and with eyes starting from his head, lunged about and up, and drew
himself into a passage more open. In a niche he came upon a
fire-ball, which he carried with him.

The rat-folk were approaching, screaming injunctions. Cugel thrust
himself into a side-passage which opened into a store-room. The first
objects to meet his eye were his sword and pouch.

The rat-folk rushed into the room with tridents. Cugel hacked and
slashed and drove them squealing back into the corridor. Here they
gathered, darting back and forth, calling shrill threats in at Cugel.
Occasionally one would rush forward to gnash its teeth and flourish
its trident, but when Cugel killed two of these, they drew back to
confer in low tones.

Cugel took occasion to thrust certain heavy cases against the
entrance, thus affording himself a moment's respite.

The rat-folk pressed forward, kicking and shoving. Cugel thrust
his blade through a chink, eliciting a wail of intense distress.

One spoke: "Cugel, come forth! We are a kindly folk and bear no
malice. You have one item upon your score, and shortly no doubt will
secure another, and thus go free. Why discommode us all? There is no
reason why, in an essentially inconvenient relationship, we should
not adopt an attitude of camaraderie. Come forth, then, and we will
provide meat for your morning porridge."

Cugel spoke politely. "At the moment I am too distraught to think
clearly. Did I hear you say that you planned to set me free without
further charge or difficulty?"

There was a whispered conversation in the corridor, then came the
response. "There was indeed a statement to that effect. You are
hereby declared free, to come and go as you wish. Unblock the
entrance, cast down your sword, and come forth!"

"What guarantee can you offer me?" asked Cugel, listening intently
at the blocked entrance.

There were shrill chattering whispers, then the reply: "No
guarantee is necessary. We now retire. Come forth, walk along the
corridor to your freedom."

Cugel made no response. Holding aloft the fire-ball, he turned to
inspect the store-room, which contained a great store of articles of
clothing, weapons and tools. In that bin which he had pushed against
the entrance he noticed a group of leather-bound librams. On the face
of the first was printed:

ZARAIDES THE WIZARD

Hisi Work-book: Beware!

The rat-folk called once more, in gentle voices: "Cugel, dear
Cugel, why have you not come forth?"

"I rest; I recover my strength," said Cugel. He took forth the
libram, turned the pages, and found an index.

"Come forth, Cugel!" came a command, somewhat sterner. "We have
here a pot of noxious vapor which we propose to discharge into the
chamber where you so obdurately seclude yourself. Come forth, or it
shall be the worse for you!"

"Patience," called Cugel. "Allow me time to collect my wits!"

"While you collect your wits we ready the pot of acid in which we
plan to immerse your head."

"Just so, just so," said Cugel absently, engrossed in the
work-book. There was a scraping sound and a tube was thrust into the
chamber. Cugel took hold of the tube and twisted it so that it
pointed back into the corridor.

"Speak, Cugel!" came the portentous order. "Will you come forth or
shall we send a great gust of vile gas into the chamber?"

"You lack that capability," said Cugel. "I refuse to come
forth."

"You shall see! Let the gas exude!"

The tube pulsed and hissed; from the corridor came a cry of vast
dismay. The hissing ceased.

Cugel, not finding what he sought in the work-book, drew forth a
tome. This bore the title:

ZARAEDES THE WIZARD

His Compendium of Spells Beware!

Cugel opened and read; finding an appropriate spell, he held the
fire-ball close the better to encompass the activating syllables.
There were four lines of words, thirty-one syllables in all. Cugel
forced them into his brain, where they lay like stones.

A sound behind him? Into the chamber from another portal came the
rat-folk. Crouching low, white faces twitching, ears down, they crept
forward, tridents leveled.

Cugel menaced them with his sword, then chanted that spell known
as the Inside Out and Over, while the rat-folk stared aghast. There
came a great tearing sound: a convulsive lift and twist as the
passages everted, spewing all through the forest. Rat-folk ran
squealing back and forth, and there were also running white things
whose nature Cugel could not distinguish by starlight. Rat-folk and
the white creatures grappled and tore ferociously at each other, and
the forest was filled with snarling and gnashing, shrill screams and
small voices raised in outcry.

Cugel moved quietly away, and in a bilberry thicket waited out the
night.

When dawn arrived he returned cautiously to the hillock, hoping to
possess himself of Zaraides' compendium and work-book. There was
great litter, and many small corpses, but the articles he sought were
not to be found. Regretfully Cugel turned away and presently came
upon Fabeln's daughter sitting among the ferns. When he approached,
she squeaked at him. Cugel pursed his lips and shook his head in
disapproval. He led her to a nearby stream and attempted to wash her,
but at the first opportunity she disengaged herself and hid under a
rock.



VII

The Manse of Iuconnu


THE SPELL known as the Inside Out and Over was of derivation so
remote as to be forgotten. An unknown Cloud-rider of the Twenty-first
Eon had construed an archaic version; the half-legendary Basile
Blackweb had refined its contours, a process continued by Veronifer
the Bland, who had added a reinforcing resonance. Archemand of
Glaere had annotated fourteen of its pervulsions: Phandaal had
listed it in the 'A,' or 'Perfected,' category of his monumental
catalogue. In this fashion it had reached the workbook of Zaraides
the Sage, where Cugel, immured under a hillock, had found it and
spoken it forth.

