The Eyes of the Overworld

by Jack Vance

  Copyright © 1963, 2012 by Jack Vance

  All rights reserved. For information, address Tom Doherty Associates, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  eISBN 9781466821958

  First eBook Edition : May 2012

  This title was created from the digital archive of the Vance Integral Edition, a series of 44 books produced under the aegis of the author by a worldwide group of his readers. The VIE project gratefully acknowledges the editorial guidance of Norma Vance, as well as the cooperation of the Department of Special Collections at Boston University, whose John Holbrook Vance collection has been an important source of textual evidence. Special thanks to R.C. Lacovara, Patrick Dusoulier, Koen Vyverman, Paul Rhoads, Chuck King, Gregory Hansen, Suan Yong, and Josh Geller for their invaluable assistance preparing final versions of the source files.

  Digitize: Richard Chandler, Ian Davies, Damien G. Jones, Peter Strickland, Christopher Taylor-Davies, Format: John A. Schwab, Diff: Mark Adams, Suan Hsi Yong, Tech Proof: Patrick van Efferen, Text Integrity: Rob Friefeld, Jesse Polhemus, Paul Rhoads, Tim Stretton, Implement: Derek W. Benson, Hans van der Veeke, Security: Paul Rhoads, Compose: Joel Anderson, Comp Review: Marcel van Genderen, Brian Gharst, Karl Kellar, Update Verify: Bob Luckin, Paul Rhoads, RTF-Diff: Patrick Dusoulier, Bill Schaub, Textport: Patrick Dusoulier, Proofread: Kristine Anstrats, Mike Barrett, Chris Budgen, Patrick Dusoulier, Charles King, Per Kjellberg, Roderick MacBeath, Michael Mitchell, David Reitsema, Gabriel Stein, Fred Zoetemeyer

  Ebook Creation: Arjen Broeze, Christopher Wood, Artwork (maps based on original drawings by Jack and Norma Vance): Paul Rhoads, Christopher Wood, Proofing: Arjen Broeze, Evert Jan de Groot, Gregory Hansen, Menno van der Leden, Koen Vyverman, Management: John Vance, Koen Vyverman, Web: Menno van der Leden

  Cugel the Clever

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  Previously published as

  Eyes of the Overworld

  Contents

  Chapter I – The Overworld

  Chapter II – Cil

  Chapter III – The Mountains of Magnatz

  Chapter IV – The Sorcerer Pharesm

  Chapter V – The Pilgrims

  Chapter VI – The Cave in the Forest

  Chapter VII – The Manse of Iucounu

  Chapter I

  The Overworld

  On the heights above the river Xzan, at the site of certain ancient ruins, Iucounu the Laughing Magician had built a manse to his private taste: an eccentric structure of steep gables, balconies, sky-walks, cupolas, together with three spiral green glass towers through which the red sunlight shone in twisted glints and peculiar colors.

  Behind the manse and across the valley, low hills rolled away like dunes to the limit of vision. The sun projected shifting crescents of black shadow; otherwise the hills were unmarked, empty, solitary. The Xzan, rising in the Old Forest to the east of Almery, passed below, then three leagues to the west made junction with the Scaum. Here was Azenomei, a town old beyond memory, notable now only for its fair, which attracted folk from all the region. At Azenomei Fair Cugel had established a booth for the sale of talismans.

  Cugel was a man of many capabilities, with a disposition at once flexible and pertinacious. He was long of leg, deft of hand, light of finger, soft of tongue. His hair was the blackest of black fur, growing low down his forehead, coving sharply back above his eyebrows. His darting eye, long inquisitive nose and droll mouth gave his somewhat lean and bony face an expression of vivacity, candor, and affability. He had known many vicissitudes, gaining therefrom a suppleness, a fine discretion, a mastery of both bravado and stealth. Coming into the possession of an ancient lead coffin — after discarding the contents — he had formed a number of leaden lozenges. These, stamped with appropriate seals and runes, he offered for sale at the Azenomei Fair.

  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 seale
d 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 c
ooperation,” 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.