Cugel Page 20

  “Not until you pay me my forty-five terces!” And Cugel laid his hand suggestively on the pommel of his sword.

  Captain Wiskich seized Cugel by the collar and seat of the trousers, frog-marched him along the deck, and heaved him down the gang-plank. “Don’t come back aboard; I am a busy man. Ahoy, dray-master! You still must bring me another load! I am in haste to make sail!”

  “All in good time. I still must despatch a load to Varmous for his caravan. Now pay me for the present consignment; that is how I do business, on a cash basis only.”

  “Then bring up your invoice and we will check off the items.”

  “That is not necessary. The items are all on board.”

  “The items are on board when I say they are on board. You will take none of my terces until that moment.”

  “You only delay your last consignment, and I have Varmous’ delivery to make.”

  “Then I will make my own tally and pay by this reckoning.”

  “Never!” Grumbling for the delay, the dray-master went aboard the Avventura.

  Cugel went across the wharf and accosted a porter. “A moment of your time, if you please! This afternoon I had dealings with a small fat man in a dark uniform. Where can I find him at this moment?”

  “You would seem to speak of poor old Master Sabbas, whose case is tragic. At one time he owned and managed the draying business. But he went senile and now he calls himself ‘Sab the Swindler’ to everyone’s amusement. That is his son Master Yoder aboard the Avventura with Captain Wiskich. If you were foolish enough to give him your terces, you must now think of the act as a kindly charity, for you have brightened the day of poor feeble-minded old Master Sabbas.”

  “Perhaps so, but I gave over the terces in jest, and now I want them back.”

  The porter shook his head. “They are gone with the moons of ancient Earth.”

  “But surely Master Yoder reimburses the victims of his father’s delusions!”

  The porter merely laughed and went off about his duties.

  Yoder presently descended the gang-plank. Cugel stepped forward. “Sir, I must complain of your father’s actions. He sold me passage for a fictitious voyage aboard the Avventura and now —”

  “Aboard the Avventura, you say?” asked Yoder.

  “Precisely so, and therefore —”

  “In that case, Captain Wiskich is your man!” So saying, Yoder went off about his business.

  Cugel glumly walked back to the central plaza. In a yard beside the inn Varmous prepared his caravan for its journey. Cugel noticed three carriages, each seating a dozen passengers, and four wagons loaded with cargo, equipment and supplies. Varmous was immediately evident: a large man, bulky of shoulder, arm, leg and thigh, with ringlets of yellow hair, mild blue eyes and an expression of earnest determination.

  Cugel watched Varmous for a few moments, then stepped forward and introduced himself. “Sir, I am Cugel. You would seem to be Varmous, director of the caravan.”

  “That is correct, sir.”

  “When, may I ask, does your caravan leave Port Perdusz?”

  “Tomorrow, in the event that I receive all my stores from the indolent dray-master.”

  “May I ask your itinerary?”

  “Certainly. Our destination is Torqual, where we will arrive in time for the Festival of Ennoblements. We travel by way of Kaspara Vitatus, which is a junction point for travel in several directions. However, I am obliged to notify you that our roster is complete. We can accept no more applications for travel.”

  “Perhaps you wish to employ another driver, or attendant, or guard?”

  “I have ample personnel,” said Varmous. “Still, I thank you for your interest.”

  Cugel disconsolately entered the inn, which, so he found, had been converted from a theater. The stage now served as a first-class dining hall for persons of fastidious taste, while the pit served as a common room. Sleeping chambers had been built along the balcony and sojourners could overlook both the first-class dining hall and the common room below merely by glancing from their doors.

  Cugel presented himself to the office beside the entrance, where a stout woman sat behind a wicket.

  “I have just arrived in town,” said Cugel in a formal voice. “Important business will occupy me for the better part of a week. I will require food and lodging of excellent quality for the duration of my visit.”

  “Very good, sir! We will be happy to oblige. Your name?”

  “I am Cugel.”

  “You may now pay over a deposit of fifty terces against charges.”

  Cugel spoke stiffly: “I prefer to pay at the end of my visit, when I can examine the bill in detail.”

  “Sir, this is our invariable rule. You would be astonished to learn of the scurrilous vagabonds who try every conceivable trick upon us.”

