Cugel Read online

  The caravan moved out upon Ildish Waste, and the fate of Ivanello remained obscure.

  The road, now little more than a track, led north to a fork; here the caravan veered eastward and proceeded beside the hills which rolled away as far as the eye could reach. The landscape was bleak and dry, supporting only a few stunted gong-trees, an occasional tumble of cactus, an isolated dendron, black or purple or red.

  Halfway through the morning Varmous called up to the ship: “Cugel, are you keeping a sharp watch?”

  Cugel looked down over the gunwale. “I could watch with more purpose if I knew what I was watching for.”

  “You are looking for hostile nomads, especially those hidden in ambush.”

  Cugel scanned the countryside. “I see nothing answering to this description: only hills and waste, although far ahead I notice the dark line of a forest, or maybe it is only a river fringed with trees.”

  “Very good, Cugel. Maintain your look-out.”

  The day passed and the line of dark trees seemed to recede before them, and at sundown camp was made on a sandy area open to the sky.

  As usual, a fire was built, but the disappearance of Ivanello weighed heavy, and though Varmous served out wine, no one drank with cheer, and conversation was pitched in low tones.

  As before Varmous arranged his guard-fence. He spoke again to the company. “The mystery remains profound! Since we are without a clue, I recommend everyone to extreme caution. Certainly, do not so much as approach the guard-fence!”

  The night passed without incident. In the morning the caravan got under way in good time, with Cugel once more serving as look-out.

  As the day went by, the countryside became somewhat less arid. The line of trees now could be seen to mark the course of a river wandering down from the hills and out across the waste.

  Arriving at the riverbank the road turned abruptly south and followed the river to a stone bridge of five arches, where Varmous called a halt to allow the teamsters to water their farlocks. Cugel ordered the rope to shorten itself and so drew the Avventura down to the road. The ‘premier’ passengers alighted and wandered here and there to stretch their legs.

  At the entrance to the bridge stood a monument ten feet tall, holding a bronze plaque to the attention of those who passed. The characters were illegible to Cugel. Gaulph Rabi thrust close his long nose, then shrugged and turned away. Doctor Lalanke, however, declared the script to be a version of Sarsounian, an influential dialect of the nineteenth aeon, in common use for more than four thousand years.

  “The text is purely ceremonial,” said Doctor Lalanke. “It reads:

  TRAVELERS! AS DRY SHOD YOU CROSS

  THE THUNDERING TURMOIL OF THE RIVER SYK,

  BE ADVISED THAT YOU HAVE BEEN ASSISTED

  BY THE BENEFICENCE OF

  KHAIVE, LORD-RULER OF KHARAD

  AND

  GUARDIAN OF THE UNIVERSE

  As we can see, the River Syk no longer thunders a turmoil, but we can still acknowledge the generosity of King Khaive; indeed, it is wise to do so.” And Doctor Lalanke performed a polite genuflection to the monument.

  “Superstition!” scoffed Gaulph Rabi. “At the Collegium we turn down our ears in reverence only to the Nameless Syncresis at the core of the Hub.”

  “So it may be,” said Doctor Lalanke indifferently and moved away. Cugel looked from Gaulph Rabi to Doctor Lalanke, then quickly performed a genuflection before the monument.

  “What?” cried the gaunt ecclesiarch. “You too, Cugel? I took you for a man of judgment!”

  “That is precisely why I gave honor to the monument. I judged that the rite could do no harm and cost very little.”

  Varmous dubiously rubbed his nose, then made a ponderous salute of his own, to the patent disgust of Gaulph Rabi.

  The farlocks were brought back to their traces; Cugel caused the Avventura to rise high in the air and the caravan proceeded across the bridge.

  During the middle afternoon Cugel became drowsy and dropping his head upon his arms, dozed off into a light slumber … Time passed and Cugel became uncomfortable. Blinking and yawning, he surveyed the countryside, and his attention was caught by stealthy movements behind a thicket of smoke-berry bushes which lined the road. Cugel leaned forward and perceived several dozen short swarthy men wearing baggy pantaloons, dirty vests of various colors and black kerchiefs tied around their heads. They carried spears and battle-hooks, and clearly intended harm upon the caravan.

