Cugel

by Jack Vance

  They looked down at the parcel in silence. Cugel said: “We now can guess the identity of the missing person.”

  Varmous grunted. “Open the parcel.”

  “You may do so if you like,” said Cugel.

  “Come now, Cugel!” protested Varmous. “You know that my legs cause me pain when I stoop!”

  Cugel grimaced. Crouching, he twitched at the binding. The folds of the cloak fell back, to reveal two bundles of human bones, cleverly interlocked to occupy a minimum volume. “Amazing!” whispered Varmous. “Here is either magic or sheer paradox! How else can skull and pelvis be interlocked in such intricate fashion?”

  Cugel was somewhat more critical. “The arrangement is not altogether elegant. Notice: Ivanello’s skull is nested into Ermaulde’s pelvis; similarly with Ermaulde’s skull and Ivanello’s pelvis. Ivanello especially would be annoyed by the carelessness.”

  Varmous muttered: “Now we know the worst. We must take action.”

  With one accord the two looked up to the hull of the ship. At the port-hole giving into the aft cabin there was movement as the hanging was drawn aside, and for an instant a luminous eye looked down at them. Then the curtain dropped and all was as before.

  Varmous and Cugel returned around the ship. Varmous spoke in a heavy voice. “You, as master of the Avventura, will wish to lead the decisive action. I will of course cooperate in every respect.”

  Cugel pondered. “First we must remove the passengers from the ship. Then you must bring up a squad of armed men and lead them to the door, where you will issue an ultimatum. I will stand steadfast nearby, and —”

  Varmous held up his hand. “By reason of sore legs I cannot issue such an ultimatum.”

  “Well then, what do you suggest?”

  Varmous considered a moment or two, then proposed a plan which required, in essence, that Cugel, using the full authority of his rank, should advance upon the door and, if need be, force an entrance — a plan which Cugel rejected for technical reasons.

  At last the two formulated a program which both considered feasible. Cugel went to order the ship’s passengers to the ground. As he had expected, Perruquil was not among their number.

  Varmous assembled and instructed his crew. Shilko, armed with a sword, was posted as guard before the door, while Cugel mounted to the after-deck. A pair of trained carpenters climbed upon tables and boarded over the portholes, while others nailed planks across the door, barring egress.

  From the lake buckets of water were transferred along a human chain and passed up to the afterdeck, where the water was poured into the cabin through a vent.

  From within the cabin an angry silence prevailed. Then presently, as water continued to pour in through the vent, a soft hissing and clicking began to be heard, and then a furious whisper: “I declare a nuisance! Let the water abate!”

  Shilko, before mounting guard, had stepped into the galley for a few swallows of wine to warm his blood. Posturing and waving his sword before the door, he cried out: “Black hag, your time has come! You shall drown like a rat in a sack!”

  For a period the sounds within were stilled, and nothing could be heard but the splash of water into water. Then once again: a hissing and clicking, at an ominous pitch, and a set of rasping vocables.

  Shilko, emboldened both by wine and the planks across the door, called out: “Odorous witch! Drown more quietly, or I, Shilko, will cut out both your tongues!” He flourished his sword and cut a caper, and all the while the buckets were busy.

  From within the cabin something pressed at the door, but the planks held secure. Again from within came a heavy thrust; the planks groaned and water spurted through cracks. Then a third impact, and the planks burst apart. Foul-smelling water washed out upon the deck; behind came Nissifer. Clothed in neither gown, hat nor veil, she stood revealed as a burly black creature of hybrid character, half sime and half bazil, with a bristle of black fur between the eyes. From a rusty black thorax depended the segmented abdomen of a wasp; down the back hung sheaths of black chitin-like wing-cases. Four thin black arms ended in long thin human hands; thin shanks of black chitin and peculiar padded feet supported the thorax with the abdomen hanging between.

  The creature took a step forward. Shilko emitted a strangled yell and, stumbling backwards, fell to the deck. The creature jumped forward to stand on his arms, then, squatting, drove its sting into his chest. Shilko uttered a shrill cry, rolled clear, turned several frantic somersaults, fell to the ground, bounded blindly to the lake and thrashed here and there in the water, and at last became still. Almost at once the corpse began to bloat.

