Tales of the Dying Earth (29 page)

Cugel signaled Yodo. “Another goblet, if you please ... and the decanter.” Cugel poured a third measure and again the charm signified direness. Cugel said, “Though my acquaintance with the excellent Yodo is of short duration, I hereby elevate him to the post of Major-Domo of the Palace!”

“Exalted,” stammered Yodo, “this is a signal honor indeed.”

“Drink then of the ancient vintage, to solemnize this new dignity!”

Yodo bowed low. “With the most heartfelt gratitude, Exalted.” He raised the goblet and drank. Derwe Coreme watched indifferently. Yodo put down the goblet, frowned, gave a convulsive jerk, turned a startled glance at Cugel, fell to the rug, cried out, twitched and lay still.

Cugel frowningly inspected Derwe Coreme. She appeared as startled as had Yodo. Now she turned to look at him. “Why did you poison Yodo?”

“It was your doing,” said Cugel. “Did you not order poison in the wine?”

“No.”

“You must say ‘No, Exalted.’”

“No, Exalted.”

“If you did not — who?”

“I am perplexed. The poison perhaps was meant for me.” .

“Or both of us.” Cugel signaled one of the footmen. “Remove the corpse of Yodo.”

The footman signaled a pair of hooded under-servants, who carried off the unfortunate major-domo.

Cugel took the crystal goblets and stared down into the amber liquid, but did not communicate his thoughts. Derwe Coreme leaned back in her chair, and contemplated him at length. “I am puzzled,” she said presently. “You are a man past the teaching of my experience. I cannot decide upon the color of your soul.”

Cugel was charmed by the quaint turn of phrase. “You see souls in color, then?”

“Indeed. It was the birth-gift of a lady sorceress, who also provided me my walking boat. She is dead and I am alone, with no friend nor any who thinks of me with love. And so I have ruled Cil with little joy. And now you are here, with a soul which flickers through many colors, like that of no human man to come before me.”

Cugel forebore to mention Firx, whose own spiritual exhalation, mingling with that of Cugel's, undoubtedly caused the variegation Derwe Coreme had noted. “There is a reason for this effect,” said Cugel, “which in due course will be one shining with the purest ray imaginable.”

“I will try to keep this in mind, Exalted.”

Cugel frowned. In Derwe Coreme's remarks and the poise of her head he noted barely concealed insolence, which he found exasperating. Still, there was ample time to correct the matter after learning the use of the amulet, a business of prime urgency. Cugel leaned back into the cushions, and spoke as one who muses idly. “Everywhere at this time of Earth's dying exceptional circumstances are to be noted. Recently, at the manse of Lucounu the Laughing Magician, I saw a great libram which indexed all the writings of magic, and all styles of thaumaturgical rune. Perhaps you have similar volumes in your library?”

“It well may be,” said Derwe Coreme. “The Fourteenth Garth Haxt of Slaye was a diligent collator, and compiled a voluminous pandect on the subject.”

Cugel clapped his hands together. “I wish to see this important work at once!”

Derwe Coreme looked at him in wonder. “Are you then such a bibliophile? A pity, because The Eighth Rubel Zaff ordered this particular compendium submerged off Cape Horizon.”

Cugel made a sour face. “Are no other treatises at hand?”

“Doubtless,” said Derwe Coreme. “The library occupies the whole of the north wing. But will not tomorrow suffice for your research?” And, stretching in languid warmth, she contrived to twist her body into first one luxurious position, then another.

Cugel drank deep from a black glass goblet. “Yes, there is no haste in this matter. And now—” He was interrupted by a woman of middle age in voluminous brown garments, evidently one of the under-servants, who at this moment rushed into the hal!. She was shouting hysterically and several footmen sprang forward to support her. Between racking sobs she made clear the source of her anguish: an abominable act only just now committed by the ghoul upon her daughter.

Derwe Coreme gracefully indicated Cugel. “Here is the new Lord of Cil; he has vast powers of magic and will order the ghoul destroyed. Will you not, Exalted?”

Cugel thoughtfully rubbed his chin. A dilemma indeed. The woman and all the servitors fell down upon their knees. “Exalted, if you control this corrosive magic, employ it instantly to destroy the vile ghoul!”

Cugel winced, and turning his head met Derwe Dor-erne's thoughtful gaze. He jumped to his feet. “What need I of magic when I can wield a sword? I will hack the creature organ from organ!” He signaled the six men-at-arms who stood by in their brass armor. “Come! Bring torchesl We fare forth to dismember the ghoul!”