  “Then I must go find my servant, who carries the money.”

  Cugel departed the inn. Thinking that by chance he might come upon Master Sabbas, Cugel returned to the wharves.

  The sun had set; Port Perdusz was bathed in wine-colored gloom. Activity had diminished somewhat, but drays still carried goods here and there among the warehouses.

  Sab the Swindler was nowhere to be seen, but Cugel had already put him aside in favor of a new and more positive concept. He went to that warehouse where Yoder stored his victuals and stood waiting in the shadows.

  From the warehouse came a dray driven not by Yoder but by a man with a ruff of ginger-colored hair and long bristling mustaches with waxed points. He was a person of style who wore a wide-brimmed hat with a tall green plume, double-toed boots and a mauve knee-length coat embroidered with yellow birds. Cugel removed his own hat, the most notable element of his costume, and tucked it into his waist-band.

  As soon as the dray had moved a few yards along the wharf Cugel ran forward and accosted the driver. He spoke briskly: “Is this last load for the Avventura? If so, Captain Wiskich does not appreciate so much unnecessary delay.”

  The driver spoke with unexpected spirit: “I am indeed loaded for the Avventura. As for delay, I know of none! These are choice viands and careful selection is of the essence.”

  “True enough; no need to belabor the point. You have the invoice?”

  “I do indeed! Captain Wiskich must pay to the last terce before I unload so much as an anchovy. Those are my strict instructions.”

  Cugel held up his hand. “Be easy! All will go smoothly. Captain Wiskich is conducting business over here in the warehouse. Come; bring your invoice.”

  Cugel led the way into the old gray warehouse, now dim with dusk, and signaled the driver into the office marked Ticket Agent.

  The driver peered into the office. “Captain Wiskich? Why do you sit in the dark?”

  Cugel threw his cloak over the driver’s head and tied him well with the wonderful extensible rope, then gagged him with his own kerchief.

  Cugel took the invoice and the fine wide-brimmed hat. “I will be back shortly; in the meantime, enjoy your rest.”

  Cugel drove the dray to the Avventura and drew up to a halt. He heard Captain Wiskich bawling to someone in the forecastle. Cugel shook his head regretfully. The risks were disproportionate to the gain; let Captain Wiskich wait.

  Cugel continued along the wharf, and across the plaza to where Varmous worked among the wagons of his caravan.

  Cugel pulled the driver’s wide-brimmed hat low over his face and hid the sword under his cloak. With the invoice in hand he sought out Varmous. “Sir, I have delivered your load of victual, and this is the invoice, now due and payable.”

  Varmous, taking the invoice, read down the billing. “Three hundred and thirty terces? These are high-quality viands! My order was far more modest, and was quoted to me at two hundred terces!”

  Cugel made a debonair gesture. “In that case, you need only pay two hundred terces,” he said grandly. “We are interested only in the satisfaction of our customers.”

  Varmous glanced once more at the i
nvoice. “It is a rare bargain! But why should I argue with you?” He handed Cugel a purse. “Count it, if you like, but I assure you that it contains the proper amount.”

  “That is adequate assurance,” said Cugel. “I will leave the dray here and you may unload it at your convenience.” He bowed and departed.

  Returning to the warehouse Cugel found the driver as he had left him. Cugel said: “Tzat!” to loosen the bonds and placed the wide-brimmed hat upon the driver’s head. “Do not stir for five minutes! I will be waiting just outside the door and if you stick out your head I will lop it off with my sword. Is that clear?”

  “Quite clear,” muttered the driver.

  “In that case, farewell.” Cugel departed and returned to the inn where he placed down a deposit and was assigned a chamber on the balcony.

  Cugel dined upon bread and sausages, then strolled out to the front of the inn. His attention was attracted by an altercation near Varmous’ caravan. Looking more closely, Cugel found Varmous in angry confrontation with Captain Wiskich and Yoder. Varmous refused to surrender his victuals until Captain Wiskich paid him two hundred terces plus a handling charge of fifty terces. Captain Wiskich, in a rage, aimed a blow at Varmous, who stepped aside, then struck Captain Wiskich with such force that he tumbled over backwards. The crew of the Avventura was on hand and rushed forward, only to be met by Varmous’ caravan personnel carrying staves, and the seamen were soundly thrashed.

