Cugel: the Skybreak Spatterlight

Cugel’s visit to Cuirnif was marred by several disagreeable incidents, and he left town with more haste than dignity. At last he pushed through an alder thicket, jumped a ditch and scrambled up on the Old Ferghaz High-road. Pausing to look and listen, and discovering that pursuit apparently had been abandoned, he set off at best speed to the west.

The road lay across a wide blue moor patched here and there with small forests. The region was eerily silent; scanning the moor, Cugel found only distance, a wide sky and solitude, with no sign of hut or house.

From the direction of Cuirnif came a trap drawn by a one-horned wheriot. The driver was Bazzard, who, like Cugel, had exhibited at the Exposition of Marvels. Bazzard’s entry, like Cugel’s ‘Nowhere’, had been disqualified for technical reasons.

Bazzard halted the trap. “So, Cugel, I see that you decided to leave your exhibit at Cuirnif.”

“I had no real choice,” said Cugel. “With the hole gone, ‘Nowhere’ became a massive boxful of dirt, which I was happy to leave in the custody of Duke Orbal.”

“I did the same with my dead fish,” said Bazzard. He looked around the moor. “This is a sinister district, with robber asms watching from every forest. Where are you bound?”

“Ultimately, to Azenomei in Almery. As of now, I would be happy to find shelter for the night.”

“In that case, why not ride with me? I will be grateful for your company. Tonight we will stop at the Iron Man Inn, and tomorrow should bring us to Llaio where I live with my four fathers.”

“Your offer is welcome,” said Cugel. He climbed to the seat; Bazzard touched up the wheriot and the trap moved along the road at good speed.

After a period Bazzard said: “If I am not mistaken, Iucounu the Laughing Magician, as he is known, makes his resort at Pergolo, which is near Azenomei. Perhaps you and he are acquainted?”

“We are indeed,” said Cugel. “He has enjoyed several choice jokes at my expense.”

Cugel looked over his shoulder and spoke in a distinct voice. “Should any casual ears be listening, let it be known that my regard for Iucounu is of a high order.”

Bazzard made a sign of comprehension. “Whatever the case, why are you returning to Azenomei?”

Again Cugel looked in all directions. “Still in reference to Iucounu: his many friends often report overheard messages, but sometimes in garbled form; hence I am careful to avoid loose talk.”

“That is correct conduct!” said Bazzard. “At Llaio, my four fathers are equally prudent.”

After a moment Cugel asked: “Many times I have known a father with four sons, but never before a son with four fathers. What is the explanation?”

Bazzard scratched his head in puzzlement. “I have never thought to ask,” he said. “I will do so at the earliest opportunity.”

The journey proceeded without incident and late in the afternoon of the second day, the two arrived at Llaio, a large manse of sixteen gables.

A groom took the trap into charge; Bazzard conducted Cugel through a tall iron-bound door, across a reception hall and into a parlour. High windows, each of twelve violet panes, dimmed the afternoon sunlight; fusty magenta beams, slanting down across the room, warmed the dark oak wainscoting. A long table rested on dark green carpeting. Close together, with their backs to the fire, sat four men of unusual aspect, in that they shared between them a single eye, a single ear, a single arm and a single leg. In other respects the four were much alike: small and slight, with round serious faces and black hair cut short.

Bazzard performed the introductions. As he spoke the four men deftly passed arm, eye and ear back and forth, so that each was able to appraise the quality of their visitor.

“This gentleman is Cugel,” said Bazzard. “He is a minor grandee of the Twish River Valley, who has suffered the jokes of someone who shall remain nameless. Cugel, allow me to present my four fathers! They are Disserl, Vasker, Pelasias and Archimbaust: at one time wizards of repute until they too ran afoul of a certain prankster magician.”

Pelasias, who at this moment wore both the eye and ear, spoke: “Be assured of our welcome! Guests at Llaio are all too rare. How did you chance to meet our son Bazzard?”

“We occupied close pavilions at the Exposition,” said Cugel. “With due respect for Duke Orbal, I feel that his rulings were arbitrary, and neither Bazzard nor I won the prize.”

