Tales of the Dying Earth

by Jack Vance

  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 Gil-fig 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 Subu-cule.”

  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. Voy-nod 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 thaumaturgi
cal 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 be! 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 Da-math 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 se-quias. 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. ThU was a hall of considerable extent, with age-blaqkened 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 amplificat
ion.”

  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 mel”