by Jack Vance
Unfortunately for Cugel, not twenty paces from his booth a certain Fianosther had established a larger booth with articles of greater variety and more obvious efficacy, so that whenever Cugel halted a passerby to enlarge upon the merits of his merchandise, the passerby would like as not display an article purchased from Fianosther and go his way.
On the third day of the fair Cugel had disposed of only four periapts, at prices barely above the cost of the lead itself, while Fianosther was hard put to serve all his customers. Hoarse from bawling futile inducements, Cugel closed down his booth and approached Fianosther’s place of trade, in order to inspect the mode of construction and the fastenings at the door.
Fianosther, observing, beckoned him to approach. “Enter, my friend, enter. How goes your trade?”
“In all candor, not too well,” said Cugel. “I am both perplexed and disappointed, for my talismans are not obviously useless.”
“I can resolve your perplexity,” said Fianosther. “Your booth occupies the site of the old gibbet, and has absorbed unlucky essences. But I thought to notice you examining the manner in which the timbers of my booth are joined. You will obtain a better view from within, but first I must shorten the chain of the captive erb which roams the premises during the night.”
“No need,” said Cugel. “My interest was cursory.”
“As to the disappointment you suffer,” Fianosther went on, “it need not persist. Observe these shelves. You will note that my stock is seriously depleted.”
Cugel acknowledged as much. “How does this concern me?”
Fianosther pointed across the way to a man wearing garments of black. This man was small, yellow of skin, bald as a stone. His eyes resembled knots in a plank; his mouth was wide and curved in a grin of chronic mirth. “There stands Iucounu the Laughing Magician,” said Fianosther. “In a short time he will come into my booth and attempt to buy a particular red libram, the casebook of Dibarcas Maior, who studied under Great Phandaal. My price is higher than he will pay, but he is a patient man, and will remonstrate for at least three hours. During this time his manse stands untenanted. It contains a vast collection of thaumaturgical artifacts, instruments, and activants, as well as curiosa, talismans, amulets and librams. I am anxious to purchase such items. Need I say more?”
“This is all very well,” said Cugel, “but would Iucounu leave his manse without guard or attendant?”
Fianosther held wide his hands. “Why not? Who would dare steal from Iucounu the Laughing Magician?”
“Precisely this thought deters me,” Cugel replied. “I am a man of resource, but not insensate recklessness.”
“There is wealth to be gained,” stated Fianosther. “Dazzles and displays, marvels beyond worth, as well as charms, puissances, and elixirs. But remember, I urge nothing, I counsel nothing; if you are apprehended, you have only heard me exclaiming at the wealth of Iucounu the Laughing Magician! But here he comes. Quick: turn your back so that he may not see your face. Three hours he will be here, so much I guarantee!”
Iucounu entered the booth, and Cugel bent to examine a bottle containing a pickled homunculus.
“Greetings, Iucounu!” called Fianosther. “Why have you delayed? I have refused munificent offers for a certain red libram, all on your account! And here—note this casket! It was found in a crypt near the site of old Karkod. It is yet sealed and who knows what wonder it may contain? My price is a modest twelve thousand terces.”
“Interesting,” murmured Iucounu. “The inscription—let me see…Hmm. Yes, it is authentic. The casket contains calcined fish-bone, which was used throughout Grand Motholam as a purgative. It is worth perhaps ten or twelve terces as a curio. I own caskets aeons older, dating back to the Age of Glow.”
Cugel sauntered to the door, gained the street, where he paced back and forth, considering every detail of the proposal as explicated by Fianosther. Superficially the matter seemed reasonable: here was Iucounu; there was the manse, bulging with encompassed wealth. Certainly no harm could result from simple reconnaissance. Cugel set off eastward along the banks of the Xzan.
The twisted turrets of green glass rose against the dark blue sky, scarlet sunlight engaging itself in the volutes. Cugel paused, made a careful appraisal of the countryside. The Xzan flowed past without a sound. Nearby, half-concealed among black poplars, pale green larch, drooping pall-willow, was a village—a dozen stone huts inhabited by barge-men and tillers of the river terraces: folk engrossed in their own concerns.