“Cugel’s remarks are not exaggerated,” said Bazzard. “I was not even allowed to simulate the songs of my unfortunate fish.”

“A pity!” said Pelasias. “Still, the Exposition no doubt provided memorable experiences for you both, so the time was not wasted. Am I right in this, Bazzard?”

“Quite right, sir, and while the subject is fresh in my mind, I would like you to resolve a perplexity. A single father often boasts four sons, but how does a single son boast four fathers?”

Disserl, Vasker and Archimbaust rapidly tapped the table; the eye, ear and arm were interchanged. At last Vasker made a curt gesture. “The question is nuncupatory.”

Archimbaust, providing himself with eye and ear, examined Cugel with care. He seemed especially interested in Cugel’s cap, to which Cugel had again attached ‘Spatterlight’. “That is a remarkable ornament,” said Archimbaust.

“As to the origin of this object: do you care to provide us any information?”

Cugel smilingly shook his head. “Let us change the subject to more interesting topics. Bazzard tells me that we have a number of friends in common, including the noble and popular Iucounu.”

Archimbaust blinked his eye in puzzlement. “Are we speaking of that yellow, immoral and repulsive Iucounu, sometimes known as the ‘Laughing Magician’?”

Cugel winced and shuddered. “I would never make such insulting references to dear Iucounu, especially if I thought that he or one of his loyal spies might overhear.”

“Aha!” said Archimbaust. “Now I understand your diffidence! You need not worry! We are protected by a warning device. You may speak freely.”

“In that case I will admit that my friendship with Iucounu is not deep and abiding. Recently, at his command, a leather-winged demon carried me across the Ocean of Sighs and dropped me sprawling upon a dreary beach known as Shanglestone Strand.”

“That is my opinion,” said Cugel. “In regard to this ornament, it is actually a scale known as the ‘Pectoral Skybreak Spatterlight’, from the prow of the demiurge Sadlark. It exhibits power which, frankly, I do not understand, and is dangerous to the touch unless your hands are wet.”

“All very well,” said Bazzard, “but why did you not wish to discuss it before?”

“By reason of a most interesting fact: Iucounu owns all the rest of Sadlark’s scales! He will therefore covet ‘Spatterlight’ with all of that intense and excitable yearning which we associate with Iucounu.”

“Most interesting!” said Archimbaust. He and his brothers tapped a flurry of messages back and forth, interchanging their single eye, ear and arm with swift precision. Cugel, watching, at last was able to hazard a guess as to how four fathers might sire a single son.

Vasker presently asked: “What are your plans in connection with Iucounu and this extraordinary scale?”

“I am both uncertain and uneasy,” said Cugel. “Iucounu covets ‘Spatterlight’: true! He will approach me and say: ‘Ah, dear Cugel, how nice that you bring me “Spatterlight”! Hand it over, or prepare for a joke!’ So then: where is my recourse? My advantage is lost. When one deals with Iucounu, he must be prepared to jump nimbly from side to side. I have quick wits and agile feet, but are these enough?”

A hissing noise made itself heard. Vasker at once imposed upon his voice the tremolo of fond recollection: “Yes, dear Iucounu! How strange, Cugel, that you should also number him among your friends!”

Noting Bazzard’s secret sign, Cugel spoke in tones equally melodious. “He is known far and wide as an excellent fellow!”

“Just so! We have had our little differences, but is this not sometimes the way? Now, all is forgotten, on both sides, I am sure.”

Bazzard spoke: “If you should chance to see him in Almery, please convey our very warmest regards!”

“I will not be seeing Iucounu,” said Cugel. “I plan to retire to a snug little cabin beside the River Sune and perhaps learn a useful trade.”

“On the whole, this seems a sensible plan,” said Archimbaust. “But come now, Bazzard, tell us more of the Exposition!”

“It was grandly conceived,” said Bazzard. “No doubt as to that! Cugel displayed a remarkable hole, but Duke Orbal disallowed it on grounds of fugacity. Xallops showed a ‘Compendium of Universal Knowledge’ which impressed everyone. The cover depicted the Gnostic Emblem, in this fashion …”

Taking up stylus and paper, Bazzard scribbled: Do not look now, but Iucounu’s spy hangs above, in a wisp of smoke. “There, Cugel! Am I not correct?”

