by Jack Vance
“There is something in what you say,” replied the elder. “Small personal sacrifices are sometimes essential to the welfare of the group. I feel certain that you, if the issue arose, would gladly offer up your cusp and enroll anew at Grodz. What are a few years? They flutter past like butterflies.”
Cugel made a suave gesture. “Or a trial by lot might be arranged, in which all who see with two cusps participate, the loser of the trial donating one of his cusps to Bubach Angh. I myself will make do with one.”
The elder frowned. “Well — the contingency is remote. Meanwhile you must participate in our merry-making. If I may say so, you cut a personable figure and certain of the princesses have been casting sheep’s eyes in your direction. There, for instance, the lovely Udela Narshag — and there, Zokoxa of the Rose-Petals, and beyond the vivacious Ilviu Lasmal. You must not be backward; here in Smolod we live an uncircumscribed life.”
“The charm of these ladies has not escaped me,” said Cugel. “Unluckily I am bound by a vow of continence.”
“Unfortunate man!” exclaimed the Chief Elder. “The princesses of Smolod are nonpareil! And notice — yet another soliciting your attention!”
“Surely it is you she summons,” said Cugel, and the elder went to confer with the young woman in question, who had come riding into the plaza in a magnificent boat-shaped car which walked on six swan-feet. The princess reclined on a couch of pink down and was beautiful enough to make Cugel rue the fastidiousness of his recollection, which projected every matted hair, mole, dangling underlip, sweating seam and wrinkle of the Smolod women to the front of his memory. This princess was indeed the essence of a day-dream: slender and supple, with skin like still cream, a delicate nose, lucent brooding eyes, a mouth of delightful flexibility. Her expression intrigued Cugel, for it was more complex than that of the other princesses: pensive, yet wilful; ardent yet dissatisfied.
Into the plaza came Bubach Angh, accoutered in military wise, with corselet, morion and sword. The Chief Elder went to speak to him; and now to Cugel’s irritation the princess in the walking boat signaled to him.
He went forward. “Yes, princess; you saluted me, I believe?”
The princess nodded. “I speculate on your presence up here in these northern lands.” She spoke in a soft clear voice like music.
Cugel said, “I am here on a mission; I stay but a short while at Smolod, and then must continue east and south.”
“Indeed!” said the princess. “What is the nature of your mission?”
“To be candid, I was brought here by the malice of a magician. It was by no means a yearning of my own.”
The princess laughed softly. “I see few strangers. I long for new faces and new talk. Perhaps you will come to my palace and we will talk of magic, and the strange circumstances which throng the dying earth.”
Cugel bowed stiffly. “Your offer is kind. But you must seek elsewhere; I am bound by a vow of continence. Control your displeasure, for it applies not only to you but to Udela Narshag yonder, to Zokoxa, and to Ilviu Lasmal.”
The princess raised her eyebrows, sank back on her down-covered couch. She smiled faintly. “Indeed, indeed. You are a harsh man, a stern relentless man, thus to refuse yourself to so many imploring women.”
“This is the case, and so it must be.” Cugel turned away to face the Chief Elder who approached with Bubach Angh at his back.
“Sorry circumstances,” announced the Chief Elder in a troubled voice. “Bubach Angh speaks for the village of Grodz. He declares that no more victuals will be furnished until justice is done, and this they define as the surrender of your cusp to Bubach Angh, and your person to a punitive committee who waits in the parkland yonder.”
Cugel laughed uneasily. “What a distorted view! You assured them of course that we of Smolod would eat grass and destroy the cusps before agreeing to such detestable provisions?”
“I fear that I temporized,” stated the Chief Elder. “I feel that the others of Smolod favor a more flexible course of action.”
The implication was clear, and Firx began to stir in exasperation. In order to appraise circumstances in the most forthright manner possible, Cugel shifted the patch to look from his left eye.
Certain citizens of Grodz, armed with scythes, mattocks and clubs waited at a distance of fifty yards: evidently the punitive committee to which Bubach Angh had referred. To one side were the huts of Smolod; to the other the walking boat and the princess of such — Cugel stared in astonishment. The boat was as before, walking on six bird-legs, and sitting in the pink down was the princess — if possible, more beautiful than ever. But now her expression, rather than faintly smiling, was cool and still.