Now, once more searching through the multifarious litter of the
spell's aftermath, Cugel found articles of every description:
garments new and old; jerkins, vests and cloaks; antique tabards;
breeches flared after the new taste of Kauchique, or fringed and
tasseled in the style of Old Romarth, or pied and gored in the
extravagant Andromach mode. There were boots and sandals and hats of
every description; plumes, panaches, emblems and crests; old tools
and broken weapons; bangles and trinkets; tarnished filigrees,
crusted cameos; gemstones which Cugel could not refrain from
gathering and which perhaps delayed him from finding that which he
sought: the work-books of Zaraides, which had been scattered with the
rest.

Cugel searched at length. He found silver bowls, ivory spoons,
porcelain vases, gnawed bones and shining teeth of many sorts, these
glittering like pearls among the leaves—but nowhere the tomes
and folios which might have helped him overcome Jucounu the Laughing
Magician. Even now Iuconnu's creature of coercion, Firx, clamped
serrated members upon Cugel's liver. Cugel finally called out: "I
merely seek the most direct route to Azenomei; you will soon rejoin
your comrade in Iuconnu's vat! Meanwhile take your ease; are you in
such an agony of haste?" At which Firx sullenly relaxed his
pressure.

Cugel wandered disconsolately back and forth, looking among
branches and under roots, squinting up the forest aisles, kicking
among the ferns and mosses. Then at the base of a stump he saw that
which he sought: a number of folios and librams, gathered into a neat
stack. Upon the stump sat Zaraides.

Cugel stepped forward, pinch-mouthed with disappointment. Zaraides
surveyed him with a serene countenance. "You appear to seek some
misplaced object. The loss, I trust, is not serious?"

Cugel gave his head a terse shake. "A few trifles have gone
astray. Let them molder among the leaves."

"By no means!" declared Zaraides. "Describe the loss; I will send
forth a searching oscillation. You will have your property within
moments!"

Cugel demurred. "I would not impose such a trivial business upon
you. Let us consider other matters." He indicated the stack of tomes,
upon which Zaraides had now placed his feet. "Happily your own
property is secure."

Zaraides nodded with placid satisfaction. "All is now well; I am
concerned only with that imbalance which distorts our relationship."
He held up his hand as Cugel stood back. "There is no cause for
alarm; in fact, quite the reverse. Your acts averted my death; the
Law of Equivalences has been disturbed and I must contrive a
reciprocity." He combed his beard with his fingers. "The requital
unfortunately must be largely symbolic, I could well fulfill the
totality of your desires and still not nudge the scale against the
weight of the service you have performed, even if unwittingly, for
me."

Cugel became somewhat more cheerful, but now Firx, once again
impatient, made a new demonstration. Clasping his abdomen, Cugel
cried out, "Preliminary to all, be good enough to extract the
creature which lacerates my vitals, a certain Firs."

Zaraides raised his eyebrows. "What manner of creature is
this?"

"A detestable object from a far star. It resembles a tangle, a
thicket, a web of white spines, barbs and claws."

"A matter of no great difficulty," said Zaraides. "These creatures
are susceptible to a rather primitive method of extirpation. Come; my
dwelling lies at no great distance."

Zaraides stepped down from the stump, gathered his compendia and
flung them into the air; all lofted high to float swiftly over the
treetops and out of sight. Cugel watched them go with sadness.

"You marvel?" inquired Zaraides. "It is nothing: the simplest of
procedures and a curb on the zeal of thieves and footpads. Let us set
forth; we must expel this creature which causes you such
distress."

He led the way through the trees. Cugel came after, but now Firx,
belatedly sensing that all was not to his advantage, made a furious
protest. Cugel, bending double, jumping stdewise, forced himself to
totter and run after Zaraides, who marched without so much as a
backward glance.

In the branches of an enormous daobado Zaraides had his dwelling.
Stairs rose to a heavy drooping bough which led to a rustic portico.
Cugel crawled up the staircase, along the bough, and into a great
square room. The furnishings were at once simple and luxurious.
Windows looked in all directions over the forest; a thick rug
patterned in black, brown and yellow covered the floor.

Zaraides beckoned Cugel into his workroom. "We will abate this
nuisance at once."

Cugel stumbled after him and at a gesture settled upon a glass
pedestal.

Zaraides brought a screen of zinc strips which he placed at
Cugel's back. "This is to inform Firx that a trained wizard is at
hand: creatures of his sort are highly antipathetic to zinc. Now
then, a simple potion: sulfur, aquastel, tincture of zyche; certain
herbs: bournade, hilp, cassas, though these latter are perhaps not
essential. Drink, if you will. . . . Firx, come forth! Hence, you
extraterrestrial pestl Remove! Or I dust Cugel's entire ulterior with
sulfur and pierce him with zinc rods! Come forth! What? Must I flush
you forth with aquastel? Come forth; return to Achernar as best you
may!"

