Cugel Page 34

  “Those days are lost in the mists of time,” said Cugel. “All is now forgotten.”

  Iucounu smiled behind pursed lips. “Later in your visit we will reminisce, to our mutual amusement! As for now, why not remove your cap, cloak and gloves?”

  “I am quite comfortable,” said Cugel, gauging the distance between himself and Iucounu. One long step, a swing of the arm, and the deed would be done.

  Iucounu seemed to divine the quality of Cugel’s thoughts and moved back a pace. “First, our wine! Let us step into the small refectory.”

  Iucounu led the way into a hall panelled in fine dark mahogany, where he was greeted effusively by a small round animal with long fur, short legs and black button eyes. The creature bounded up and down and voiced a series of shrill barks. Iucounu patted the beast. “Well then, Ettis, how goes your world? Have they been feeding you enough suet? Good! I am glad to hear such happy tidings, since, other than Cugel, you are my only friend. Now then! To order! I must confer with Cugel.”

  Iucounu signaled Cugel to a chair at the table, and seated himself opposite. The animal ran back and forth barking, pausing only long enough to gnaw at Cugel’s ankles.

  A pair of young sylphs floated into the room with trays of silver which they set before Cugel and Iucounu, then drifted once more back the way they had come.

  Iucounu rubbed his hands together. “As you know, Cugel, I serve only the best. The wine is Angelius from Quantique, and the biscuits are formed from the pollen of red clover blossom.”

  “Your judgment has always been exquisite,” said Cugel.

  “I am content only with the subtle and the refined,” said Iucounu. He tasted the wine. “Matchless!” He drank again. “Heady, tart, with a hint of arrogance.” He looked across the table at Cugel. “What is your opinion?”

  Cugel shook his head in sad abnegation. “One taste of this elixir and I never again could tolerate ordinary drink.” He dipped a biscuit into the wine and tendered it to Ettis, who again had paused to gnaw at his leg. “Ettis of course has a wider discrimination than I.”

  Iucounu jumped to his feet with a protest, but Ettis had already gulped down the morsel, thereupon to perform a curious contortion and fall down on its back, with feet raised stiffly into the air.

  Cugel looked questioningly at Iucounu. “You have trained Ettis well in the ‘dead dog’ trick. He is a clever beast.”

  Iucounu slowly subsided into his chair. Two sylphs entered the chamber and carried Ettis away on a silver tray.

  Iucounu spoke through tight lips. “Let us get down to business. While strolling Shanglestone Strand, did you meet a certain Twango?”

  “I did indeed,” said Cugel. “An extraordinary individual! He became perturbed when I would not sell him my little trinket.”

  Iucounu fixed Cugel with the keenest of scrutinies. “Did he explain why?”

  “He spoke of the demiurge Sadlark, but in such an incoherent fashion that I lost interest.”

  Iucounu rose to his feet. “I will show you Sadlark. Come! To the work-room, which of course is dear to your memory.”

  “‘Work-room’? These episodes are lost in the past.”

  “I remember them distinctly,” said Iucounu in an easy voice. “All of them.”

  As they walked toward the work-room, Cugel tried to sidle close to Iucounu, but without success; Iucounu seemed always a yard or so beyond the reach of Cugel’s gloved hand, in which he held ‘Spatterlight’ at the ready.

  They entered the work-room. “Now you shall see my collection,” said Iucounu. “You will wonder no longer as to my interest in your talisman.” He jerked up his hand; a dark red cloth was whisked away, to reveal the scales of Sadlark, arranged upon an armature of fine silver wire. From the evidence of the restoration, Sadlark would have been a creature of moderate size, standing on two squat motilators, with two pairs of jointed arms ending each in ten clasping fingers. The head, if the term were at all appropriate, was no more than a turret surmounting the keen and taut torso. The belly scales were white-green, with a dark green keel tinged with vermilion swinging up to end at the frontal turret in a blank and eye-catching vacancy.

  Iucounu made a grand gesture. “There you see Sadlark, the noble overworld being, whose every contour suggests power and velocity. His semblance fires the imagination. Cugel, do you agree?”

  “Not altogether,” said Cugel. “Still, by and large, you have recreated a remarkably fine specimen, and I congratulate you.” He walked around the structure as if in admiration, all the while hoping to come within arm’s-length of Iucounu, but as Cugel moved, so did the Laughing Magician, and Cugel was thwarted in his intent.

  “Sadlark is more than a mere specimen,” said Iucounu in a voice almost devout. “Now notice the scales, each fixed in its proper place, except at the thrust of the keel where a staring vacancy assaults the eye. A single scale is missing, the most important of all: the protonastic centrum, or, as it is called, the ‘Pectoral Skybreak Spatterlight’. For long years I thought it lost, to my unutterable anguish. Cugel, can you imagine my surge of gladsomeness, the singing of songs in my heart, the crepitations of pure joy along the appropriate passages, when I looked at you, and discovered there in your cap the missing scale? I rejoiced as if the sun had been conceded another hundred years of life! I could have leapt in the air from sheer exhilaration. Cugel, can you understand my emotion?”