“Yes, in the main, although you have omitted several significant flourishes.”

“My memory is not the best,” said Bazzard. He crumpled the paper and threw it into the fire.

Vasker spoke. “Friend Cugel, perhaps you would enjoy a sip of dyssac, or might you prefer wine?”

“In that case, I will suggest the dyssac. We distill it ourselves from local herbs. Bazzard, if you will.”

While Bazzard served the liquor, Cugel glanced as if casually around the chamber. High in the shadows he noticed a wisp of smoke from which peered a pair of small red eyes.

In a droning voice Vasker spoke of the Llaio fowl-run and the high price of feed. The spy at last became bored; the smoke slipped down the wall, into the chimney and was gone.

“Then once again we can speak freely. Cugel, I will be explicit. At one time we were wizards of reputation, but Iucounu played us a joke which still rankles. Our magic for the most part is forgotten; nothing remains but a few tendrils of hope and, of course, our abiding detestation of Iucounu.”

“More to the point: what are your plans? Iucounu will take your scale without remorse, laughing and joking all the while. How will you prevent him?”

Cugel pulled uneasily at his chin. “I have given some attention to the matter.”

“I had thought perhaps to hide the scale, and confuse Iucounu with hints and lures. Already I am troubled by doubts. Iucounu might simply ignore my conundrums in favor of Panguire’s Triumphant Displasms. No doubt I would be quick to say: ‘Iucounu, your jokes are superb and you shall have your scale.’ My best hope may be to present the scale to Iucounu face to face, as a purported act of generosity.”

“Then I will reveal an important fact. The scale consumes whomever it touches, save in the presence of water, which dulls its voracity.”

Pelasias regarded Cugel with new respect. “I must say that you wear this lethal trinket with aplomb.”

“I am always aware of its presence. It has already absorbed a pelgrane and a female hybrid of bazil and grue.”

“Aha!” said Pelasias. “Let us put this scale to the test. At the fowl run we trapped a weasel who now awaits execution: why not by the power of your ornament?”

Bazzard fetched the captive predator, which snarled and hissed in defiance. Wetting his hands, Cugel tied the scale to a stick and thrust it down upon the weasel, which was instantly absorbed. The node showed new coruscations of red, vibrating to such vivid fervor that Cugel was reluctant to pin it again to his cap. He wrapped it in several layers of heavy cloth and tucked it into his pouch.

Disserl now wore eye and ear. “Your scale has shown its power. Nonetheless, it lacks projective scope. You need our help, sickly though it may be. Then, if you are successful, perhaps you will restore our orphan members.”

“We need not worry on this score,” replied Disserl. “The organs, fully sound and competent, reside in Iucounu’s vault.”

“That is good news,” said Cugel. “I agree to your terms, and I am anxious to hear how you can help me.”

“First and most urgently, we must ensure that Iucounu cannot take the scale either through force or intimidation, or by means of Arnhoult’s Sequestrous Digitalia, or by a time stoppage, such as the Interminable Interim. If he is so thwarted, then he must play the game by your rules, and victory is at your command.”

Vasker took the organs. “Already I am cheered! In Cugel we have a man who can confront Iucounu nose to nose and never flinch!”

Cugel jumped to his feet and paced nervously back and forth. “A truculent posture may not be the best approach. Iucounu, after all, knows a thousand tricks. How will we prevent him from using his magic? Here is the nub of the matter.”

“I will take counsel with my brothers,” said Vasker. “Bazzard, you and Cugel may dine in the Hall of Trophies. Be mindful of spies.”

After a dinner of fair quality, Bazzard and Cugel returned to the parlour, where the four wizards sipped in turn from a great mug of tea. Pelasias, now wearing eye, arm and ear, spoke: “We have consulted Boberg’s Pandaemonium and also the Vapurial Index. We now are convinced that you carry something more than just a handsome scale. Rather, it is Sadlark’s cerebral nexus itself. It has ingested several creatures of strong personality, including our own good weasel, and now displays signs of vitality, as if recovering from an estivation. No more strength may be allowed Sadlark at this time.”