At this Firx angrily relinquished his grip and issued from Cugel's
chest: a tangle of white nerves and tendrils, each with its claw or
barb. Zaraides captured the creature in a zinc basin which he covered
with a mesh of zinc.

Cugel, who had lost consciousness, awoke to find Zaraides serenely
affable, awaiting his recovery. "You are a lucky man," Zaraides told
him. "The treatment was only barely in time. It is the tendency of
this maleficent incubus to extend its prongs everywhere through the
body, until it clamps upon the brain; then you and Firx are one and
the same. How did you become infected with the creature?"

Cugel gave a small grimace of distaste. "It was at the hands of
Iuconnu the Laughing Magician. You know him?" For Zaraides had
allowed his eyebrows to arch high.

"Mainly by his reputation for humor and grotesquerie," replied the
sage.

"He is nothing less than a buffoon!" exclaimed Cugel. "For a
fancied slight he threw me to the north of the world, where the sun
wheels low and casts no more heat than a lamp. Iuconnu must have his
joke, but now I will have a joke of my own! You have announced your
effusive gratitude, and so, before proceeding to the main body of my
desires, we will take a suitable revenge upon Iuconnu."

Zaraides nodded thoughtfully and ran his fingers through his
beard. "I will advise you. Iuconnu is a vain and sensitive man. His
most vulnerable spot is his self-esteem. Turn your back on him, take
yourself to another quarter! This act of proud disdain will strike a
pang more exquisite than any other discomfort you might devise.

Cugel frowned. "The reprisal seems rather too abstract. If you
will be good enough to summon a demon, I will give him his
instructions in regard to Iuconnu. The business will then be at an
end, and we can discuss other matters."

Zaraides shook his head. "All is not so simple. Iuconnu, himself
devious, is not apt to be taken unawares. He would instantly learn
who instigated the assault, and the relations of distant cordiality
we have enjoyed would be at an end."

"Pah!" scoffed Cugel. "Does Zaraides the Sage fear to identify
himself with the cause of justice? Does he blink and draw aside from
one so timid and vacillating as Iuconnu?"

"In a word—yes," said Zaraides. "At any instant the sun may
go dark; I do not care to pass these last hours exchanging jests with
Iuconnu, whose humor is much more elaborate than my own. So now,
attend. In one minute I must concern myself with certain important
duties. As a final signal of gratitude I will transfer you to
whatever locale you choose. Where shall it be?"

"If this is your best, take me then to Azenomei, at the juncture
of the Xzan with the Scaum!"

"As you wish. Be so good as to step upon this stage. Hold out your
hands thus. . . . Draw your breath deep, and during the passage
neither inhale nor exhale. . . . Are you ready?"

Cugel assented. Zaraides drew back and called a spell. Cugel was
jerked up and away. An instant later the ground touched his feet and
he found himself walking the main concourse of Azenomei.

He drew a deep breath. "After all the trials, all the
vicissitudes, I am once again in Azenomei!" And, shaking his head in
wonder, he looked about him. The ancient structures, the terraces
overlooking the river, the market: all were as before. Not far
distant was the booth of Fianosther. Turning his back to avoid
recognition, he sauntered away.

"Now what?" he ruminated. "First, new garments, then the comforts
of an inn, where I may weigh every aspect of my present condition.
When one wishes to laugh with Iuconnu, he should embark upon the
project with all caution."

Two hours later, bathed, shorn, refreshed, and wearing new
garments of black, green and red, Cugel sat in the common room of the
River Inn with a plate of spiced sausages and a flask of green
wine.

"This matter of a just settlement poses problems of extreme
delicacy," he mused. "I must move with caret."

He poured wine from the flagon, and ate several of the sausages.
Then he opened his pouch and withdrew a small object wrapped
carefully in soft cloth the violet cusp which Iuconnu wished as a
match for the one already in his possession. He raised the cusp to
his eye but stopped short: it would display the surroundings in an
illusion so favorable that he might never wish to remove it. And now,
as he contemplated the glossy surface, there entered his mind a
program so ingenious, so theoretically effective and yet of such
small hazard, that he instantly abandoned the search for a
better.

Essentially, the scheme was simple. He would present himself to
Iuconnu and tender the cusp, or more accurately, a cusp of similar
appearance. Iuconnu would compare it with that which he already
owned, in order to test the efficacy of the coupled pair, and
inevitably look through both. The discord between the real and the
false would jar his brain and render him helpless, whereupon Cugel
could take such measures as seemed profitable.

Where was the flaw in the plan? Cugel could see none. If Iuconnu
discovered the substitution, Cugel need only utter an apology and
produce the real cusp, and so lull Iuconnu's suspicions. All in all,
the probabilities of success seemed excellent.

Cugel finished his sausages in leisure, ordered a second flagon of
wine, and observed with pleasure the view across the Xzan. There was
no need for haste; indeed, while dealing with Iuconnu, impulsiveness
was a serious mistake, as he had already learned.

