The Eyes of the Overworld (6 page)

Cugel unsheathed his sword and with great caution stole forth. He reached the first prone figure, thrust steel into the corded neck. The creature flung out its arms, groped at the ground and died.

Cugel wrenched free his blade, wiped it on the leather of the corpse. With the deftest and most facile stealth he came up behind the second bandit, which in its dying made a sound of distress. The third bandit came to investigate.

Springing from concealment, Cugel ran it through. The bandit screamed, drew its own dagger and lunged, but Cugel leapt back, hurled a heavy stone which felled it to the ground. Here it lay, grimacing in hate.

Cugel came cautiously forward. “Since you face death, tell me what you know of hidden treasure.”

“I know of none,” said the bandit. “Were there such you would be the last to learn for you have killed me.”

“This is no fault of mine,” said Cugel. “You pursued me, not I you. Why did you do so?”

“To eat, to survive, though life and death are equally barren and I despise both equally.”

Cugel reflected. “In this case you need not resent my part in the transition which you now face. The question regarding hidden valuables again becomes relevant. Perhaps you have a final word on this matter?”

“I have a final word. I display my single treasure.” The creature groped in its pouch, withdrew a round white pebble. “This is the skull-stone of a grue, and at this moment trembles with force. I use this force to curse you, to bring upon you the immediate onset of cankerous death.”

Cugel hastily killed the bandit, then heaved a dismal sigh. The night had brought only difficulty. “Iucounu, if I survive, there shall be a reckoning indeed!”

Cugel turned to examine the fort. Certain of the stones would fall at a touch; others would require much more effort. He might well not survive to perform the task. What were the terms of the bandit's curse? “— immediate onset of cankerous death.” Sheer viciousness. The ghost-king's curse was no less oppressive: how had it gone? “— everlasting tedium.” Cugel rubbed his chin, nodded gravely. Raising his voice he called, “Lord ghost, I may not stay to do your bidding: I have killed the bandits and now I depart. Farewell and may the aeons pass with despatch.”

From the depths of the fort came a moan, and Cugel felt the pressure of the unknown. “I activate my curse!” came a whisper to Cugel's brain.

Cugel strode quickly away to the southeast. “Excellent; all is well. The ‘everlasting tedium' exactly countervenes the ‘immediate onset of death' and I am left only with the ‘canker' which, in the person of Firx, already afflicts me. One must use his wits in dealing with maledictions.”

He proceeded over the barrens until the fort was beyond vision, and presently came once more to the sea. Mounting the foreshore he looked up and down the beach, to see a dark headland to east and another to west. He descended to the beach, and set off to the east. The sea, sluggish and gray, sent listless surf against the sand, which was smooth, unmarked by footprint.

Ahead Cugel spied a dark blot, which a moment later proved to be an aged man on his knees, passing the sand of the beach through a sieve.

Cugel halted to watch. The old man gave him a dignified nod and proceeded with his work.

Cugel's curiosity at last prompted him to speak. “What do you seek so assiduously?”

The old man put down his sieve, rubbed his arms. “Somewhere along the beach an amulet was lost by the father of my great-grandfather. During his entire life he sifted sand, hoping to find that which he had lost. His son, and after him my grandfather, then my father and now I, the last of my line, have done likewise. All the way from Cil we have sifted sand, but there is yet six leagues to Benbadge Stull.”

“These names are unknown to me,” said Cugel. “What place is Benbadge Stull?”

The old man indicated the headland to the west. “An ancient port, though now you will find only a crumbled breakwater, an old jetty, a hut or two. Yet barques from Benbadge Stull once plied the sea to Falgunto and Mell.”

“Again, regions beyond my knowledge,” said Cugel. “What lies beyond Benbadge Stull?”

“The land dwindles into the north. The sun hangs low over marsh and bog; there are none to be found here but a few forlorn outcasts.”

Cugel turned his attention to the east. “And what place is Cil?”

“This entire domain is Cil, which my ancestor forfeited to the House of Domber. All grandeur is gone; there remains the ancient palace and a village. Beyond, the land becomes a dark and dangerous forest, so much has our realm dwindled.” The old man shook his head, returned to his sieving.

Cugel stood watching a moment, then, kicking idly in the sand, uncovered a glint of metal. Stooping, he picked up a bracelet of black metal shining with a purple luster. Around the circumference were thirty studs in the form of carbuncles, each circled by a set of engraved runes. “Ha!” exclaimed Cugel, displaying the bracelet. “Notice this fine object: a treasure indeed!”

