The Eyes of the Overworld (7 page)

Cugel kicked the shell of the creature which had tossed him the garment, bruising his foot and exacerbating his rage. He seized a heavy rock, dashed it down upon the shell, crushing it. Snatching forth the squealing creature, Cugel hurled it far up the beach, where it lay staring at him, head and small arms joined to pale entrails. In a faint voice it asked, “Why did you treat me so? For a prank you have taken my life from me, and I have no other.”

“And thereby you will be prevented from further pranks,” declared Cugel. “Notice, you have drenched me to the skin!”

“It was merely an act of mischief; a small matter surely.” The shell-creature spoke in a fading voice. “We of the rocks know little magic, yet I am given the power to curse, and this I now pronounce: may you lose your heart's-desire, whatever its nature; you shall be bereft before a single day is gone.”

“Another curse?” Cugel shook his head in displeasure. “Two curses already I have voided this day; am I now inflicted with another?”

“This curse you shall not void,” whispered the shell-creature. “I make it the final act of my life.”

“Malice is a quality to be deplored,” said Cugel fretfully. “I doubt the efficacy of your curse; nevertheless, you would be well-advised to clear the air of its odium and so regain my good opinion.”

But the shell-creature said no more. Presently it collapsed into a cloudy slime which was absorbed into the sand.

Cugel set off down the beach, considering how best to avert the consequences of the shell-creature's curse. “One must use his wits in dealing with maledictions,” Cugel said for the second time. “Am I known as Cugel the Clever for nothing?” No stratagem came to mind, and he proceeded along the beach pondering the matter in all its aspects.

The headland to the east grew distinct. Cugel saw it to be cloaked in tall dark trees, through which appeared glimpses of white buildings. Slaye showed himself once more, running back and forth across the beach like one departed of his senses. He approached Cugel and fell on his knees. “The amulet, I beg of you! It belongs to the House of Slaye; it conferred upon us the rule of Cil! Give it to me and I will fulfill your heart's-desire!”

Cugel stopped short. Here was a pretty paradox! If he surrendered the amulet, Slaye evidently would betray him, or at the very least fail to make good his promise — assuming the potency of the curse. On the other hand, if Cugel retained the amulet, he would lose his heart's-desire to no less a degree — assuming the potency of the curse — but the amulet would yet be his.

Slaye misinterpreted the hesitation as a sign of pliancy. “I will make you grandee of the realm!” he cried in a fervent voice. “You shall have a barge of carved ivory, two hundred maidens shall serve your wants; your enemies shall be clamped into a rotating cauldron — only give me the amulet!”

“The amulet confers so much power?” inquired Cugel. “It is possible to achieve all this?”

“Indeed, indeed!” cried Slaye, “when one can read the runes!”

“Well then,” said Cugel, “what is their import?”

Slaye gazed at him in woeful injury. “That I can not say; I must have the amulet!”

Cugel flourished his hand in a contemptuous gesture. “You refuse to gratify my curiosity; in my turn I denounce your arrogant ambitions!”

Slaye turned to look toward the headland, where white walls gleamed among the trees. “I understand all. You intend to rule Cil in your own right!”

There were less desirable prospects, thought Cugel, and Firx, appreciating something of this, performed a small monitory constriction. Regretfully Cugel put aside the scheme; nevertheless, it suggested a means to nullify the shell-creature's curse. “If I am to be deprived of my heart's-desire,” Cugel told himself, “I would be wise to fix upon a new goal, a fervent new enthusiasm, for at least the space of a day. I shall therefore aspire to the rule of Cil, which now becomes my heart's-desire.” So as not to arouse the vigilance of Firx, he said aloud, “I intend to use this amulet to achieve highly important ends. Among them may well be the lordship of Cil, to which I believe I am entitled by virtue of my amulet.”

Slaye gave a wild sardonic laugh. “First you must convince Derwe Coreme of your authority. She is of the House of Domber, gloomy and fitful; she looks little more than a girl, but she manifests the brooding carelessness of a forest grue. Beware of Derwe Coreme; she will order you and my amulet plunged into the ocean's deep!”

“If you fear to this extent,” said Cugel with asperity, “instruct me in the use of the amulet, and I will prevent that calamity.”