On the following day, still finding no fault in his plan, he
visited a glass-blower whose workroom was established on the banks of
the Scaum a mile to the east of Azenomei, in a copse of fluttering
yellow bilibobs.

The glass-blower examined the cusp. "An exact duplicate, of
identical shape and color? No small task, with a violet so pure and
rich. Such a color is most difficult to work into glass; there is no
specific stain; all must be a matter of guess and hazard.
Still—I will pepare a melt. We shall see, we shall see."

After several trials he produced a glass of the requisite hue,
from which he fashioned a cusp superficially indistinguishable from
the magic lens.

"Excellent!" declared Cugel. "And now, as to your fee?"

"Such a cusp of violet glass I value at a hundred terces,"
replied the glass-blower in a casual manner.

"What?" cried Cugel in outrage. "Do I appear so gullible? The
charge is excessive."

The glass-blower replaced his tools, swages and crucibles, showing
no concern for Cugel's indignation. "The universe evinces no true
stability. All fluctuates, cycles, ebbs and flows; all is pervaded
with mutability. My fees, which are immanent with the cosmos, obey
the same laws and vary according to the anxiety of the customer."

Cugel drew back in displeasure, at which the glass-blower reached
forth and possessed himself of both cusps. Cugel exclaimed: "What do
you intend?"

"I return the glass to the crucible; what else?"

"And what of that cusp which is my property?"

"I retain it as a memento of our conversation,"

"Hold!" Cugel drew a deep breath. "I might pay your exorbitant fee
if the new cusp were as clear and perfect as the old."

The glass-blower inspected first one, then the other. "To my eye
they are identical."

"What of focus?" Cugel challenged. "Hold both to your vision, look
through both, then say as much!"

The glass-blower raised both cusps to his eyes. One allowed a view
into the Overworld, the other transmitted a view of Reality. Stunned
by the discord, the glass-blower swayed and would have fallen had not
Cugel, in an effort to protect the cusps, supported him, and guided
him to a bench.

Taking the cusps, Cugel tossed three terces to the work-table.
"All is mutability, and thus your hundred terces has fluctuated to
three."

The glass-blower, too dazed to make sensible reply, mumbled and
struggled to raise his hand, but Cugel strode from the studio and
away.

He returned to the inn. Here he donned his old garments, stained
and torn by much harsh treatment, and set forth along the banks of
the Xzan.

As he walked he rehearsed the approaching confrontation, trying to
anticipate every possible contingency. Ahead, the sunlight glinted
through spiral green glass towers: the manse of Iuconnu!

Cugel baited to gaze up at the eccentric structure.

How many times during his journey had he envisioned himself
standing here, with Iuconnu the Laughing Magician close at hand!

He climbed the winding way of dark brown tile, and every step
increased the tautness of his nerves. He approached the front door,
and saw on the heavy panel an object which he had failed to notice
previously: a visage carved in ancient wood, a gaunt face pinched of
cheek and jaw, the eyes aghast, the lips drawn back, the mouth wide
in a yell of despair or perhaps defiance.

With his hand raised to rap at the door, Cugel felt a chill settle
on his soul. He drew back from the haggard wooden countenance,
turning to follow the gaze of the blind eyes—across the Xzan
and away over the dim bare hills, rolling and heaving as far as
vision could reach. He Reviewed his plan of operations. Was there a
flaw? Danger to himself? None was apparent. If Iuconnu discovered the
substitution Cugel could always plead error and produce the genuine
cusp. Great advantage was to be gained at small risk! Cugel turned
back and rapped on the heavy panel.

A minute passed. Slowly the portal swung open. A flow of cool air
issued forth, carrying a bitter odor which Cugel could not identify.
The sunlight slanting across his shoulder passed through the portal
and fell upon the stone floor. Cugel peered uncertainly into the
vestibule, reluctant to enter without an express invitation.
"Iuconnu!" he called. "Come forth, that I may enter your manse! I
wish no further unjust accusations!"

Within was a stir, a slow sound of feet. From a room to the side
came Iuconnu, and Cugel thought to detect a change in his
countenance. The great soft yellow head seemed looser than before:
the jowls sagged, the nose hung like a stalactite, the chin was
little more than a pimple below the great twitching mouth.

Iuconnu wore a square brown hat with each of the corners tipped
up, a blouse of brown and black diaper, loose pantaloons of a heavy
dark brown stuff with black embroidery—a handsome set of
garments which Iuconnu wore without grace, as if they were strange to
him, and uncomfortable; and indeed, he gave Cugel a greeting which
Cugel found odd. "Well, fellow, what is your purpose? You will never
learn to walk ceilings standing on your hands." And Iuconnu hid his
mouth with his hands to conceal a snicker.

Cugel raised his eyebrows in surprise and doubt, "This is not my
purpose. I have come on an errand of vast import: namely to report
that the mission I undertook on your behalf is satisfactorily
terminated."

"Excellent!" cried Iuconnu. "You may now tender me the keys to the
bread locker."

" 'Bread locker'?" Cugel stared in surprise. Was Iuconnu mad? "I
am Cugel, whom you sent north on a mission. I have returned with the
magic cusp affording a view into the Overworld!"

