Chapter IV
From Port Perdusz to Kaspara Vitatus

1
On the Docks

A favorable wind blew Cugel and his bed over the hills in comfort and convenience. As he drifted over the last ridge, the landscape dissolved into far distances, and before him, from east to west, spread the estuary of the River Chaing, in a great sweep of liquid gunmetal.

Westward along the shore Cugel noticed a scatter of mouldering gray structures: Port Perdusz. A half-dozen vessels were tied up at the docks; at so great a distance Cugel could not distinguish one from the other.

Cugel caused the bed to descend by dangling his sword and boots over either side, so that they were seized by the forces of gravity. Driven by capricious gusts of wind, the bed dropped in directions beyond Cugel’s control and eventually fell into a thicket of tulsifer reeds only a few yards inland from the river.

Reluctantly abandoning the bed, Cugel picked his way toward the river road, across soggy turf rampant with a dozen species of more or less noxious plants: russet and black burdock, blister-bush, brown-flowered hurse, sensitive vine which jumped back in distaste as Cugel approached. Blue lizards hissed angrily and Cugel, already in poor humour owing to contact with the blister-bush, reviled them in return: “Hiss away, vermin! I expect nothing better from such low-caste beasts!”

The lizards, divining the gist of Cugel’s rebuke, ran at him by jerks and bounds, hissing and spitting, until Cugel picked up a dead branch, and by beating at the ground kept them at bay.

Cugel finally gained the road. He brushed off his clothes, slapped his hat against his leg, taking care to avoid contact with ‘Spatterlight’. Then, shifting his sword so that it swung at its most jaunty angle, he set off toward Port Perdusz.

The time was middle afternoon. A line of tall deodars bordered the road; Cugel walked in and out of black shadow and red sunlight. He noticed an occasional hut halfway up the hillside and decaying barges along the river-bank. The road passed an ancient cemetery shaded under straggling rows of cypress, then swung toward the river to avoid a bluff on which perched a ruined palace.

Entering the town proper, the road swung around the back of a central plaza, where it passed in front of a large semi-circular building, at one time a theater or concert hall, but now an inn. The road then returned to the waterfront and led past those vessels which Cugel had noticed from the air. A question hung heavy in Cugel’s mind: might the Galante still lie in port?

Unlikely, but not impossible.

Cugel would find most embarrassing a chance confrontation with Captain Baunt, or Drofo, or Madame Soldinck, or even Soldinck himself.

Halting in the roadway, Cugel rehearsed a number of conversational gambits which might be used to ease the tensions. At length he admitted to himself that, realistically, none could be expected to succeed, and that a formal bow, or a simple and noncommittal nod of the head, would serve equally well.

Maintaining a watch in all directions, Cugel sauntered out on the decaying old wharf. He discovered three ships and two small coastwise vessels, as well as a ferry to the opposite shore.

None was the Galante, to Cugel’s great relief.

The first vessel, and farthest downstream from the plaza, was a heavy and nameless barge, evidently intended for the river trade. The second, a large carrack named Leucidion had been discharged of cargo and now appeared to be undergoing repairs. The third, and closest to the plaza, was the Avventura, a trim little ship, somewhat smaller than the others, and now in the process of taking on cargo and provisions for a voyage.

The docks were comparatively animated, with the passage of drays, the shouting and cursing of porters, the gay music of concertinas from aboard the barge.

A small man, portly and florid, wearing the uniform of a minor official, paused to inspect Cugel with a calculating eye, then turned away and entered one of the nearby warehouses.

Over the rail of the Leucidion leaned a burly man wearing a striped shirt of indigo blue and white, a conical black hat with a golden chain dangling beside his right ear, and a spigoted golden boss in his left cheek: the costume of the Castillion Shorelanders.*

*

At Castillion banquets a cask is placed on a balcony over the refection hall. Flexible pipes lead down to each place. The diner seats himself, fixes a pipe to the spigot in his cheek, so that he may drink continuously as he dines, so avoiding the drudgery of opening flasks, pouring out mugs or goblets, raising, tilting and setting down the mug or goblet, with the consequent danger of breakage or waste. By this process he both eats and drinks more efficiently, and thus gains time for song.

Cugel confidently approached the Leucidion and, assuming a jovial expression, waved his hand in greeting.

The ship-master watched impassively, making no response.

Cugel called out: “A fine ship! I see that she has been somewhat disabled.”

The ship-master at last responded: “I already have been notified in this regard.”

“Where will you sail when the damage is repaired?”

“Our usual run.”

“Which is?”

“To Latticut and The Three Sisters, or to Woy if cargo offers.”

“I am looking for passage to Almery,” said Cugel.

“You will not find it here,” said the ship-master with a grim smile. “I am brave but not rash.”

In a somewhat peevish voice Cugel protested: “Surely someone must sail south out of Port Perdusz! It is only logical!”

The ship-master shrugged and looked toward the sky. “If this is your reasoned opinion, then no doubt it is so.”

Cugel pushed impatiently down at the pommel of his sword. “How do you suggest that I make my journey south?”

“By sea?” The ship-master jerked his thumb toward the Avventura. “Talk to Wiskich; he is a Dilk and a madman, with the seamanship of a Blue Mountain sheep. Pay him terces enough and he will sail to Jehane itself.”

“This I know for a fact,” said Cugel. “Certain cargoes of value arrive at Port Perdusz from Saskervoy, and are then trans-shipped to Almery.”

The ship-master listened with little interest. “Most likely they move by caravan, such as Yadcomo’s or Varmous’. Or, for all I know, Wiskich sails them south in the Avventura. All Dilks are mad. They think they will live forever and ignore danger. Their ships carry mast-head lamps so that, when the sun goes out, they can light their way back across the sea to Dilclusa.”

Cugel started to put another question, but the ship-master had retreated into his cabin.

During the conversation, the small portly man in the uniform had emerged from the warehouse. He listened a moment to the conversation, then went at a brisk pace to the Avventura. He ran up the gangplank and disappeared into the cabin. Almost at once he returned down the gangplank where he halted a moment, then, ignoring Cugel, he returned at a placid and dignified gait into the warehouse.

Cugel proceeded to the Avventura, hoping at least to learn the itinerary proposed by Wiskich for his ship. At the foot of the gangplank a sign had been posted which Cugel read with great interest:

—

PASSENGERS FOR THE VOYAGE SOUTH, TAKE NOTE!

Ports of call are now definite. they are:

Mahaze and The Misty Isles

Lavrraki Real, Octorus, Kaiin

Various ports of Almery.

DO NOT BOARD SHIP WITHOUT TICKET!

SECURE TICKET FROM TICKET AGENT

IN GRAY WAREHOUSE ACROSS WHARF

—

With long strides Cugel crossed the wharf and entered the warehouse. An office to the side was identified by an old sign:

OFFICE OF THE TICKET AGENT

Cugel stepped into the office where, sitting behind a disreputable desk, he discovered the small portly man in the dark uniform, now making entries into a ledger.

The official looked up from his work. “Sir, your orders?”

“I wish to take passage aboard the Avventura for Almery. You may prepare me a ticket.”

The agent turned a page in the ledger and squinted dubiously at a set of entries. “I am sorry to say that the voyage is fully booked. A pity … Just a moment! There may be a cancellation! If so, you are in luck, as there will be no other voyage this year … Let me see. Yes! The Hierarch Hopple has taken ill.”

“Excellent! What is the fare?”

“The available billet is for first class accommodation and victualling, at two hundred terces.”

“What?” cried Cugel in anguish. “That is an outrageous fee! I have but forty-five terces to my pouch, and not a groat more!”

The agent nodded placidly. “Again you are in luck. The Hierarch placed a deposit of one hundred and fifty terces upon the ticket, which sum has been forfeited. I see no reason why we should not add your forty-five terces to this amount and even though it totals to only one hundred and ninety-five, you shall have your ticket, and I will make certain book-keeping adjustments.”

“That is most kind of you!” said Cugel. He brought the terces from his pouch, and paid them over to the agent, who returned him a slip of paper marked with characters strange to Cugel. “And here is your ticket.”

Cugel reverently folded the ticket and placed it in his pouch. He said: “I hope that I may go aboard the ship at once, as now I lack the means to pay for either food or shelter elsewhere.”

“I am sure that there will be no problem,” said the ticket agent. “But if you will wait here a moment I will run over to the ship and say a word to the captain.”

“That is good of you,” said Cugel, and composed himself in a chair. The agent departed the office.

Ten minutes passed, then twenty minutes, and half an hour. Cugel became restless and, going to the door, looked up and down the wharf, but the ticket agent was nowhere to be seen.

“Odd,” said Cugel. He noticed that the sign which had hung by the Avventura’s gangplank had disappeared. “Naturally!” Cugel told himself. “There is now a full complement of passengers, and no need for further advertisement.”

As Cugel watched, a tall red-haired man with muscular arms and legs came unsteadily along the dock, apparently having taken a drop too many at the inn. He lurched up the Avventura’s gang-plank and stumbled into the cabin.

