by Jack Vance
Cugel reluctantly followed Pharesm into a small room walled with blue tile, roofed with a tall cupola of blue and orange glass. Pharesm pointed to a black disk at the center of the floor. “Stand there.”
Cugel glumly obeyed. “In a certain sense, I feel that —”
“Silence!” Pharesm came forward. “Notice this object!” He displayed an ivory sphere the size of two fists, carved in exceedingly fine detail. “Here you see the pattern from which my great work is derived. It expresses the symbolic significance of NULLITY to which TOTALITY must necessarily attach itself, by Kratinjae’s Second Law of Cryptorrhoid Affinities, with which you are possibly familiar.”
“Not in every aspect,” said Cugel. “But may I ask your intentions?”
Pharesm’s mouth moved in a cool smile. “I am about to attempt one of the most cogent spells ever evolved: a spell so fractious, harsh, and coactive, that Phandaal, Ranking Sorcerer of Grand Motholam, barred its use. If I am able to control it, you will be propelled one million years into the past. There you will reside until you have accomplished your mission, when you may return.”
Cugel stepped quickly from the black disk. “I am not the man for this mission, whatever it may be. I fervently urge the use of someone else!”
Pharesm ignored the expostulation. “The mission, of course, is to bring the symbol into contact with TOTALITY.” He brought forth a wad of tangled gray tissue. “In order to facilitate your search, I endow you with this instrument which relates all possible vocables to every conceivable system of meaning.” He thrust the net into Cugel’s ear, where it swiftly engaged itself with the nerve of consonant expression. “Now,” said Pharesm, “you need listen to a strange language for but three minutes when you become proficient in its use. And now, another article to enhance the prospect of success: this ring. Notice the jewel: should you approach to within a league of TOTALITY, darting lights within the gem will guide you. Is all clear?”
Cugel gave a reluctant nod. “There is another matter to be considered. Assume that your calculations are incorrect and that TOTALITY has returned only nine hundred thousand years into the past: what then? Must I dwell out my life in this possibly barbarous era?”
Pharesm frowned in displeasure. “Such a situation involves an error of ten percent. My system of reckoning seldom admits of deviation greater than one per cent.”
Cugel began to make calculations, but now Pharesm signaled to the black disk. “Back! And do not again move hence, or you will be the worse for it!”
Sweat oozing from his glands, knees quivering and sagging, Cugel returned to the place designated.
Pharesm retreated to the far end of the room, where he stepped into a coil of gold tubing, which sprang spiraling up to clasp his body. From a desk he took four black disks, which he began to shuffle and juggle with such fantastic dexterity that they blurred in Cugel’s sight. Pharesm at last flung the disks away; spinning and wheeling they hung in the air, gradually drifting toward Cugel.
Pharesm next took up a white tube, pressed it tight against his lips and spoke an incantation. The tube swelled and bulged into a great globe. Pharesm twisted the end shut and shouting a thunderous spell, hurled the globe at the spinning disks, and all exploded. Cugel was surrounded, seized, jerked in all directions outward, compressed with equal vehemence: the net result, a thrust in a direction contrary to all, with an impetus equivalent to the tide of a million years. Among dazzling lights and distorted visions Cugel was transported beyond his consciousness.
Cugel awoke in a glare of orange-gold sunlight, of a radiance he had never known before. He lay on his back looking up into a sky of warm blue, of lighter tone and softer texture than the indigo sky of his own time.
He tested arms and legs and finding no damage, sat upright, then slowly rose to his feet, blinking in the unfamiliar radiance.
The topography had changed only slightly. The mountains to the north were taller and of harsher texture, and Cugel could not identify the way he had come — or, more properly — the way he would come. The site of Pharesm’s project was now a low forest of feather-light green trees, on which hung clusters of red berries. The valley was as before, though the rivers flowed by different courses and three great cities were visible at varying distances. The air drifting up from the valley carried a strange tart fragrance mingled with an antique exhalation of moulder and must, and it seemed to Cugel that a peculiar melancholy hung in the air; in fact, he thought to hear music: a slow plaintive melody, so sad as to bring tears to his eyes. He searched for the source of the music, but it faded and disappeared even as he sought it, and only when he ceased to listen did it return.