But Slaye mulishly shook his head. “The deficiencies of Derwe Coreme are known; why exchange them for the outlandish excesses of a vagabond?”

For his outspokenness Slaye received a buffet which sent him staggering. Cugel then proceeded along the shore. The sun wallowed low upon the sea; he hastened his steps, anxious to find shelter before dark.

He came at last to the end of the beach. The headland loomed above, with the tall dark trees standing still higher. A balustrade surrounding the gardens showed intermittently through the foliage; somewhat below, a colonnaded rotunda overlooked the ocean to the south. Grandeur indeed! thought Cugel, and he examined the amulet with a new attentiveness. His temporary heart's-desire, sovereignty over Cil, had become no longer factitious. And Cugel wondered if he should not fix upon a new heart's-desire — an aspiration to master the lore of animal husbandry, for instance, or a compelling urge to excel at acrobatic feats … Reluctantly Cugel dismissed the scheme. In any event, the cogency of the shell-creature's curse was not yet certain.

A path left the beach, to wind up among bushes and odorous shrubs: dymphian, heliotrope, black quince, olus, beds of long-stemmed stardrops, shade ververica, flowering amanita. The beach became a ribbon fading into the maroon blur of sunset, and the headland at Benbadge Stull could no longer be seen. The path became level, traversed a dense grove of bay trees, and issued upon a weed-grown oval, at one time a parade ground or exercise field.

Along the left boundary was a tall stone wall, broken by a great ceremonial portico which held aloft a heraldic device of great age. The gates stood wide upon a marble-flagged promenade a mile in length leading to the palace: this a richly detailed structure of many tiers, with a green bronze roof. A terrace extended along the front of the palace; promenade and terrace were joined by a flight of broad steps. The sun had now disappeared; gloom descended from the sky. With no better shelter in prospect, Cugel set off toward the palace.

The promenade at one time had been a work of monumental elegance, but now all was in a state of dilapidation which the twilight invested with a melancholy beauty. To right and left were elaborate gardens now untended and overgrown. Marble urns festooned with garlands of carnelian and jade flanked the promenade; down the center extended a line of pedestals somewhat taller than the height of a man. Each of these supported a bust, identified by an inscription in runes which Cugel recognized as similar to those carved on the amulet. The pedestals were five paces apart, and proceeded the entire mile to the terrace. The carving of the first was softened by wind and rain until the faces were barely discernible; as Cugel proceeded the features became more keen. Pedestal after pedestal, bust after bust; each face stared briefly at Cugel as he marched toward the palace. The last of the series, obscure in the fading light, depicted a young woman. Cugel stopped short: this was the girl of the walking boat, whom he had encountered in the land to the north: Derwe Coreme, of the House of Domber, ruler of Cil!

Beset by misgivings, Cugel paused to consider the massive portal. He had not departed from Derwe Coreme in amity; indeed she might be expected to harbor resentment. On the other hand, at their first encounter, she had invited him to her palace, using language of unmistakable warmth; possibly her resentment had disappeared, leaving only the warmth. And Cugel, recalling her remarkable beauty, found the prospect of a second meeting stimulating.

But what if she were still resentful? She must be impressed by the amulet, provided she did not insist that Cugel demonstrate its use. If only he knew how to read the runes, all would be simplicity itself. But since the knowledge was not to be derived from Slaye, he must seek it elsewhere, which in practicality meant within the palace.

He stood before a reach of shallow steps leading up to the terrace. The marble treads were cracked; the balustrade along the terrace was stained by moss and lichen: a condition which the murk of twilight invested with a mournful grandeur. The palace behind seemed in somewhat better repair. An extremely tall arcade rose from the terrace, with slender fluted columns and an elaborately carved entablature, the pattern of which Cugel could not discern through the gloom. At the back of the arcade were tall arched windows, showing dim lights, and the great portal.

Cugel mounted the steps, beset by renewed doubts. What if Derwe Coreme laughed at his pretensions, defied him to do his worst? What then? Groans and outcries might not be enough. He crossed the terrace on lagging steps, optimism waning as he went, and halted under the arcade; perhaps, after all, it might be wise to seek shelter elsewhere. But looking back over his shoulder he thought to see a tall still shape standing among the pedestals. Cugel thought no more of seeking shelter elsewhere, and walked quickly to the tall door: if he presented himself in humble guise he might escape the notice of Derwe Coreme. There was a stealthy sound on the steps. With great urgency Cugel plied the knocker. The sound reverberated inside the palace.