Archimbaust took the organs. “We think in terms of pure logic. Proposition One: in order to achieve our goals, Cugel must confront Iucounu. Proposition Two: Iucounu must be deterred from seizing the scale out of hand.”

Cugel frowned. “Your propositions are orderly, but I envision a program somewhat more subtle. The scale will bait a trap; Iucounu will run eagerly forward and be rendered helpless.”

“Inept, on three counts! First: you will be watched by spies, or by Iucounu himself. Second: Iucounu recognizes bait from afar and will send either a casual passer-by or you yourself into the trap. Third: in preference to negotiation, Iucounu uses Tinkler’s Old-fashioned Froust, and you would find yourself running from Pergolo on thirty-foot strides to retrieve the scale for Iucounu.”

Cugel held up his hand. “Let us return to the propositions of pure logic. As I recall, Iucounu must not be allowed to seize the scale out of hand. What follows?”

“We have several dependent corollaries. To slow the quick grasp of his avarice, you must feign the submission of a cowed dog, a pose which Iucounu in his vanity will readily accept. Next we will need an article of confusion, to give us a range of options from which to choose. Tomorrow, therefore, Bazzard will duplicate the scale in fine gold, with a good red hypolite for the node. He will then cement the false scale to your cap in a bed of explosive diambroid.”

“Of course! You will then have three strings to your bow. All will be destroyed if Iucounu tries even the least of his tricks. Or you can give Iucounu the cap itself, then go somewhat apart and wait for the blast. Or, if Iucounu discovers the diambroid, other avenues appear. For instance, you can temporize, then make play with the authentic scale.”

Cugel rubbed his chin. “Propositions and corollaries to the side, I am not anxious to wear a charge of high explosive attached to my cap.”

Archimbaust argued the program, but Cugel remained dubious. Somewhat sulkily Archimbaust relinquished the organs to Vasker who said: “I propose a somewhat similar plan. As before, Cugel, you will enter Almery in an unobtrusive manner. You will stroll quietly by the side of the road with the cloak pulled across your face, using any name but your own. Iucounu will be intrigued, and come out in search of you. At this point your policy will be restrained courtesy. You will politely decline all offers and go your own way. This conduct will surely prompt Iucounu to unwise excess! Then you will act!”

“Just so,” said Cugel. “What if he simply seizes cap and scale, false or real, and preempts it to his own use?”

Cugel gnawed at his lower lip. “Each plan seems to lack a certain full elegance.”

Archimbaust, taking the organs, spoke with emphasis: “My plan is best! Do you prefer Forlorn Encystment at a depth of forty-five miles to an ounce or two of diambroid?”

Bazzard, who had spoken little, put forward an idea: “We need only use a small quantity of diambroid, and thus allay the worst of Cugel’s fears. Three minims is enough to destroy Iucounu’s hand, arm and shoulder, in the case of improper conduct.”

Vasker said: “This is an excellent compromise! Bazzard, you have a good head on your shoulders! The diambroid, after all, need not come into use. I am sure that Cugel will deal with Iucounu as a cat plays with a mouse.”

Disserl spoke to the same effect: “Show only diffidence! His vanity will then become your ally!”

Pelasias said: “Above all, accept no favors! Or you will find yourself in his obligation, which is like a bottomless pit. At one time —”

“— packet of dried fruits and raisins for your pouch,” droned Pelasias. “The way is long and tiring, especially if you use the Old Ferghaz Way which traces every swing and meander of the River Sune. Why not make for Taun Tassel on the Water’s-gleam?”

“A good plan! The way is long and Forest Da is dark, but I hope to evade even the whisper of notoriety, and all my old friends as well.”

Cugel gave a wistful laugh. “I will build a little hut beside the river and there live out my days. Perhaps I will do a small trade in nuts and wild honey.”

“A good thought! Again, I might search out scraps of old calligraphy, or just give myself to meditation and watch the flow of the river. Such, at least, is my modest hope.”

“It is a pleasant ambition! If only we could help you along your way! But our magic is small; we know a single useful spell: Brassman’s Twelve-fold Bounty, by which a single terce becomes a dozen. We have taught it to Bazzard, that he may never want; perhaps he will share the sleight with you.”