  “To the extent that you have described it — yes. As to the source of this emotion, I am puzzled.” And Cugel approached the armature, hoping that Iucounu in his enthusiasm would step within reach of his arm.

  Iucounu, moving in the other direction, touched the armature to set the scales jingling. “Cugel, in some respects you are dense and dull; your brain is like luke-warm porridge, and I say this without heat. You understand only what you see, and this is the smallest part.” Iucounu emitted a whinny of laughter, so that Cugel sent him a questioning look. “Observe Sadlark!” said Iucounu. “What do you see?”

  “An armature of wires and a number of scales, in the purported shape of Sadlark.”

  “And what if the wires were removed?”

  “The scales would fall into a heap.”

  “Quite so. You are right. The protonastic centrum is the node which binds the other scales with lines of force. This node is the soul and force of Sadlark. With the node in place, Sadlark lives once again; indeed Sadlark was never dead, but merely disassociated.”

  “What of, let us say, his inner organs?”

  “In the overworld, such parts are considered unnecessary and even somewhat vulgar. In short, there are no inner parts. Have you any other questions or observations?”

  “I might politely venture to point out that the day is waning and that I wish to arrive at Taun Tassel before dark.”

  Iucounu said heartily: “And so you shall! First, be good enough to place upon the work-table the ‘Pectoral Skybreak Spatterlight’, with all traces of diambroid detached. No other option is open to you.”

  “Only one,” said Cugel. “I prefer to keep the scale. It brings me luck and wards off acrid magic, as you have already learned.”

  Yellow lights flickered behind Iucounu’s eyes. “Cugel, your obstinacy is embarrassing. The scale indeed holds a proud crust between you and enemy magic of the casual sort. It is indifferent to overworld magic, some of which I command. Meanwhile, please desist from this constant skulking forward in the attempt to bring me within range of your sword. I am tired of jumping backward every time you sidle in my direction.”

  Cugel spoke haughtily: “Such an ungracious act never so much as crossed my mind.” He drew his sword and laid it on the work-bench. “There! See for yourself how you have misjudged me!”

  Iucounu blinked at the sword. “Still, keep your distance! I am not a man who welcomes intimacies.”

  “You may expect my full cooperation,” said Cugel with dignity.

  “I will be frank! Your deeds have long cried out for retribution, and as a man of conscie
nce I am forced to act. Still, you need not aggravate my task.”

  “This is harsh language!” said Cugel. “You offered me a ride to Taun Tassel. I did not expect treachery.”

  Iucounu paid no heed. “I will now make my final request: give me the scale at once!”

  “I can not oblige you,” said Cugel. “Since that was your final request, we can now leave for Taun Tassel.”

  “The scale, if you please!”

  “Take it from my cap, if you must. I will not assist you.”

  “And the diambroid?”

  “Sadlark will protect me. You must take your chances.”

  Iucounu uttered a cry of laughter. “Sadlark also protects me, as you will see!” He threw aside his garments and with a quick movement inserted himself into the center of the matrix, so that his legs fitted into Sadlark’s motilators and his face showed behind the gap in the turret. The wires and scales contracted around his pudgy body; the scales fit him as if they were his own skin.

  Iucounu’s voice rang like a choir of brass horns: “Well then, Cugel: what do you think now?”

  Cugel stood gaping in wonder. At last he said: “Sadlark’s scales fit you remarkably well.”

  “It is no accident, of this I am certain!”

  “And why not?”

  “I am Sadlark’s avatar; I partake of his personal essence! This is my destiny, but before I can enjoy my full force, I must be whole! Without further quibbling you may fit ‘Spatterlight’ into place. Remember, Sadlark will no longer protect you against my magic, since it is his magic, as well.”

  A crawling sensation in Cugel’s glove indicated that Sadlark’s protonastic centrum ‘Spatterlight’ endorsed the remark. “So it must be,” said Cugel. He carefully detached the ornament from his cap and removed the diambroid. He held it in his hand a moment, then placed it against his forehead.

  Iucounu cried out: “What are you doing?”

  “For the last time I am renewing my vitality. Often this scale has helped me through my trials.”

  “Stop at once! I will be needing every iota of force for my own purposes. Hand it over!”

  Cugel let the true scale slip into his gloved palm and concealed the false ornament. He spoke in a melancholy voice: “With pain I give up my treasure. May I for a final few moments hold it to my brow?”

  “By no means!” declared Iucounu. “I plan to put it to my own brow. Lay the scale on the work-bench, then stand back!”

  “As you wish,” sighed Cugel. He placed ‘Spatterlight’ on the work-bench, then, taking his sword, walked mournfully from the room.

  With a grunt of satisfaction, Iucounu applied the scale to his brow.

  Cugel went to stand by the fountain in the foyer, with one foot raised to the lip of the basin. In this position he listened gravely to the awful noises rising from Iucounu’s throat.

  Silence returned to the work-room.

  Several moments passed.

  A thudding clashing sound reached Cugel’s ears.