“Ah!” said Cugel. “The explanation is clear. That is Captain Wiskich, and the agent has been awaiting his return. He will be coming down the gang-plank any moment now.”

Another ten minutes passed. The sun was now sinking low into the estuary and a dark pink gloom had descended upon Port Perdusz.

The captain appeared on the deck to supervise the loading of supplies from a dray. Cugel decided to wait no longer. He adjusted his hat to a proper angle, strode across the avenue, up the gangplank and presented himself to Captain Wiskich. “Sir, I am Cugel, one of your first-class passengers.”

“All my passengers are first-class!” declared Captain Wiskich. “You will find no pettifoggery aboard the Avventura!”

Cugel opened his mouth to stipulate the terms of his ticket, then closed it again; to remonstrate would seem an argument in favor of pettifoggery. He observed the provisions now being loaded aboard, which seemed of excellent quality. Cugel spoke approvingly: “The viands appear more than adequate. It would seem that you set a good table for your passengers!”

Captain Wiskich uttered a yelp of coarse laughter. “First things come first aboard the Avventura! The viands are choice indeed; they are for the table of myself and the crew. Passengers eat flat beans and semola, unless they pay a surcharge, for which they are allowed a supplement of kangol.”

Cugel heaved a deep sigh. “May I ask the length of the passage between here and Almery?”

Captain Wiskich looked at Cugel in drunken wonder. “Almery? Why should anyone sail to Almery? First one mires his ship in a morass of foul-smelling weeds a hundred miles across. The weeds grow over the ship and multitudes of insects crawl aboard. Beyond is the Gulf of Swirls, then the Serene Sea, now bedeviled by pirates of the Jhardine Coast. Then, unless one detours far west around the Isles of Cloud, he must pass through the Seleune and a whole carnival of dangers.”

Cugel became outraged. “Am I to understand that you are not sailing south to Almery?”

Captain Wiskich slapped his chest with a huge red hand. “I am a Dilk and know nothing of fear. Still, when Death enters the room by the door, I leave through the window. My ship will sail a placid course to Latticut, thence to Al Halambar, thence to Witches Nose and The Three Sisters, and so back to Port Perdusz. If you wish to make the passage, pay me your fare and find a hammock in the hold.”

“I have already bought my ticket!” stormed Cugel. “For the passage south to Almery, by way of Mahaze!”

“That pest-hole? Never. Let me see your ticket.”

Cugel presented that document afforded him by the purported ticket-agent. Captain Wiskich looked at it first from one angle, then another. “I know nothing of this. I cannot even read it. Can you?”

“That is inconsequential. You must take me to Almery or return my money, to the sum of forty-five terces.”

Captain Wiskich shook his head in wonder. “Port Perdusz is full of touts and swindlers; still, yours is a most imaginative and original scheme! But it falls short. Get off my ship at once.”

“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 invoice. “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!”

“Boats do not ordinarily sail on the dry land,” murmured the aesthete Clissum.

“Quite true,” said Varmous. “By Cugel’s magic, this vessel will fly safely and smoothly through the air.”

Cugel spoke in a serious voice: “Because of a regrettable oversight, too many passengers have been booked aboard the Avventura, and four persons will be required to ride in our ‘premier’ carriage, at the head of the column where they can enjoy an intimate view of the nearby landscape. In this connection let me ask: who among you suffers either vertigo or an obsessive fear of heights?”

Perruquil fairly danced to the spasmodic forces of his emotion. “I shall not change to inferior accommodations! I was first to pay over my terces and Varmous guaranteed me a top priority! If necessary, I can bring the constable, who witnessed the transaction; he will support my case.”

Varmous coughed significantly and Cugel coughed as well.

Ermaulde took Varmous aside and spoke a few urgent words in his ear, whereupon Varmous raised his hands to the sides of his head and pulled at his golden curls. He looked at Cugel and coughed sharply.

Clissum said: “For me there is no choice, only stark necessity! I cannot tolerate the road-side dust; I would wheeze and gasp and go into asthmatic convulsions.”

Perruquil seemed to find Clissum’s sonorous diction and epicurean mannerisms offensive. He snapped: “If indeed you are so asthenic, are you not rash to venture so far out along the caravan trails?”

Clissum, rolling his eyes to the sky, spoke in his richest tones: “As I spend the seconds of my life on this dying world, I am never dismal nor sodden with woe! There is too much glory, too much wonder! I am a pilgrim on a life-long quest; I search here, there, everywhere, for that elusive quality —”

Perruquil said impatiently: “How does this bear upon your asthma?”

“The connection is both implicit and explicit. I vowed that, come what may, I would sing my odes at the Festival, even if contorted in the face from an asthmatic fit. When I found that I might journey in the clean upper air, my rapture knew no bounds!”

“Bah,” muttered Perruquil. “Perhaps we all are asthmatic; Varmous has never troubled to ask.”

During the discussion, Varmous whispered into Cugel’s ear. “Ermaulde reveals that she is pregnant with child! She fears that, if subjected to the jolts and jars of the carriage, an untoward event might occur. There is no help for it: she must ride in cushioned ease aboard the Avventura.”

“I agree, in all respects,” said Cugel.

Their attention was attracted by Ivanello’s merry laugh. “I have full faith in Varmous! Why? Because I paid double fare for the best possible accommodation which, so he assured me, I could choose myself. I therefore select the after cabin. Cugel can bed himself down with the other teamsters.”

Cugel gave a distinct sniff, and spoke sharply: “In this case, Varmous referred only to the carriages. A lad like you will enjoy jumping on and off and gathering berries along the way. The Avventura has been reserved for persons of taste and breeding, such as Clissum and Ermaulde.”

“What of me?” cried the ecclesiarch Gaulph Rabi. “I am studied in four infinities and I sit as a full member of the Collegium. I am accustomed to special treatment. In order to perform my meditations I need a quiet place, such as the cabin.”

Nissifer, with a rustling and a sour smell, took two steps forward. She spoke in a curious husky whisper. “I will ride the ship. Whoever interferes will be tainted.”

Ivanello threw his head back and looked at the woman through half-closed lids. “‘Tainted’? How do you mean ‘tainted’?”

“Do you truly care to learn?” came the husky whisper.

Cugel, suddenly alert, looked around the group. Where were Doctor Lalanke and his wards? In sudden apprehension he ran around to the gangplank and bounded aboard.

His fears were well realized. The three mimes had secluded themselves in the after cabin. Doctor Lalanke stood in the doorway making signals. At the sight of Cugel he cried out in vexation: “Irritating little creatures! Once they decide upon a whim they are beyond control. Sometimes I am beside myself with frustration; I admit it freely!”

“Nevertheless, they must leave my cabin!”

Lalanke showed a wan smile. “I can do nothing. Persuade them to leave however you like.”

Cugel went into the cabin. The three maidens sat on the bunk watching him through large gray eyes. Cugel pointed to the door. “Out with you! This is the captain’s cabin, and I am the captain.”

The maidens with one accord drew up their legs and folded their arms around their knees. “Yes, yes, charming indeed,” said Cugel. “I am not sure whether or not I have the taste for such epicene little creatures. Under proper circumstances I am willing to experiment, but not in a group of three which would be distracting. So come now: remove your fragile little bodies, or I must eject you.”

The maidens sat still as owls.

Cugel heaved a sigh. “So it must be.” He started toward the bed but was interrupted by the impatient voice of Varmous. “Cugel? Where are you? We need to make decisions.”

Cugel went out on deck to find that all the ‘premier’ passengers had climbed the gangplank and were disputing possession of the cabins. Varmous told Cugel: “We can delay no longer! I will bring up the caravan and we will tow the boat behind the first carriage.”

Cugel cried out in fury: “There are too many passengers aboard! Four must take to the carriages! Meanwhile Doctor Lalanke and his troupe have taken my cabin!”

Varmous shrugged his ponderous shoulders. “Since you are captain, you need only issue the appropriate order. Meanwhile, remove the mooring lines all but one and prepare your magic.”

Varmous descended to the ground. “Wait!” cried Cugel. “Where is the steward to cook and serve our meals?”

“All in good time,” said Varmous. “You will prepare the noon lunch, as you have nothing better to do. Now pull up your gangplank! Make ready for departure!”

Seething with annoyance, Cugel tied his rope from the stem-head ring to the trunk of a cypress, then drew aboard the other lines. With the help of Doctor Lalanke and Clissum he pulled aboard the gangplank.

The caravan came along the road. Varmous loosened the rope from the cypress and the boat floated into the air. Varmous tied the rope to the back of the first carriage which was pulled by two farlocks of the bulky Black Ganghorn breed. Without further ado Varmous climbed aboard the carriage and the caravan set off along the river road.