“That is most kind,” said Cugel. “What with the packet of fruit and nuts, I am well-provided for my journey.”

“Just so! Perhaps you will leave us your cap ornament as a keepsake, so that when we see it we will think of you.”

Cugel shook his head in distress. “Anything else is yours! But I could never part with my lucky talisman!”

“No matter! We will remember you in any case. Bazzard, foster the fire! Tonight is unseasonably cold.”

So went the conversation until the spy departed, whereupon, at Cugel’s request, Bazzard instructed him in that cantrap controlling the Twelve-fold Bounty. Then, upon sudden thought, Bazzard addressed Vasker, now wearing eye, ear and arm. “Another of our small magics which might help Cugel on his way: the Spell of the Tireless Legs.”

Vasker chuckled. “What a thought! Cugel will not care to be visited with a spell customarily reserved for our wheriots! Such a spell does not accord with his dignity.”

“I give dignity second place to expedience,” said Cugel. “What is this spell?”

Bazzard said half-apologetically: “It guards the legs from the fatigue of a long day’s march, and as Vasker indicates, we use it mainly to encourage our wheriots.”

In the morning Bazzard took Cugel to his work-shop, where, after donning wet gloves, he duplicated the scale in fine gold, with a central node of flaming red hypolite. “Now then,” said Bazzard. “Three minims of diambroid, or perhaps four, and Iucounu’s fate is as good as sealed.”

Cugel watched glumly as Bazzard cemented diambroid to the ornament and attached it to his cap by a secret clasp. “You will find this a great comfort,” said Bazzard.

Cugel gingerly donned the cap. “I see no obvious advantage to this false, if explosive, scale, save for the fact that duplicity is valuable for its own sake.” He folded ‘Spatterlight’ into the flap of a special glove provided by the four wizards.

“I will provide you with a packet of nuts and fruit, and then you will be ready for the road,” said Bazzard. “If you move at a good pace, you should arrive at Taun Tassel on Water’s-gleam before nightfall.”

Cugel said thoughtfully: “As I consider the way ahead, I become ever more favorably inclined to the Spell of the Untiring Legs.”

“It is the work of a few minutes only,” said Bazzard. “Let us consult my fathers.”

The two repaired to the parlour, where Archimbaust consulted an index of spells. Encompassing the syllables with effort, he released the salutary force toward Cugel.

To the amazement of all, the spell struck Cugel’s legs, rebounded, struck again without effect, then clattered away, reverberated from wall to wall, and finally lapsed in a series of small grinding sounds.

The four wizards consulted together at length. Finally Disserl turned to Cugel: “This is a most extraordinary happening! It can only be explained by the fact that you carry ‘Spatterlight’, whose alien force acts as a crust against earthly magic!”

Bazzard cried out in excitement: “Try the Spell of Internal Effervescence upon Cugel; if it proves fruitless, then we shall know the truth!”

“And if the spell is efficacious?” asked Disserl coldly. “Is this your concept of hospitality?”

“My apologies!” said Bazzard in confusion. “I failed to think the matter through.”

“It seems that I must forego the ‘Untiring Legs’,” said Cugel. “But no matter: I am accustomed to the road, and now I will take my leave.”

“Our hopes go with you!” said Vasker. “Boldness and caution: let them work hand in hand!”

“I am grateful for your wise counsel,” said Cugel. “Everything now depends upon Iucounu. If avarice dominates his prudence, you shall soon know the enjoyment of your missing organs. Bazzard, our chance acquaintance has yielded profit, so I hope, for all concerned.” Cugel departed Llaio.

Where a bridge of black glass crossed the River Sune, Cugel found a marker announcing that he had once again come into the Land of Almery.

The road forked. Old Ferghaz Way followed the Sune, while the Kang Kingdom Marchway, swinging south, crossed the Hanging Hills and so descended into the valley of the River Twish.

Cugel held to the right and so fared west through a countryside of small farmsteads, demarcated one from the other by lines of tall mulgoon trees.

A stream flowed down from the Forest Da to join the Sune; the road crossed over by a bridge of three arches. At the far side, leaning against a damson tree and chewing a straw stood Iucounu.