  Aboard the Avventura, the creature named Nissifer turned and started to re-enter the cabin, as if satisfied that it had rebuffed its enemies. Cugel, on the afterdeck, slashed down with his sword and the blade, trailing a thousand sparkling motes, cut through Nissifer’s left eye and into the thorax. Nissifer whistled in pain and surprise, and stood back the better to identify its assailant. It croaked: “Ah Cugel! You have hurt me; you shall die by a stench.”

  With a great pounding flutter of wing-cases, Nissifer sprang up to the afterdeck. In a panic, Cugel retreated behind the binnacle. Nissifer advanced, the segmented abdomen squirming up and forward between the thin black legs, revealing the long yellow sting.

  Cugel picked up one of the empty buckets and flung it into Nissifer’s face; then, while Nissifer fought away the bucket, Cugel jumped forward and with a great sweep, cut the vincus, so as to separate abdomen from thorax.

  The abdomen, falling to the deck, writhed and worked and presently rolled down the companion-way to the deck.

  Nissifer ignored the mutilation and came forward, dripping a thick yellow liquid from its vincus. It lurched toward the binnacle and thrust out its long black arms. Cugel backed away, hacking at the arms. Nissifer shrieked and lunging forward, swept the sword from Cugel’s grasp.

  Nissifer stepped forward with clicking wing-cases, and seizing Cugel, drew him close. “Now, Cugel, you will learn the meaning of fetor.”

  Cugel bent his head and thrust ‘Spatterlight’ against Nissifer’s thorax.

  When Varmous, sword in hand, climbed the companionway, he found Cugel leaning limp-legged against the taff-rail.

  Varmous looked around the afterdeck. “Where is Nissifer?”

  “Nissifer is gone.”

  Four days later the caravan came down from the hills to the shores of Lake Zaol. Across the glimmering water eight white towers half-hidden in pink haze marked the site of Kaspara Vitatus, sometimes known as ‘The City of Monuments’.

  The caravan circled the lake and approached the city by the Avenue of the Dynasties. After passing under a hundred or more of the famous monuments, the caravan arrived at the center of town. Varmous led the way to his usual resort, the Kanbaw Inn, and the weary travelers prepared to refresh themselves.

  While ordering the cabin occupied by Nissifer, Cugel had come upon a leather sack containing over a hundred terces, which he took into his private possession. Varmous, however, insisted upon helping Cugel explore the effects of Ivanello, Ermaulde, and Perruquil. They discovered another three hundred terces which they shared in equal parts. Varmous took possession of Ivanello’s wardrobe, while Cugel was allowed to keep the milk-opal ear-bangle, which he had coveted from the first.

  Cugel also offered Varmous full title to the Avventura for five hundred terces. “The price is an absolute bargain! Where else will you find a sound vessel, fully outfitted and well-found, for such a price?”

  Varmous only chuckled. “If you offered to provide me a goiter of superlative size for ten terces, would I buy, bargain or not?”

  “We have here a distinctly different proposition,” Cugel pointed out.

  “Bah! The magic is failing. Every day the ship sags more heavily to the ground. In the middle of the wilderness what good is a ship which will neither float in the air nor sail in the sand? In a foolhardy spirit, I will offer you a hundred terces, no more.”

  �
�Absurd!” scoffed Cugel, and there the matter rested.

  Varmous went out to see to the repair of his wagons and discovered a pair of lake fishermen inspecting the Avventura with interest. In due course Varmous succeeded in obtaining a firm offer for the vessel, to the amount of six hundred and twenty-five terces.

  Cugel, meanwhile, drank beer at the Kanbaw Inn. As he sat musing, into the common room strode a band of seven men with harsh features and rough voices. Cugel looked twice at the leader, then a third time, and finally recognized Captain Wiskich, one-time owner of the Avventura. Captain Wiskich evidently had picked up the trail of the vessel and had come in hot pursuit to recover his property.

  Cugel quietly departed the common room and went in search of Varmous, who, as it happened, was also on the look-out for Cugel. They met in front of the inn. Varmous wanted to drink beer in the common room, but Cugel led him across the avenue to a bench from which they could watch the sun set into Lake Zaol.