  Cugel shouted down to Varmous: “Halt! Prepare your weapons! Bandits hide in ambush behind yonder thicket!”

  Varmous pulled up the caravan and blew a blast on his signal horn. The teamsters took up weapons as did many of the passengers and prepared to face an onslaught. Cugel brought the boat down so that the ‘premier’ passengers might also join the fight.

  Varmous came over to the boat. “Exactly where is the ambush? How many lie in wait?”

  Cugel pointed toward the thicket. “They crouch behind the smoke-berry bushes, to the number of about twenty-three. They carry spears and snaffle-irons.”

  “Well done, Cugel! You have saved the caravan!” Varmous studied the terrain, then, taking ten men armed with swords, dart-guns and poison go-thithers, went out to reconnoiter.

  Half an hour passed. Varmous, hot, dusty and irritated, returned with his squad. He spoke to Cugel: “Again, where did you think to observe this ambush?”

  “As I told you: behind the thicket yonder.”

  “We combed the area and found neither bandits nor any sign of their presence.”

  Cugel looked frowningly toward the thicket. “They slipped away when they saw that we were forewarned.”

  “Leaving no traces? Are you sure of what you saw? Or were you having hallucinations?”

  “Naturally I am sure of what I saw!” declared Cugel indignantly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

  “Of course not,” said Varmous soothingly. “Keep up the good work! Even if your savages were but phantasms, it is better to be safe than sorry. But next time look twice and verify before you cry out the alarm.”

  Cugel had no choice but to agree, and returned aboard the Avventura.

  The caravan proceeded, past the now-tranquil thicket and Cugel once again kept an alert look-out.

  The night passed without incident, but in the morning, when breakfast was served, Ermaulde failed to make an appearance.

  As before Varmous searched the ship and the area enclosed by the guard-fence, but, like Ivanello, Ermaulde had disappeared as if into thin air. Varmous went so far as to knock on the door of Nissifer’s cabin, to assure himself that she was still aboard.

  “Who is it?” came the husky whisper.

  “It is Varmous. Are you well?”

  “I am well. I need nothing.”

  Varmous turned to Cugel, his broad face creased with worry. “I have never known such dreadful events! What is happening?”

  Cugel spoke thoughtfully: “Neither Ivanello nor Ermaulde went off by choice: this is clear. They both rode the Avventura, which seems to indicate that the bane also resides aboard the ship.”

  “What! In the ‘premier’ class?”

  “Such are the probabilities.”

  Varmous clenched his massive fist. “This harm must be learned and nailed to the counter!”

  “Agreed! But how?”

  “Through vigilance and care! At night no one must venture from his quarters, except to answer the call of nature.”

  “To find the evil-doer waiting in the privy? That is not the answer.”

  “Meanwhile, we cannot delay the caravan,” muttered Varmous. “Cugel, to your post! Watch with care and discrimination.”

  The caravan once again set off to the east. The road skirted close under the hills, which now showed harsh outcrops of rock and occasional growths of gnarled acacia.

  Doctor Lalanke sauntered forward and joined Cugel at the bow, and their conversation turned to the strange disappearances. Doctor Lalanke declared himsel
f as mystified as everyone else. “There are endless possibilities, though none carry conviction. For instance, I could suggest that the ship itself is a harmful entity which during the night opens up its hold and ingests a careless passenger.”

  “We have searched the hold,” said Cugel. “We found only stores, baggage and cockroaches.”

  “I hardly intended that you take the theory seriously. Still, if we contrived ten thousand theories, all apparently absurd, one among them almost certainly would be correct.”

  The three mimes came up to the bow and amused themselves by strutting back and forth with long loping bent-kneed strides. Cugel looked at them with disfavor. “What nonsense are they up to now?”