For the first time Cugel looked toward the cliffs which rose to the west, and now the sense of déjà-vu was stronger than ever. Cugel pulled at his chin in puzzlement. The time was a million years previous to that other occasion on which he had seen the cliffs, and hence, by definition, must be the first. But it was also the second time, for he well remembered his initial experience of the cliffs. On the other hand, the logic of time could not be contravened, and by such reckoning this view preceded the other. A paradox, thought Cugel: a puzzle indeed! Which experience had provided the background to the poignant sense of familiarity he had felt on both occasions? … Cugel dismissed the subject as unprofitable and started to turn away when movement caught his eye. He looked back up the face of the cliffs, and the air was suddenly full and rich with the music he had heard before, music of anguish and exalted despair. Cugel stared in wonder. A great winged creature wearing white robes flapped on high along the face of the cliff. The wings were long, ribbed with black chitin, sheathed with gray membrane. Cugel watched in awe as it swooped into a cave high up in the face of the cliff.
A gong tolled, from a direction Cugel could not determine. Overtones shuddered across the air, and when they died, the unheard music became almost audible. From far over the valley came one of the Winged Beings, carrying a human form, of what age and sex Cugel could not determine. It hovered beside the cliff and dropped its burden. Cugel thought to hear a faint cry and the music was sad, stately, sonorous. The body seemed to fall slowly down the great height and struck at last at the base of the cliff. The Winged Being, after dropping the body, glided to a high ledge, where it folded its wings and stood like a man, staring over the valley. Cugel shrank back behind a rock. Had he been seen? He could not be sure. He heaved a deep sigh. This sad golden world of the past was not to his liking; the sooner he could leave the better. He examined the ring which Pharesm had furnished, but the gem shone like dull glass, with none of the darting glitters which would point the direction to TOTALITY. It was as Cugel feared. Pharesm had erred in his calculations and Cugel could never return to his own time.
The sound of flapping wings caused him to look into the sky. He shrank back into such concealment as the rock offered. The music of woe swelled and sighed away, as in the light of the setting sun the winged creature hovered beside the cliff and dropped its victim. Then it landed on a ledge with a great flapping of wings and entered a cave.
Cugel rose to his feet and ran crouching down the path through the amber dusk.
The path presently entered a grove of trees and here Cugel paused to catch his breath, after which he proceeded more circumspectly. He crossed a patch of cultivated ground on which stood a vacant hut. Cugel considered it as shelter for the night, but thought to see a dark shape watching from the interior and passed it by.
The trail led away from the cliffs, across rolling downs, and just before the twilight gave way to night Cugel came to a village standing on the banks of a pond.
Cugel approached warily, but was encouraged by the signs of tidiness and good husbandry. In a park beside the pond stood a pavilion possibly intended for music, miming or declamation; surrounding the park were small narrow houses with high gables, the ridges of which were raised in decorative scallops. Opposite the pond was a larger building, with an ornate front of woven wood and enameled plaques of red, blue and yellow. Three tall
gables served as its roof, the central ridge supporting an intricate carved panel, while those to either side bore a series of small spherical blue lamps. At the front was a wide pergola sheltering benches, tables and an open space, all illuminated by red and green fire-fans. Here towns-folk took their ease, inhaling incense and drinking wine, while youths and maidens cavorted in an eccentric high-kicking dance, to the music of pipes and a concertina.
Emboldened by the placidity of the scene, Cugel approached. The villagers were of a type he had never before encountered, of no great stature, with generally large heads and long restless arms. Their skin was a rich pumpkin orange; their eyes and teeth were black; their hair, likewise black, hung smoothly down beside the faces of the men to terminate in a fringe of blue beads, while the women wound their hair around white rings and pegs, to arrive at a coiffure of no small complexity. The features were heavy at jaw and cheek-bone; the long wide-spaced eyes drooped in a droll manner at the outer corners. The noses and ears were long and were under considerable muscular control, endowing the faces with great vivacity. The men wore flounced black kirtles, brown surcoats, headgear consisting of a wide black disk, a black cylinder, another lesser disk, surmounted by a gilded ball. The women wore black trousers, brown jackets with enameled disks at the navel, and at each buttock a simulated tail of green or red plumes, possibly an indication as to marital status.
