“No matter! Rouse him out, in double-quick time! The matter is urgent!”
“I doubt if he will wish to see you today. He tells me that his fatigue is extreme.”
“What?” roared Soldinck. “He should be dancing for joy! After all, he took my good terces and gave me cases of dried mud in exchange!”
“Impossible,” said Cugel. “The precautions were exact.”
“Your theories are of no interest to me,” declared Soldinck. “Take me to Twango at once!”
“He is unavailable for any but important matters. I wish you a cordial good-day.” Cugel started to close the door, but Soldinck set up an outcry, and now Twango himself appeared on the scene. He asked: “What is the reason for this savage uproar? Cugel, you know how sensitive I am to noise!”
“Just so,” said Cugel, “but Master Soldinck seems intent upon a demonstration.”
Twango turned to Soldinck. “What is the difficulty? We have finished our business for the day.”
Cugel did not await Soldinck’s reply. As Bilberd had remarked, the time had come for a change. He had lost a goodly number of scales to the dishonesty of Yelleg and Malser, but as many more awaited him in Bilberd’s hut, with which he must be content.
Cugel hastened through the manse. He looked into the refectory, where Gark and Gookin worked at the preparation of the evening meal.
Very good, thought Cugel, in fact, excellent! Now he need only avoid Bilberd, take the sack of scales and be away … He went out into the garden, but Bilberd was not at his work.
Cugel went to Bilberd’s hut and put his head through the door. “Bilberd?”
There was no response. A shaft of red light slanting through the door illuminated Bilberd’s pallet in full detail. By the diffused light, Cugel saw that the hut was empty.
Cugel glanced over his shoulder, entered the hut and went to the corner where he had hidden the sack.
The rubbish had been disarranged. The sack was gone.
From the manse came the sound of voices. Twango called: “Cugel! Where are you? Come at once!”
Quick and silent as a wraith, Cugel slipped from Bilberd’s hut and took cover in a nearby juniper copse. Sidling from shadow to shadow, he circled the manse and came out upon the road. He looked right and left, then, discovering no threat, set off on long loping strides to the west. Through the forest and over the hill marched Cugel, and presently arrived at Saskervoy.
Some days later, while strolling the esplanade, Cugel chanced to approach that ancient tavern known as ‘The Iron Cockatrice’. As he drew near, the door opened and two men lurched into the street: one massive, with yellow curls and a heavy jaw; the other lean, with gaunt cheeks, black hair and a hooked nose. Both wore costly garments, with double-tiered hats, red satin sashes and boots of fine leather.
Cugel, looking once, then a second time, recognized Yelleg and Malser. Each had enjoyed at least a bottle of wine and possibly two. Yelleg sang a ballad of the sea and Malser sang “Tirra la lirra, we are off to the land where the daisies grow!” in refrain. Preoccupied with the exact rhythm of their music, they brushed past Cugel, looking neither right nor left, and went off along the esplanade toward another tavern, ‘The Star of the North’.
Cugel started to follow, then jumped back at the rumble of approaching wheels. A fine carriage, drawn by a pair of high-stepping perchers, swerved in front of him and rolled off along the esplanade. The driver wore a black velvet suit with silver epaulettes, and a large hat with a curling black plume; beside him sat a buxom lady in an orange gown. Only with difficulty could Cugel identify the driver as Bilberd, former gardener at Flutic. Cugel muttered sourly under his breath: “Bilberd’s new career, which I generously offered to finance, has cost me rather more than I expected.”
Early the next morning Cugel left Saskervoy by the east road. He crossed over the hills and came down upon Shanglestone Strand.
Nearby, the eccentric towers of Flutic rose into the morning sunlight, sharp against the northern murk.
Cugel approached the manse by a devious route, keeping to the cover of shrubs and hedges, pausing often to listen. He heard nothing; a desolate mood hung in the air.
Cautiously Cugel circled the manse. The pond came into view. Out in the middle Twango sat in the iron scow, shoulders hunched and neck pulled down. As Cugel watched, Twango hauled in a rope; up from the depths came Gark with a small bucket of slime, which Twango emptied into the tub.
Twango returned the bucket to Gark who made a chattering sound and dived again into the depths. Twango pulled on a second rope to bring up Gookin with another bucket.
Cugel retreated to the dark blue mitre-bush. He dug down and, using a folded cloth to protect his hand, retrieved the ‘Pectoral Skybreak Spatterlight’.
Cugel went to take a final survey of the pond. The tub was full. Gark and Gookin, two small figures caked with slime, sat at either end of the scow, while Twango heaved at the overhead rope. Cugel watched a moment, then turned and went his way back to Saskervoy.
2
The Inn of Blue Lamps
When Master Soldinck returned to Flutic in search of his missing scales, Cugel decided not to take part in the inquiry. He immediately departed Flutic by an obscure route and set off to the west toward the town Saskervoy.
After a period Cugel paused to catch his breath. His mood was bitter. Through the duplicity of underlings he carried, not a valuable parcel of scales, but only a handful of ‘ordinaries’ and a single ‘special’ of distinction: the ‘Malar Astrangal’. The most precious scale of all, the ‘Pectoral Skybreak Spatterlight’, remained hidden in the back garden at Flutic, but Cugel hoped to retain this scale, if only because it was coveted by Iucounu the Laughing Magician.
Cugel again set off along the road: through a dank forest of thamber oak, yew, mernache and goblin-tree. Wan red sunlight sifted through the foliage; shadows, by some trick of perception, seemed to be stained dark blue.
Cugel maintained an uneasy watch to either side, as was only prudent during these latter times. He saw much that was strange and sometimes beautiful: white blossoms held high on tall tendrils above spangles of low flat leaves; fairy castles of fungus growing in shelves, terraces and turrets over rotting stumps; patterns of black and orange bracken. Once, indistinct at a distance of a hundred yards, Cugel thought to see a tall man-like shape in a lavender jerkin. Cugel carried no weapon, and he breathed easier when the road, mounting a hillside, broke out into the afternoon daylight.
At this moment Cugel heard the sound of Soldinck’s wagon returning from Flutic. He stepped off the road and waited in the shadow of a rock. The wagon passed by, and Soldinck’s grim expression was a convincing sign that his talks with Twango had not gone well.
The sound of the wagon receded and Cugel resumed his journey. The road crossed over a windy ridge, descended the slope by a series of traverses, then, rounding a bluff, allowed Cugel a view over Saskervoy.
Cugel had thought to find little more than a village. Saskervoy exceeded his expectations, both in size and in its air of ancient respectability. Tall narrow houses stood side by side along the streets, the stone of their structure weathered by ages of lichen, smoke and sea-fog. Windows glistened and brass-work twinkled in the red sunlight; such was the way at Saskervoy.
Cugel followed the road down into the town and proceeded toward the harbor. Strangers were evidently a novelty for the folk of Saskervoy. At Cugel’s approach, all stopped to stare, and not a few hurriedly crossed the street. They seemed, thought Cugel, a people of old-fashioned habit, and perhaps conservative in their views. The men wore black swallow-tail coats with voluminous trousers and black buckled shoes, while the women, in their shapeless gowns and round, punch-bowl hats pulled low, were like dumplings.
Cugel arrived at a plaza beside the harbor. Several ships of good proportion lay alongside the dock, any one of which might be sailing south, perhaps as far as Almery.