  Captain Wiskich, with his crew, retired into the inn to plan new strategies, but instead they drank great quantities of wine and committed such nuisances that they were taken by the town constables and immured in an old fortress half-way up the hill, where they were sentenced to three days of confinement.

  When Captain Wiskich and his crew were dragged away, Cugel thought long and carefully, then went out and once more conferred with Varmous.

  “Earlier today, if you recall, I requested a place in your caravan.”

  “Conditions have not changed,” said Varmous shortly. “Every place is taken.”

  “Let us suppose,” said Cugel, “that you commanded another large and luxurious carriage, capable of carrying twelve in comfort — could you find enough custom to fill these places?”

  “Without doubt! They now must wait for the next caravan and so will miss the Festival. But I leave in the morning and there would be no time to secure the supplies.”

  “That too can be effected, if we are able to arrive at a compact.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “I provide the carriage and the supplies. You recruit twelve more travelers and charge them premium prices. I pay nothing. We divide the net profits.”

  Varmous pursed his lips. “I see nothing wrong with this. Where is your carriage?”

  “Come; we shall get it now.”

  Without enthusiasm Varmous followed Cugel out along the dock where finally all was quiet. Cugel boarded the Avventura and tied his rope to a ring under the bow and threw the end to Varmous. He kicked the hull with his ossip-charged boots and the vessel at once became revulsive of gravity. Debarking, Cugel untied the mooring lines and the vessel drifted up into the air, to the amazement of Varmous.

  “Stretch, line, stretch!” called Cugel and the Avventura rose up into the darkness.

  Together Varmous and Cugel towed the ship along the road and somewhat out of town and concealed it behind the cypress trees of the graveyard; the two then returned to the inn.

  Cugel clapped Varmous on the shoulder. “We have done a good night’s work, to our mutual profit!”

  “I am not apt for magic,” muttered Varmous. “Weirdness makes me eery.”

  Cugel waved aside his apprehensions. “Now: for a final goblet of wine to seal our compact, then a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow, we set off on our journey!”

  2

  The Caravan

  During the pre-dawn stillness Varmous marshaled his caravan, ordering wagons and carriages, guiding passengers to their allotted places, quieting complaints with mild comments and an ingenuous gaze. He seemed to be everywhere at once: a massive figure in black boots, a peasant’s blouse and baggy pantaloons, his blond curls confined under a flat wide-brimmed hat.

  Occasionally he brought one of his passengers over to Cugel, saying: “Another person for the ‘premier’ class!”

  One by one these passengers accumulated until there were six, including two women, Ermaulde and Nissifer, both of middle years, or apparently so, since Nissifer shrouded herself from head to toe in a gown of rusty brown satin and wore a clump hat with a heavy veil. Where Nissifer was dry and taciturn, and seemed to creak as she walked, Ermaulde was plump and voluble, with large moist features and a thousand copper-colored ringlets.

  In addition to Nissifer and Ermaulde, four men had decided to enjoy the privileges of the ‘premier’ class: a varied group ranging from Gaulph Rabi, an ecclesiarch and pantologist, through Clissum and Perruquil, to Ivanello, a handsome young man who wore his rich garments with enviable flair and whose manner ranged that somewhat limited gamut between easy condescension and amused disdain.

  Last to join the group was Clissum, a portly gentleman of good stature and the ineffable airs of a trained aesthete. Cugel acknowledged the introduction, then took Varmous aside.

  “We now have assigned six passengers to the ‘premier’ category,” said Cugel. “Cabins 1, 2, 3, and 4 are those designated for passenger use. We can also take over that double cabin formerly shared by the cook and the steward, which means that our own cook and steward must go to the forecastle. I, as captain of the vessel, will naturally use the after cabin. In short, we are now booked to capacity.”

  Varmous scratched his cheek and showed Cugel a face of bovine incomprehension. “Surely not yet! The vessel is larger than three carriages together!”

  “Possibly true, but the cargo hold claims much of the space.”