Cugel looked about the deck. The passengers lined the rails, looking out over the countryside and congratulating themselves upon their mode of transport. A semblance of camaraderie had already come into being, affecting all save Nissifer who sat huddled in a rather peculiar posture beside the hold. Doctor Lalanke also stood somewhat apart. Cugel joined him by the rail. “Have you removed your wards from my cabin?”

Doctor Lalanke gravely shook his head. “They are curious little creatures, innocent and without guile, motivated only by the force of their own needs.”

“Surely they must obey your commands!”

Through some extraordinary flexibility of feature, Doctor Lalanke managed to seem both apologetic and amused. “So one would think. I often wonder how they regard me: certainly not as their master.”

“Most singular! How did they come into your custody?”

“I must inform you that I am a man of great wealth. I live beside the Szonglei River not far from Old Romarth. My manse is built of rare woods: tirrinch, gauze difono, skeel, purple trank, camfer and a dozen others. My life might well be one of ease and splendor, but, to validate the fact of my existence, I annotate the lives and works of the great magicians. My collection of memorabilia and curious adjuncts is remarkable.” As he spoke his eyes rested upon the scale ‘Spatterlight’, which Cugel used for a hat ornament.

Cugel asked cautiously: “And you yourself are a magician?”

“Alas! I lack the strength. I can grasp a trifling spell against stinging insects, and another to quiet howling dogs, but magic like yours, which wafts a ship through the air, is beyond my capacity. And while we are on the subject, what of the object you wear on your hat: it exhales an unmistakable flux!”

“The object has a curious history, which I will relate at a more convenient time,” said Cugel. “At this moment —”

“Of course! You are more interested in the ‘mimes’, as I call them, and this may well be the function for which they were contrived.”

“I am mostly interested in ejecting them from my cabin.”

“I will be brief, though I must revert to Grand Motholam of the late eighteenth aeon. The arch-magician Moel Lel Laio lived in a palace cut from a single moonstone. Even today, if you walk the Plain of Gray Shades, you may find a shard or two. When I excavated the old crypts I found a cambent box containing three figurines, of cracked and discolored ivory, each no larger than my finger. I took these objects to my manse and thought to wash away the grime, but they absorbed water as fast as I applied it, and I finally put them into basins to soak overnight. In the morning I found the three as you see them now. I used the names Sush, Skasja and Rlys after the Tracynthian Graces and tried to give them speech. Never have they uttered a sound, not even one to the other.

“They are strange creatures, oddly sweet, and I could detail their conduct for hours. I call them ‘mimes’ because when the mood comes on them they will posture and preen and simulate a hundred situations, none of which I understand. I have learned to let them do as they will; in return they allow me to care for them.”

“All very well,” said Cugel. “Now the mimes of the late eighteenth aeon must discover the reality of today, as embodied in the person of Cugel. I warn you, I may be forced to eject them bodily!”

Doctor Lalanke shrugged sadly. “I am sure that you will be as gentle as possible. What are your plans?”

“The time for planning is over!” Cugel marched to the door of the cabin and flung it wide. The three sat as before, staring at Cugel with wondering eyes.

Cugel stood to the side and pointed to the door. “Out! Go! Depart! Be off with you! I am ready to lie down on my bunk and take my rest.”

None of the three twitched so much as a muscle. Cugel stepped forward and took the arm of the maiden facing him on his right. Instantly the room fluttered with motion and before Cugel understood what was happening he was propelled from the cabin.

Cugel angrily ran back within and tried to seize the nearest of the mimes. She slipped sober-faced from his grasp, and again the room seemed full of fluttering figures: up, down, and around like moths. Finally Cugel managed to seize one from behind and, carrying her to the door, thrust her out on deck. At the same time he was thrust forward and instantly the ejected maiden returned into the cabin.

The other passengers had come to watch. All laughed and called out jocular remarks, save only Nissifer who paid no heed. Doctor Lalanke spoke as if in vindication: “You see how it goes? The more abrupt your conduct, the more determined their response.”

Cugel said through gritted teeth: “They will come out to eat; then we shall see.”

Doctor Lalanke shook his head. “That is an unreliable hope. Their appetites are slight; now and then they will take a bit of fruit, or a sweet-cake, or a sip of wine.”

“Shame, Cugel!” said Ermaulde. “Would you starve three poor girls already so pale and peaked?”

“If they dislike starvation they can leave my cabin!”

The ecclesiarch lifted high a remarkably long white forefinger, with knobbed knuckles and a yellow fingernail. “Cugel, you cultivate your senses as if they were hot-house plants. Why not, once and for all, break the tyranny of your internal organs? I will give you a tract to study.”

Clissum spoke: “In the last analysis the comfort of your passengers must supersede your own. Another matter! Varmous guaranteed a gracious cuisine of five or six courses. The sun has risen high and it is time that you set about your preparations for lunch.”

Cugel said at last: “If Varmous made this guarantee, let Varmous do the cooking.”

Perruquil set up an outcry, but Cugel would not relent. “My own problems are paramount!”

“Then what is our recourse?” demanded Perruquil.

Cugel pointed to the gunwale. “Slide down the rope and complain to Varmous! In any case, do not trouble me.”

Perruquil marched to the gunwale and raised a great shout.

Varmous turned up his broad face. “What is the difficulty?”

“It lies with Cugel. You must attend to the matter at once.”

Varmous patiently halted the caravan, pulled down the boat and climbed aboard. “Well then, what now?”

Perruquil, Clissum and Cugel spoke together, until Varmous held up his hands. “One at a time, if you please. Perruquil, what is your complaint?”

Perruquil pointed a trembling finger at Cugel. “He is like a stone! He shrugs off our demands for food and will not relinquish accommodations to those who paid dearly for them!”

With a sigh Varmous said: “Well then, Cugel? How do you account for your conduct?”

“In no way whatever. Evict those insane maidens from my cabin, or the Avventura no longer follows the caravan, but sails to best advantage on the wind.”

Varmous turned to Doctor Lalanke. “There is no help for it. We must submit to Cugel’s demand. Call them out.”

“But where then will we sleep?”

“There are three bunks in the crew’s forecastle for the maidens. There is another bunk in the forepeak carpenter shop, which is quiet and which will suit His Reverence Gaulph Rabi very well. We will put Ermaulde and Nissifer in the port cabins, Perruquil and Ivanello in the starboard cabins, while you and Clissum will share the double cabin. All problems are thereby solved, so let the maidens come forth.”

Doctor Lalanke said dubiously: “That is the nub of the matter! They will not come! Cugel tried twice to put them out; twice they ejected him instead.”

Ivanello, lounging to the side, said: “And a most entertaining spectacle it was! Cugel came flying out as if he were trying to leap a wide ditch.”

Doctor Lalanke said: “They probably misunderstood Cugel’s intentions. I suggest that the three of us enter together. Varmous, you may go first, then I will follow and Cugel can bring up the rear. Allow me to make the signs.”

The three entered the cabin to find the maidens seated demurely on the bunk. Doctor Lalanke made a series of signs; with every show of docility the three filed from the cabin.

Varmous shook his head in bewilderment. “I cannot understand the furore! Cugel, is this the extent of your complaint?”

“I will say this: the Avventura will continue to sail with the caravan.”

Clissum pulled at his plump chin. “Since Cugel refuses to cook, where and how do we partake of the fine cuisine you advertised?”

In a spiteful voice Perruquil said: “Cugel suggested that you yourself should do the cooking.”

“I have more serious responsibilities, as Cugel well knows,” said Varmous stiffly. “It seems that I must assign a steward to the ship.” Leaning over the gunwale he called: “Send Porraig aboard!”

The three maidens suddenly performed a giddy gyration, then a leaping, crouching ballet of postures, which they accented with mocking glances and flippant gestures toward Cugel. Doctor Lalanke interpreted the movements. “They are expressing an emotion or, better, an attitude. I would not dare attempt a translation.”

Cugel turned away indignantly, in time to glimpse a flutter of fusty brown satin and the closing of the door to his cabin.

In a fury Cugel called out to Varmous: “Now the woman Nissifer has taken over my cabin!”

“This fol-de-rol must stop!” said Varmous. He knocked on the door. “Madame Nissifer, you must remove to your own quarters!”

From within came a husky whisper, barely audible. “I will stay here, since I must have the dark.”

“That is impossible! We have already allotted this cabin to Cugel!”

“Cugel must go elsewhere.”

“Madame, I regret that Cugel and I must enter the cabin and conduct you to your proper berth.”

“I will place a taint.”

Varmous looked toward Cugel with puzzled blue eyes. “What does she mean by that?”

“I am not quite clear,” said Cugel. “But no matter! Caravan regulations must be enforced. This is our first concern.”

“Quite so! Otherwise we invite chaos.”

“Here, at least, we are agreed! Enter the cabin; I stand resolutely at your back!”

Varmous settled his blouse, squared the hat upon his golden curls, pushed the door ajar and stepped into the cabin, with Cugel on his heels … Varmous uttered a strangled cry and lurched back into Cugel, but not before Cugel discovered an acrid stench so vile and incisive that his teeth felt tender in their sockets.