  Presently the Avventura was mentioned and with surprising ease agreement was reached. Varmous paid over two hundred and fifty terces for full title to the vessel.

  The two parted on the best of terms. Varmous went off to locate the fishermen, while Cugel, disguising himself in a hooded cloak and a false beard, took lodging at the Green Star Inn, using the identity Tichenor, a purveyor of antique grave-markers.

  During the evening a great tumult was heard, first from the neighborhood of the docks and then at the Kanbaw Inn, and persons coming into the Green Star common room identified the rioters as a group of local fishermen in conflict with a band of newly arrived travelers, with the eventual involvement of Varmous and his teamsters.

  Order was restored at last. Not long after, two men looked into the Green Star common room. One called out in a rough voice: “Is there anyone here named Cugel?”

  The other spoke with more restraint: “Cugel is urgently needed. If he is here, let him step forward.”

  When no one responded the two men departed and Cugel retired to his room.

  In the morning Cugel went to a nearby hostlery where he purchased a steed for his journey south. The ostler’s boy then conducted him to a shop where Cugel bought a new pouch and a pair of saddle-bags into which he packed necessities for his journey. His hat had become shabby and also carried a stench where it had pressed against Nissifer. Cugel removed ‘Spatterlight’, wrapped it in heavy cloth and tucked it into his new pouch. He bought a short-billed cap of dark green velvet, which, while far from ostentatious, pleased Cugel with its air of restrained elegance.

  Cugel paid his account from the terces in the leather sack from Nissifer’s cabin; it also exhaled a stench. Cugel started to buy a new sack but was dissuaded by the ostler’s boy. “Why waste your terces? I have a sack much like this one which you may have free of charge.”

  “That is generous of you,” said Cugel, and the two returned to the hostlery, where Cugel transferred his terces into the new sack.

  The steed was brought forth. Cugel mounted and the boy adjusted the saddle-bags in place. At this moment two men of harsh appearance entered the hostlery, and approached with quick strides. “Is your name Cugel?”

  “Definitely not!” declared Cugel. “By no means! I am Tichenor! What do you want with this Cugel?”

  “None of your affair. Come along with us; you have an unconvincing manner.”

  “I have no time for pranks,” said Cugel. “Boy, you may hand me up my leather sack.” The boy obeyed and Cugel secured the sack to his saddle. He started to ride away but the men interfered. “You must come with us.”

  “Impossible,” said Cugel. “I am on my way to Torqual.” He kicked one in the nose and the other in the belly and rode at speed down the Avenue of the Dynasties and so departed Kaspara Vitatus.

  After a period he halted, to learn what pursuit, if any, had been offered.

  An unpleasant odor reached his nostrils, emanating from the leather sack. To his perplexity, it proved to be the same sack he had taken from Nissifer’s cabin.

  Cugel anxiously looked within, to find, not terces, but small objects of corroded metal.

  Cugel uttered a groan of dismay and, turning his steed, started to return to Kaspara Vitatus, but now he noticed a dozen men crouched low in their saddles coming after him in hot pursuit.

  Cugel uttered another wild cry of fury and frustration. He cast the leather sack into the ditch and turning his steed once more rode south at full speed.

  Chapter V

  From Kaspara Vitatus to Cuirnif

  1

  The Seventeen Virgins

  The chase went far and long, and led into that dismal tract of bone-colored hills known as the Pale Rugates. Cugel finally used a clever trick to baffle pursuit, sliding from his steed and hiding among the rocks while his enemies pounded past in chase of the riderless mount.

  Cugel lay in hiding until the angry band returned toward Kaspara Vitatus, bickering among themselves. He emerged into the open; then, after shaking his fist and shouting curses after the now distant figures, he turned and continued south through the Pale Rugates.

  The region was as stark and grim as the surface of a dead sun, and thus avoided by such creatures as sindics, shambs, erbs and visps, for Cugel a single and melancholy source of satisfaction.

  Step after step marched Cugel, one leg in front of the other: up slope to overlook an endless succession of barren swells, down again into the hollow where at rare intervals a seep of water nourished a sickly vegetation. Here Cugel found ramp, burdock, squallix and an occasional newt, which sufficed against starvation.