The old man put down scoop and sieve, rose slowly to his knees, then to his feet. He lurched forward, blue eyes round and staring. He held forth his hand. “You have uncovered the amulet of my ancestors, the House of Slaye! Give it to me!”

Cugel stepped back. “Come, come, you make a flagrantly unreasonable request!”

“No, no! The amulet is mine; you do wrong by withholding it. Do you wish to vitiate the work of my lifetime and of four lifetimes before mine?”

“Why do you not rejoice that the amulet has been found?” demanded Cugel peevishly. “You are now relieved from further search. Explain, if you will, the potency of this amulet. It exhales a heavy magic. How does it profit the owner?”

“The owner is myself,” groaned the old man. “I implore you, be generous!”

“You put me in an uncomfortable position,” said Cugel. “My property is too small to admit of largesse, but I cannot consider this a failure of generosity. If you had found the amulet, would you have given it to me?”

“No, since it is mine!”

“Here we disagree. Assume, if you will, that your conviction is incorrect. Your eyesight will attest that the amulet is in my hands, under my control, and, in short, my property. I would appreciate, therefore, any information upon its capabilities and mode of employment.”

The old man threw his arms in the air, kicked his sieve with such wild emotion that he burst out the mesh, and the sieve went trundling down the beach to the water's edge. A wave swept in and floated the sieve; the old man made an involuntary motion to retrieve it, then once more threw up his hands and tottered up the foreshore. Cugel gave his head a shake of grave disapproval, and turned to continue east along the beach.

Now occurred an unpleasant altercation with Firx, who was convinced that the most expeditious return to Almery lay west through the port of Benbadge Stull. Cugel clasped his hands to his belly in distress. “There is but one feasible route! By means of the lands which lie to the south and east. What if the ocean offers a more direct route? There are no boats to hand; it is not possible to swim so great a distance!”

Firx administered a few dubious pangs, but finally permitted Cugel to continue eastward along the shore. Behind, on the ridge of the foreshore, sat the old man, scoop dangling between his legs, staring out to sea.

Cugel proceeded along the beach, well pleased with the events of the morning. He examined the amulet at length: it exuded a rich sense of magic, and in addition was an object of no small beauty. The runes, incised with great skill and delicacy, unfortunately were beyond his capacity to decipher. He gingerly slipped the bracelet on his wrist, and in so doing pressed one of the carbuncles. From somewhere came an abysmal groan, a sound of the deepest anguish. Cugel stopped short, looked up and down the beach. Gray sea, pallid beach, foreshore with clumps of spinifex. Benbadge Stull to west, Cil to east, gray sky above. He was alone. Whence had come the great groan? Cautiously Cugel touched the carbuncle again, and again evoked the stricken protest.

In fascination Cugel pressed another of the carbuncles, this time bringing forth a wail of piteous despair in a different voice. Cugel was puzzled. Who along this sullen shore manifested so frivolous a disposition? Each carbuncle in turn he pressed and caused to be produced a whole concert of outcries, ranging the gamut of anguish and pain. Cugel examined the amulet critically. Beyond the evocation of groans and sobs it displayed no obvious power and Cugel presently tired of the occupation.

The sun reached its zenith. Cugel appeased his hunger with seaweed, which he rendered nutritious by rubbing it with the charm provided for this purpose by Iucounu. As he ate he seemed to hear voices and careless prattling laughter, so indistinct that it might have been the sound of the surf. A tongue of rock protruded into the ocean nearby; listening carefully, Cugel discovered the voices to be coming from this direction. They were clear and child-like, and rang with innocent gayety. He went cautiously out upon the rock. At the far end, where the ocean surged and dark water heaved, four large shells had attached themselves. These now were open; heads looked forth, attached to naked shoulders and arms. The heads were round and fair, with soft cheeks, blue-gray eyes, tufts of pale hair. The creatures dipped their fingers in the water, and from the drops they pulled thread which they deftly wove into a fine soft fabric. Cugel's shadow fell on the water; instantly the creatures clamped themselves into their shells.

“How so?” exclaimed Cugel jocularly. “Do you always lock yourselves apart at the sight of a strange face? Are you so timorous then? Or merely surly?”