A minute passed, and Cugel thought to hear further sounds behind him. He rapped again, and again the sound echoed within. A peephole opened, an eye inspected Cugel with care. The eye moved up; a mouth appeared. “Who are you?” spoke the mouth. “What do you wish?” The mouth slid away, to reveal an ear.

“I am a wayfarer, I wish shelter for the night, and with haste for a creature of dread approaches.”

The eye reappeared, looked carefully across the terrace, returned to focus on Cugel. “What are your qualities; where are your certifications?”

“I have none,” said Cugel. He glanced over his shoulder. “I much prefer to discuss the matter within, since the creature step by step mounts to the terrace.”

The peephole slammed shut. Cugel stared at the blank door. He banged on the knocker, peering back into the gloom. With a scrape and a creak the portal opened. A small stocky man wearing purple livery motioned to him. “Inside, with haste.”

Cugel slipped smartly through the door, which the footman at once heaved shut and bolted with three iron pegs. Even as he did so there came a creak and a pressure upon the door.

The footman struck the door smartly with his fist. “I have thwarted the creature again,” he said with satisfaction. “Had I been less swift, it would have been upon you, to my distress as well as yours. This is now my chief amusement, depriving the creature of its pleasures.”

“Indeed,” said Cugel, breathing heavily. “What manner of being is it?”

The footman signified his ignorance. “Nothing definite is known. It has only appeared of late, to lurk by night among the statues. Its behaviour is both vampirish and unnaturally lustful, and several of my associates have had cause to complain; in fact, all are dead by its odious acts. So now, to divert myself, I taunt the creature and cause it dissatisfaction.” The footman stood back, to survey Cugel with attention. “What of yourself? Your manner, the tilt of your head, the swing of your eyes from side to side denotes recklessness and unpredictability. I trust you will hold this quality in abeyance, if indeed it exists.”

“At this moment,” said Cugel, “my wants are simple: an alcove, a couch, a morsel of food for my supper. If I am provided these, you will find me benevolence personified; indeed I will assist you in your pleasures; together we will contrive stratagems to bait the ghoul.”

The footman bowed. “Your needs can be fulfilled. Since you are a traveler from afar, our ruler will wish to speak to you, and indeed may extend a bounty far more splendid than your minimal requirements.”

Cugel hurriedly disavowed any such ambition. “I am of low quality; my garments are soiled, my person reeks; my conversation consists of insipid platitudes. Best not to disturb the ruler of Cil.”

“We will repair what deficiencies we may,” said the footman. “Follow, if you will.”

He took Cugel along corridors lit by cressets, finally turning into a set of apartments. “Here you may wash; I will brush your garments and find fresh linen.”

Cugel reluctantly divested himself of his clothes. He bathed, trimmed the soft black mat of his hair, shaved his beard, rubbed his body with pungent oil. The footman brought fresh garments, and Cugel, much refreshed, dressed himself. Donning his jacket he chanced to touch the amulet at his wrist, pressing one of the carbuncles. From deep under the floor came a groan of the most profound anguish.

The footman sprang about in terror, and his eye fell upon the amulet. He stared in gape-mouthed astonishment, then became obsequious. “My dear sir, had I realized your identity, I would have conducted you to apartments of state, and brought forth the finest robes.”

“I make no complaints,” said Cugel, “though for a fact the linens were a trifle stale.” In jocular emphasis he tapped a carbuncle at his wrist, and the responsive groan caused the servitor's knees to knock together.

“I beseech your understanding,” he quavered.

“Say no more,” said Cugel. “Indeed it was my hope to visit the palace incognito, so to speak, that I might see how affairs were conducted.”

“This is judicious,” agreed the servitor. “Undoubtedly you will wish to discharge both Sarman the chamberlain and Bilbab the under-cook when their peccancies come to light. As for myself, when your lordship restores Cil to its ancient grandeur, perhaps there will be a modest sinecure for Yodo, the most loyal and cooperative of your servants.”