The men-at-arms obeyed without enthusiasm. Cugel herded them toward the great portal. “When I fling wide the doors, rush forth with the torches, to create a blaze which will illuminate the evil being! Have swords drawn so that when I send him reeling you may strike the coup de grace!”

The men-at-arms each with torch and drawn sword stood before the portal. Cugel slid back the bolts and flung wide of the portals. “Out! Shine upon the ghoul the last light of his existence!”

The men-at-arms raced desperately forth, with Cugd swaggering after, flourishing his sword. The men-at-arms paused at the head of the steps, to look Uncertainly out over the promenade, frqm which a quite horrid sound could be heard.

Cugel looked over his shoulder to see Derwe Coreme watching attentively from the doorway. “Forward!” he shouted. “Surround this wretched creature, whose death is now upon him!”

The men-at-arms gingerly descended the steps, with Cugel marching to the rear. “Hack with a will!” he called. “There is ample glory for all! The man who fails to deal a stroke I blast with magic!”

The flickering lights shone on the pedestals, ranging in a long line to merge at last with the darkness. “Forward!” cried Cugel. “Where is this bestial being? Why does he not appear to receive his deserts?” And Cugel peered through the wavering shadows, hoping the ghoul by now would have taken alarm and fled.

At his side came a small sound. Turning, Cugel saw a tall pale shape standing quietly. The men-at-arms gasped, and fled incontinently up the broad stones. “Slay the beast by magic, Exalted!” called the sergeant. “The most expeditious method is often the best!”

The ghoul came forward; Cugel stumbled back. The ghoul took a quick step forward. Cugel sprang behind a pedestal. The ghoul swung out its arm; Cugel hacked with his sword, sprang to the protection of another pedestal, then raced with great ability back across the terrace. The door was already closing; Cugel flung himself through the dwindling aperture. He heaved the door shut, and thrust home the bolts. The ghoul's weight slammed against the timbers and the bolts creaked in protest.

Cugel turned to meet the bright-eyed appraisal of Derwe Coreme. “What ensued?” she asked. “Why did you not slay the ghoul?”

“The warriors decamped with the torches,” said Cugel. “I could see neither where to hack nor where to hew.”

“Strange,” mused Derwe Coreme. “There seemed ample illumination for so negligible an exercise. Why did you not employ the power of the amulet or rend the ghoul limb from limb?”

“So simple and quick a death is unsuitable,” stated Cugel with dignity. “I must cogitate at length, and decide how he may best expiate his crimes.”

“Indeed,” said Derwe Coreme. “Indeed.”

Cugel strode back into the great hali. “Back to the banquet! Let the wine flow! Everyone must drink to the accession of the new Lord of Cil!”

Derwe Coreme said in a silky voice, “If you please, Exalted, make some display of the power of the amulet, to gratify our curiosity!”

“Certainly!” And Cugel touched carbuncle after carbuncle, producing rumbles and groans of grievous woe, with occasionally a wail or scream.

“Can you do more?” inquired Derwe Coreme, smiling the soft smile of an impish child.

“Indeed, should I so choose. But enough! Drink one and all!”

Derwe Coreme signaled the sergeant of the guard. “Take sword and strike off the fool's arm; bring me the amulet.”

“With pleasure, Great Lady.” The sergeant advanced with bared blade.

Cugel shouted, “Stay! One more step and magic will turn each of your bones at right angles!”

The sergeant looked at Derwe Coreme, who laughed. “As I bade you, or fear my revenge, which is as you know.”

The sergeant winced, and marched forward again. But now an under-servitor rushed to Cugel, and under his hood Cugel saw the seamed face of old Slaye, “I will save you. Show me the amulet!”

Cugel allowed the eager fingers to grope among the carbuncles. Slaye pressed one of these, and called something in a voice so exultant and shrill that the syllables were lost. There was a great fluttering, and an enormous black shape stood at the back of the hall. “Who torments me?” it moaned. “Who will give me surcease?”

“I!” cried Slaye. “Advance through the hall, kill all but myself!”

“No!” cried Cugel. “It is I who possess the amulet! I whom you must obey! Kill all but me!”

Derwe Coreme clutched at Cugel's arm, striving to see the amulet. “It avajls nothing unless you call him by name. We are all lost!”

“What is his name?” cried Cugel. “Counsel me!”

“Hold back!” declared Slaye. “I have considered—” Cugel dealt him a blow and sprang behind the table. The demon was approaching, pausing to pluck up the men-at-arms and dash them against the walls. Derwe Coreme ran to Cugel. “Let me see the amulet; do you know nothing whatever? I will order him!”