Cugel drew a deep breath, took to his heels. Bubach Angh shouted an order to halt, but Cugel paid no heed. Across the barrens he raced, with the punitive committee in pursuit.
Cugel laughed gleefully. He was long of limb, sound of wind; the peasants were stumpy, knot-muscled, phlegmatic. He could easily run two miles to their one. He paused, and turned to wave farewell. To his dismay two legs from the walking boat detached themselves and leapt after him. Cugel ran for his life. In vain. The legs came bounding past, one on either side. They swung around, kicked him to a halt.
Cugel sullenly walked back, the legs hopping behind. Just before he reached the outskirts of Smolod he reached under the patch and pulled loose the magic cusp. As the punitive committee bore down on him, he held it aloft. “Stand back — or I break the cusp to fragments!”
“Hold! Hold!” called Bubach Angh. “This must not be! Come, give me the cusp and accept your just deserts.”
“Nothing has yet been decided,” Cugel reminded him. “The Chief Elder has ruled for no one.”
The girl rose from her seat in the boat. “I will rule; I am Derwe Coreme, of the House of Domber. Give me the violet glass, whatever it is.”
“By no means,” said Cugel. “Take the cusp from Bubach Angh.”
“Never!” exclaimed the squire from Grodz.
“What? You both have a cusp and both want two? What are these precious objects? You wear them as eyes? Give them to me.”
Cugel drew his sword. “I prefer to run, but I fight if I must.”
“I cannot run,” said Bubach Angh. “I prefer to fight.” He pulled the cusp from his own eye. “Now then, vagabond, prepare to die.”
“A moment,” said Derwe Coreme. From one of the legs of the boat thin arms reached to seize the wrists of both Cugel and Bubach Angh. The cusps fell to earth; that of Cugel was caught and conveyed to Derwe Coreme; that of Bubach Angh struck a stone and shivered to fragments. He howled in anguish, leapt upon Cugel, who gave ground before the attack.
Bubach Angh knew nothing of swordplay; he hacked and slashed as if he were cleaning fish. The fury of his attack, however, was unsettling and Cugel was hard put to defend himself. In addition to Bubach Angh’s sallies and slashes, Firx was deploring the loss of the cusp.
Derwe Coreme had lost interest in the affair. The boat started off across the barrens, moving faster and ever faster. Cugel slashed out with his sword, leapt back, leapt back once more, and for the second time fled across the barrens, and the folk of Smolod and Grodz shouted curses after him.
The boat-car jogged along at a leisurely rate. Lungs throbbing, Cugel gained upon it, and with a great bound leapt up, caught the downy gunwale, pulled himself astride.
It was as he expected. Derwe Coreme had looked through the cusp and lay back in a daze. The violet cusp reposed in her lap.
Cugel seized it then for a moment stared down into the exquisite face and wondered if he dared more. Firx thought not. Already Derwe Coreme was sighing and moving her head.
Cugel leapt from the boat, and only just in time. Had she seen him? He ran to a clump of reeds which grew by a pond, flung himself in the water. From here he saw the walking-boat halt while Derwe Coreme rose to her feet. She felt through the pink down for the cusp, then she looked all around the countryside. But the blood-red li
ght of the low sun was in her eyes when she looked toward Cugel, and she saw only the reeds and the reflection of sun on water.
Angry and sullen as never before, she set the boat into motion. It walked, then cantered, then loped to the south.
Cugel emerged from the water, inspected the magic cusp, tucked it into his pouch, looked back toward Smolod. He started to walk south, then paused. He took the cusp from his pocket, closed his left eye, held the cusp to his right. There rose the palaces, tier on tier, tower above tower, the gardens hanging down the terraces … Cugel would have stared a long time but Firx became restive.
Cugel returned the cusp to his pouch and once again set his face to the south, for the long journey back to Almery.
