Tales of the Dying Earth (24 page)

The following day Cugel renewed his observation of the village Smolod and its violet-eyed folk. None, he noticed, went forth to work, nor did there seem to be fields near at hand. The discovery caused Cugel dissatisfaction. In order to secure one of the violet eyes, he would be obliged to kill its owner, and for this purpose freedom from officious interference was essential.

He made tentative attempts at conversation among the villagers, but they looked at him in a manner which presently began to jar at Cugel's equanimity: it was almost as if they were gracious lords and he the ill-smelling loutl During the afternoon he strolled south, and about a mile along the shore came upon another village. The people were much like the inhabitants of Smolod, but with ordinary-seeming eyes. They were likewise industrious; Cugel watched them till fields and fish the ocean.

He approached a pair of fishermen on their way back to the village, their catch slung over their shoulders. They stopped, eyeing Cugel with no great friendliness. Cugel introduced himself as a wayfarer and asked concerning the lands to the east, but the fishermen professed ignorance otjier than the fact that the land was barren, dreary and dangerous.

“I am currently guest at the village Smolod,” said Cugel. “I find the folk pleasant enough, but somewhat odd. For instance, why are their eyes as they are? What Is the nature of their affliction? Why do they conduct themselves with such aristocratic self-assurance and suavity of manner?”

“The eyes are magic cusps,” stated the older of the fishermen in a grudging voice. “They afford a view of the Overworld; why should not the owners behave as lords? So will I when Radkuth Vomin dies, for I inherit his eyes.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Cugel, marveling. “Can these magic cusps be detached at will and transferred as the owner sees fit?”

“They can, but who would exchange the Overworld for this?” The fisherman swung his arm around the dreary landscape. “I have toiled long and at last it is my turn to taste the delights of the Overworld. After this there is nothing, and the only peril is death through a surfeit of bliss.”

“Vastly interesting!” remarked Cugel. “How might I qualify for a pair of these magic cusps?”

“Strive as do all the others of Grodz: place your name on the list, then toil to supply the lords of Smolod with sustenance. Thirty-one years have I sown and reaped lentils and emmer and netted fish and dried them over slow fires, and now the name of Bubach Angh is at the head of the list, and you must do the same.”

“Thirty-one years,” mused Cugel. “A period of not negligible duration.” And Firs squirmed restlessly, causing Cugel's liver no small discomfort.

The fishermen proceeded to their village Grodz; Cugel returned to Smolod. Here he sought out that man to whom he had spoken upon his arrival at the village. “My lord,” said Cugel, “as you know, I am a traveler from a far land, attracted here by the magnificence of the city Smolod.”

“Understandable,” grunted the other. “Our splendor cannot help but inspire emulation.”

“What then is the source of the magic cusps?”

The elder turned the violet hemispheres upon Cugel as if seeing him for the first time. He spoke in a surly f voice, “It is a matter we do not care to dwell upon, but there is no harm in it, now that the subject has been broached. At a remote time the demon Underherd sent up tentacles to look across Earth, each tipped with a cusp. Simbilis the Sixteenth pained the monster, which jerked back to his subworld and the cusps became dislodged. Four hundred and twelve of the cusps were gathered and brought to Smolod, then as splendid as now it appears to me. Yes, I realize that I see but a semblance, but so do you, and who is to say which is real?”

“I do not look through magic cusps,” said Cugel.

“True.” The elder shrugged. “It is a matter I prefer to overlook. I dimly recall that I inhabit a sty and devour the coarsest of food — but the subjective reality is that I inhabit a glorious palace and dine on splendid viands among the princes and princesses who are my peers. It is explained thus: the demon Underherd looked from the sub-world to this one; we look from this to the Over-world, which is the quintessence of human hope, visionary longing, and beatific dream. We who inhabit this world — how can we think of ourselves as other than splendid lords? This is how we are.”

“It is inspiring!” exclaimed Cugel. “How may I obtain a pair of these magic cusps?”

“There are two methods. Underherd lost four hundred and fourteen cusps; we control four hundred and twelve. Two were never found, and evidently lie on the floor of the ocean's deep. You are at liberty to secure these. The second means is to become a citizen of Grodz, and furnish the lords of Smolod with sustenance till one of us dies, as we do infrequently.”

“I understand that a certain Lord Radkuth Vomin is ailing.”

