Cugel

by Jack Vance

  “I will be glad to terminate my enterprise,” said Cugel with dignity. “The work is taxing.”

  Huruska stalked away in a huff. Cugel divided his earnings with the pot-boy, and in a spirit of mutual satisfaction they departed the booth.

  Cugel dined on the best that the inn afforded, but later when he went into the tavern he discovered a noticeable lack of amiability among the patrons and presently went off to his chamber.

  The next morning as he took breakfast a caravan of ten wagons arrived in town. The principal cargo appeared to be a bevy of seventeen beautiful maidens, who rode upon two of the wagons. Three other wagons served as dormitories, while the remaining five were loaded with stores, trunks, bales and cases. The caravan master, a portly mild-seeming man with flowing brown hair and a silky beard, assisted his delightful charges to the ground and led them all to the inn, where Maier served up an ample breakfast of spiced porridge, preserved quince, and tea.

  Cugel watched the group as they made their meal and reflected that a journey to almost any destination in such company would be a pleasant journey indeed.

  The Nolde Huruska appeared, and went to pay his respects to the caravan-leader. The two conversed amiably at some length, while Cugel waited impatiently.

  Huruska at last departed. The maidens, having finished their meal, went off to stroll about the square. Cugel crossed to the table where the caravan-leader sat. “Sir, my name is Cugel, and I would appreciate a few words with you.”

  “By all means! Please be seated. Will you take a glass of this excellent tea?”

  “Thank you. First, may I inquire the destination of your caravan?”

  The caravan-leader showed surprise at Cugel’s ignorance. “We are bound for Lumarth; these are the ‘Seventeen Virgins of Symnathis’ who traditionally grace the Grand Pageant.”

  “I am a stranger to this region,” Cugel explained. “Hence I know nothing of the local customs. In any event, I myself am bound for Lumarth and would be pleased to travel with your caravan.”

  The caravan-leader gave an affable assent. “I would be delighted to have you with us.”

  “Excellent!” said Cugel. “Then all is arranged.”

  The caravan-leader stroked his silky brown beard. “I must warn you that my fees are somewhat higher than usual, owing to the expensive amenities I am obliged to provide these seventeen fastidious maidens.”

  “Indeed,” said Cugel. “How much do you require?”

  “The journey occupies the better part of ten days, and my minimum charge is twenty terces per diem, for a total of two hundred terces, plus a twenty terce supplement for wine.”

  “This is far more than I can afford,” said Cugel in a bleak voice. “At the moment I command only a third of this sum. Is there some means by which I might earn my passage?”

  “Unfortunately not,” said the caravan-leader. “Only this morning the position of armed guard was open, which even paid a small stipend, but Huruska the Nolde, who wishes to visit Lumarth, has agreed to serve in this capacity and the post is now filled.”

  Cugel made a sound of disappointment and raised his eyes to the sky. When at last he could bring himself to speak he asked: “When do you plan to depart?”

  “Tomorrow at dawn, with absolute punctuality. I am sorry that we will not have the pleasure of your company.”

  “I share the sorrow,” said Cugel. He returned to his own table and sat brooding. Presently he went into the tavern, where various card games were in progress. Cugel attempted to join the play, but in every case his request was denied. In a surly mood he went to the counter where Maier the innkeeper unpacked a crate of earthenware goblets. Cugel tried to initiate a conversation but for once Maier could take no time from his labors. “The Nolde Huruska goes off on a journey and tonight his friends mark the occasion with a farewell party, for which I must make careful preparations.”

  Cugel took a mug of beer to a side table and gave himself to reflection. After a few moments he went out the back exit and surveyed the prospect, which here overlooked the Isk River. Cugel sauntered down to the water’s edge and discovered a dock at which the fishermen moored their punts and dried their nets. Cugel looked up and down the river, then returned up the path to the inn, to spend the rest of the day watching the seventeen maidens as they strolled about the square, or sipped sweet lime tea in the garden of the inn.

  The sun set; twilight the color of old wine darkened into night. Cugel set about his preparations, which were quickly achieved, inasmuch as the essence of his plan lay in its simplicity.

