Tales of the Dying Earth

by Jack Vance

  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 his 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 Voy-nod, 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-mercifu
l; those who fall in his service are instantly transported to paradaisical Gamameret Pilgrims! To the westl”

  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 Lucounu, 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.