"Of course, of course!" cried Iuconnu. " 'Brzm-szzst,' I fear I am
vague, among so many contrasting situations; nothing is quite as
before. But now I welcome you. Cugel, of course! All is clear. You
have gone forth, you have returned! How is friend Firx? Well, I
trust? I have longed for his companionship. An excellent fellow,
Firx!"

Cugel acquiesced with no great fervor. "Yes, Firx has been a
friend indeed, au unflagging source of encouragement."

"Excellent! Step within! I must provide refreshment! What is your
preference: 'sz-mzsm' or 'szk-zsm'?"

Cugel eyed Iuconnu askance. His demeanor was more than peculiar,
"I am familiar with neither of the items you mention, and hence will
decline both with gratitude. But observe! The magic violet cusp!" And
Cugel displayed the glass fabrication which he had procured only a
few hours previously.

"Excellent!" declared Iuconnu. "You have done well, and your
transgressions—now I recall all, having sorted among the
various circumstances—are hereby declared nullified. But give
me the cusp! I must put it to trial!"

"Of course," said Cugel. "I respectfully suggest, that in order to
comprehend the full spendor of the Overworld, you bring forth your
own cusp and look through both simultaneously. This is the only
appropriate method."

"True, how true! My cusp; now where did that stubborn rascal
conceal it?"

" 'Stubborn rascal?'" inquired Cugel. "Has someone been
misarranging your valuables?"

"In a manner of speaking." Iuconnu gave a wild titter, and kicked
up both feet far to the side, falling heavily to the floor, from
where he addressed the astounded Cugel. "It is all one, and no longer
of consequence, since al! must now transpire in the 'muz' pattern.
Yes, I will shortly consult with Firx."

"On a previous occasion," said Cugel patiently, "you procured your
cusp from a cabinet in that chamber yonder."

"Silence!" commanded Iuconnu in sudden annoyance. He hauled
himself to his feet. " 'SzszM I am well aware as to where the cusp is
stored. All is completely coordinated! Follow me. We shall learn the
essence of the Overworld at once!" He emitted a bray of immoderate
laughter, at which Cugel stared in new astonishment.

Iuconnu shuffled into the side-chamber and returned with the case
containing his magic cusp. He made an imperious gesture to Cugel.
"Stand exactly at this spot. Do not move, as you value Firx!"

Cugel bowed obediently. Iuconnu took forth his cusp.
"Now—the new object!"

Cugel tendered the glass cusp. "To your eyes, both together, that
you may enjoy the full glory of the Overworld!"

"Yes! This is as it shall be!" Iuconnu lifted the two cusps and
applied them to his eyes. Cugel, expecting him to fall paralyzed by
the discord, reached for the cord he had brought to tie the
insensible savant; but Iuconnu showed no signs of helplessness. He
peered this way and that, chortling in a peculiar fashion. "Splendid!
Superb! A vista of pure pleasure!" He removed the cusps and placed
them carefully in the case. Cugel watched glumly.

"I am much pleased," said Iuconnu, making a sinuous gesture of
hands and arms, which further bewildered Cugel. "Yes," Iuconnu
continued, "you have done well, and the insensate wickedness of your
offense is hereby remitted. Now all that remains is the delivery of
my indispensable Firx, and to this end I must place you in a vat. You
will be submerged in an appropriate liquid for approximately
twenty-six hours, which may well suffice to tempt Firx forth."

Cugel grimaced. How was one to reason with a magician not only
droll and irascible, but also bereft? "Such an immersion might well
affect me adversely," he pointed out cautiously. "Far wiser to allow
Firx a period of further perambulation."

Iuconnu seemed favorably impressed by the suggestion, and
expressed his delight by means of an extremely intricate jig, which
he performed with agility remarkable in a man of Iuconnu's short
limbs and somewhat corpulent body. He concluded the demonstration
with a great leap into the air, alighting on his neck and shoulders,
arms and legs waving like those of an overturned beetle. Cugel
watched in fascination, wondering whether Iuconnu was alive or
dead.

But Iuconnu, blinking somewhat, nimbly gained an upright posture.
"I must perfect the exact pressures and thrusts," he ruminated.
"Otherwise there is impingement. The eluctauce here is of a different
order than of "ssz-pntz.'" He emitted another great chortle, throwing
back his head, and looking into the open mouth Cugel saw, rather than
a tongue, a white claw. Instantly he apprehended the reason for
Iuconnu's bizarre conduct In some fashion a creature like Firx had
inserted itself into Iuconnu's body, and had taken possession of his
brain.

Cugel rubbed his chin with interest. A situation of marvel! He
applied himself to concentrated thought. Essential to know was
whether the creature retained Iuconnu's mastery of magic. Cugel said,
"Your wisdom astounds mel I am filled with admiration! Have you added
to your collection of thaumaturgical curios?"

"No; there is ample at hand," declared the creature, speaking
through Iuconnu's mouth. "But now I feel the need for relaxation. The
evolution I performed a moment or so ago has made quietude
necessary."