  The caravan-leader, whose name, so Cugel learned, was Shimilko, assembled his exquisite company for their evening meal, then herded them carefully to the dormitory wagons, despite the pouts and protests of those who wished to remain at the inn and enjoy the festivities of the evening.

  In the tavern the farewell party in honor of Huruska had already commenced. Cugel seated himself in a dark corner and presently attracted the attention of the perspiring Maier. Cugel produced ten terces. “I admit that I harbored ungrateful thoughts toward Huruska,” he said. “Now I wish to express my good wishes — in absolute anonymity, however! Whenever Huruska starts upon a mug of ale, I want you to place a full mug before him, so that his evening will be incessantly merry. If he asks who has bought the drink you are only to reply: ‘One of your friends wishes to pay you a compliment.’ Is this clear?”

  “Absolutely, and I will do as you command. It is a large-hearted gesture, which Huruska will appreciate.”

  The evening progressed. Huruska’s friends sang jovial songs and proposed a dozen toasts, in all of which Huruska joined. As Cugel had required, whenever Huruska so much as started to drink from a mug, another was placed at his elbow, and Cugel marveled at the scope of Huruska’s internal reservoirs.

  At last Huruska was prompted to excuse himself from the company. He staggered out the back exit and made his way to that stone wall with a trough below, which had been placed for the convenience of the tavern’s patrons.

  As Huruska faced the wall Cugel stepped behind him and flung a fisherman’s net over Huruska’s head, then expertly dropped a noose around Huruska’s burly shoulders, followed by other turns and ties. Huruska’s bellows were drowned by the song at this moment being sung in his honor.

  Cugel dragged the cursing hulk down the path to the dock, and rolled him over and into a punt. Untying the mooring line, Cugel pushed the punt out into the current of the river. “At the very least,” Cugel told himself, “two parts of my prophecy are accurate; Huruska has been honored in the tavern and now is about to enjoy a voyage by water.”

  He returned to the tavern where Huruska’s absence had at last been noticed. Maier expressed the opinion that, with an early departure in the offing, Huruska had prudently retired to bed, and all conceded that this was no doubt the case.

  The next morning Cugel arose an hour before dawn. He took a quick breakfast, paid Maier his score, then went to where Shimilko ordered his caravan.

  “I bring news from Huruska,” said Cugel. “Owing to an unfortunate set of personal circumstances, he finds himself unable to make the journey, and has commended me to that post for which you had engaged him.”

  Shimilko shook his head in wonder. “A pity! Yesterday he seemed so enthusiastic! Well, we all must be flexible, and since Huruska cannot join us, I am pleased to accept you in his stead. As soon as we start, I will instruct you in your duties, which are straightforward. You must stand guard by night and take your rest by day, although in the case of danger I naturally expect you to join in the defense of the caravan.”

  “These duties are well within my competence,” said Cugel. “I am ready to depart at your convenience.”

  “Yonder rises the sun,” declared Shimilko. “Let us be off and away for Lumarth.”

  Ten days later Shimilko’s caravan passed through the Methune Gap, and the great Vale of Coram opened before them. The brimming Isk wound back and forth, reflecting a sultry sheen; in the dis
tance loomed the long dark mass of the Draven Forest. Closer at hand five domes of shimmering nacreous gloss marked the site of Lumarth.

  Shimilko addressed himself to the company. “Below lies what remains of the old city Lumarth. Do not be deceived by the domes; they indicate temples at one time sacred to the five demons Yaunt, Jastenave, Phampoun, Adelmar and Suul, and hence were preserved during the Sampathissic Wars.

  “The folk of Lumarth are unlike any of your experience. Many are small sorcerers, though Chaladet the Grand Thearch has proscribed magic within the city precincts. You may conceive these people to be languid and wan, and dazed by excess sensation, and you will be correct. All are obsessively rigid in regard to ritual, and all subscribe to a Doctrine of Absolute Altruism, which compels them to virtue and benevolence. For this reason they are known as the ‘Kind Folk’. A final word in regard to our journey, which luckily has gone without untoward incident. The wagoneers have driven with skill; Cugel has vigilantly guarded us by night, and I am well pleased. So then: onward to Lumarth, and let meticulous discretion be the slogan!”