Cugel halted to stare, and at last decided that he saw, not an apparition nor a yellow-faced hallucination with pendulous jowls, but Iucounu himself. A tawny coat contained the pear-shaped torso; the thin legs were encased in tight pink- and black-striped trousers.

Cugel had not expected to see Iucounu so soon. He leaned forward and peered, as if in doubt. “Am I correct in recognizing Iucounu?”

“Quite correct,” said Iucounu, rolling his yellow eyes in every direction except toward Cugel.

Iucounu put his hand to his mouth to conceal a smile. “A pleasant surprise, I hope?”

“Needless to say! I never expected to find you loitering along the wayside, and you quite startled me! Have you been fishing from the bridge? But I see that you carry neither tackle nor bait.”

Iucounu slowly turned his head and surveyed Cugel from under drooping eyelids. “I too am surprised to see you back from your travels. Why do you walk so far afield? Your former depredations took place along the Twish.”

“I am purposely avoiding my old haunts, and my old habits as well,” said Cugel. “Neither have brought me profit.”

“In every life comes a time for change,” said Iucounu. “I too consider metamorphosis, to an extent which might surprise you.” He discarded the straw from his mouth and spoke with energy. “Cugel, you are looking well! Your garments become you, as does that cap! Where did you find so handsome an ornament?”

Cugel reached up and touched the duplicated scale. “This little piece? It is my lucky talisman. I found it in a mire near Shanglestone Strand.”

Cugel shook his head as if in regret. “I found but a single specimen of this quality.”

“I intend a simple life: a cabin on the banks of the Sune, with a porch overhanging the water, and there I will devote myself to calligraphy and meditation. Perhaps I will read Stafdyke’s Comprehensive Survey of All the Aeons, a treatise to which everyone alludes, but which no one has read, with the probable exception of yourself.”

“Yes, I know it well. Your travels, then, have brought you the means to gratify your desires.”

Cugel smilingly shook his head. “My wealth is scant. I plan a life of simplicity.”

“The ornament in your cap is very showy. Is it not valuable? The nexus, or node, gleams as brightly as a good hypolite.”

Cugel once more shook his head. “It is only glass refracting the red rays of sunlight.”

Iucounu gave a noncommittal grunt. “Footpads are common along this road. Their first objective would be this famous ornament of yours.”

Cugel fondled the gem. “Whoever tried to take the jewel by force would be blown to bits, along with the jewel.”

Iucounu, or his apparition, vanished. Cugel, assured that spies watched his every move, gave a shrug and went his own way.

An hour before sundown Cugel arrived at the village Flath Foiry, where he took lodging at the Inn of Five Flags. Dining in the common room, he became acquainted with Lorgan, a dealer in fancy embroideries. Lorgan enjoyed both large talk and generous quantities of drink. Cugel was in no mood for either and pleading fatigue retired early to his chamber. Lorgan remained in bibulous conversation with several merchants of the town.

Upon entering his chamber, Cugel locked the door, then made a thorough inspection by lamp-light. The couch was clean; the windows overlooked a kitchen garden; songs and shouts from the common room were muted. With a sigh of satisfaction, Cugel dimmed the lamp and went to his couch.

As Cugel composed himself for slumber, he thought to hear an odd sound. He raised his head to listen, but the sound was not repeated. Cugel once again relaxed. The odd sound came again, somewhat louder, and a dozen large whispering bat-like creatures flew out of the shadows. They darted into Cugel’s face and climbed on his neck with their claws, hoping to distract his attention while a black eel with long trembling hands worked to steal Cugel’s cap.

Cugel tore aside the bat-things, touched the eel with ‘Spatterlight’, causing its instant dissolution, and the bat-things flew crying and whispering from the room.

Cugel brought light to the lamp. All seemed in order. He reflected a moment, then, stepping out into the hall, he investigated the chamber next to his own. It proved to be vacant, and he took immediate possession.

An hour later his rest was again disturbed, this time by Lorgan, now thoroughly in his cups. Upon seeing Cugel he blinked in surprise. “Cugel, why are you sleeping in my chamber?”

