by Jack Vance
“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 over-prompt; 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 furtive-ness!”
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 Cug
el, 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 a shriveled 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, Cugel 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.
* * *
Chapter 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 Loder-mulch, 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.