  The caravan traversed a narrow track down into the valley, then proceeded along an avenue of rutted stone under an arch of enormous black mimosa trees.

  At a mouldering portal opening upon the plaza the caravan was met by five tall men in gowns of embroidered silks, the splendid double-crowned headgear of the Coramese Thurists lending them an impressive dignity. The five men were much alike, with pale transparent skins, thin high-bridged noses, slender limbs and pensive gray eyes. One who wore a gorgeous gown of mustard-yellow, crimson and black raised two fingers in a calm salute. “My friend Shimilko, you have arrived securely with all your blessed cargo. We are well-served and very pleased.”

  “The Lirrh-Aing was so placid as almost to be dull,” said Shimilko. “To be sure, I was fortunate in securing the services of Cugel, who guarded us so well by night that never were our slumbers interrupted.”

  “Well done, Cugel!” said the head Thurist. “We will at this time take custody of the precious maidens. Tomorrow you may render your account to the bursar. The Wayfarer’s Inn lies yonder, and I counsel you to its comforts.”

  “Just so! We will all be the better for a few days rest!”

  However, Cugel chose not to so indulge himself. At the door to the inn he told Shimilko: “Here we part company, for I must continue along the way. Affairs press on me and Almery lies far to the west.”

  “But your stipend, Cugel! You must wait at least until tomorrow, when I can collect certain monies from the bursar. Until then, I am without funds.”

  Cugel hesitated, but at last was prevailed upon to stay.

  An hour later a messenger strode into the inn. “Master Shimilko, you and your company are required to appear instantly before the Grand Thearch on a matter of utmost importance.”

  Shimilko looked up in alarm. “Whatever is the matter?”

  “I am obliged to tell you nothing more.”

  With a long face Shimilko led his company across the plaza to the loggia before the old palace, where Chaladet sat on a massive chair. To either side stood the College of Thurists and all regarded Shimilko with somber expressions.

  “What is the meaning of this summons?” inquired Shimilko. “Why do you regard me with such gravity?”

  The Grand Thearch spoke in a deep voice: “Shimilko, the seventeen maidens conveyed by you from Symnathis to Lumarth have been examined, and I regret to say that of the seventeen, only two can be classified as virgins. The remaining fifteen have been sexually deflorated.”

  Shimilko could hardly speak for consternation. “Impossible!” he sputtered. “At Symnathis I undertook the most elaborate precautions. I can display three separate documents certifying the purity of each. There can be no doubt! You are in error!”

  “We are not in error, Master Shimilko. Conditions are as we describe, and may easily be verified.”

  “‘Impossible’ and ‘incredible’ are the only two words which come to mind,” cried Shimilko. “Have you questioned the girls themselves?”

  “Of course. They merely raise their eyes to the ceiling and whistle between their teeth. Shimilko, how do you explain this heinous outrage?”

  “I am perplexed to the point of confusion! The girls embarked upon the journey as pure as the day they were born. This is fact! During each waking instant they never left my area of perception. This is also fact.”

  “And when you slept?”

  “The implausibility is no less extreme. The teamsters invariably retired together in a group. I shared my wagon with the chief teamster and each of us will vouch for the other. Cugel meanwhile kept watch over the entire camp.”

  “Alone?”

  “A single guard suffices, even though the nocturnal hours are slow and dismal. Cugel, however, never complained.”

  “Cugel is evidently the culprit!”

  Shimilko smilingly shook his head. “Cugel’s duties left him no time for illicit activity.”

  “What if Cugel scamped his duties?”

  Shimilko responded patiently: “Remember, each girl rested secure in her private cubicle with a door between herself and Cugel.”

  “Well then — what if Cugel opened this door and quietly entered the cubicle?”

  Shimilko considered a dubious moment, and pulled at his silky beard. “In such a case, I suppose the matter might be possible.”

  The Grand Thearch turned his gaze upon Cugel. “I insist that you make an exact statement upon this sorry affair.”