Varmous stumbled to the rail, leaned back on his elbows and looked blearily across the deck. Then, with an air of great fatigue, he climbed over the gunwale and lowered himself to the ground. He spoke a few words to Porraig the steward, who thereupon boarded the vessel. Varmous slackened the rope and the Avventura once more floated high.

Cugel, after a moment’s reflection, approached Doctor Lalanke. “I am impressed by your gentility and in turn I will be generous. You and your wards are now assigned to the captain’s cabin.”

Doctor Lalanke became more saturnine than ever. “My wards would be confused. For all their frivolity, they are deeply sensitive and easily disturbed. The forecastle, as it turns out, is quite comfortable.”

“Just as you like.” Cugel sauntered forward, to find that the cabin formerly allotted to Nissifer had been taken by the ecclesiarch Gaulph Rabi, while Porraig the steward had settled into the carpenter shop.

Cugel made a hissing sound between his teeth. Finding an old cushion and a ragged tarpaulin, he contrived a tent on the foredeck, and there took up residence.

The river Chaing meandered down a wide valley demarcated into fields and folds by ancient stone walls, with groups of stone farmsteads huddling under black feather trees and indigo oaks. At the side, weather-worn hills basking in the red sunlight trapped lunes of black shadow in their hollow places.

All day the caravan followed the banks of the river, passing through the villages Goulyard, Trunash and Sklieve. At sundown camp was made in a meadow beside the river.

When the sun lurched low behind the hills, a great fire was built and the travelers gathered in a circle to warm themselves against the evening chill.

The ‘premier’ passengers dined together on coarse but hearty fare which even Clissum found acceptable — all except Nissifer, who kept to her cabin, and the mimes, who sat cross-legged beside the hull of the Avventura staring fascinated into the flames. Ivanello appeared in a costume of the richest quality: loose breeches of a gold, amber and black corduroy twill, fitted black boots, a loose fusk-ivory shirt embroidered with gold floriations. From his right ear, on three inches of chain, dangled a milk-opal sphere almost an inch in diameter: a gem which fascinated the three mimes to the edge of entrancement.

Varmous poured wine with a generous hand and the company became convivial. One of the ordinary passengers, a certain Ansk-Daveska called out: “Here we sit, strangers cast willy-nilly into each other’s company! I suggest that each of us in turn introduces himself and tells his story, of whom he is and something of his achievements.”

Varmous clapped his hands together. “Why not? I will start off. Madlick, serve more wine … My story is essentially simple. My father kept a fowl-run at Waterwan across the estuary and produced fine fowl for the tables of the locality. I thought to follow in his footsteps, until he took a new spouse who could not abide the odor of burning feathers. To please this woman my father gave up the fowl and thought to cultivate lirkfish in shallow ponds, which I excavated from the ground. But owls gathered in the trees and so annoyed the spouse that she went off with a dealer in rare incenses. We then operated a ferry service from Waterwan to Port Perdusz, until my father took too much wine and, falling asleep in the ferry, drifted out to sea. I then became involved in the caravan trade and you know all the rest.”

Gaulph Rabi spoke: “I hope that my life, in contrast to that of Varmous, will prove inspiring, especially to the younger persons present, or even to such marginal personalities as Cugel and Ivanello.”

Ivanello had gone to sit beside the mimes. He called out: “Now then! Insult me as you will, but do not pair me off with Cugel!”

Cugel refused to dignify the comment with his attention.

Gaulph Rabi showed only a faint cold smile. “I have lived a life of rigid discipline, and the benefits of my regimen must be clear to all. While still a catechumen at the Obtrank Normalcy I made a mark with the purity of my logic. As First Fellow of the Collegium, I composed a tract demonstrating that succulent gluttony sickens the spirit like dry rot in wood. Even now, when I drink wine I mix therein three drops of aspergantium which brings about a bitter taste. I now sit on the Council and I am a Pantologist of the Final Revelation.”

“An enviable achievement!” declared Varmous. “I drink to your continued success, and here is a goblet of wine without aspergantium, that you may join us in the toast without distraction from the vile flavors.”

“Thank you,” said Gaulph Rabi. “This is a legitimate usage.”

Cugel now addressed the group: “I am a grandee of Almery, where I am heir to an ancient estate. While striving against injustice I ran afoul of an evil magician who sent me north to die. Little did he realize that submission is foreign to my nature —” Cugel looked around the group. Ivanello tickled the mimes with a long straw. Clissum and Gaulph Rabi argued Vodel’s Doctrine of Isoptogenesis in a quiet undertone. Doctor Lalanke and Perruquil discussed the hostelries of Torqual.

Somewhat sulkily Cugel returned to his seat. Varmous, who had been planning the route with Ansk-Daveska, finally noticed and called out: “Well done, Cugel! Most interesting indeed! Madlick, I believe that two more jugs of the economy-grade wine are in order. It is not often that we celebrate such festivals along the trail! Lalanke, do you plan to present one of your tableaus?”

Doctor Lalanke made signals; the maidens, preoccupied with Ivanello’s nonsense, at last noticed the gesticulations. They leapt to their feet and for a few moments performed a set of dizzying saltations.

Ivanello came over to Doctor Lalanke and whispered a question into his ear.

Doctor Lalanke frowned. “The question is indelicate, or at least over-explicit, but the answer is ‘yes’.”

Ivanello put another discreet question, to which Doctor Lalanke’s response was definitely frosty. “I doubt if such ideas even enter their heads.” He turned away and resumed his conversation with Perruquil.

Ansk-Daveska brought out his concertina and played a merry tune. Ermaulde, despite Varmous’ horrified expostulations, jumped to her feet and danced a spirited jig.

When Ermaulde had finished dancing, she took Varmous aside: “My symptoms were gas pains only; I should have reassured you but the matter slipped my mind.”

“I am much relieved,” said Varmous. “Cugel will also be pleased, since, as captain of the Avventura, he would have been forced to serve as obstetrician.”

The evening proceeded. Each of the group had a story to tell or a concept to impart, and all sat while the fire burned down to embers.

Clissum, so it developed, had composed several odes and upon urging from Ermaulde recited six stanzas from an extended work entitled: O Time, Be Thou the Sorry Dastard? in dramatic fashion, with vocal cadenzas between each stanza.

Cugel brought out his packet of cards and offered to teach Varmous and Ansk-Daveska Skax, which Cugel defined as a game of pure chance. Both preferred to listen as Gaulph Rabi responded to the indolent questions of Ivanello: “… no confusion whatever! The Collegium is often known as ‘the Convergence’, or even as ‘the Hub’, in a jocular sense, of course. But the essence is identical.”

“I fear that you have the better of me,” said Ivanello. “I am lost in a jungle of terminology.”

“Aha! There speaks the voice of the layman! I will simplify!”

“Please do.”

“Think of a set of imaginary spokes, representing between twenty and thirty infinities — the exact number is still uncertain. They converge in a focus of pure sentience; they intermingle then diverge in the opposite direction. The location of this ‘Hub’ is precisely known; it is within the precincts of the Collegium.”

Varmous called out a question: “What does it look like?”

Gaulph Rabi gazed a long moment into the dying fire. “I think that I will not answer that question,” he said at last. “I would create as many false images as there were ears to hear me.”

“Half as many,” Clissum pointed out delicately.

Ivanello smiled lazily up toward the night sky, where Alphard the Lonely stood in the ascendant. “It would seem that a single infinity would suffice for your studies. Is it not grandiose to preempt so many?”

Gaulph Rabi thrust forward his great narrow face. “Why not study for a term or two at the Collegium and discover for yourself?”

“I will give thought to the matter.”

The second day was much like the first. The farlocks ambled steadily along the road and a breeze from the west pushed the Avventura slightly ahead of the foremost carriage.

Porraig the steward prepared an ample breakfast of poached oysters, sugar-glazed kumquats and scones sprinkled with the scarlet roe of land-crabs.

Nissifer remained immured in her cabin. Porraig brought a tray to the door and knocked. “Your breakfast, Madame Nissifer!”

“Take it away,” came a hoarse whisper from within. “I want no breakfast.”

Porraig shrugged and removed both the tray and himself as rapidly as possible, since the fetor of Nissifer’s ‘taint’ had not yet departed the area.

At lunch matters went in the same style and Cugel instructed Porraig to serve Nissifer no more meals until she appeared in the dining saloon.

During the afternoon Ivanello brought out a long-necked lute tied with a pale blue ribbon, and sang sentimental ballads to gentle chords from the lute. The mimes came to watch in wonder, and it became a topic of general discussion as to whether or not they heard the music, or even grasped the meaning of Ivanello’s activities. In any event, they lay on their bellies, chins resting on their folded fingers, watching Ivanello with grave gray eyes and, so it might seem, dumb adoration. Ivanello was emboldened to stroke Skasja’s short black hair. Instantly Sush and Rlys crowded close and Ivanello had to caress them as well.

