The Eyes of the Overworld (19 page)

Cugel gathered his winnings, together with the dice which Lodermulch had dislodged from his sleeve. “An unsettling incident,” he told Voynod. “A boor, this Lodermulch! He has offended everyone; all have quit the game.”

“Perhaps because all the money is in your possession,” Voynod suggested.

Cugel examined his winnings with an air of surprise. “I never suspected that they were so substantial! Perhaps you will accept this sum to spare me the effort of carrying it?”

Voynod acquiesced and a share of the winnings changed hands.

Not long after, while the raft floated placidly along the river, the sun gave an alarming pulse. A purple film formed upon the surface like tarnish, then dissolved. Certain of the pilgrims ran back and forth in alarm, crying: “The sun goes dark! Prepare for the chill!”

Garstang however held up his hands in reassurance. “Calm, all! The quaver has departed, the sun is as before!”

“Think!” urged Subucule with great earnestness. “Would Gilfig allow this cataclysm, even while we travel to worship at the Black Obelisk?”

The group became quiet, though each had his personal interpretation of the event. Vitz, the locutor, saw an analogy to the blurring of vision, which might be cured by vigorous blinking. Voynod declared: “If all goes well at Erze Damath, I plan to dedicate the next four years of life to a scheme for replenishing the vigor of the sun!” Lodermulch merely made an offensive statement to the effect that for all of him the sun could go dark, with the pilgrims forced to grope their way to the Lustral Rites.

But the sun shone on as before. The raft drifted along the great Scamander where the banks were now so low and devoid of vegetation as to seem distant dark lines. The day passed and the sun seemed to settle into the river itself, projecting a great maroon glare which gradually went dull and dark as the sun vanished.

In the twilight a fire was built, around which the pilgrims gathered to eat their supper. There was discussion of the sun's alarming flicker, and much speculation along eschatological lines. Subucule relinquished all responsibility for life, death, the future and past to Gilfig. Haxt, however, declared that he would feel easier if Gilfig had heretofore displayed a more expert control over the affairs of the world. For a period the talk became intense. Subucule accused Haxt of superficiality while Haxt used such words as “credulity” and “blind abasement”. Garstang intervened to point out that as yet all facts were not known, and that the Lustral Rites at the Black Obelisk might clarify the situation.

The next morning a great weir was noted ahead: a line of stout poles obstructing navigation of the river. At one area only was passage possible, and even this gap was closed by a heavy iron chain. The pilgrims allowed the raft to float close to this gap, then dropped the stone which served as an anchor. From a nearby hut appeared a zealot, long of hair and gaunt of limb, wearing tattered black robes and flourishing an iron staff. He sprang out along the weir to gaze threateningly down at those aboard the raft. “Go back, go back!” he shouted. “The passage of the river is under my control; I permit none to go by!”

Garstang stepped forward. “I beg your indulgence! We are a group of pilgrims, bound for the Lustral Rites at Erze Damath. If necessary we will pay a fee to pass the weir, though we trust that in your generosity you will remit the toll.”

The zealot gave a cry of harsh laughter and waved his iron staff. “My fee may not be remitted! I demand the life of the most evil in your company — unless one among you can to my satisfaction demonstrate his virtue!” And legs astraddle, black robe flapping in the wind, he stood glaring down at the raft.

Among the pilgrims was a stir of uneasiness, and all looked furtively at one another. There was a mutter, which presently became a confusion of assertions and claims. Casmyre's strident tones at last rang forth. “It cannot be I who am most evil! My life has been clement and austere and during the gambling I ignored an ignoble advantage.”

Another called out: “I am even more virtuous, who eat only dry pulses for fear of taking life.”

Another: “I am even of greater nicety, for I subsist solely upon the discarded husks of these same pulses, and bark which has fallen from trees, for fear of destroying even vegetative vitality.”

Another: “My stomach refuses vegetable matter, but I uphold the same exalted ideals and allow only carrion to pass my lips.”

Another: “I once swam on a lake of fire to notify an old woman that the calamity she dreaded was unlikely to occur.”

Cugel declared: “My life is incessant humility, and I am unswerving in my dedication to justice and equivalence, even though I fare the worse for my pains.”