  Cugel cried out indignantly: “The investigation is a travesty! My honor has been assailed!”

  Chaladet fixed Cugel with a benign, if somewhat chilly stare. “You will be allowed redemption. Thurists, I place this person in your custody. See to it that he has every opportunity to regain his dignity and self-esteem!”

  Cugel roared out a protest which the Grand Thearch ignored. From his great dais he looked thoughtfully off across the square. “Is it the third or fourth month?”

  “The chronolog has only just left the month of Yaunt, to enter the time of Phampoun.”

  “So be it. By diligence, this licentious rogue may yet earn our love and respect.”

  A pair of Thurists grasped Cugel’s arms and led him across the square. Cugel jerked this way and that to no avail. “Where are you taking me? What is this nonsense?”

  One of the Thurists replied in a kindly voice: “We are taking you to the temple of Phampoun, and it is far from nonsense.”

  “I do not care for any of this,” said Cugel. “Take your hands off of me; I intend to leave Lumarth at once.”

  “You shall be so assisted.”

  The group marched up worn marble steps, through an enormous arched portal, into an echoing hall, distinguished only by the high dome and an adytum or altar at the far end. Cugel was led into a side-chamber, illuminated by high circular windows and paneled with dark blue wood. An old man in a white gown entered the room and asked: “What have we here? A person suffering affliction?”

  “Yes; Cugel has committed a series of abominable crimes, of which he wishes to purge himself.”

  “A total mis-statement!” cried Cugel. “No proof has been adduced and in any event I was inveigled against my better judgment.”

  The Thurists, paying no heed, departed, and Cugel was left with the old man, who hobbled to a bench and seated himself. Cugel started to speak but the old man held up his hand. “Calm yourself! You must remember that we are a benevolent people, lacking all spite or malice. We exist only to help other sentient beings! If a person commits a crime, we are racked with sorrow for the criminal, whom we believe to be the true victim, and we work without compromise that he may renew himself.”

  “An enlightened viewpoint!” declared Cugel. “Already I feel regeneration!”

  “Excellent! Your remarks validate our philosophy; certainly you have negotiated what I will refer to as Phase One of the program.”

  Cugel frowned. “There are other phases?
Are they really necessary?”

  “Absolutely; these are Phases Two and Three. I should explain that Lumarth has not always adhered to such a policy. During the high years of the Great Magics the city fell under the sway of Yasbane the Obviator, who breached openings into five demon-realms and constructed the five temples of Lumarth. You stand now in the Temple of Phampoun.”

  “Odd,” said Cugel, “that a folk so benevolent are such fervent demonists.”

  “Nothing could be farther from the truth. The Kind Folk of Lumarth expelled Yasbane, to establish the Era of Love, which must now persist until the final waning of the sun. Our love extends to all, even Yasbane’s five demons, whom we hope to rescue from their malevolent evil. You will be the latest in a long line of noble individuals who have worked to this end, and such is Phase Two of the program.”

  Cugel stood limp in consternation. “Such work far exceeds my competence!”

  “Everyone feels the same sensation,” said the old man. “Nevertheless Phampoun must be instructed in kindness, consideration and decency; by making this effort, you will know a surge of happy redemption.”

  “And Phase Three?” croaked Cugel. “What of that?”

  “When you achieve your mission, then you shall be gloriously accepted into our brotherhood!” The old man ignored Cugel’s groan of dismay. “Let me see now: the month of Yaunt is just ending, and we enter the month of Phampoun, who is perhaps the most irascible of the five by reason of his sensitive eyes. He becomes enraged by so much as a single glimmer, and you must attempt your persuasions in absolute darkness. Do you have any further questions?”

  “Yes indeed! Suppose Phampoun refuses to mend his ways?”

  “This is ‘negativistic thinking’ which we Kind Folk refuse to recognize. Ignore everything you may have heard in regard to Phampoun’s macabre habits! Go forth in confidence!”

  Cugel cried out in anguish: “How will I return to enjoy my honors and rewards?”

  “No doubt Phampoun, when contrite, will send you aloft by a means at his disposal,” said the old man. “Now I bid you farewell.”