Tales of the Dying Earth

by Jack Vance

  They gained the cupola in safety and the hetman's weary son descended. The cupola was furnished in rather less luxury than Cugel had expected, and indeed seemed almost austere. He pointed out this fact to the hetman, who stated that the deficiencies were readily repaired. “Merely state your requirements: they shall be met!”

  “Well then: I will want a heavy rug for the floor — tones of green and gold might be the most felicitous. I require a more elegant couch, of greater scope than that disreputable pallet I see against the wall, as my spouse Marlinka will be spending much of her time here. A cabinet for gems and valuables there, a compartment for sweetmeats there, a tray for perfume essences there. At this location I will require a taboret with provision for chilling wines.”

  The hetman assented readily to all. “It shall be as you say. But now we must discuss your duties, which are so simple as almost to require no elaboration: you must keep watch for Magnatz.”

  “This I understand, but as before a corollary thought occurs to me: in order to work at optimum efficiency I should know what or whom I am to watch for. Magnatz might stalk unhindered along the esplanade were I unable to recognize him. What then is his semblance?”

  The hetman shook his head. “I cannot say; the information is lost in the fog of ages. The legend reports only that he was tricked and baffled by a sorcerer, and taken away.” The hetman went to the observation post. “Notice: here is an optical device. Working by an ingenious principle, it bloats and augments those scenes toward which you direct it. From time to tune you may choose to inspect landmarks of the area. Yonder is Mount Temus; below is Lake Vull, where no one can sail for vortices and whirlpools. In this direction is Padagar Pass, leading eastward into the land of Merce. You can barely discern that commemorative cairn decreed by Guzpah the Great when he brought eight armies to attack Magnatz. Magnatz erected another cairn — see that great mound to the north? — in order to cover their mangled corpses. And there is the notch Magnatz broke through the mountains so that cooling air might circulate through the valley. Across the lake lie certain titanic ruins, where Magnatz had his palace.”

  Cugel inspected the various landmarks through the optical device. “Magnatz was by all accounts a creature of vast potency,”

  “So the legends assert. Now, a final matter. If Magnatz appears — a laughable whimsy, of course — you must pull this rod, which rings the great gong. Our laws stringently forbid ringing the gong, except at the sight of Magnatz. The penalty for such a crime is intensely severe; in fact, the last Watchman betrayed his high office by wantonly ringing the gong. Needless to say, he was judged harshly, and after he had been torn to bits by a criss-cross of chains his fragments were cast into a whirlpool,”

  “What an idiotic fellow!” remarked Cugel. “Why forfeit so much wealth, good cheer and honor for a footling amusement?”

  “We are all of like opinion,” stated the hetman. Cugel frowned. “I am puzzled by his act. Was he a young man, to yield so readily to a frivolous whim?”

  “Not even this plea can be made in his behalf. He was a sage of four-score years, three-score of which he had served the town as Watchman,”

  “His conduct becomes all the more incredible,” was Cugel's wondering comment.

  “All of Vull feel the same.” The hetman rubbed his hands briskly. “I believe that we have discussed all the essentials; I will now depart and leave you to the enjoyment of your duties.”

  “One .moment,” said Cugel. “I insist upon certain alterations and improvements: the rug, the cabinet, the cushions, the tray, the couch.”

  “Of course,” said the hetman. He bent his head over the rail, shouted instructions to those below. There was no instant response, and the hetman became exasperated. “What a nuisance!” he exclaimed. “It appears I must see to the matter myself.” He began to climb down the rope ladder.

  Cugel called after him, “Be good enough to send up my spouse Marlinka, as there are certain matters I wish to take up with her.”

  “I shall seek her out at once,” called the hetman over his shoulder.

  Several minutes later there was a creaking of the great pulley; the ladder was lowered at the end of the rope which supported it. Looking over the side, Cugel saw that the cushions were about to be raised. The heavy rope supporting the ladder rattled through the pulley, bringing up a light line — hardly more than a stout cord — and on this cord the cushions were raised. Cugel inspected them with disapproval; they were old and dusty, and not at all of the quality he had envisioned. Most certainly he would insist upon furnishings superior to this! Possibly the hetman intended these merely as a stop-gap until cushions of the requisite elegance could be provided. Cugel nodded: this was obviously the situation.