Voynod was no less staunch: “I am a wizard, true, but I devote my skill only to the amelioration of public woe.”

Now it was Garstang's turn: “My virtue is of the quintessential sort, being distilled from the erudition of the ages. How can I be other than virtuous? I am dispassionate to the ordinary motives of mankind.”

Finally all had spoken save Lodermulch, who stood to the side, a sour grin on his face. Voynod pointed a finger. “Speak, Lodermulch! Prove your virtue, or else be judged most evil, with the consequent forfeit of your life!”

Lodermulch laughed. He turned, made a great jump which carried him to an outlying member of the weir. He scrambled to the parapet, and drawing his sword, threatened the zealot. “We are all evil together, you as well as we, for enforcing this absurd condition. Relax the chain, or prepare to face my sword.”

The zealot flung high his arms. “My condition is fulfilled; you, Lodermulch, have demonstrated your virtue. The raft may proceed. In addition, since you employ your sword in the defense of honor, I now bestow upon you this salve, which when applied to your blade enables it to slice steel or rock as easily as butter. Away then, and may all profit by the lustral devotions!”

Lodermulch accepted the salve and returned to the raft. The chain was relaxed and the raft slid without hindrance past the weir.

Garstang approached Lodermulch to voice measured approval for his act. He added a caution: “In this case an impulsive, indeed almost insubordinate, act redounded to the general benefit. If a similar circumstance arises in the future it would be well to take counsel with others of proved sagacity: myself, Casmyre, Voynod or Subucule.”

Lodermulch grunted indifferently. “As you wish, so long as the delay involves me in no personal inconvenience.” And Garstang was forced to be content with this.

The other pilgrims eyed Lodermulch with dissatisfaction, and drew themselves somewhat apart, so that Lodermulch sat by himself at the forward part of the raft.

Afternoon came, then sunset, evening and night; when morning arrived it was seen that Lodermulch had disappeared.

There was general puzzlement. Garstang made inquiries, but none could throw light upon the mystery, and there was no general consensus as to what in fact had occasioned the disappearance.

Strangely enough, the departure of the unpopular Lodermulch failed to restore the original cheer and fellowship to the group. Thereafter each of the pilgrims sat dourly silent, casting glances to left and right; there were no further games, nor philosophical discussions, and Garstang's announcement that Erze Damath lay a single day's journey ahead aroused no great enthusiasm.

3
Erze Damath

On the last night aboard the raft a semblance of the old camaraderie returned. Vitz the locutor performed a number of vocal exercises and Cugel demonstrated a high-kneed capering dance typical of the lobster fishermen of Kauchique, where he had passed his youth. Voynod in his turn performed a few simple metamorphoses, and then displayed a small silver ring. He signaled Haxt. “Touch this with your tongue, press it to your forehead, then look through.”

“I see a procession!” exclaimed Haxt. “Men and women by the hundreds, and thousands, marching past. My mother and my father walk before, then my grandparents — but who are the others?”

“Your ancestors,” declared Voynod, “each in his characteristic costume, back to the primordial homuncule from which all of us are derived.” He retrieved the ring, and reaching into his pouch brought forth a dull blue and green gem. “Watch now, as I fling this jewel into the Scamander!” And he tossed the gem off to the side. It flickered through the air and splashed into the dark water. “Now, I merely fold forth my palm, and the gem returns!” And indeed, as the company watched there was a wet sparkle across the firelight and upon Voynod's palm rested the gem. “With this gem a man need never fear penury. True, it is of no great value, but he can sell it repeatedly … What else shall I show you? This small amulet perhaps. Frankly an erotic appurtenance, it arouses intense emotion in that person toward whom the potency is directed. One must be cautious in its use; and indeed, I have here an indispensable ancillary: a periapt in the shape of a ram's head, fashioned to the order of Emperor Dalmasmius the Tender, that he might not injure the sensibilities of any of his ten thousand concubines … What else can I display? Here: my wand, which instantly affixes any object to any other. I keep it carefully sheathed so that I do not inadvertently weld trouser to buttock or pouch to fingertip. The object has many uses. What else? Let us see … Ah, here! A horn of singular quality. When thrust into the mouth of a corpse, it stimulates the utterance of twenty final words. Inserted into the cadaver's ear it allows the transmission of information into the lifeless brain … What have we here? Yes, indeed: a small device which has brought such pleasure!” And Voynod displayed a doll which performed a heroic declamation, sang a somewhat raffish song and engaged in repartee with Cugel, who squatted close in front, watching all with great attentiveness.