“You have made a mistake,” said Cugel. “Your chamber is next door over.”

“Thank you.” Lorgan staggered off to bed. Cugel, locking the door, once more threw himself down on the couch and passed a restful night, ignoring the sounds and outcries from the room next door.

In the morning, as Cugel took his breakfast, Lorgan limped downstairs and described to Cugel the events of the night: “As I lay in a pleasantly drowsy state, two large madlocks with heavy arms, staring green eyes and no necks entered by the window. They dealt me any number of heavy blows despite my appeals for mercy. Then they stole my hat and made for the window as if to leave, only to turn back and strike further blows. ‘That is for causing so much trouble,’ they said, and finally they were gone. Have you ever heard the like?”

“Strange things happen in life,” mused Lorgan. “Still, I will not stop at this inn again.”

“A sensible decision,” said Cugel. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must be on my way.”

Cugel paid his score and set off along the high-road, and the morning passed uneventfully.

At noon Cugel came upon a pavilion of pink silk, erected upon a grassy place beside the road. At a table laden with fine food and drink sat Iucounu, who, at the sight of Cugel, jumped up in surprise. “Cugel! What a happy occasion! You must join me at my meal!”

Cugel measured the distance between Iucounu and the spot where he would be obliged to sit; the distance would not allow him to reach across the space holding ‘Spatterlight’ in his gloved hand.

Cugel shook his head. “I have already taken a nutritious lunch of nuts and raisins. You have chosen a lovely spot for your picnic. I wish you a happy appetite, and good day.”

“Wait, Cugel! One moment, if you please! Taste a goblet of this fine Fazola! It will put spring in your steps!”

Iucounu’s ropy mouth twitched in a grimace. But at once he renewed his affability. “Cugel, I hereby invite you to visit me at Pergolo; surely you have not forgotten the amenities? Every night we will host a grand banquet, and I have discovered a new phase of magic, by which I recall remarkable persons from across the aeons. The entertainments are splendid at Pergolo!”

Cugel made a rueful gesture. “You sing siren songs of inducement! One taste of such glamour might shatter my resolve! I am not the rakehelly Cugel of old!”

Iucounu strove to keep his voice even. “This is becoming all too clear.” Throwing himself back in his chair, he glowered morosely at Cugel’s cap. Making a sudden impatient gesture, he muttered a spell of eleven syllables, so that the air between himself and Cugel twisted and thickened. The forces veered out toward Cugel and past, to rattle away in all directions, cutting russet and black streaks through the grass.

Iucounu stared with yellow eyes bulging, but Cugel paid no heed to the incident. He bade Iucounu a civil farewell and continued along the way.

For an hour Cugel walked, using that loping bent-kneed gait which had propelled him so many long leagues. Down from the fells on the right hand came the Forest Da, softer and sweeter than the Great Erm to the far north. River and road plunged into the shade, and all sound was hushed. Long-stemmed flowers grew in the mold: delice, blue-bell, rosace, cany-flake. Coral fungus clung to dead stumps like cloths of fairy lace. Maroon sunlight slanted across the forest spaces, creating a gloom saturated with a dozen dark colors. Nothing moved and no sound could be heard but the trill of a far bird.

Despite the apparent solitude, Cugel loosened the sword in its scabbard and walked with soft feet; the forests often revealed awful secrets to the innocent.

After some miles the forest thinned and retreated to the north. Cugel came upon a cross-roads; here waited a fine double-sprung carriage drawn by four white wheriots. High on the coachman’s bench sat a pair of maidens with long orange hair, complexions of dusky tan and eyes of emerald green. They wore a livery of umber and oyster-white and, after quick side-glances toward Cugel, stared haughtily ahead.

Iucounu threw open the door. “Hola, Cugel! By chance I came this route and behold! I perceive my friend Cugel striding along at a great rate! I had not expected to find you so far along the way!”

“I enjoy the open road,” said Cugel. “I march at quick-step because I intend to arrive at Taun Tassel before dark. Forgive me if, once again, I cut our conversation short.”

“Unnecessary! Taun Tassel is on my way. Step into the carriage; we will talk as we ride.”