Cugel studied the approach to the manse: a winding way paved with dark brown tile. Finally he decided that the more frank his approach the less complex need be his explanations, if such were demanded. He began the climb up the hillside, and Iucounu’s manse reared above him. Gaining the courtyard, he paused to search the landscape. Across the river hills rolled away into the dimness, as far as the eye could reach.
Cugel marched briskly to the door, rapped, but evoked no response. He considered. If Iucounu, like Fianosther, maintained a guardian beast, it might be tempted to utter a sound if provoked. Cugel called out in various tones: growling, mewing, yammering.
Silence within.
He walked gingerly to a window and peered into a hall draped in pale gray, containing only a tabouret on which, under a glass bell jar, lay a dead rodent. Cugel circled the manse, investigating each window as he came to it, and finally reached the great hall of the ancient castle. Nimbly he climbed the rough stones, leapt across to one of Iucounu’s fanciful parapets and in a trice had gained access to the manse.
He stood in a bed chamber. On a dais six gargoyles supporting a couch turned heads to glare at the intrusion. With two stealthy strides Cugel gained the arch which opened into an outer chamber. Here the walls were green and the furnishings black and pink. He left the room for a balcony circling a central chamber, light streaming through oriels high in the walls. Below were cases, chests, shelves and racks containing all manner of objects: Iucounu’s marvelous collection.
Cugel stood poised, tense as a bird, but the quality of the silence reassured him: the silence of an empty place. Still, he trespassed upon the property of Iucounu the Laughing Magician, and vigilance was appropriate.
Cugel strode down a sweep of circular stairs into a great hall. He stood enthralled, paying Iucounu the tribute of unstinted wonder. But his time was limited; he must rob swiftly and be on his way. Out came his sack; he roved the hall, fastidiously selecting those objects of small bulk and great value: a small pot with antlers, which emitted clouds of remarkable gases when the prongs were tweaked; an ivory horn through which sounded voices from the past; a small stage where costumed imps stood ready to perform comic antics; an object like a cluster of crystal grapes, each affording a blurred view into one of the demon-worlds; a baton sprouting sweetmeats of assorted flavor; an ancient ring engraved with runes; a black stone surrounded by nine zones of impalpable color. He passed by hundreds of jars of powders and liquids, likewise forbore from the vessels containing preserved heads. Now he came to shelves stacked with volumes, folios and librams, where he selected with care, taking for preference those bound in purple velvet, Phandaal’s characteristic color. He likewise selected folios of drawings and ancient maps, and the disturbed leather exuded a musty odor.
He circled back to the front of the hall past a case displaying a score of small metal chests, sealed with corroded bands of great age. Cugel selected three at random; they were unwontedly heavy. He passed by several massive engines whose purpose he would have liked to explore, but time was advancing, and best he should be on his way, back to Azenomei and the booth of Fianosther…
Cugel frowned. In many respects the prospect seemed impractical. Fianosther would hardly choose to pay full value for his goods, or, more accurately, Iucounu’s goods. It might be well to bury a certain proportion of the loot in an isolated place…Here was an alcove Cugel had not previously noted. A soft light welled like water against the crystal pane, which separated alcove from hall. A niche to
the rear displayed a complicated object of great charm. As best Cugel could distinguish, it seemed a miniature carousel on which rode a dozen beautiful dolls of seeming vitality. The object was clearly of great value, and Cugel was pleased to find an aperture in the crystal pane. He stepped through, but two feet before him a second pane blocked his way, establishing an avenue which evidently led to the magic whirligig. Cugel proceeded confidently, only to be stopped by another pane which he had not seen until he bumped into it. Cugel retraced his steps and to his gratification found the doubtlessly correct entrance a few feet back. But this new avenue led him by several right angles to another blank pane. Cugel decided to forego acquisition of the carousel and depart the castle. He turned, but discovered himself to be a trifle confused. He had come from his left—or was it his right?…Cugel was still seeking egress when in due course Iucounu returned to his manse.