Chapter II
Cil
Sunset across the northern wastelands was a mournful process, languid as the bleeding of a dead animal; twilight came to find Cugel toiling across a salt-marsh. The dark red light of afternoon had deceived him; starting across a low-lying barrens he first found dankness underfoot, then a soggy softness, and now on all sides were mud, bog-grass, a few larches and willows, puddles and sloughs reflecting the leaden purple of the sky.
In Cugel’s pouch reposed the violet cusp which he must convey to Iucounu’s manse above the river Xzan in Almery. Cugel would have preferred to return at convenience, but Firx, that irascible tangle of spines and barbs which Iucounu had clasped about Cugel’s liver, permitted no loitering, and Cugel’s only solace was the prospect of revenge. To the east were low hills; toward these Cugel proceeded, jumping from tussock to tussock, running delicately over the crusted slime. At times he missed his footing, to sprawl into mud or rotting reeds, whereupon his threats and imprecations in regard to Iucounu the Laughing Magician reached a maximum of rancor.
Dusk held until, tottering with fatigue, he reached the slope of the eastern hills, where his condition was worsened rather than improved. Certain half-human bandits had noted his approach, and now they set upon him. A vile reek reached Cugel even before the sound of their foot-steps; fatigue forgotten, he sprang away, and was pursued up the slope.
A shattered tower rose against the sky. Cugel clambered over mouldering stones, drew his sword, stepped into the gape which once had served as doorway. Within was silence, the odor of dust and damp stone; Cugel dropped to his knee and against the skyline saw the three grotesque shapes come to a halt at the edge of the ruins.
Odd, thought Cugel, though gratifying — if coincidentally somewhat ominous. The creatures apparently feared the tower.
The last vestige of twilight departed; by various portents Cugel came to understand that the tower was haunted. Near the middle of night a ghost appeared, wearing pale robes and a silver fillet supporting twenty moonstones on long silver stalks. It swirled close to Cugel, staring down with vacant eye-sockets into which a man might lose his thoughts. Cugel pressed back against the wall so that his bones creaked, unable to move a muscle.
The ghost spoke: “Demolish this fort. While stone joins stone I must stay, even while Earth grows cold and swings through darkness.”
“Willingly,” croaked Cugel, “if it were not for those outside who seek my life.”
“To the back of the hall is a passage. Use stealth and strength, then do my behest.”
“The fort is as good as razed,” declared Cugel fervently. “But what circumstances bound you to so unremitting a post?”
“They are forgotten; I remain. Perform my charge, or I curse you with an everlasting tedium like my own!”
Cugel awoke in the dark, aching with cold and cramp. The ghost had vanished: how long had he slept? He looked through the door to find the eastern sky colored by the approach of dawn.
After an interminable wait the sun appeared, sending a flaming ray through the door and to the back of the hall. Here Cugel found a stone stairway descending to a dusty passage, which after five minutes of slow groping returned him to the surface. From concealment he surveyed the ground, and saw the three bandits, at separate points, each hidden behind a tumbled pillar.
Cugel unsheathed his sword and with great caution stole forth. He reached the first prone figure, thrust steel into the corded neck. The creature flung out its arms, groped at the ground and died.
Cugel wrenched free his blade, wiped it on the leather of the corpse. With the deftest and most facile stealth he came up behind the second bandit, which in its dying made a sound of distress. The third bandit came to investigate.
Springing from concealment, Cugel ran it through. The bandit screamed, drew its own dagger and lunged, but Cugel leapt back, hurled a heavy stone which felled it to the ground. Here it lay, grimacing in hate.
Cugel came cautiously forward. “Since you face death, tell me what you know of hidden treasure.”
“I know of none,” said the bandit. “Were there such you would be the last to learn for you have killed me.”
“This is no fault of mine,” said Cugel. “You pursued me, not I you. Why did you do so?”
“To eat, to survive, though life and death are equally barren and I despise both equally.”
Cugel reflected. “In this case you need not resent my part in the transition which you now face. The question regarding hidden valuables again becomes relevant. Perhaps you have a final word on this matter?”
“I have a final word. I display my single treasure.” The creature groped in its pouch, withdrew a round white pebble. “This is the skull-stone of a grue, and at this moment trembles with force. I use this force to curse you, to bring upon you the immediate onset of cankerous death.”