“Yes, that is he.” The elder indicated a potbellied old man with a slack, drooling mouth, sitting in filth before his hut. “You see him at his ease in the pleasaunce of his palace. Lord Radkuth strained himself with a surfeit of lust, for our princesses are the most ravishing creations of human inspiration, just as I am the noblest of princes. But Lord Radkuth indulged himself too copiously, and thereby suffered a mortification. It is a lesson for us alt.”

“Perhaps I might make special arrangements to secure his cusps?” ventured Cugel.

“I fear not. You must go to Grodz and toil as do the others. As did I, in a former existence which now seems dim and inchoate.... To think I suffered so long! But you are young; thirty or forty or fifty years is not too long a time to wait.”

Cugel put his hand to his abdomen to quiet the fretful stirrings of Firx. “In the space of so much time, the sun may well have waned. Look!” He pointed as a black flicker crossed the face of the sun and seemed to leave a momentary crust. “Even now it ebbs!”

“You are over-apprehensive,” stated the elder. “To us who are lords of Smolod, the sun puts forth a radiance of exquisite colors.”

“This may well be true at the moment,” said Cugel, “but when the sun goes dark, what then? Will you take an equal delight in the gloom and the chill?”

But the elder no longer attended him. Radkuth Vomin had fallen sideways into the mud, and appeared to be dead.

Toying indecisively with his knife, Cugel went to look down at the corpse. A deft cut or two — no more than the work of a moment — and he would have achieved his goal. He swayed forward, but already the fugitive moment had passed. Other lords of the village had approached to jostle Cugel aside; Radkuth Vomin was lifted and carried with the most solemn nicety into the ill-smelling precincts of his hut.

Cugel stared wistfully through the doorway, calculating the chances of this ruse and that.

“Let lamps be brought!” intoned the elder. “Let a final effulgence surround Lord Radkuth on his gem-encrusted bier! Let the golden clarion sound from the towers; let the princesses don robes of samite; let their tresses obscure the faces of delight Lord Radkuth loved so welll And now we must keep vigil! Who will guard the bier?”

Cugel stepped forward. “I would deem it honor indeed.”

The elder shook his head. “This is a privilege reserved for his peers. Lord Maulfag, Lord Glus: perhaps you will act in this capacity.” Two of the villagers approached the bench on which Lord Radkuth Vomin lay.

“Next,” declared the elder, “the obsequies must be proclaimed, and the magic cusps transferred to Bubach Angh, that most deserving squire of Grodz. Who, again, will go to notify this squire?”

“Again,” said Cugel, “I offer my services, if only to requite in some small manner the hospitality I have enjoyed at Smolod.”

“Well spoken!” intoned'the elder. “So, then, at speed to Grodz; return with that squire who by his faith and dutiful toil deserves advancement.”

Cugel bowed, and ran off across the barrens toward Grodz. As he approached the outermost fields he moved cautiously, skulking from tussock to copse, and presently found that which he sought: a peasant turning the dank soil with a mattock.

Cugel crept quietly forward and struck down the loon with a gnarled root. He stripped off the best garments, the leather hat, the leggings and foot-gear; with his knife he hacked off the stiff straw-colored beard. Taking all and leaving the peasant lying dazed and naked in the mud, he fled on long strides back toward Smolod. In a secluded spot he dressed himself in the stolen garments. He examined the hacked-off beard with some perplexity, and finally, by tying up tufts of the coarse yellow hair and tying tuft to tuft, contrived to bind enough together to make a straggling false beard for himself. That hair which remained he tucked up under the brim of the flapping leather hat.

Now the sun had set; plum-colored gloom obscured the land. Cugel returned to Smolod. Oil lamps flickered before the hut of Radkuth Vomin, where the obese and misshapen village women wailed and groaned.

Cugel stepped cautiously forward, wondering what might be expected of him. As for his disguise it would either prove effective or it would not. To what extent the violet cusps befuddled perception was a matter of doubt; he could only hazard a trial.

Cugel marched boldly up to the door of the hut Pitching his voice as low as possible, he called, “I am here, revered princes of Smolod: Squire Bubach Angh of Grodz, who for thirty-one years has heaped the choicest of delicacies into the Smolod larders. Now I appear, beseeching elevation to the estate of nobility.”

“As is your right,” said the Chief Elder. “But you seem a man different from that Bubach Angh who so long has served the princes of Smolod.”