  The three mimes wrinkled their noses, crossed their eyes and rounded their mouths into pursy circles, as if in soundless chortling, and looked toward Cugel sidelong as they pranced back and forth.

  Doctor Lalanke chuckled. “It is their little joke; they think that they are imitating you, or so I believe.”

  Cugel turned coldly away, and the three mimes ran back down the deck. Doctor Lalanke pointed ahead to a billow of clouds hanging above the horizon. “They rise from Lake Zaol, beside Kaspara Vitatus, where the road turns north to Torqual.”

  “It is not my road! I journey south to Almery.”

  “Just so.” Doctor Lalanke turned away and Cugel was left alone at his vigil. He looked around for the mimes, half-wishing that they would return and enliven the tedium, but they were engaged in a new and amusing game, tossing small objects down at the farlocks, which, when so struck, whisked high their tails.

  Cugel resumed his watch. To the south, the rocky hillside, ever more steep. To the north, the Ildish Waste, an expanse streaked in subtle colors: dark pink, hazy black-gray, maroon, touched here and there with the faintest possible bloom of dark blue and green.

  Time passed. The mimes continued their game, which the teamsters and even the passengers also seemed to enjoy; as the mimes tossed down bits of stuff, the teamsters and passengers jumped down to retrieve the objects.

  Odd, thought Cugel. Why was every one so enthusiastic over a game so trifling? … One of the objects glinted of metal as it fell. It was, thought Cugel, about the size and shape of a terce. Surely the mimes would not be tossing terces to the teamsters? Where would they have obtained such wealth?

  The mimes finished their game. The teamsters called up from below: “More! Continue the game! Why stop now?” The mimes performed a crazy gesticulation and tossed down an empty pouch, then went off to rest.

  Peculiar! thought Cugel. The pouch in some respects resembled his own, which of course was safely tucked away in his tent. He glanced down casually, then looked once again more sharply.

  The pouch was nowhere to be seen.

  Cugel ran raging to Doctor Lalanke, where he sat on the hold conversing with Clissum. Cugel cried out: “Your wards made off with my pouch! They threw my terces down to the teamsters, and my other adjuncts as well, including a valuable pot of boot-dressing, and finally the pouch itself!”

  Doctor Lalanke raised his black eyebrows. “Indeed? The rascals! I wondered what could hold their attention so long.”

  “Please take this matter seriously! I hold you personally responsible! You must redress my losses.”

  Doctor Lalanke smilingly shook his head. “I regret your misfortune, Cugel, but I cannot repair all the wrongs of the world.”

  “Are they not your wards?”

  “In a casual sense only. They are listed on the caravan manifest in their own names, which puts the onus for their acts upon Varmous. You may discuss the matter with him, or even the mimes themselves. If they took the pouch, let them repay the terces.”

  “These are not practical ideas!”

  “Here is one which is most practical: return forward before we plunge headlong into danger!” Doctor Lalanke turned away and resumed his conversation with Clissum.

  Cugel returned to the bow. He stared ahead, across the dismal landscape, considering how best to recover his losses … A sinister flurry of movement caught his eye. Cugel jerked forward and focussed his gaze on the hillside, where a number of squat gray beings worked to pile heavy boulders where the hillside beetled over the road.

  Cugel looked with care for several seconds. The creatures were plain in his vision: distorted half-human amloids with peaking scalps and neckless heads, so that their mouths opened directly into their upper torsos.

  Cugel made a final inspection and at last called down the alarm: “Varmous! Rock-goblins on the hillside! Grave danger! Halt the caravan and sound the horn!”

  Varmous pulled up his carriage and returned the hail. “What do you see? Where is the danger?”

  Cugel waved his arms and pointed. “On that high bluff I see mountain goblins! They are piling rocks to tumble down upon the caravan!”

  Varmous craned his neck and looked where Cugel had pointed. “I can see nothing.”

  “They are gray, like the rocks! They sidle askew and run crouching this way and that!”