Cugel hastily killed the bandit, then heaved a dismal sigh. The night had brought only difficulty. “Iucounu, if I survive, there shall be a reckoning indeed!”
Cugel turned to examine the fort. Certain of the stones would fall at a touch; others would require much more effort. He might well not survive to perform the task. What were the terms of the bandit’s curse? “— immediate onset of cankerous death.” Sheer viciousness. The ghost-king’s curse was no less oppressive: how had it gone? “— everlasting tedium.” Cugel rubbed his chin, nodded gravely. Raising his voice he called, “Lord ghost, I may not stay to do your bidding: I have killed the bandits and now I depart. Farewell and may the aeons pass with despatch.”
From the depths of the fort came a moan, and Cugel felt the pressure of the unknown. “I activate my curse!” came a whisper to Cugel’s brain.
Cugel strode quickly away to the southeast. “Excellent; all is well. The ‘everlasting tedium’ exactly countervenes the ‘immediate onset of death’ and I am left only with the ‘canker’ which, in the person of Firx, already afflicts me. One must use his wits in dealing with maledictions.”
He proceeded over the barrens until the fort was beyond vision, and presently came once more to the sea. Mounting the foreshore he looked up and down the beach, to see a dark headland to east and another to west. He descended to the beach, and set off to the east. The sea, sluggish and gray, sent listless surf against the sand, which was smooth, unmarked by footprint.
Ahead Cugel spied a dark blot, which a moment later proved to be an aged man on his knees, passing the sand of the beach through a sieve.
Cugel halted to watch. The old man gave him a dignified nod and proceeded with his work.
Cugel’s curiosity at last prompted him to speak. “What do you seek so assiduously?”
The old man put down his sieve, rubbed his arms. “Somewhere along the beach an amulet was lost by the father of my great-grandfather. During his entire life he sifted sand, hoping to find that which he had lost. His son, and after him my grandfather, then my father and now I, the last of my line, have done likewise. All the way from Cil we have sifted sand, but there is yet six leagues to Benbadge Stull.”
“These names are unknown to me,” said Cugel. “What place is Benbadge Stull?”
The old man indicated the headland to the west. “An ancient port, though now you will find only a crumbled breakwater, an old jetty,
a hut or two. Yet barques from Benbadge Stull once plied the sea to Falgunto and Mell.”
“Again, regions beyond my knowledge,” said Cugel. “What lies beyond Benbadge Stull?”
“The land dwindles into the north. The sun hangs low over marsh and bog; there are none to be found here but a few forlorn outcasts.”
Cugel turned his attention to the east. “And what place is Cil?”
“This entire domain is Cil, which my ancestor forfeited to the House of Domber. All grandeur is gone; there remains the ancient palace and a village. Beyond, the land becomes a dark and dangerous forest, so much has our realm dwindled.” The old man shook his head, returned to his sieving.
Cugel stood watching a moment, then, kicking idly in the sand, uncovered a glint of metal. Stooping, he picked up a bracelet of black metal shining with a purple luster. Around the circumference were thirty studs in the form of carbuncles, each circled by a set of engraved runes. “Ha!” exclaimed Cugel, displaying the bracelet. “Notice this fine object: a treasure indeed!”
The old man put down scoop and sieve, rose slowly to his knees, then to his feet. He lurched forward, blue eyes round and staring. He held forth his hand. “You have uncovered the amulet of my ancestors, the House of Slaye! Give it to me!”
Cugel stepped back. “Come, come, you make a flagrantly unreasonable request!”
“No, no! The amulet is mine; you do wrong by withholding it. Do you wish to vitiate the work of my lifetime and of four lifetimes before mine?”
“Why do you not rejoice that the amulet has been found?” demanded Cugel peevishly. “You are now relieved from further search. Explain, if you will, the potency of this amulet. It exhales a heavy magic. How does it profit the owner?”
“The owner is myself,” groaned the old man. “I implore you, be generous!”
“You put me in an uncomfortable position,” said Cugel. “My property is too small to admit of largesse, but I cannot consider this a failure of generosity. If you had found the amulet, would you have given it to me?”