"A simple matter," said Cugel. "The most effective means to this
end is to clamp with extreme intensity upon the Lobe of Directive
Volition."

"Indeed?" inquired the creature. "I will attempt as much; let me
see: this is the Lobe of Antithesis and here, the Convolvement of
Subliminal Configuration. . . . 'Szzm.' Much here puzzles me; it was
never thus on Achernar." The creature gave Cugel a sharp look to see
if the slip had been noticed. But Cugel put on an attitude of
lackadaisical boredom; and the creature continued to sort through the
various elements of Iuconnu's brain, "Ah yes, here: the Lobe of
Directive Volition. Now, a sudden vigorous pressure."

Iuconnu's face became taut, the muscles sagged, and the corpulent
body crumpled to the floor. Cugel leapt forward and in a trice bound
Iuconnu's arms and legs and affixed an adhesive pad across the big
mouth.

Now Cugel performed a joyful caper of his own. All was well!
Iuconnu, his manse and his great collection of magical adjuncts were
at his disposal! Cugel considered the helpless hulk and started to
drag it outside where he might conveniently strike off the great
yellow head, but the recollection of the numerous indignities,
discomforts and humiliations he had suffered at Iuconnu's hands gave
him pause. Should Iuconnu attain oblivion so swiftly, with neither
cognition nor remorse? By no means!

Cugel pulled the still body out into the hall, and sat on a nearby
bench to consider.

Presently the body stirred, opened its eyes, made an effort to
arise, and, finding this impossible, turned to examine Cugel first in
surprise, then outrage. From the mouth came peremptory sounds which
Cugel acknowledged with a noncommittal sign.

Presently he arose to his feet, examined the bonds and the
mouth-plaster, made all doubly secure, then set about a cautious
inspection of the manse, alert for traps, lures or deadfalls which
the whimsical Iuconnu might have established in order to outwit or
beguile intruders. He was especially vigilant during his inspection
of Iuconnu's workroom, probing everywhere with a long rod, but if
Iuconnu had set forth snares or beguilements, none were evident.

Looking along Iuconnu's shelves, Cugel found sulfur, aquastel,
tincture of zyche and herbs from which he prepared a viscous yellow
elixir. He draggged the flaccid body into the workroom, administered
the potion, called orders and persuasions and finally, with Iuconnu
an even more intense yellow from ingested sulfur, with aquastel
steaming from his ears, with Cugel panting and perspiring from his
own exertions, the creature from Achernar clawed free of the heaving
body. Cugel caught it in a great stone mortar, crushed it to a paste
with an iron pestle, dissolved all with spirits of vitriol, added
aromatic mernaunce and poured the resultant slime down a dram.

Iuconnu, presently returning to consciousness, fixed Cugel with a
glare of disturbing intensity. Cugel administered an exhalation of
raptogen and the Laughing Magician, rolling his eyes upward, returned
to a state of apathy.

Cugel sat back to rest A.problem existed: how best to restrain
Iuconnu while he made his representations. Finally, after looking
through one or two manuals, be sealed Iuconnu's mouth with a daub of
juncturing compound, secured his vitality with an uncomplicated
spell, then pent him in a tall glass tube, which he suspended from a
chain in the vestibule.

This accomplished, and Iuconnu once more conscious, Cugel stood
back with an affable grin. "At last, Iuconnu, matters begin to right
themselves. Do you recall the indignities you visited upon me? How
gross they werel I vowed that you would regret the circumstance! I
now begin to validate the vow. Do I make myself clear?"

The expression distorting Iuconnu's face was an adequate
response.

Cugel seated himself with a goblet of Iuconnu's best yellow wine.
"I intend to pursue the matter in this wise: I shall calculate the
sum of those hardships I have endured, including such almost
incommensurable qualities as chills, cold draughts, insults, pangs of
apprehension, uncertainties, bleak despairs, horrors and disgusts,
and other indescribable miseries, not the least of which were the
ministrations of the unspeakable Firx. From this total I will
subtract for my initial indiscretion, and possibly one or two further
ameliorations, leaving an imposing balance of retribution. Luckily,
you are Iuconnu the Laughing Magician: you will certainly derive a
wry impersonal amusement from the situation." Cugel turned an
inquiring glance up at Iuconnu, but the returning gaze was anything
but jocular.

"A final question," said Cugel. "Have you arranged any traps or
lures in which I might be destroyed or immobilized? One blink will
express 'no'; two, 'yes.' "

Iuconnu merely gazed contemptuously from the tube.

Cugel sighed. "I see that I must conduct myself warily."

Taking his wine into the great hall, he began to familiarize
himself with the collection of magical instruments, artifacts,
talismans and eurios: now, for all practical purposes, his own
property. Iuconnu's gaze followed him everywhere with an anxious hope
that was by no means reassuring.

Days went by and Iuconnu's trap, if such existed, remained
unsprung, and Cugel at last came to believe that none existed. During
this time he applied himself to lucouuu's tomes and folios, but with
disappointing results. Certain of the tomes were written in archaic
tongues, indecipherable script or arcane terminology; others
described phenomena beyond his comprehension; others exuded a waft of
such urgent danger that Cugel instantly clamped shut the covers.