  He looked around the horizon. Magnatz was nowhere to be seen. He swung his arms once or twice, paced back and forth, and went to look down at the plaza, where he expected to find artisans assembling the appurtenances he had ordered. But there was no such activity; the townspeople appeared to be going about their usual affairs. Cugel shrugged, and went to make another inspection of the horizon. As before, Magnatz was invisible. Once more he surveyed the plaza. He frowned, squinted: was that his spouse Marlinka walking past in the company of a young man? He focused the optical device upon the supple shape: it was Marlinka indeed, and the young man who clasped her elbow with insolent intimacy was the huntsman to whom she had at one time been affianced. Cugel clamped his jaw in outrage. This sort of behavior could not continue! When Marlinfca presented herself, he would speak emphatically upon the subject.

  The sun reached zenith; the cord quivered. Looking over the side Cugel saw that his noon repast was being hoisted in a basket, and he clapped his hands in anticipation. But the basket, when he lifted the cloth, contained only a half-loaf of bread, a chunk of tough meat and a flask of thin wine. Cugel stared at the sorry fare in shock, and decided to descend on the moment to set matters straight. He cleared his throat and called down for the ladder. No one appeared to hear him. He called more loudly. One or two of the folk looked up in mild curiosity, and passed on about their business. Cugel jerked angrily at the cord and hauled it over the pulley, but no heavy rope appeared nor a rope ladder. The light line was an endless loop, capable of supporting approximately the weight of a basket of food.

  Thoughtfully Cugel sat back, and assessed the situation. Then, directing the optical device once more upon the plaza, he searched for the hetman, the one man to whom he might turn for satisfaction.

  Late in the afternoon, Cugel chanced to observe the door to the tavern, just as the hetman came staggering forth, obviously much elevated by wine. Cugel called peremptorily down; the hetman stopped short, looked about for the source of the voice, shook his head in perplexity and continued across the plaza.

  The sun slanted across Lake Vull; the whirlpools were spirals of maroon and black. Cugel's supper arrived: a dish of boiled leeks and a bowl of porridge. He inspected it with small interest, then went to the side of the cupola. “Send up the ladder!” he called. “Darkness comesl In the absence of light, it is futile to watch for Magnate or anyone else!”

  As before, his remarks passed unheeded. Pint suddenly seemed to take cognizance of the situation and visited several sharp twinges upon CugeFs vitals.

  Cugel passed a fitful night. As merrymakers left the tavern Cugel called to them and made representations regarding his plight, but he might as well have saved his breath.

  The sun appeared over the mountains. Cugel's morning meal was of fair quality, but by no means up to the standard described by Hylam Wiskode, the double-tongued hetman of Vull. In a rage, Cugel bellowed orders to those below, but was ignored. He drew a deep breath: it seemed then that he was cast upon his own resources. But what of this? Was he Cugel the Clever for nothing? And he considered various means for descending the tower.

  The line by which his food ascended was far too light. If doubled and redoubled so that it bore his weight, it would yield, at most, a quarter of the distance t
o the ground. His clothes and leathers, if torn and knotted, might provide another twenty feet, leaving him dangling in mid-air. The stem of the tower provided no foothold. With appropriate tools and sufficient time he might be able to chisel a staircase down the outside of the tower, or even chip away the tower in its entirety, eventually reducing it to a short stump from which he might leap to earth.... The project was not feasible. Cugel slumped on the cushions in despair. Everything was now clear. He had been fooled. He was a prisoner. How long had the previous Watchman remained at his post? Sixty years? The prospect was by no means cheerful.

  Firx, of like opinion, jabbed furiously with barb and prong, adding to Cugel's woes.

  So passed days and nights. Cugel brooded long and darkly, and contemplated the folk of Vull with great revulsion. On occasion he considered ringing the great gong, as his predecessor had been driven to do — but, recalling the penalty, he restrained himself.