Smiling and pleased with his success, Ivanello played and sang another ballad, while Cugel watched sourly from the foredeck.

Today the caravan passed only a single village, Port Titus, and the landscape seemed perceptibly wilder. Ahead rose a massive stone scarp through which the river had carved a narrow gorge, with the road running close alongside.

Halfway through the afternoon the caravan came upon a crew of timber-cutters, loading their timber aboard a barge. Varmous brought the caravan to a halt. Jumping down from the carriage he went to make inquiries and received unsettling news: a section of mountain had collapsed into the gorge, rendering the river road impassable.

The timber-cutters came out into the road and pointed north toward the hills. “A mile ahead you will come upon a side-road. It leads up through Tuner’s Gap and off across Ildish Waste. After two miles the road forks and you must veer to the right, around the gorge and in due course down to Lake Zaol and Kaspara Vitatus.”

Varmous turned to look up toward the gap. “And the road: is it safe or dangerous?”

The oldest timber-cutter said: “We have no exact knowledge, since no one has recently come down through Tuner’s Gap. This in itself may be a negative sign.”

Another timber-cutter spoke. “At the Waterman’s Inn I have heard rumors of a nomad band down from the Karst. They are said to be stealthy and savage, but since they fear the dark they will not attack by night. You are a strong company and should be safe unless they take you from ambush. An alert watch should be maintained.”

The youngest of the timber-cutters said: “What of the rock goblins? Are they not a serious menace?”

“Bah!” said the old man. “Such things are boogerboos, on the order of wind-stick devils, by which to frighten saucy children.”

“Still, they exist!” declared the young timber-cutter. “That, at least, is my best information.”

“Bah!” said the old cutter a second time. “At the Waterman’s Inn they drink beer by the gallon, and on their way home they see goblins and devils behind every bush.”

The second cutter said thoughtfully: “I will reveal my philosophy. It is better to keep watch for rock-goblins and wind-stick devils and never see them, than not to keep watch so that they leap upon you unawares.”

The old cutter made a peremptory sign. “Return to work! Your gossip is delaying this important caravan!” And to Varmous: “Proceed by Tuner’s Gap. A week and a day should bring you into Kaspara Vitatus.”

Varmous returned to the carriage. The caravan moved forward. After a mile a side-road turned off toward Tuner’s Gap, and Varmous reluctantly departed the river-road.

The side-road wound back and forth up over the hills to Tuner’s Gap, then turned out across a flat plain.

The time was now almost sunset. Varmous elected to halt for the night where a stream issued from a copse of black deodars. He arranged the wagons and carriages with care, and set out a guard-fence of metal strands which, when activated, would discharge streamers of purple lightning toward hostile intruders, thus securing the caravan against night-wandering hoons, erbs and grues.

Once again a great fire was built, with wood broken from the deodars. The ‘premier’ passengers partook of three preliminary courses served by Porraig aboard the Avventura, then joined the ‘ordinaries’ for bread, stew and sour greens around the fire.

Varmous served wine, but with a hand less lavish than on the previous evening.

After supper Varmous addressed the group. “As everyone knows, we have made a detour, which should cause us neither inconvenience nor, so I trust, delay. However, we now travel the Ildish Waste, a land which is strange to me. I feel compelled to take special safeguards. You will notice the guard-fence, which is intended to deter intruders.”

Ivanello, lounging to the side, could not restrain a facetious remark: “What if intruders leap the fence?”

Varmous paid him no heed. “The fence is dangerous! Do not approach it. Doctor Lalanke, you must instruct your wards as best you can of this danger.”

“I will do so.”

“The Ildish Waste is a wild territory. We may encounter nomads down from the Karst or even the Great Erm itself. These folk, either men or half-men, are unpredictable. Therefore I am setting up a system of vigilant look-outs. Cugel, who rides the Avventura and makes his headquarters at the bow, shall be our chief look-out. He is keen, sharp-eyed and suspicious; also he has nothing better to do. I will watch from my place on the forward carriage, and Slavoy, who rides the last wagon, shall be the rear-guard. But it is Cugel, with his commanding view across the landscape, to whom we shall look for protection. That is all I wish to say. Let the festivities proceed.”

Clissum cleared his throat and stepped forward, but before he could recite so much as a syllable, Ivanello took up his lute and, banging lustily at the strings, sang a rather vulgar ballad. Clissum stood with a pained smile frozen on his face, then turned away and resumed his seat.

A wind blew down from the north, causing the flames to leap and the smoke to billow. Ivanello cried out a light-hearted curse. He put down his lute and began to toy with the mimes, whom, as before, he had hypnotized with his music. Tonight he became bolder in his caresses, and encountered no protest so long as he evenly shared his attentions.

Cugel watched with disapproval. He muttered to Doctor Lalanke: “Ivanello is persuading your wards to laxity.”

“That may well be his intent,” agreed Doctor Lalanke.

“And you are not concerned?”

“Not in the least.”

Clissum once again came forward, and holding high a scroll of manuscript, looked smilingly around the group.

Ivanello, leaning back into the arms of Sush, with Rlys pressed against him on one side and Skasja on the other, bent his head over his lute and drew forth a series of plangent chords.

Clissum seemed on the verge of calling out a quizzical complaint when the wind rolled a cloud of smoke into his face and he retreated coughing. Ivanello, head bent so that his chestnut curls glinted in the firelight, smiled and played glissandos on his lute.

Ermaulde indignantly marched around the fire, to stand looking down at Ivanello. In a brittle voice she said: “Clissum is about to chant one of his odes. I suggest that you put aside your lute and listen.”

“I will do so with pleasure,” said Ivanello.

Ermaulde turned and marched back the way she had come. The three mimes jumped to their feet and strutted behind her, cheeks puffed out, elbows outspread, bellies thrust forward and knees jerking high. Ermaulde, becoming aware of the activity, turned, and the mimes capered away, to dance for five seconds with furious energy, like maenads, before they once again flung themselves down beside Ivanello.

Ermaulde, smiling a fixed smile, went off to converse with Clissum, and both sent scathing glances toward Ivanello, who, putting aside his lute, now gave free rein to his fondling of the mimes. Far from resenting his touch, they pressed ever more closely upon him. Ivanello bent his head and kissed Rlys full on the mouth; instantly both Sush and Skasja thrust forward their faces for like treatment.

Cugel gave a croak of disgust. “The man is insufferable!”

Doctor Lalanke shook his head. “Candidly, I am surprised by their complaisance. They have never allowed me to touch them. Ah well, I see that Varmous has become restless; the evening draws to a close.”

Varmous, who had risen to his feet, stood listening to the sounds of night. He went to inspect the guard fence, then addressed the travellers. “Do not become absent-minded! Do not walk in your sleep! Make no rendezvous in the forest! I am now going to my bed and I suggest the same for all of you, since tomorrow we travel long and far across the Ildish Waste.”

Clissum would not be denied. Summoning all his dignity, he stepped forward. “I have heard several requests for another of my pieces, to which I shall now respond.”

Ermaulde clapped her hands, but many of the others had gone off to their beds.

Clissum pursed his mouth against vexation. “I will now recite my Thirteenth Ode, subtitled: Gaunt Are the Towers of My Mind.” He arranged himself in a suitable posture, but the wind came in a great gust, causing the fire to wallow and flare. Clouds of smoke roiled around the area and those still present hurried away. Clissum threw his hands high in despair and retired from the scene.

Cugel spent a restless night. Several times he heard a distant cry expressing dejection, and once he heard a chuckling hooting conversation from the direction of the forest.

Varmous aroused the caravan at an early hour, while the pre-dawn sky still glowed purple. Porraig the steward served a breakfast of tea, scones and a savory mince of clams, barley, kangol and pennywort. As usual, Nissifer failed to make an appearance and this morning Ivanello was missing as well.

Porraig called down to Varmous, suggesting that he send Ivanello aboard for his breakfast, but a survey of the camp yielded nothing. Ivanello’s possessions occupied their ordinary places; nothing seemed to be missing except Ivanello himself.

Varmous, sitting at a table, made a ponderous investigation, but no one could supply any information whatever. Varmous examined the ground near the guard fence, but discovered no signs of disturbance. He finally made an announcement. “Ivanello for all practical purposes has vanished into thin air. I discover no hint of foul play; still I cannot believe that he disappeared voluntarily. The only explanation would seem to be baneful magic. In truth, I am at a loss for any better explanation. Should anyone entertain theories, or even suspicions, please communicate them to me. Meanwhile, there is no point remaining here. We must keep to our schedule, and the caravan will now get under way. Drivers, bring up your farlocks! Cugel, to your post at the bow!”

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 himself 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?”

“It has nothing to do with me! The deed occurred aboard your vessel the Avventura.”

Cugel again thrust the bill upon Varmous. “Then at least you must serve this accounting upon Doctor Lalanke and levy the payment.”