One or two of the work-books he found susceptible to his
understanding. These he studied with great diligence, cramming
syllable after wrenching syllable into his mind, where they rolled
and pressed and distended his temples. Presently he was able to
encompass a few of the most simple and primitive spells, certain of
which be tested upon Iuconnu: notably Lugwiler's Dismal Itch. But by
and large Cugel was disappointed by what seemed a lack of innate
competence. Accomplished magicians could encompass three or even four
of the most powerful effectuants; for Cugel, attaining even a single
spell was a task of extraordinary difficulty. One day, while applying
a spatial transposition upon a satin cushion, he inverted certain of
the pervulsions and was himself hurled backward into the vestibule.
Annoyed by Iuconnu's smirk, Cugel carried the tube to the front of
the manse and affixed a pair of brackets upon which he hung lamps,
which thereafter illuminated the area before the manse during the
hours of night.

A month passed, and Cugel became somewhat more confident in his
occupancy of the manse. Peasants of a nearby village brought him
produce, and in return Cugel performed what small services he was
able. On one occasion the father of Jince, the maiden who served as
arranger of his bed-chamber, lost a valuable buckle in a deep
cistern, and implored Cugel to bring it forth. Cugel readily agreed,
and lowered the tube containing Iuconnu into the cistern. Iuconnu
finally indicated the location of the buckle, which was then
recovered with a grapple.

The episode set Cugel to devising other uses for Iuconnu. At the
Azenomei Fair a 'Contest of Grotesques' had been arranged. Cugel
entered Iuconnu in the competition, and while he failed to win the
prime award, his grimaces were unforgettable and attracted much
comment.

At the fair Cugel encountered Fianosther, the dealer in talismans
and magical adjuncts who had originally sent Cugel to Iuconnu's
manse. Fianosther looked in jocular surprise from Cugel to the tube
containing Iuconnu, which Cugel was transporting back to the manse in
a cart "Cugel! Cugel the Clever!" exclaimed Fianosther. "Rumor then
speaks accurately! You are now lord of Iuconnu's manse, and of his
great collection of instruments and curios!"

Cugel at first pretended not to recognize Fianosther, then spoke
in the coolest of voices. "Quite true," he said, "Iuconnu has chosen
to participate less actively in the affairs of the world, as you see.
Nonetheless, the manse is a warren of traps and deadfalls; several
famished beasts stalk the grounds by night, and I have established a
spell of intense violence to guard each entrance."

Fianosther seemed not to notice Cugel's distant manner. Rubbing
his plump hands, he inquired, "Since you now control a vast
collection of curios, will you sell certain of the less choice
items?"

"I have neither need nor inch'nation to do so," said Cugel.
"Iuconnu's coffers contain gold to last till the sun goes dark." And
both men, after the habit of tune, looked up to gauge the color of
the moribund star.

Fianosther made a gracious sign. "In this case, I wish you a good
day, and you as well." The last was addressed to Iuconnu, who
returned only a surly glare.

Returning to the manse, Cugel brought Iuconnu into the vestibule;
then, making his way to the roof, he leaned on a parapet and gazed
over the expanse of hills which rolled away like swells on a sea. For
the hundredth time he pondered Iuconnu's peculiar failure of
foresight; by no means must he, Cugel, fall into similar error. And
he looked about with an eye to defense.

Above rose the spiral green glass towers; below slanted the steep
ridges and gables which Iuconnu had deemed esthetically correct. Only
the face of the ancient keep offered an easy method of access to the
manse. Along the slanting outer abutments Cugel arranged sheets of
soap-stone in such a manner than anyone climbing to the parapets must
step on these and slide to his doom. Had Iuconnu taken a similar
precaution—so Cugel reflected— instead of arranging the
oversubtle crystal maze, he would not now be looking forth from the
tall glass tube.

Other defenses must also be perfected: namely those resources to
be derived from Iuconnu's shelves.

Returning to the great hall, he consumed the repast set forth by
Jince and Skivvee, his two comely stewardesses, then immediately
applied himself to his studies. Tonight they concerned themselves
with the Spell of Forlorn Encystment, a reprisal perhaps more favored
in earlier eons than the present, and the Agency of Far Despatch, by
which Iuconnu had transported him to the northern wastes. Both spells
were of no small power; both required a bold and absolutely precise
control, which Cugel at first feared he would never be able to
supply. Nevertheless he persisted, and at last felt able to encompass
either the one or the other, at need.

Two days later it was as Cugel had expected: a rap at the front
door which, when Cugel flung wide the portal, indicated the unwelcome
presence of Fianosther.

"Good day," said Cugel cheerlessly. "I am indisposed, and must
request that you instantly depart."

Fianosther made a bland gesture. "A report of your distressing
illness reached me, and such was my concern that I hastened here with
an opiate. Allow me to step within"—so saying he thrust his
portly figure past Cugel —"and I will decant the specific
dose."

"I suffer from a spiritual malaise," said Cugel meaningfully,
"which manifests itself in outbursts of vicious rage. I implore you
to depart, lest, in an uncontrollable spasm, I cut you in three
pieces with my sword, or worse, invoke magic."