Cugel stepped into the light of the fire-fans; instantly all talk ceased. Noses became rigid, eyes stared, ears twisted about in curiosity. Cugel smiled to left and right, waved his hands in a debonair all-inclusive greeting, and took a seat at an empty table.
There were mutters of astonishment at the various tables, too quiet to reach Cugel’s ears. Presently one of the elders arose and approaching Cugel’s table spoke a sentence, which Cugel found unintelligible, for with insufficient scope, Pharesm’s mesh as yet failed to yield meaning. Cugel smiled politely, held wide his hands in a gesture of well-meaning helplessness. The elder spoke once more, in a rather sharper voice, and again Cugel indicated his inability to understand. The elder gave his ears a sharp disapproving jerk and turned away. Cugel signaled to the proprietor, pointed to the bread and wine on a nearby table and signified his desire that the same be brought to him.
The proprietor voiced a query which, for all its unintelligibility, Cugel was able to interpret. He brought forth a gold coin, and, satisfied, the proprietor turned away.
Conversation recommenced at the various tables and before long the vocables conveyed meaning to Cugel. When he had eaten and drunk, he rose to his feet and walked to the table of the elder who had first spoken to him, where he bowed respectfully. “Do I have permission to join you at your table?”
“Certainly; if you are so inclined. Sit.” The elder indicated a seat. “From your behavior I assumed that you were not only deaf and dumb, but also guilty of mental retardation. It is now clear, at least, that you hear and speak.”
“I profess rationality as well,” said Cugel. “As a traveler from afar, ignorant of your customs, I thought it best to watch quietly a few moments, lest in error I commit a solecism.”
“Ingenious but peculiar,” was the elder’s comment. “Still, your conduct offers no explicit contradiction to orthodoxy. May I inquire the urgency which brings you to Farwan?”
Cugel glanced at his ring; the crystal was dull and lifeless: TOTALITY was clearly elsewhere. “My homeland is uncultured; I travel that I may learn the modes and styles of more civilized folk.”
“Indeed!” The elder mulled the matter over for a moment, and nodded in qualified approval. “Your garments and physiognomy are of a type unfamiliar to me; where is this homeland of yours?”
“It lies in a region so remote,” said Cugel, “that never till this instant had I knowledge of the land of Farwan!”
The elder flattened his ears in surprise. “What? Glorious Farwan, unknown? The great cities Impergos, Tharuwe, Rhaverjand — all unheard of? What of the illustrious Sembers? Surely the fame of the Sembers has reached you? They expelled the star-pirates; they brought the sea to the Land of Platforms; the splendor of Padara Palace is beyond description!”
Cugel sadly shook his head. “No rumor of this extraordinary magnificence has come to my ears.”
The elder gave his nose a saturnine twitch. Cugel was clearly a dolt. He said shortly: “Matters are as I state.”
“I doubt nothing,” said Cugel. “In fact I admit to ignorance. But tell me more, for I may be forced to abide long in this region. For instance, what of the Winged Beings that reside in the cliff? What manner of creature are they?”
The elder pointed toward the sky. “If you had the eyes of a nocturnal titvit you might note a dark moon which reels around the earth, and which cannot be seen except when it casts its shadow upon the sun. The Winged Beings are denizens of this dark world and their ultimate nature is unknown. They serve the Great God Yelisea in this fashion: whenever comes the time for man or woman to die, the Winged Beings are informed by a despairing signal from the dying person’s norn. They thereupon descend upon the unfortunate and convey him to their caves, which in actuality constitute a magic opening into the blessed land Byssom.”
Cugel leaned back, black eyebrows raised in a somewhat quizzical arch. “Indeed, indeed,” he said, in a voice which the elder found insufficiently earnest.
“There can be no doubt as to the truth of the facts as I have stated them. Orthodoxy derives from this axiomatic foundation, and the two systems are mutually reinforcing: hence each is doubly validated.”