At last Voynod tired of his display, and the pilgrims one by one reposed themselves to sleep.

Cugel lay awake, hands behind his head, staring up at the stars, thinking of Voynod's unexpectedly large collection of thaumaturgical instruments and devices.

When satisfied that all were asleep, he arose to his feet and inspected the sleeping form of Voynod. The pouch was securely locked and tucked under Voynod's arm, much as Cugel had expected. Going to the little pantry where stores were kept he secured a quantity of lard, which he mixed with flour to produce a white salve. From a fragment of heavy paper he folded a small box, which he filled with the salve. He then returned to his couch.

On the following morning he contrived that Voynod, as if by accident, should see him anointing his sword blade with the salve.

Voynod became instantly horrified. “It cannot be! I am astounded! Alas, poor Lodermulch!”

Cugel signaled him to silence. “What are you saying?” he muttered. “I merely protect my sword against rust.”

Voynod shook his head with inexorable determination. “All is clear! For the sake of gain you have murdered Lodermulch! I have no choice but to lodge an information with the thief-takers at Erze Damath!”

Cugel made an imploring gesture. “Do not be hasty! You have mistaken all; I am innocent!”

Voynod, a tall saturnine man with a purple flush under his eyes, a long chin and a tall pinched forehead, held up his hand. “I have never been one to tolerate homicide. The principle of equivalence must in this case apply, and a rigorous requital is necessary. At minimum, the evil-doer may never profit by his act!”

“You refer to the salve?” inquired Cugel delicately.

“Precisely,” said Voynod. “Justice demands no less.”

“You are a stern man,” exclaimed Cugel in distress. “I have no choice but submit to your judgment.”

Voynod extended his hand. “The salve then, and since you are obviously overcome by remorse, I will say no more of the matter.”

Cugel pursed his lips reflectively. “So be it. I have already anointed my sword. Therefore I will sacrifice the remainder of the salve in exchange for your erotic appurtenance and its ancillary, together with several lesser talismans.”

“Do I hear correctly?” stormed Voynod. “Your arrogance transcends all! Such effectuants are beyond value!”

Cugel shrugged. “This salve is by no means an ordinary article of commerce.”

After dispute Cugel relinquished the salve in return for a tube which projected blue concentrate to a distance of fifty paces, together with a scroll listing eighteen phases of the Laganetic Cycle; and with these items he was forced to be content.

Not long afterward the outlying ruins of Erze Damath appeared upon the western banks: ancient villas now toppled and forlorn among overgrown gardens.

The pilgrims plied poles to urge the raft toward the shore. In the distance appeared the tip of the Black Obelisk, at which all emitted a glad cry. The raft moved slantwise across the Scamander and was presently docked at one of the crumbling old jetties.

The pilgrims scrambled ashore, to gather around Garstang, who addressed the group: “It is with vast satisfaction that I find myself discharged of responsibility. Behold! The holy city where Gilfig issued the Gneustic Dogma! where he scourged Kazue and denounced Enxis the Witch! Not impossibly the sacred feet have trod this very soil!” Garstang made a dramatic gesture toward the ground, and the pilgrims, looking downward, shuffled their feet uneasily. “Be that as it may, we are here and each of us must feel relief. The way was tedious and not without peril. Fifty-nine set forth from Pholgus Valley. Bamish and Randol were taken by grues at Sagma Field; by the bridge across the Asc Cugel joined us; upon the Scamander we lost Lodermulch. Now we muster fifty-seven, comrades all, tried and true, and it is a sad thing to dissolve our association, which we all will remember forever!

“Two days hence the Lustral Rites begin. We are in good time. Those who have not disbursed all their funds gaming —” here Garstang turned a sharp glance toward Cugel “— may seek comfortable inns at which to house themselves. The impoverished must fare as best they can. Now our journey is at its end; we herewith disband and go our own ways, though all will necessarily meet two days hence at the Black Obelisk. Farewell until this time!”