Fianosther winced uneasily, but continued in a voice of
unquenchable optimism. "I likewise carry a potion against this
disorder." He brought forth a black flask. "Take a single swallow and
your anxieties will be no more."

Cugel grasped the pommel of his sword. "It seems that I must speak
without ambiguity. I command you: depart, and never return! I
understand your purpose and I warn you that you will find me a less
indulgent enemy than was Iuconnu! So now, be off! Or I inflict upon
you the Spell of the Macroid Toe, whereupon the signalized member
swells to the proportions of a house."

"Thus and so," cried Fianosther in a fury. "The mask is torn
aside! Cugel the Clever stands revealed as an ingrate! Ask yourself:
who urged you to pillage the manse of Iuconnu? It was I, and by every
standard of honest conduct I should be entitled to a share of
Iuconnu's wealth!"

Cugel snatched forth his blade. "I have heard enough; now I
act."

"Hold!" And Fianosther raised high the black flask. "I need only
hurl this bottle to the floor to unloose a purulence, to which I am
immune. Stand back, then!"

But Cugel, infuriated, lunged, to thrust his blade through the
upraised arm. Fianosther called out in woe, and flung the black
bottle into the air. Cugel leapt to catch it with great dexterity;
but meanwhile, Fianosther, jumping forward, struck him a blow, so
that Cugel staggered back and collided with the glass tube containing
Iuconnu. It toppled to the stone and shattered; Iuconnu crept
painfully away from the fragments.

"Ha ha!" laughed Fianosther. "Matters now move in a different
direction!"

"By no means!" called Cugel, bringing forth a tube of blue
concentrate which he had found among Iuconnu's instruments.

Iuconnu strove with a sliver of glass to cut the seal on his lips.
Cugel projected a waft of blue concentrate and Iuconnu gave a great
tight-lipped moan of distress. "Drop the glass!" ordered Cugel. "Turn
about to the wall." He threatened Fianosthcr. "You as well!"

With great care he bound the arms of his enemies, then stepping
into the great hall possessed himself of the workbook which he had
been studying.

"And now—both outside!" he ordered. "Move with alacrity!
Events will now proceed to a definite condition!"

He forced the two to walk to a flat area behind the manse, and
stood them somewhat apart. "Fianosther, your doom is well-merited.
For your deceit, avarice and odious mannerisms I now visit upon you
the Spell of Forlorn Encystment!"

Fianosther wailed piteously, and collapsed to his knees. Cugel
took no heed. Consulting the work-book, he encompassed the spell;
then, pointing and naming Fianosther, he spoke the dreadful
syllables.

But Fianosther, rather than sinking into the earth, crouched as
before. Cugel hastily consulted the workbook and saw that in error he
had transposed a pair of pervulsions, thereby reversing the quality
of the spell. Indeed, even as he understood the mistake, to all sides
there were small sounds, and previous victims across the eons were
now erupted from a depth of forty-five miles, and discharged upon the
surface. Here they lay, blinking in glazed astonishment; though a few
lay rigid, too sluggish to react. Their garments had fallen to dust,
though the more recently encysted still wore a rag or two. Presently
all but the most dazed and rigid made tentative motions, feeling the
air, groping at the sky, marveling at the sun.

Cugel uttered a harsh laugh. "I seem to have performed
incorrectly. But no matter. I shall not do so a second time. Iuconnu,
your penalty shall be commensurate with your offense, no more, no
less! You flung me willy-nilly to the northern wastes, to a land
where the sun slants low across the south. I shall do the same for
you. You inflicted me with Firx; I will inflict you with Fianosther.
Together you may plod the tundras, penetrate the Great Erm, win past
the Mountains of Magnatz. Do not plead; put forward no excuses: in
this case I am obdurate. Stand quietly unless you wish a further
infliction of blue ruin!"

So now Cugel applied himself to the Agency of Far Despatch, and
established the activating sounds carefully within his mind. "Prepare
yourselves," he called, "and farewell!"

With that he sang forth the spell, hesitating at only one
pervulsion where uncertainty overcame him. But all was well. From on
high carne a thud and a guttural outcry, as a coursing demon was
halted in mid-flight. "Appear, appear!" called Cugel. "The
destination is as before: to the shore of the northern sea, where the
cargo must be delivered alive and secure! Appear! Seize the
designated persons and carry them in accordance with the
command!"

A great flapping buffeted the air; a black shape with a hideous
visage peered down. It lowered a talon; Cugel was lifted and carried
off to the north, betrayed a second time by a misplaced
pervulsion.

For a day and a night the demon dew, grumbling and moaning.
Somewhat after dawn Cugel was cast down on a beach and the demon
thundered off through the sky.

There was silence. To right and left spread the gray beach. Behind
rose the foreshore with a few clumps of salt-grass and spinifex. A
few yards up the beach lay the splintered cage in which once before
Cugel had been delivered to this same spot. With head bowed and arms
clasped around his knees, Cugel sat looking out across the sea.