  Cugel became familiar with every aspect of town, lake and landscape. In the morning heavy mists covered the lake; after two hours a breeze thrust them aside. The whirlpools sucked and groaned, swinging here and there, and the fishermen of Vull ventured hardly more than the length of their boats off-shore. Cugel grew to recognize all the villagers, and learned the personal habits of each. Marlinka, his perfidious spouse, crossed the plaza often, but seldom if ever thought to turn her glance upward. Cugel marked well the cottage where she lived and gave it constant surveillance through the optical device. If she dallied with the young huntsman, her discretion was remarkable, and Cugel's dark suspicions were never documented.

  The food failed to improve in quality and not infrequently was forgotten altogether. Firx was persistently acrimonious, and Cugel paced the confines of the cupola with ever more frantic strides. Shortly after sundown, after a particularly agonizing admonishment by Firx, Cugel stopped short in his tracks. To descend the tower was a matter of simplicityl Why had he delayed so long? Cugel the Clever indeed!

  He ripped into strips every fragment of cloth the cupola provided, and from the yield plaited a rope twenty feet long. Now he must wait till the town grew quiet: yet an hour or two.

  Firx assailed him once more, and Cugel cried out. “Peace, scorpion, tonight we escape this turret! Your acts are redundant!”

  Firx gave over his demonstration, and Cugel went to investigate the plaza. The night was cool and misty: ideal for his purposes, and the folk of Vull were early to bed.

  Cugel cautiously raised the line on which his food was hoisted; doubled, redoubled and redoubled it again and so produced a cable amply strong to support him. He tied a loop on one end, and made the other fast to the pulley. After one last look around the horizon, he lowered himself over the side. He descended to the end of the cable, thrust himself into the loop and sat swaying some four hundred feet above the plaza. To one end of his twenty-foot rope he tied his shoe for a weight, and after several casts, flung a loop around the stem of the column, and pulled himself close. With infinite caution he slipped himself free and, using the loop around the column as a brake, slid slowly to the ground. He took himself quickly into the shadows and donned his shoes. Just as he rose to his feet the door to the tavern swung opea and out reeled Hylam Wiskode, much the worse for drink. Cugel grinned unpleasantly and followed the staggering hetman into a side-street.

  A single blow on the back of the head was enough; the hetman toppled into a ditch. Cugel was instantly upon him, and with deft fingers took his keys. Going now to the public repository, he opened the door, slipped inside and filled a sack with gems, coins, flasks of costly essences, relics, and the like.

  Returning to the street, Cugel carried the sack to a dock beside the lake, where he hid it under a net. Now he proceeded to the cottage of his spouse Marlinka. Prowling beside the wall, he came to an open window, and stepping through found himself in her chamber.

  She was awakened by his hands at her throat. When she tried to scream he cut off her wind. “It is I,” he hissed, “Cugel, your spousel Arise and come with me. Your first sound will be your last!”

  In great terror, the girl obeyed. At Cugel's order she threw a cloak about her shoulders and clasped sandals upon her feet. “Where are we going?” she whispered in a tremulous voice.

  “No matter. Come now — through the window. Make not a sound!”

  Standing outside in the dark, Marlinka cast a horror-stricken glance toward the tower. “Who is on watch? Who guards Vull from Magnate?”

  “No one is on watch,” said Cugel. “The tower is empty!”

  Her knees gave way; she sagged to the ground. “Up!” said Cugel. “Up! We must proceed!”

  “But no one is on watch! This voids the spell the sorcerer cast upon Magnate, who swore to return when vigilance ceased!”

  Cugel lifted the girl to her feet. “This is no concern of mine; I disclaim responsibility. Did you not seek to fool and victimize me? Where were my cushions? Where was the fine food? And my spouse — where were you?”

  The girl wept into her hands, and Cugel led her to the dock. He pulled close a fisherman's boat, ordered her aboard, threw in his loot. Untying the boat, he shipped oars and rowed out upon the lake. Marlinka was aghast. “The whirlpools will drown us! Have you lost your reason?”

  “Not at all! I have studied the whirlpools with care and know precisely the range of each.”

  Out upon the face of the lake moved Cugel, counting each stroke of his oars, and watching the stars. “Two hundred paces east ... a hundred paces north ... two hundred paces east... fifty paces south...”

  So Cugel rowed while to right and left of them sounded the suck of whirling water. But the mist had gathered to blot out the stars and Cugel was forced to throw out the anchor. “This is well enough,” he said. “We are safe now, and there is much that lies between us.”