The shells remained closed. Dark water swirled over the fluted surfaces.

Cugel came a step closer, squatted on his haunches, cocked his head askew. “Or perhaps you are proud? So that you withdraw yourselves in disdain? Or is it that you lack grace?”

Still no response. Cugel remained as before, and began to whistle, trilling a tune he had heard at the Azenomei Fair.

Presently the shell at the far edge of the rock opened a crack, and eyes peered at him. Cugel whistled another bar or two, then spoke once more. “Open your shells! Here waits a stranger, anxious to learn the road to Cil, and other matters of import!”

Another shell opened a crack; another set of eyes glistened from the dark within.

“Perhaps you are ignorant,” scoffed Cugel. “Perhaps you know nothing save the color of fish and the wetness of water.”

The shell of the farthest opened further, enough to show the indignant face within. “We are by no means ignorant!”

“Nor indolent, nor lacking in grace, nor disdainful,” shouted the second.

“Nor timorous!” added a third.

Cugel nodded sagely. “This well may be. But why do you withdraw so abruptly at my mere approach?”

“Such is our nature,” said the first shell-creature. “Certain creatures of the sea would be happy to catch us unaware, and it is wise to retreat first and investigate second.”

All four of the shells were now ajar, though none stood as fully wide as when Cugel had approached.

“Well then,” he said, “what can you tell me of Cil? Are strangers greeted with cordiality, or driven off? Are inns to be found, or must the wayfarer sleep in a ditch?”

“Such matters lie beyond our specific knowledge,” said the first shell-creature. It fully opened its shell, extruded pale arms and shoulders. “The folk of Cil, if rumor of the sea goes correctly, are withdrawn and suspicious, even to their ruler, who is a girl, no more, of the ancient House of Domber.”

“There walks old Slaye now,” said another. “He returns early to his cabin.”

Another tittered. “Slaye is old; never will he find his amulet, the House of Domber will rule Cil till the sun goes out.”

“What is all this?” asked Cugel ingenuously. “Of what amulet do you speak?”

“As far as memory can return,” one of the shell-creatures explained, “old Slaye has sifted sand, and his father before him, and yet other Slayes across the years. They seek a metal band, by which they hope to regain their ancient privileges.”

“A fascinating legend!” said Cugel with enthusiasm. “What are the powers of the amulet, and how are they activated?”

“Slaye possibly would provide this information,” said one dubiously.

“No, for he is dour and crabbed,” declared another. “Consider his petulant manner when he sieves a scoop of sand to no avail!”

“Is there no information elsewhere?” Cugel demanded anxiously. “No rumor of the sea? No ancient tablet or set of glyphs?”

The shell-creatures laughed in merriment. “You ask so earnestly that you might be Slaye himself! Such lore is unknown to us.”

Concealing his dissatisfaction Cugel asked further questions, but the creatures were artless and unable to maintain their attention upon any single matter. As Cugel listened they discussed the flow of the ocean, the flavor of pearl, the elusive disposition of a certain sea-creature they had noted the day previously. After a few minutes Cugel once more turned the conversation to Slaye and the amulet, but again the shell-creatures were vague, almost child-like in the inconsequence of their talk. They seemed to forget Cugel, and dipping their fingers in the water, drew pallid threads from the drops. Certain conches and whelks had aroused their disapproval through impudence, and they discussed a great urn lying on the off-shore sea-bottom.

Cugel finally tired of the conversation and rose to his feet, at which the shell-creatures once more gave him their attention. “Must you fare forth so soon? Just when we were about to inquire the reason for your presence; passers-by are few along Great Sandy Beach, and you seem a man who has journeyed far.”

“This is correct,” said Cugel, “and I must journey yet farther. Notice the sun: it starts down the western curve, and tonight I wish to house myself at Cil.”

One of the shell-creatures lifted up its arms and displayed a fine garment it had woven from water-threads. “This garment we offer as a gift. You seem a sensitive man and so may require protection from wind and cold.” It tossed the garment to Cugel. He examined it, marveling at the suppleness of the cloth and its lucent shimmer. “I thank you indeed,” said Cugel. “This is generosity beyond my expectation.” He wrapped himself in the garment, but at once it reverted to water and Cugel was drenched. The four in the shells shouted loud in mischievous glee, and as Cugel stepped wrathfully forward, snapped their shells shut.