  Varmous gave a dubious grunt. “We must manage better.”

  “I see no flaws in the existing situation,” said Cugel. “If you yourself wish to ride aboard, you can arrange a berth in the forepeak.”

  Varmous shook his head. “That is not the problem. We must make room for more passengers. Indeed, I intended the after cabin, not for the use of either you or me — after all, we are veterans of the trail and demand no languid comforts —”

  Cugel held up his hand. “Not so! It is because I have known hardship that I now so greatly enjoy comfort. The Avventura is full. We can offer no further ‘premier’ accommodation.”

  Varmous showed a streak of mulish obstinacy. “In the first place, I cannot spare a cook and a steward for the delectation of six passengers and yourself. I counted upon you to fulfill this duty.”

  “What!” cried Cugel. “Review, if you will, the terms of our compact! I am captain, and no more!”

  Varmous heaved a sigh. “Further, I have already sold four other ‘premiers’ — aha! Here they are now! Doctor Lalanke and his party.”

  Turning about, Cugel observed a tall gentleman, somewhat sallow and saturnine of countenance, with dense black hair, quizzically arched black eyebrows and a pointed black beard.

  Varmous performed the introductions. “Cugel, here is Doctor Lalanke, a savant of remark and renown.”

  “Tush,” said Lalanke. “You are positively effusive!”

  Behind, walking in a row with long slow steps and arms hanging straight down to narrow hips, like mechanical dolls, or persons sleep-walking, came three maidens even paler than Doctor Lalanke, with short hair loose and intensely black.

  Cugel looked from one to the other; they were much alike, if not identical, with the same large gray eyes, high cheekbones and flat cheeks slanting down to small pointed chins. White trousers fitted snugly to their legs and hips, which were only just perceptibly feminine; soft pale green jackets were belted to their waists. They halted behind Doctor Lalanke and stood looking toward the river, neither speaking nor displaying interest in the folk around them.

  Fascinating
creatures, thought Cugel.

  Doctor Lalanke spoke to Varmous. “These are the component members of my little tableaux: mimes, if you will. They are Sush, Skasja and Rlys, though which name applies to which I do not know and they do not seem to care. I look upon them as my wards. They are shy and sensitive, and will be happy in the privacy of the large cabin you have mentioned.”

  Cugel instantly stepped forward. “One moment! The after cabin aboard the Avventura is occupied by the captain, which is to say myself. There is accommodation for six in the ‘premier’ category. Ten persons are present. Varmous, you must repair your mistake and at once!”

  Varmous rubbed his chin and looked up into the sky. “The day is well underway and we must arrive at Fierkle’s Fountain before dark. I suppose we had better inspect the ‘premier’ categories and see what can be done.”

  The group walked to the grove of cypress trees which concealed the Avventura. Along the way, Varmous spoke persuasively to Cugel: “In a business such as ours, one must occasionally make a small sacrifice for the general advantage. Hence —”

  Cugel spoke with emphasis: “No more wheedling! I am adamant!”

  Varmous shook his head sadly. “Cugel, I am disappointed in you. Do not forget that I helped acquire the vessel, at some risk to my reputation!”

  “My planning and my magic were decisive! You only pulled on a rope. Remember also that at Kaspara Vitatus we part company. You will continue to Torqual while I fare south in my vessel.”

  Varmous shrugged. “I expect no difficulties except those of the next few minutes. We must discover which among our ‘premier’ passengers are truly strident and which can be induced to ride the carriages.”

  “That is reasonable,” said Cugel. “I see that there are tricks to the trade, which I will be at pains to learn.”

  “Just so. Now, as to tactics, we must always seem of the same mind; otherwise the passengers will play us one against the other, and all control is lost. Since we cannot confer on each case, let us signal our opinions in this fashion: a cough for the boat and a sniff for the carriage.”

  “Agreed!”

  Arriving at the boat the passengers stood back in skepticism. Perruquil, who was small, thin, hot-eyed, and seemed to be constructed only of nerves knotted around bones, went so far as to suggest duplicity. “Varmous, what is your plot? You take our terces, put us in the cabins of this ruined vessel, then go quietly off with your caravan: is that the way of it? Be warned: I was not born yesterday!”