  Varmous rose in his seat and gave emergency signals to his teamsters. He pulled the ship down to the road. “We will give them a great surprise,” he told Cugel, and called to the passengers. “Alight, if you please! I intend to attack the goblins from the air.”

  Varmous brought ten men armed with arrow-guns and fire-darts aboard the Avventura. He tied the mooring-line to a strong farlock. “Now, Cugel, let the rope extend so that we rise above the bluff and we will send down our compliments from above.”

  Cugel obeyed the order; the ship with its complement of armed men rose high into the air and drifted over the bluff.

  Varmous stood in the bow. “Now: to the exact site of the ambush.”

  Cugel pointed. “Precisely there, in that tumble of rocks!”

  Varmous inspected the hillside. “At the moment I see no goblins.”

  Cugel scanned the bluff with care, but the goblins had disappeared. “All to the good! They saw our preparations and abandoned their plans.”

  Varmous gave a surly grunt. “Are you certain of your facts? You are sure that you saw rock goblins?”

  “Of course! I am not given to hysterics.”

  “Perhaps you were deceived by shadows among the rocks.”

  “Absolutely not! I saw them as clearly as I see you!”

  Varmous looked at Cugel with thoughtful blue eyes. “Do not feel that I am chiding you. You apprehended danger and, quite properly, cried out the alarm, though apparently in error. I will not belabor the matter, except to point out that this lack of judiciousness wastes valuable time.”

  Cugel could find no answer to the imputations. Varmous went to the gunwale and called down to the driver of the lead carriage. “Bring the caravan forward and past the bluff! We will mount guard to ensure absolute security.”

  The caravan moved past the bluff without untoward circumstance, whereupon the Avventura was lowered so that the ‘premier’ passengers might re-embark.

  Varmous took Cugel aside. “Your work is beyond reproach; still, I have decided to augment the watch. Shilko, whom you see yonder, is a man of seasoned judgment. He will stand by your side, and each will validate the findings of the other. Shilko, step over here, if you please. You and Cugel must now work in tandem.”

  “That will be my pleasure,” said Shilko, a round-faced stocky man with sand-colored hair and a fringe of curling whiskers. “I look forward to the association.”

  Cugel glumly took him aboard the ship, and, as the caravan moved ahead, the two went forward to the bow and took up their posts. Shilko, a man of affable volubility, spoke of everything imaginable in definitive detail. Cugel’s responses were curt, which puzzled Shilko. In an aggrieved voice he explained: “When I am engaged in this kind of work, I like a bit of conversation to while away the time. Otherwise it is a bore to stand here looking out at nothing in particular. After a while, one begins to observe mental figments and regard them as reality.” He winked and grinned. “Eh, Cugel?” />
  Cugel thought Shilko’s joke in poor taste and looked away.

  “Ah well,” said Shilko. “So goes the world.”

  At noon, Shilko went off to the mess-hall to take his lunch. He over-indulged himself both in food and wine, so that during the afternoon he became drowsy. He surveyed the landscape and told Cugel: “There is nothing out there but a lizard or two: this is my considered judgment, and now I propose to take a short nap. If you see anything, be sure to arouse me.” He crawled into Cugel’s tent and made himself comfortable, and Cugel was left to think bitter thoughts of his lost terces and discarded boot-dressing.

  When the caravan halted for the night, Cugel went directly to Varmous. He cited the frivolous conduct of the mimes and complained of the losses he had suffered.

  Varmous listened with a mild but somewhat detached interest. “Surely Doctor Lalanke intends a settlement?”

  “This is the point at issue! He disclaims responsibility in part and in sum! He declares that you, as master of the caravan, must discharge all damages.”

  Varmous, whose attention had been wandering, became instantly alert. “He called on me to pay the losses?”

  “Exactly so. I now present to you this bill of accounting.”

  Varmous folded his arms and took a quick step backward. “Doctor Lalanke’s thinking is inept.”

  Cugel indignantly shook the accounting under Varmous’ nose. “Are you telling me that you refuse to settle this obligation?”