  Sadlark propelled himself by clumsy hops and jumps into the foyer, using his motilators in the manner of feet, with only fair success, so that he fell heavily from time to time, to wallow and roll with a great rattling of scales.

  Late afternoon light streamed through the door; Cugel made no move, hoping that Sadlark would blunder out into the open and return to the overworld.

  Sadlark came to a halt and spoke in a gasping voice. “Cugel! Where is Cugel? Each of the forces I have consumed, including eel and weasel, requests that they be joined by Cugel! Where are you? Cugel, announce yourself! I cannot see by this peculiar Earth-light, which explains why I plunged into the mire.”

  Cugel remained silent, scarcely daring to breathe. Sadlark slowly turned the red node of his sky-breaker around the foyer. “Ah, Cugel, there you are! Stand without motion!”

  Sadlark lurched forward. Disobeying the order, Cugel ran to the far side of the fountain. Angry at Cugel’s insubordination, Sadlark gave a great bound through the air. Cugel seized a basin, scooped up water and flung it upon Sadlark, who thereby misjudged his distance and fell flat into the fountain.

  The water hissed and bubbled as Sadlark’s force was spent. The scales fell apart and swirled idly about the bottom of the fountain.

  Cugel stirred among the scales until he found ‘Spatterlight’. He wrapped the scale in several thicknesses of damp cloth and taking it into the work-room placed it into a jar of water, which he sealed and stored away.

  Pergolo was silent, but Cugel could not rest easy; Iucounu’s presence hung in the air. Could the Laughing Magician be watching from some secret place, stifling his merriment with great effort while he planned a set of humorous pranks?

  Cugel searched Pergolo with care but discovered no significant clues except Iucounu’s black opal thumb-ring, which he found in the fountain among the scales, and at last Cugel felt assured that Iucounu was no more.

  At one end of the table sat Cugel; at the other, Bazzard. Disserl, Pelasias, Archimbaust and Vasker ranged at either side. The missing parts had been recovered from the vaults, sorted and restored to their owners, to the general satisfaction.

  Six sylphs served the banquet, which, while lacking the bizarre condiments and improbable juxtapositions of Iucounu’s ‘novel cuisine’, was nevertheless enjoyed by the company.

  Various toasts were proposed: to Bazzard’s ingenuity, to the fortitude of the four wizards, to Cugel’s brave deceits and duplicities. Cugel was asked, not once but several times, as to where his ambitions might now take him; on each occasion he responded with a glum shake of the head. “With Iucounu gone, there is no whip to drive me. I look in no direction and I have no plans.”

  After draining his goblet, Vasker voiced a generalization: “Without urgent goals, life is insipid!”

  Disserl also tilted his goblet high, then responded to his brother: “I believe that this thought has been enunciated before. A surly critic might even use the word ‘banality’.”

  Vasker replied in even tones: “These are the ideas which true originality rediscovers and renews, for the benefit of mankind. I stand by my remark! Cugel, do you concur?”

  Cugel signalled the sylphs to the better use of their decanters. “The intellectual interplay leaves me bewildered; I am quite at a loss. Both viewpoints carry conviction.”

  Vasker said: “Perhaps you will return with us to Llaio and we will explain our philosophies in full detail.”

  “I will keep your invitation in mind. For the next few months I will be busy at Pergolo, sorting through Iucounu’s affairs. Already, a number of his spies have submitted claims and invoices which almost certainly are falsified. I have dismissed them out of hand.”

  “And when all is in order?” asked Bazzard. “What then? Is it to be the rustic hut by the river?”

  “Such a cabin, with nothing to do but watch sunlight moving on the water, exerts an attraction. But I fear that I might become restless.”

  Bazzard ventured a suggestion. “There are far parts of the world to be seen. The floating city Jehaz is said to be splendid. There is also the Land of the Pale Ladies, which you might care to explore. Or will you pass your days in Almery?”

  “The future is blurred as if in a fog.”

  “The same is true for all of us,” declared Pelasias. “Why make plans? The sun might well go out tomorrow.”

  Cugel performed an extravagant gesture. “That thought must be banished from our minds! Tonight we sit here drinking purple wine! Let tonight last forever!”

  “This is my own sentiment!” said Archimbaust. “Now is now! There is never more to experience than this single ‘now’, which recurs at an interval exactly one second in length.”

  Bazzard knit his brows. “What of the first ‘now’, and the last ‘now’? Are these to be regarded as the same entity?”

  Archimbaust spoke somewhat severely: “Bazzard, your questions are too profound for the occasion. The songs of your musical fish would be more appropriate.”

>   “Their progress is slow,” said Bazzard. “I have appointed a cantor and a contralto choir, but the harmony is not yet steady.”

  “No matter,” said Cugel. “Tonight we will do without. Iucounu, wherever you are, in underworld, overworld or no world whatever: we drink to your memory in your own wine! This is the final joke, and, feeble though it may be, it is at your expense, and hence, enjoyed by the company! Sylphs, make play with the decanters! Once again to the goblets! Bazzard, have you tried this excellent cheese? Vasker: another anchovy? Let the feast proceed!”