Varmous pulled at his chin. “That is not the correct procedure. You are master of the Avventura. Hence, in your official capacity, you must summon Doctor Lalanke to a hearing and there levy whatever charges you think proper.”

Cugel looked dubiously toward Doctor Lalanke, where he stood in conversation with Clissum. “I suggest that we approach Doctor Lalanke together, and join our mutual authorities the better to compel justice.”

Varmous backed away another step. “Do not involve me! I am only Varmous the wagoneer, who rolls innocently along the ground.”

Cugel proposed further arguments, but Varmous put on a face of crafty obstinacy and would not be moved. Cugel finally went to a table where he drank wine and stared glumly into the fire.

The evening passed slowly. A somber mood oppressed the entire camp; tonight there were neither recitations, songs nor jokes, and the company sat around the fire, conversing in desultory undertones. An unspoken question occupied all minds: “Who will be the next to disappear?”

The fire burned low, and the company reluctantly went off to their beds, with many a glance over their shoulders and an exchange of nervous comments.

So the night passed. The star Achernar moved up the eastern quadrant and declined into the west. The farlocks grunted and snuffled as they slept. Far out on the waste a blue light flickered into existence for a few seconds, then died and was seen no more. The rim of the east flushed first purple, then the red of dark blood. After several vain attempts, the sun broke free of the horizon and floated into the sky.

With the rebuilding of the fire the caravan came to life. Breakfast was set out; farlocks were brought to their traces and preparations were made for departure.

Aboard the Avventura the passengers made their appearance. Each in turn looked from face to face as if half-expecting another disappearance. Porraig the steward served breakfast to all hands, and carried a tray to the aft cabin. He knocked. “Madame Nissifer, I have brought your breakfast. We are worried as to your health.”

“I am well,” came the whisper. “I wish nothing. You may go away.”

After breakfast Cugel took Doctor Lalanke aside. “I have taken counsel with Varmous,” said Cugel. “He assures me that, as master of the Avventura, I may make a demand on you for damages suffered as a result of your negligence. Here is the bill of account. You must pay over this sum at once.”

Doctor Lalanke gave the bill a brief inspection. His black eyebrows peaked even higher than ever. “This item: amazing! ‘Boot dressing, one pot. Value: one thousand terces.’ Are you serious?”

“Naturally! The boot dressing contained a rare wax.”

Doctor Lalanke returned the bill. “You must present this bill to the persons at fault: namely, Sush, Skasja and Rlys.”

“What good will that do?”

Doctor Lalanke shrugged. “I could not hazard a guess. Still, I disassociate myself from the entire affair.” He bowed and strolled off to join Clissum, in whom he found qualities compatible with his own.

Cugel went forward to the bow, where Shilko was already on duty. Shilko again showed a voluble tendency. Cugel, as before, replied in terse terms, and Shilko at last fell silent. The caravan meanwhile had moved into a region where hills rose to either side, with the road following the course of the valley between.

Shilko looked along the barren hillsides. “I see nothing in these parts to worry us. What of you, Cugel?”

“At the moment, I see nothing.”

Shilko took a last look around the landscape. “Excuse me a moment; I have a message for Porraig.” He departed and soon, from the galley, Cugel heard sounds of conviviality.

Somewhat later, Shilko returned, lurching to the wine he had consumed. He called out in a hearty voice: “Ahoy there, Captain Cugel! How go the hallucinations?”

“I do not understand your allusion,” said Cugel frigidly.

“No matter! Such things can happen to anyone.” Shilko scanned the hillsides. “Have you anything to report?”

“Nothing.”

“Very good! That’s the way to handle this job! A quick look here and a sharp glance there, then down to the galley for a taste of wine.”

Cugel made no comment and Shilko, from boredom, took to cracking his knuckles.

At the noon meal Shilko again consumed more than was perhaps advisable, and during the afternoon became drowsy. “I will just catch forty winks to calm my nerves,” he told Cugel. “Keep a close watch on the lizards and call me if anything more important appears.” He crawled into Cugel’s tent and presently began to snore.

Cugel leaned on the gunwale, formulating schemes to repair his fortunes. None seemed feasible, especially since Doctor Lalanke knew a few spells of elementary magic … Peculiar, those dark shapes along the ridge! What could cause them to jerk and jump in such a fashion? As if tall black shadows were thrusting quickly high to peer down at the caravan, then dodging back down out of sight.

Cugel reached down and pulled at Shilko’s leg. “Rouse yourself!”

Shilko emerged from the tent blinking and scratching his head. “What now? Has Porraig brought my afternoon wine?”

Cugel indicated the ridge. “What do you see?”

Shilko looked with red-rimmed eyes along the sky-line, but the shadows were now crouched behind the hills. He turned a quizzical gaze upon Cugel. “What do you perceive? Goblins disguised as pink rats? Or centipedes dancing the kazatska?”

“Neither,” said Cugel shortly. “I saw what I believe to be a band of wind-stick devils. They are now in hiding on the far side of the hill.”

Shilko peered cautiously at Cugel and moved a step away. “Most interesting! How many did you see?”

“I could make no count, but we had best call out the alarm to Varmous.”

Shilko looked again along the sky-line. “I see nothing. Might your nerves once more be playing you tricks?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Well, please make certain before you call me again.” Shilko dropped to his hands and knees and crawled into the tent. Cugel looked down to Varmous, riding placidly on the lead carriage. He opened his mouth to call down the alarm, then gloomily thought better of it and resumed his vigil.

Minutes passed, and Cugel himself began to doubt the sightings.

The road passed beside a long narrow pond of alkali-green water which nourished several thickets of bristling salt-bush. Cugel leaned forward and focused his gaze upon the bushes, but their spindly stalks provided no cover. What of the lake itself? It seemed too shallow to hide any consequential danger.

Cugel straightened himself with a sense of work well done. He glanced up to the ridge, to discover that the wind-stick devils had reappeared in greater number than before, craning high to peer down at the caravan, then ducking quickly from view.

Cugel pulled at Shilko’s leg. “The wind-stick devils have returned in force!”

Shilko backed from the tent and heaved himself erect. “What is it this time?”

Cugel indicated the ridge. “Look for yourself!”

The wind-stick devils, however, had completed their survey, and Shilko saw nothing. This time he merely shrugged wearily and prepared to resume his rest. Cugel however went to the gunwale and shouted down to Varmous: “Wind-stick devils, by the dozen! They gather on the other side of the ridge!”

Varmous halted his carriage. “Wind-stick devils? Where is Shilko?”

“I am here, naturally, keeping a keen look-out.”

“What of these ‘wind-stick devils’? Have you noticed them?”

“In all candour, and with due respect to Cugel, I must say that I have not seen them.”

Varmous chose his words carefully. “Cugel, I am obliged to you for your alert warning, but this time I think that we will go forward. Shilko, continue the good work!”

The caravan proceeded along the road. Shilko yawned and prepared to resume his rest. “Wait!” cried Cugel in frustration. “Notice that gap in the hills yonder? If the devils choose to follow us, they must jump across the gap, and you will be sure to see them.”

Shilko grudgingly resigned himself to the wait. “These fancies, Cugel, are a most unhealthy sign. Consider to what sorry extremes they may lead! For your own sake you must curb the affliction … Now: there is the gap! We are coming abreast. Look with great attention and tell me when you see devils jumping across.”

The caravan drew abreast of the gap. In a flurry of great smoky shapes, the wind-stick devils leapt over the hill and down upon the caravan.

“Now!” said Cugel.

For a frozen instant Shilko stood with a trembling jaw, then he bawled down to Varmous: “Beware! Wind-stick devils are on the attack!”

Varmous failed to hear properly and looked up toward the boat. He discovered a blur of hurtling dark shapes, but now defense was impossible. The devils tramped back and forth among the wagons while teamsters and passengers fled into the chilly waters of the pond.

The devils wreaked all convenient damage upon the caravan, overturning wagons and carriages, kicking off wheels, scattering stores and baggage. Next, they turned their attention to the Avventura, but Cugel caused the rope to lengthen and the vessel floated high. The devils jumped up and clawed at the hull, but fell short by fifty feet. Giving up the attack, they seized all the farlocks, tucking them one under each arm, then jumped over the hill and were gone.

Cugel lowered the boat, while teamsters and passengers emerged from the pond. Varmous had been trapped under his overturned carriage and all hands were required to extricate him.

With difficulty Varmous raised himself to stand upon his bruised legs. He surveyed the damage and gave a despondent groan. “This is beyond understanding! Why are we so cursed?” He looked around the bedraggled company. “Where are the look-outs? … Cugel? Shilko? Be good enough to stand forward!”

Cugel and Shilko diffidently showed themselves. Shilko licked his lips and spoke earnestly: “I called out the alarm; all can testify to this! Otherwise the disaster might have been far worse!”

“You were dilatory; the devils were already upon us! What is your explanation?”

Shilko looked all around the sky. “It may sound strange but Cugel wanted to wait until the devils jumped across the gap.”