Cugel hesitated, looking first one way, then another, and Iucounu became impatient. “Well then?” he barked. “What now?”

Cugel attempted an apologetic smile. “I never take without giving in return. This policy averts misunderstandings.”

Iucounu’s eyelids drooped at the corners in moist reproach. “Must we quibble over minor points? Into the carriage with you, Cugel; you may enlarge upon your qualms as we ride.”

“Very well,” said Cugel. “I will ride with you to Taun Tassel, but you must accept these three terces in full, exact, final, comprehensive and complete compensation for the ride and every other aspect, adjunct, by-product and consequence, either direct or indirect, of the said ride, renouncing every other claim, now, and forever, including all times of the past and future, without exception, and absolving me, in part and in whole, from any and all further obligations.”

Iucounu held up small balled fists and gritted his teeth toward the sky. “I repudiate your entire paltry philosophy! I find zest in giving! I now offer you in title full and clear this excellent carriage, inclusive of wheels, springs and upholstery, the four wheriots with twenty-six ells of gold chain and a pair of matched maidens. The totality is yours! Ride where you will!”

“I am dumbfounded by your generosity!” said Cugel. “What, may I ask, do you want in return?”

“Bah! Some trifle, perhaps, to symbolize the exchange. The kickshaw that you wear in your hat will suffice.”

Cugel made a sign of regret. “You ask the one thing I hold dear. That is the talisman I found near Shanglestone Strand. I have carried it through thick and thin, and now I could never give it up. It may even exert a magical influence.”

“Nonsense!” snorted Iucounu. “I have a sensitive nose for magic. The ornament is as dull as stale beer.”

Iucounu’s mouth drooped almost past his chin. “You have become over-sentimental!” Glancing past Cugel’s shoulder, Iucounu uttered a shrill cry of alarm. “Take care! A plague of tasps is upon us!”

Turning, Cugel discovered a leaping horde of green scorpion-things the size of weasels close upon the carriage.

Hesitating only an instant Cugel scrambled into the carriage. Iucounu uttered a great sigh of relief. “A very near thing! Cugel, I believe that I saved your life!”

Cugel looked through the back window. “The tasps have disappeared into thin air! How is that possible?”

“No matter; we are safely away, and that is the main point. Give thanks that I was on hand with my carriage! Are you not appreciative? Perhaps now you will concede me my whim, which is the ornament on your hat.”

Cugel considered the situation. From where he sat he could not easily apply the authentic scale to Iucounu’s face. He thought to temporize. “Why would you want such a trifle?”

“Truth to tell, I collect such objects. Yours will make a famous centerpiece for my display. Be so good as to hand it over, if only for my inspection.”

“That is not easily done. If you look closely you will see that it is fixed to my cap on a matrix of diambroid.”

“While we bump and sway in a speeding carriage? I would not dare make the attempt.”

Iucounu turned Cugel a lemon-yellow side-glance. “Cugel, are you trying to ‘twiddle my whiskers’, as the saying goes?”

“Just so.” The two sat in silence while the landscape flashed past. All in all, thought Cugel, a precarious situation, even though his plans called for just such a progression of events. Above all, he must not allow Iucounu the close scrutiny of the scale; Iucounu’s lumpy nose indeed could smell out magic, or its lack.

Cugel became aware that the carriage traversed, not forest, but open countryside. He turned toward Iucounu. “This is not the way to Taun Tassel! Where are we going?”

“To Pergolo,” said Iucounu. “I insist upon extending you my best hospitality.”

The carriage plunged over a line of hills and descended into a valley well-remembered by Cugel. Ahead he glimpsed the flow of the Twish River, with a momentary flash of red sunlight on the water, then Iucounu’s manse Pergolo appeared on the brow of a hill, and a moment later the carriage drew up under the portico.

“We have arrived,” said Iucounu. “Cugel, I welcome you once again to Pergolo! Will you alight?”

Iucounu ushered Cugel into the reception hall. “First, Cugel, let us take a glass of wine to freshen our throats after the dust of the journey. Then we will tie up the loose strands of our business, which extend somewhat further into the past than you may care to remember.” Here Iucounu referred to a period during which Cugel had held him at a disadvantage.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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