“I have been transfigured — through grief at the passing of Prince Radkuth Vomin and through rapture at the prospect of elevation.”

“This is clear and understandable. Come, then — prepare yourself for the rites.”

“I am ready as of this instant,” said Cugel, “Indeed, if you will but tender me the magic cusps I will take them quietly aside and rejoice.”

The Chief Elder shook his head indulgently. “This is not in accord with the rites. To begin with you must stand naked here on the pavilion of this mighty castle, and the fairest of the fair will anoint you in aromatics. Then comes the invocation to Eddith Bran Maur. And then—”

“Revered,” stated Cugel, “allow me one boon. Before the ceremonies begin, fit me with the magic cusps so that I may understand the full portent of the ceremony.” The Chief Eider considered. “The request is unorthodox, but reasonable. Bring forth the cusps!”

There was a wait, during which Cugel stood first on one foot then the other. The minutes dragged; the garments and the false beard itched intolerably. And now at the outskirts of the village he saw the approach of several new figures, coming from the direction of Grodz. One was almost certainly Bubach Angh, while another seemed to have been shorn of his beard.

The Chief Elder appeared, holding in each hand a violet cusp. “Step forward!”

Cugel called loudly, “I am here, sir.”

“I now apply the potion which sanctifies the junction of magic cusp to right eye.”

At the back of the crowd Bubach Angh raised bis voice. “Holdl What transpires?”

Cugel turned, pointed. “What jackal is this that interrupts solemnities? Remove him: hence!”

“Indeed!” called the Chief Elder peremptorily. “You demean yourself and the dignity of the ceremony.” Bubach Angh crouched back, momentarily cowed. “In view of the interruption,” said Cugel, “I had as lief merely take custody of the magic cusps until these louts can properly be chastened.”

“No,” said the Chief Elder. “Such a procedure is impossible.” He shook drops of rancid fat in Cugel's right eye. But now the peasant of the shorn beard set up an outcry: “My hat! My blouse! My beard! Is there no justice?”

“Silence!” hissed the crowd. “This is a solemn occasion!”

“But I am Bu—”

Cugel called, “Insert the magic cusp, lord; let us ignore these louts.”

“A lout, you call me?” roared Bubach Angh. “I recognize you now, you rogue. Hold up proceedings!”

The Chief Elder said inexorably, “I now invest you with the right cusp. You must temporarily hold this eye closed to prevent a discord which would strain the brain, and cause stupor. Now the left eye.” He stepped forward with the ointment, but Bubach Angh and the beardless peasant no longer would be denied.

“Hold up proceedingsl You ennoble an impostor! I am Bubach Angh, the worthy squirel He who stands before you is a vagabond!”

The Chief Elder inspected Bubach Angh with puzzlement. “For a fact you resemble that peasant who for thirty-one years has carted supplies to Smolod. But if you are Bubach Angh, who is this?”

The beardless peasant lumbered forward. “It is the soulless wretch who stole the clothes from my back and the beard from my face.”

“He is a criminal, a bandit, a vagabond—”

“Hold!” called the Chief Elder. “The words are ill-chosen. Remember that he has been exalted to the rank of prince of Smolod.”

“Not altogether!” cried Bubach Angh. “He has one of my eyes. I demand the other!”

“An awkward situation,” muttered the Chief Elder. He spoke to Cugel: “Though formerly a vagabond and cutthroat, you are now a prince, and a man of responsibility. What is your opinion?”

“I suggest a hiding for these obstreperous louts. Then—”

Bubach Angh and the beardless peasant, uttering shouts of rage, sprang forward. Cugel, leaping away, could not control his right eye. The lid flew open; into his brain crashed such a wonder of exaltation that his breath caught in his throat and his heart almost stopped from astonishment But concurrently his left eye showed the reality of Smolod. The dissonance was too wild to be tolerated; he stumbled and fell against a hut. Bubach Angh stood over him with mattock raised high, but now the Chief Elder stepped between.

“Do you take leave of your senses? This man is a prince of Smolod!”

“A man I will kill, for he has my eye! Do I toil thirty-one years for the benefit of a vagabond?”

“Calm yourself, Bubach Angh, if that be your name, and remember the issue is not yet entirely clear. Possibly an error has been made — undoubtedly an honest error, for this man is now a prince of Smolod, which is to say, justice and sagacity personified.”