  Day followed day. The sun rising cool and dim swam up into the dark-blue sky, from time to time seeming to flicker with a film of blue-black luster, finally to settle like an enormous purple pearl into the west. When dark made further progress impractical, Cugel wrapped himself in his cloak and slept as best he could.

  On the afternoon of the seventh day Cugel limped down a slope into an ancient orchard. Cugel found and devoured a few withered hag-apples, then set off along the trace of an old road.

  The track proceeded a mile, to lead out upon a bluff overlooking a broad plain. Directly below, a river skirted a small town, curved away to the southwest and finally disappeared into the haze.

  Cugel surveyed the landscape with keen attention. Out upon the plain he saw carefully tended garden plots, each precisely square and of identical size; along the river drifted a fisherman’s punt. A placid scene, thought Cugel. On the other hand, the town was built to a strange and archaic architecture, and the scrupulous precision with which the houses surrounded the square suggested a like inflexibility in the inhabitants. The houses themselves were no less uniform, each a construction of two, or three, or even four squat bulbs of diminishing size, one on the other, the lowest always painted blue, the second dark red, the third and fourth respectively a dull mustard ocher and black; and each house terminated in a spire of fancifully twisted iron rods, of greater or lesser height. An inn on the riverbank showed a style somewhat looser and easier, with a pleasant garden surrounding. Along the river road to the east Cugel now noticed the approach of a caravan of six high-wheeled wagons, and his uncertainty dissolved; the town was evidently tolerant of strangers, and Cugel confidently set off down the hill.

  At the outskirts to town he halted and drew forth his old purse, which he yet retained though it hung loose and limp. Cugel examined the contents: five terces, a sum hardly adequate to his needs. Cugel reflected a moment, then collected a handful of pebbles which he dropped into the purse, to create a reassuring rotundity. He dusted his breeches, adjusted his green hunter’s cap, and proceeded.

  He entered the town without challenge or even attention. Crossing the square, he halted to inspect a contrivance even more peculiar than the quaint architecture: a stone fire-pit in which several logs blazed high, rimmed by five lamps on iron stands, each with five wicks, and above an intricate linkage of mirrors and lenses, the purpose of which surpassed Cugel’s comprehension. T
wo young men tended the device with diligence, trimming the twenty-five wicks, prodding the fire, adjusting screws and levers which in turn controlled the mirrors and lenses. They wore what appeared to be the local costume: voluminous blue knee-length breeches, red shirts, brass-buttoned black vests and broad-brimmed hats; after disinterested glances they paid Cugel no heed, and he continued to the inn.

  In the adjacent garden two dozen folk of the town sat at tables, eating and drinking with great gusto. Cugel watched them a moment or two; their punctilio and elegant gestures suggested the manners of an age far past. Like their houses, they were a sort unique to Cugel’s experience, pale and thin, with egg-shaped heads, long noses, dark expressive eyes and ears cropped in various styles. The men were uniformly bald and their pates glistened in the red sunlight. The women parted their black hair in the middle, then cut it abruptly short a half-inch above the ears: a style which Cugel considered unbecoming. Watching the folk eat and drink, Cugel was unfavorably reminded of the fare which had sustained him across the Pale Rugates, and he gave no further thought to his terces. He strode into the garden and seated himself at a table. A portly man in a blue apron approached, frowning somewhat at Cugel’s disheveled appearance. Cugel immediately brought forth two terces which he handed to the man. “This is for yourself, my good fellow, to insure expeditious service. I have just completed an arduous journey; I am famished with hunger. You may bring me a platter identical to that which the gentleman yonder is enjoying, together with a selection of side-dishes and a bottle of wine. Then be so good as to ask the innkeeper to prepare me a comfortable chamber.” Cugel carelessly brought forth his purse and dropped it upon the table where its weight produced an impressive implication. “I will also require a bath, fresh linen and a barber.”

  “I myself am Maier the innkeeper,” said the portly man in a gracious voice. “I will see to your wishes immediately.”

  “Excellent,” said Cugel. “I am favorably impressed with your establishment, and perhaps will remain several days.”