Varmous turned to Cugel. “I am absolutely bewildered! Why would you not warn us of the danger?”

“I did so, if you will recall! When I first saw the devils, I considered calling the alarm, but —”

“This is most confusing,” said Varmous. “You saw the devils previous to the occasion of your warning?”

“Certainly, but —”

Varmous, grimacing in pain, held up his hand. “I have heard enough. Cugel, your conduct has been unwise, to say the very least.”

“That is not a sound judgment!” cried Cugel hotly.

Varmous made a weary gesture. “Is it not immaterial? The caravan is destroyed! We are left helpless out on the Ildish Waste! In another month the wind will blow sand over our bones.”

Cugel looked down to his boots. They were scuffed and dull, but magic might still reside in them. He pitched his voice in tones of dignity. “The caravan can still proceed, through the courtesy of the excoriated and savagely denounced Cugel.”

Varmous spoke sharply: “Please convey your exact meaning!”

“It is possible that magic still remains in my boots. Make ready your wagons and carriages. I will raise them into the air and we will continue as before.”

Varmous at once became energetic. He instructed his teamsters, who brought as much order as possible to their wagons and carriages. Ropes were tied to each and the passengers took their places. Cugel, walking from vehicle to vehicle, kicked to apply that levitational force still clinging to his boots. The wagons and carriages drifted into the air; the teamsters took the ropes and waited for the signal. Varmous, whose bruised muscles and sprained joints prevented him from walking, elected to ride aboard the Avventura. Cugel started to follow, but Varmous stopped him.

“We need only a single look-out, a man of proved judgment, who will be Shilko. If I were not crippled, I would gladly tow the ship, but that duty must now devolve upon you. Take up the rope, Cugel, and lead the caravan along the road at your best speed.”

Recognizing the futility of protest, Cugel seized the rope and marched off down the road, towing the Avventura behind him.

At sunset, the wagons and carriages were brought down and camp was made for the night. Slavoy, the chief teamster, under the supervision of Varmous, set out the guard-fence; a fire was built and wine was served to defeat the gloom of the company.

Varmous made a terse address. “We have suffered a serious set-back and much damage has been done. Still, it serves no purpose to point the finger of blame. I have made calculations and taken advice from Doctor Lalanke, and I believe that four days of travel will bring us to Kaspara Vitatus, where repairs can be made. Until then, I hope that no one suffers undue inconvenience. A final remark! The events of today are now in the past, but two mysteries still oppress us: the disappearances of Ivanello and Ermaulde. Until these matters are clarified, all must be careful! Wander nowhere alone! At any suspicious circumstance, be sure to notify me.”

The evening meal was served and a mood of almost frenetic gaiety overcame the company. Sush, Skasja and Rlys performed a set of bounding, hopping exercises and presently it became clear that they were mimicking the wind-stick devils.

Clissum became elevated by wine. “Is it not wonderful?” he cried out. “This excellent vintage has stimulated all three segments of my mind, so that while one observes this fire and the Ildish Waste beyond, another composes exquisitely beautiful odes, while the third weaves festoons of imaginary flowers to cover the nudity of passing nymphs, also imaginary!”

The ecclesiarch Gaulph Rabi listened to Clissum with disapproval and put four drops of aspergantium, rather than the customary three, into his own wine. “Is it necessary to go to such inordinate extremes?”

Clissum raised a wavering finger. “For the freshest flowers and the most supple nymphs, the answer is: emphatically yes!”

Gaulph Rabi spoke severely: “At the Collegium we feel that contemplation of even a few infinities is stimulation enough, at least for persons of taste and culture.” He turned away to continue a conversation with Perruquil. Clissum mischievously sprinkled the back of Gaulph Rabi’s gown with a pervasively odorous sachet, which caused the austere ecclesiarch great perplexity to the end of the evening.

With the dying of the embers, the mood of the company again became subdued, and only reluctantly did they go off to their beds.

Aboard the Avventura Varmous and Shilko now occupied the berths which had been those of Ivanello and Ermaulde, while Cugel kept to his tent on the bow.

The night was quiet. Cugel, for all his fatigue, was unable to sleep. Midnight was marked by a muffled chime of the ship’s clock.

Cugel dozed. An unknown period of time went by.

A small sound aroused Cugel to full alertness. For a moment he lay staring up into the dark; then, groping for his sword, he crawled to the opening of the tent.

The mast-head light cast a pale illumination along the deck. Cugel saw nothing unusual. No sound could be heard. What had aroused him?

For ten minutes Cugel crouched by the opening, then slowly returned to his cushion.

Cugel lay awake … The faintest of sounds reached his ears: a click, a creak, a scrape … Cugel again crawled to the opening of his tent.

The mast-head lamp cast as many shadows as puddles of light. One of the shadows moved and sidled out across the deck. It seemed to carry a parcel.

Cugel watched with an eery prickling at the back of his neck. The shadow jerked to the rail and with a most peculiar motion tossed its burden over the side. Cugel groped back into his tent for his sword, then crawled out upon the fore-deck.

He heard a scrape. The shadow had merged with other shadows, and could no longer be seen.

Cugel crouched in the dark and presently thought to hear a faint squealing sound, abruptly stilled.

The sound was not repeated.

After a time Cugel hunched back into the tent, and there kept vigil, cramped and cold … With eyes open, he slept. A maroon beam from the rising sun glinted into his open eyes, startling him into full awareness.

With groans for twinges and aches, Cugel hauled himself erect. He donned his cloak and hat, buckled the sword around his waist and limped down to the main deck.

Varmous was only just emerging from his berth when Cugel peered in through the doorway. “What do you want?” growled Varmous. “Am I not even allowed time to adjust my garments?”

Cugel said: “Last night I saw sights and I heard sounds. I fear that we may discover another disappearance.”

Varmous uttered a groan and a curse. “Who?”

“I do not know.”

Varmous pulled on his boots. “What did you see and what did you hear?”

“I saw a shadow. It threw a parcel into the thicket. I heard a clicking sound, and then the scrape of a door. Later I heard a cry.”

Varmous donned his rough cape, then pulled the flat broad-brimmed hat down over his golden curls. He limped out on deck. “I suppose that first of all we should count noses.”

“All in good time,” said Cugel. “First let us look into the parcel, which may tell us much or nothing.”

“As you wish.” The two descended to the ground. “Now then: where is the thicket?”

“Over here, behind the hull. If I had not been witness, we would never have known.”

They circled the ship and Cugel clambered into the black fronds of the thicket. Almost at once he discovered the parcel and gingerly pulled it out into the open. The two stood looking down at the object, which was wrapped in soft blue fabric. Cugel touched it with his toe. “Do you recognize the stuff?”

“Yes. It is the cloak favored by Perruquil.”

They looked down at the parcel in silence. Cugel said: “We now can guess the identity of the missing person.”

Varmous grunted. “Open the parcel.”

“You may do so if you like,” said Cugel.

“Come now, Cugel!” protested Varmous. “You know that my legs cause me pain when I stoop!”

Cugel grimaced. Crouching, he twitched at the binding. The folds of the cloak fell back, to reveal two bundles of human bones, cleverly interlocked to occupy a minimum volume. “Amazing!” whispered Varmous. “Here is either magic or sheer paradox! How else can skull and pelvis be interlocked in such intricate fashion?”

Cugel was somewhat more critical. “The arrangement is not altogether elegant. Notice: Ivanello’s skull is nested into Ermaulde’s pelvis; similarly with Ermaulde’s skull and Ivanello’s pelvis. Ivanello especially would be annoyed by the carelessness.”

Varmous muttered: “Now we know the worst. We must take action.”

With one accord the two looked up to the hull of the ship. At the port-hole giving into the aft cabin there was movement as the hanging was drawn aside, and for an instant a luminous eye looked down at them. Then the curtain dropped and all was as before.

Varmous and Cugel returned around the ship. Varmous spoke in a heavy voice. “You, as master of the Avventura, will wish to lead the decisive action. I will of course cooperate in every respect.”

Cugel pondered. “First we must remove the passengers from the ship. Then you must bring up a squad of armed men and lead them to the door, where you will issue an ultimatum. I will stand steadfast nearby, and —”

Varmous held up his hand. “By reason of sore legs I cannot issue such an ultimatum.”

“Well then, what do you suggest?”

Varmous considered a moment or two, then proposed a plan which required, in essence, that Cugel, using the full authority of his rank, should advance upon the door and, if need be, force an entrance — a plan which Cugel rejected for technical reasons.

At last the two formulated a program which both considered feasible. Cugel went to order the ship’s passengers to the ground. As he had expected, Perruquil was not among their number.

Varmous assembled and instructed his crew. Shilko, armed with a sword, was posted as guard before the door, while Cugel mounted to the after-deck. A pair of trained carpenters climbed upon tables and boarded over the portholes, while others nailed planks across the door, barring egress.

From the lake buckets of water were transferred along a human chain and passed up to the afterdeck, where the water was poured into the cabin through a vent.