“By no means!” said Cugel. “Am I Cugel the Clever for nothing? Show me which carbuncle, recite me the name.”

Derwe Coreme bent her head, read the rune, thrust out to press a carbuncle, but Cugel knocked her arm aside. “What name? Or we all die!”

“Call on Vanille! Press here, call on Vanille!” Cugel pressed the carbuncle. “Vanille! Halt this strife.” The black demon heeded not at all. There was a second great sound, and a second demon appeared. Derwe Coreme cried out in terroor. “It was not Vanille; show me the amulet once more!”

But there was insufficient time; the black demon was upon them.

“Vanille!” bellowed Cugel. “Destroy this black monster!”

Vanille was low and broad, and of a swimming green color, with eyes like scarlet lights. It flung itself upon the first demon, and the terrible bellow of the encounter stunned the ears, and eyes could not follow the frenzy of the fight. The walls shuddered as the great forces struck and rebounded. The table splintered under great splayed feet; Derwe Coreme was flung into a corner. Cugel crawled after, to find her crumpled and staring, half-conscious but bereft of will. Cugel thrust the amulet before her eyes. “Read the runes! Call forth the names; each I will try in turn! Quick, to save our lives!”

But Derwe Coreme merely made a soft motion with her lips. Behind, the black demon, mounted astride Vanille, was methodically clawing up handfuls of his substance and casting it aside, while Vanille bellowed and screamed and turned his ferocious head this way and that, snapping and snarling, striking with great green arms. The black demon plunged its arms deep, seized some central node and Vanille became a sparkling green slime of a myriad parts, each gleam and sparkle flitting and quivering and dissolving into the stone.

Slaye stood grinning above Cugel. “Do you wish your life? Hand here the amulet and I spare you. Delay one instant and you are dead!”

Cugel divested himself of the amulet, but could not bring himself to relinquish it. He said with sudden cunning, “I can give the amulet to the demon.”

Slaye glared down at him. “And then we all are dead. To me it does not matter. Do so. I defy you. If you want life — the amulet.”

Cugel looked down at Derwe Coreme. “What of her?”

“Together you shall be banished. The amulet, for here is the demon.”

The black demon towered above; Cugel hastily handed the amulet to Slaye, who uttered a sharp cry and touched a carbuncle. The demon whimpered, involuted and disappeared.

Slaye stood back, grinning in triumph. “Now away with you and the girl. I keep my word to you, no more. You have your miserable lives: depart.”

“Grant me one desire!” pled Cugel. “Transport us to Almery, to the Valley of the Xzan, where I may rid myself of a canker called Firx!”

“No,” said Slaye. “I deny your heart's-desire. Go at once.”

Cugel lifted Derwe Coreme to her feet. Still dazed, she stared at the wreckage of the hall. Cugel turned to Slaye. “The ghoul waits in the promenade.”

Slaye nodded. “This may well be true. Tomorrow I shall chastise him. Tonight I call sub-world artisans to repair the hall and restore the glory of Cil. Hence! Do you think I care how you fare with the ghoul?” His face became suffused and his hand strayed toward the carbuncles of the amulet. “Hence, at once!”

Cugel took Derwe Coreme's arm and led her from the hall to the great front portal. Slaye stood with feet apart, shoulders hunched, head bent forward, eyes following Cugel's every move. Cugel eased back the bolts, opened the door and stepped out upon the terrace.

There was silence along the promenade. Cugel led Derwe Coreme down the steps and off to the side, into the rank growth of the old garden. Here he paused to listen. From the palace came sounds of activity: rasping and scraping, hoarse shouts and bellows, the flash of many-colored lights. Down the center of the promenade came a tall white shape, stepping from the shadow of one pedestal to the next. It paused to listen to the sounds and watch the flaring lights in wonder. While it was so absorbed Cugel led Derwe Coreme away, behind the dark banks of foliage, and so off into the night.

SHORTLY AFTER SUNRISE Cugel and Derwe Coreme emerged from the hillside byre where they had huddled the night. The air was chill and the sun, a wine-colored bubble behind high mist, produced no warmth. Cugel clapped his arms and jigged back and forth, while Derwe Coreme stood pinch-faced and limp beside the old byre.

Cugel presently became irritated by her posture, which implied a subtle disparagement of himself. “Fetch wood,” he told her curtly. “I will strike a fire; we will breakfast in comfort.”