Pausing by the alcove Iucounu gave Cugel a stare of humorous astonishment. “What have we here? A visitor? And I have been so remiss as to keep you waiting! Still, I see you have amused yourself, and I need feel no mortification.” Iucounu permitted a chuckle to escape his lips. He then pretended to notice Cugel’s bag. “What is this? You have brought objects for my examination? Excellent! I am always anxious to enhance my collection, in order to keep pace with the attrition of the years. You would be astounded to learn of the rogues who seek to despoil me! That merchant of clap-trap in his tawdry little booth, for instance—you could not conceive his frantic efforts in this regard! I tolerate him because to date he has not been bold enough to venture himself into my manse. But come, step out here into the hall, and we will examine the contents of your bag.”
Cugel bowed graciously. “Gladly. As you assume, I have indeed been waiting for your return. If I recall correctly, the exit is by this passage…” He stepped forward, but again was halted. He made a gesture of rueful amusement. “I seem to have taken a wrong turning.”
“Apparently so,” said Iucounu. “Glancing upward, you will notice a decorative motif upon the ceiling. If you heed the flexion of the lunules you will be guided to the hall.”
“Of course!” And Cugel briskly stepped forward in accordance with the directions.
“One moment!” called Iucounu. “You have forgotten your sack!”
Cugel reluctantly returned for the sack, once more set forth, and presently emerged into the hall.
Iucounu made a suave gesture. “If you will step this way I will be glad to examine your merchandise.”
Cugel glanced reflectively along the corridor toward the front entrance. “It would be a presumption upon your patience. My little knick-knacks are below notice. With your permission I will take my leave.”
“By no means!” declared Iucounu heartily. “I have few visitors, most of whom are rogues and thieves. I handle them severely, I assure you! I insist that you at least take some refreshment. Place your bag on the floor.”
Cugel carefully set down the bag. “Recently I was instructed in a small competence by a sea-hag of White Alster. I believe you will be interested. I require several ells of stout cord.”
“You excite my curiosity!” Iucounu extended his arm; a panel in the wainscoting slid back; a coil of rope was tossed to his hand. Rubbing his face as if to conceal a smile, Iucounu handed the rope to Cugel who shook it out with great care. “I will ask your cooperation,” said Cugel. “A small matter of extending one arm and one leg.”
“Yes, of course.” Iucounu held out his hand, pointed a finger. The rope coiled around Cugel’s arms and legs, pinning him so that he was unable to move. Iucounu’s grin nearly split his great soft head. “This is a surprising development! By error I called forth Thief-taker! For your own comfort, do not strain, as Thief-taker is woven of wasp-legs. Now then, I will examine the contents of your bag.” He peered into Cugel’s sack and emitted a soft cry of dismay. “You have rifled my collection! I note certain of my most treasured valuables!”
Cugel grimaced. “Naturally! But I am no thief; Fianosther sent me here to collect certain objects, and therefore—”
Iucounu held up his hand. “The offense is far too serious for flippant disclaimers. I have stated my abhorrence for plunderers and thieves, and now I must visit upon you justice in its most unmitigated rigor—unless, of course, you can suggest an adequate requital.”
“Some such requital surely exists,” Cugel averred. “This cord however rasps upon my skin, so that I find cogitation impossible.”
“No matter. I have decided to apply the Charm of Forlorn Encystment, which constricts the subject in a pore some forty-five miles below the surface of the earth.”
Cugel blinked in dismay. “Under these conditions, requital could never be made.”
“True,” mused Iucounu. “I wonder if after all there is some small service which you can perform for me.”
“The villain is as good as dead!” declared Cugel. “Now remove these abominable bonds!”
“I had no specific assassination in mind,” said Iucounu. “Come.”
The rope relaxed, allowing Cugel to hobble after Iucounu into a side chamber hung with intricately embroidered tapestry. From a cabinet Iucounu brought a small case and laid it on a floating disk of glass. He opened the case, gestured to Cugel, who perceived that the box showed two indentations lined with scarlet fur, where reposed a single small hemisphere of filmed violet glass.