From within the cabin an angry silence prevailed. Then presently, as water continued to pour in through the vent, a soft hissing and clicking began to be heard, and then a furious whisper: “I declare a nuisance! Let the water abate!”

Shilko, before mounting guard, had stepped into the galley for a few swallows of wine to warm his blood. Posturing and waving his sword before the door, he cried out: “Black hag, your time has come! You shall drown like a rat in a sack!”

For a period the sounds within were stilled, and nothing could be heard but the splash of water into water. Then once again: a hissing and clicking, at an ominous pitch, and a set of rasping vocables.

Shilko, emboldened both by wine and the planks across the door, called out: “Odorous witch! Drown more quietly, or I, Shilko, will cut out both your tongues!” He flourished his sword and cut a caper, and all the while the buckets were busy.

From within the cabin something pressed at the door, but the planks held secure. Again from within came a heavy thrust; the planks groaned and water spurted through cracks. Then a third impact, and the planks burst apart. Foul-smelling water washed out upon the deck; behind came Nissifer. Clothed in neither gown, hat nor veil, she stood revealed as a burly black creature of hybrid character, half sime and half bazil, with a bristle of black fur between the eyes. From a rusty black thorax depended the segmented abdomen of a wasp; down the back hung sheaths of black chitin-like wing-cases. Four thin black arms ended in long thin human hands; thin shanks of black chitin and peculiar padded feet supported the thorax with the abdomen hanging between.

The creature took a step forward. Shilko emitted a strangled yell and, stumbling backwards, fell to the deck. The creature jumped forward to stand on his arms, then, squatting, drove its sting into his chest. Shilko uttered a shrill cry, rolled clear, turned several frantic somersaults, fell to the ground, bounded blindly to the lake and thrashed here and there in the water, and at last became still. Almost at once the corpse began to bloat.

Aboard the Avventura, the creature named Nissifer turned and started to re-enter the cabin, as if satisfied that it had rebuffed its enemies. Cugel, on the afterdeck, slashed down with his sword and the blade, trailing a thousand sparkling motes, cut through Nissifer’s left eye and into the thorax. Nissifer whistled in pain and surprise, and stood back the better to identify its assailant. It croaked: “Ah Cugel! You have hurt me; you shall die by a stench.”

With a great pounding flutter of wing-cases, Nissifer sprang up to the afterdeck. In a panic, Cugel retreated behind the binnacle. Nissifer advanced, the segmented abdomen squirming up and forward between the thin black legs, revealing the long yellow sting.

Cugel picked up one of the empty buckets and flung it into Nissifer’s face; then, while Nissifer fought away the bucket, Cugel jumped forward and with a great sweep, cut the vincus, so as to separate abdomen from thorax.

The abdomen, falling to the deck, writhed and worked and presently rolled down the companion-way to the deck.

Nissifer ignored the mutilation and came forward, dripping a thick yellow liquid from its vincus. It lurched toward the binnacle and thrust out its long black arms. Cugel backed away, hacking at the arms. Nissifer shrieked and lunging forward, swept the sword from Cugel’s grasp.

Nissifer stepped forward with clicking wing-cases, and seizing Cugel, drew him close. “Now, Cugel, you will learn the meaning of fetor.”

Cugel bent his head and thrust ‘Spatterlight’ against Nissifer’s thorax.

When Varmous, sword in hand, climbed the companionway, he found Cugel leaning limp-legged against the taff-rail.

Varmous looked around the afterdeck. “Where is Nissifer?”

“Nissifer is gone.”

Four days later the caravan came down from the hills to the shores of Lake Zaol. Across the glimmering water eight white towers half-hidden in pink haze marked the site of Kaspara Vitatus, sometimes known as ‘The City of Monuments’.

The caravan circled the lake and approached the city by the Avenue of the Dynasties. After passing under a hundred or more of the famous monuments, the caravan arrived at the center of town. Varmous led the way to his usual resort, the Kanbaw Inn, and the weary travelers prepared to refresh themselves.

While ordering the cabin occupied by Nissifer, Cugel had come upon a leather sack containing over a hundred terces, which he took into his private possession. Varmous, however, insisted upon helping Cugel explore the effects of Ivanello, Ermaulde, and Perruquil. They discovered another three hundred terces which they shared in equal parts. Varmous took possession of Ivanello’s wardrobe, while Cugel was allowed to keep the milk-opal ear-bangle, which he had coveted from the first.

Cugel also offered Varmous full title to the Avventura for five hundred terces. “The price is an absolute bargain! Where else will you find a sound vessel, fully outfitted and well-found, for such a price?”

Varmous only chuckled. “If you offered to provide me a goiter of superlative size for ten terces, would I buy, bargain or not?”

“We have here a distinctly different proposition,” Cugel pointed out.

“Bah! The magic is failing. Every day the ship sags more heavily to the ground. In the middle of the wilderness what good is a ship which will neither float in the air nor sail in the sand? In a foolhardy spirit, I will offer you a hundred terces, no more.”

“Absurd!” scoffed Cugel, and there the matter rested.

Varmous went out to see to the repair of his wagons and discovered a pair of lake fishermen inspecting the Avventura with interest. In due course Varmous succeeded in obtaining a firm offer for the vessel, to the amount of six hundred and twenty-five terces.

Cugel, meanwhile, drank beer at the Kanbaw Inn. As he sat musing, into the common room strode a band of seven men with harsh features and rough voices. Cugel looked twice at the leader, then a third time, and finally recognized Captain Wiskich, one-time owner of the Avventura. Captain Wiskich evidently had picked up the trail of the vessel and had come in hot pursuit to recover his property.

Cugel quietly departed the common room and went in search of Varmous, who, as it happened, was also on the look-out for Cugel. They met in front of the inn. Varmous wanted to drink beer in the common room, but Cugel led him across the avenue to a bench from which they could watch the sun set into Lake Zaol.

Presently the Avventura was mentioned and with surprising ease agreement was reached. Varmous paid over two hundred and fifty terces for full title to the vessel.

The two parted on the best of terms. Varmous went off to locate the fishermen, while Cugel, disguising himself in a hooded cloak and a false beard, took lodging at the Green Star Inn, using the identity Tichenor, a purveyor of antique grave-markers.

During the evening a great tumult was heard, first from the neighborhood of the docks and then at the Kanbaw Inn, and persons coming into the Green Star common room identified the rioters as a group of local fishermen in conflict with a band of newly arrived travelers, with the eventual involvement of Varmous and his teamsters.

Order was restored at last. Not long after, two men looked into the Green Star common room. One called out in a rough voice: “Is there anyone here named Cugel?”

The other spoke with more restraint: “Cugel is urgently needed. If he is here, let him step forward.”

When no one responded the two men departed and Cugel retired to his room.

In the morning Cugel went to a nearby hostlery where he purchased a steed for his journey south. The ostler’s boy then conducted him to a shop where Cugel bought a new pouch and a pair of saddle-bags into which he packed necessities for his journey. His hat had become shabby and also carried a stench where it had pressed against Nissifer. Cugel removed ‘Spatterlight’, wrapped it in heavy cloth and tucked it into his new pouch. He bought a short-billed cap of dark green velvet, which, while far from ostentatious, pleased Cugel with its air of restrained elegance.

Cugel paid his account from the terces in the leather sack from Nissifer’s cabin; it also exhaled a stench. Cugel started to buy a new sack but was dissuaded by the ostler’s boy. “Why waste your terces? I have a sack much like this one which you may have free of charge.”

“That is generous of you,” said Cugel, and the two returned to the hostlery, where Cugel transferred his terces into the new sack.

The steed was brought forth. Cugel mounted and the boy adjusted the saddle-bags in place. At this moment two men of harsh appearance entered the hostlery, and approached with quick strides. “Is your name Cugel?”

“Definitely not!” declared Cugel. “By no means! I am Tichenor! What do you want with this Cugel?”

“None of your affair. Come along with us; you have an unconvincing manner.”

“I have no time for pranks,” said Cugel. “Boy, you may hand me up my leather sack.” The boy obeyed and Cugel secured the sack to his saddle. He started to ride away but the men interfered. “You must come with us.”

“Impossible,” said Cugel. “I am on my way to Torqual.” He kicked one in the nose and the other in the belly and rode at speed down the Avenue of the Dynasties and so departed Kaspara Vitatus.

After a period he halted, to learn what pursuit, if any, had been offered.

An unpleasant odor reached his nostrils, emanating from the leather sack. To his perplexity, it proved to be the same sack he had taken from Nissifer’s cabin.

Cugel anxiously looked within, to find, not terces, but small objects of corroded metal.

Cugel uttered a groan of dismay and, turning his steed, started to return to Kaspara Vitatus, but now he noticed a dozen men crouched low in their saddles coming after him in hot pursuit.

Cugel uttered another wild cry of fury and frustration. He cast the leather sack into the ditch and turning his steed once more rode south at full speed.