Cugel frowned. “The matter undoubtedly goes as you aver — but are the Winged Beings consistently accurate in their choice of victim?”
The elder rapped the table in annoyance. “The doctrine is irrefutable, for those whom the Winged Beings take never survive, even when they appear in the best of health. Admittedly the fall upon the rocks conduces toward death, but it is the mercy of Yelisea which sees fit to grant a speedy extinction, rather than the duration of a possibly agonizing canker. The system is wholly beneficent. The Winged Beings summon only the moribund, which are then thrust through the cliff into the blessed land Byssom. Occasionally a heretic argues otherwise and in this case — but I am sure that you share the orthodox view?”
“Wholeheartedly,” Cugel asserted. “The tenets of your belief are demonstrably accurate.” And he drank deep of his wine. Even as he set down the goblet a murmur of music whispered through the air: a concord infinitely sweet, infinitely melancholy. All sitting under the pergola became silent — though Cugel was unsure that he in fact had heard music.
The elder huddled forward a trifle, and drank from his own goblet. Only then did he glance up. “The Winged Beings are passing over even now.”
Cugel pulled thoughtfully at his chin. “How does one protect himself from the Winged Beings?”
The question was ill-put; the elder glared, an act which included the curling forward of his ears. “If a person is about to die, the Winged Beings appear. If not, he need have no fear.”
Cugel nodded several times. “You have clarified my perplexity. Tomorrow — since you and I are manifestly in the best of health — let us walk up the hill and saunter back and forth near the cliff.”
“No,” said the elder, “and for this reason: the atmosphere at such an elevation is insalubrious; a person is likely to inhale a noxious fume, which entails damage to the health.”
“I comprehend perfectly,” said Cugel. “Shall we abandon this dismal topic? For the nonce we are alive and concealed to some extent by the vines which shroud the pergola. Let us eat and drink and watch the merry-making. The youths of the village dance with great agility.”
The elder drained his goblet and rose to his feet. “You may do as you please; as for me, it is time for my Ritual Abasement, this act being an integral part of our belief.”
“I will perform something of a like nature by and by,” said Cugel. “I wish you the enjoyment of your rite.”
The elder
departed the pergola and Cugel was left by himself. Presently certain youths, attracted by curiosity, joined him, and Cugel explained his presence once again, though with less emphasis upon the barbaric crudity of his native land, for several girls had joined the group, and Cugel was stimulated by their exotic coloring and the vivacity of their attitudes. Much wine was served and Cugel was persuaded to attempt the kicking, jumping local dance, which he performed without discredit. The exercise brought him into close proximity with an especially beguiling girl, who announced her name to be Zhiaml Vraz. At the conclusion of the dance, she put her arm around his waist, conducted him back to the table, and settled herself upon his lap. This act of familiarity excited no apparent disapproval among the others of the group, and Cugel was emboldened further. “I have not yet arranged for a bed-chamber; perhaps I should do so before the hour grows late.”
The girl signaled the inn-keeper. “Perhaps you have reserved a chamber for this chisel-faced stranger?”
“Indeed; I will display it for his approval.”
He took Cugel to a pleasant chamber on the ground floor, furnished with couch, commode, rug and lamp. On one wall hung a tapestry woven in purple and black; on another was a representation of a peculiarly ugly baby which seemed trapped or compressed in a transparent globe. The room suited Cugel; he announced as much to the innkeeper and returned to the pergola, where now the merry-makers were commencing to disperse. The girl Zhiaml Vraz yet remained, and she welcomed Cugel with a warmth which undid the last vestige of his caution. After another goblet of wine, he leaned close to her ear. “Perhaps I am over-prompt; perhaps I over-indulge my vanity; perhaps I contravene the normal decorum of the village — but is there reason why we should not repair to my chamber, and there amuse ourselves?”
“None whatever,” said the girl. “I am unwed and until this time may conduct myself as I wish, for this is our custom.”
“Excellent,” said Cugel. “Do you care to precede me, or walk discreetly to the rear?”