“As a knowledgeable and traveled man,” suggested Iucounu, “you doubtless recognize this object. No? You are familiar, of course, with the Cutz Wars of the Eighteenth Aeon? No?” Iucounu hunched up his shoulders in astonishment. “During these ferocious events the demon Unda-Hrada—he is listed as 16-04 Green in Thrump’s Almanac—thought to assist his principals, and to this end thrust certain agencies up from the sub-world La-Er. In order that they might perceive, they were tipped with cusps similar to the one you see before you. When events went amiss, the demon snatched himself back to La-Er. The hemispheres were dislodged and broadcast across Cutz. One of these, as you see, I own. You must procure its mate and bring it to me, whereupon your trespass shall be overlooked.”
Cugel reflected. “The choice, if it lies between a sortie into the demon-world La-Er and the Spell of Forlorn Encystment, is moot. Frankly, I am at a loss for decision.”
Iucounu’s laugh almost split the big yellow bladder of his head. “A visit to La-Er perhaps will prove unnecessary. You may secure the article in that land once known as Cutz.”
“If I must, I must,” growled Cugel, thoroughly displeased by the manner in which the day’s work had ended. “Who guards this violet hemisphere? What is its function? How do I go and how return? What necessary weapons, talismans and other magical adjuncts do you undertake to fit me out with?”
“All in good time,” said Iucounu. “First I must ensure that, once at liberty, you conduct yourself with unremitting loyalty, zeal and singleness of purpose.”
“Have no fear,” declared Cugel, “my word is my bond.”
“Excellent!” cried Iucounu. “This knowledge represents a basic security which I do not in the least take lightly. The act now to be performed is doubtless supererogatory.”
He departed the chamber and after a moment returned with a covered glass bowl containing a small white creature, all claws, prongs, barbs and hooks, now squirming angrily. “This,” said Iucounu, “is my friend Firx, from the star Achernar, who is far wiser than he seems. Firx is annoyed at being separated from his comrade with whom he shares a vat in my workroom. He will assist you in the expeditious discharge of your duties.” Iucounu stepped close, deftly thrust the creature against Cugel’s abdomen. It merged into his viscera, took up a vigilant post clasped around Cugel’s liver.
Iucounu stood back, laughing in that immoderate glee which had earned him his cognomen. Cugel’s eyes bulged from his head. He opened his mouth to utter an objurgation, but instead clenched his jaw, rolled up his eyes.
The rope uncoiled itself. Cugel stood quivering, every muscle knotted
.
Iucounu’s mirth dwindled to a thoughtful grin. “You spoke of magical adjuncts. What of those talismans whose efficacy you proclaimed from your booth in Azenomei? Will they not immobilize enemies, dissolve iron, impassion virgins, confer immortality?”
“These talismans are not uniformly dependable,” said Cugel. “I will require further competences.”
“You have them,” said Iucounu, “in your sword, your crafty persuasiveness and the agility of your feet. Still, you have aroused my concern and I will help you to this extent.” He hung a small square tablet about Cugel’s neck. “You now may put aside all fear of starvation. A touch of this potent object will induce nutriment into wood, bark, grass, even discarded clothing. It will also sound a chime in the presence of poison. So now—there is nothing to delay us! Come, we will go. Rope? Where is Rope?”
Obediently the rope looped around Cugel’s neck, and Cugel was forced to march along behind Iucounu.
They came out upon the roof of the antique castle. Darkness had long since fallen over the land. Up and down the valley of the Xzan glimmered faint lights, while the Xzan itself was an irregular width darker than dark.
Iucounu pointed to a cage. “This will be your conveyance. Inside.”
Cugel hesitated. “It might be preferable to dine well, to sleep and rest, to set forth tomorrow refreshed.”
“What?” spoke Iucounu in a voice like a horn. “You dare stand before me and state preferences? You, who came skulking into my house, pillaged my valuables and left all in disarray? Do you understand your luck? Perhaps you prefer the Forlorn Encystment?”