  The girl shrank to her end of the boat. Cugel stepped astern and joined her. “Here I am, your spousel Are you not overjoyed that finally we are alone? My chamber at the inn was far more comfortable, but this boat will suffice.”

  “No,” she whimpered. “Do not touch me! The ceremony was meaningless, a trick to persuade you to serve as Watchman.”

  “For three-score years perhaps, until I rang the gong from utter desperation?”

  “It is not my doing! I am guilty only of merriment! But what will become of Vull? No one watches, and the spell is broken!”

  “So much the worse for the faithless folk of Vull! They have lost their treasure, their most beautiful maiden, and when day breaks Magnatz will march upon them.”

  Marlinka uttered a poignant cry, which was muffled in the mist. “Never speak the cursed name!”

  “Why not? I shall shout it across the water! I will inform Magnatz that the spell is gone, that now he may come for his revenge!”

  “No, no, indeed not!”

  “Then you must behave toward me as I expect.”

  Weeping, the girl obeyed, and at last a wan red light filtering through the mist signaled dawn. Cugel stood up in the boat, but all landmarks were yet concealed.

  Another hour passed; the sun was now aloft. The folk of Vull would discover that their Watchman was gone, and with him their treasure, Cugel chuckled, and now a breeze lifted the mists, revealing the landmarks he had memorized. He leapt to the bow and hauled on the anchor line, but to his annoyance the anchor had fouled itself.

  He jerked, strained, and the line gave a trifle. Cugel pulled with all his strength. From below came a great bubbling. “A whirlpool!” cried Marlinka in terror.

  “No whirlpool here,” panted Cugel, and jerked once more. The line seemed to relax and Cugel hauled in the rope. Looking over the side, he found himself staring into an enormous pale face. The anchor had caught in a nostril. As he looked the eyes blinked open.

  Cugel threw away the line, leapt for the oars and frantically rowed for the southern shore. A hand as large as a house raised from the water, groping. Marlinka screamed. There was a great turbulence, a prodigious surge of water
which flung the boat toward the shore like a chip, and Magnatz sat up in the center of Lake Vult.

  From the village came the sound of the warning gong, a frenzied clanging.

  Magnatz heaved himself to his knees, water and muck draining from his vast body. The anchor which had pierced his nostril still hung in place, and a thick black fluid issued from the wound. He raised a great arm and slapped petulantly at the boat. The impact threw up a wall of foam which engulfed the boat, spilled treasure, Cugel and the girl toppling through the dark depths of the lake.

  Cugel kicked and thrust, and propelled himself to the seething surface. Magnatz had gained his feet and was looking toward Vull.

  Cugel swam to the beach and staggered ashore. Marlinka had drowned, and was nowhere to be seen. Across the lake Magnatz was wading slowly toward the village.

  Cugel waited no longer. He turned and ran with all speed up the mountainside.

  * * *

  Chapter IV: The Sorcerer Pharesm

  THE MOUNTAINS WERE BEHIND the dark defiles, the tarns, the echoing stone heights — all now a sooty bulk to the north. For a time Cugel wandered a region of low rounded hills the color and texture of old wood, with groves of blue-black trees dense along the ridges, then came upon a faint trail which took him south by long swings and slants, and at last broke out over a vast dim plain. A half-mile to the right rose a line of tall cliffs, which instantly attracted his attention, bringing him a haunting pang of deja-vu. He stared mystified. At some time in the past he had known these cliffs: how? when? His memory provided no response.

  He settled himself upon a low lichen-covered rock to rest, but now Firx became impatient and inflicted a stimulating pang. Cugel leapt to his feet, groaning with weariness and shaking his fist to the southwest, the presumable direction of Almery. “lucounu, lucouuu! If I could repay a tenth of your offenses, the world would think me harsh!”

  He set off down the trail, under the cliffs which had affected him with such poignant but impossible recollections. Far below spread the plain, filling three-quarters of the horizon with colors much like those of the Uchened rock Cugel had just departed: black patches of woodland: a gray crumble where ruins filled an entire valley; nondescript streaks of gray-green, lavender, gray-brown; the leaden glint of two great rivers disappearing into the haze of distance.