Lankwiler chuckled. “You have never wormed before?”
“Very little, certainly.”
“All will be made clear; let us not gossip and theorize, or waste time in idle verbalizing; like Drofo, I am a man of deeds, not rhetoric.”
“Just so,” said Cugel coldly.
With a twitch of sly mockery on his lips, Lankwiler said: “From the peculiar style of your hat I deduce that you derive from a far and exotic region.”
“True,” said Cugel.
“And how do you find the Land of Cutz?”
“It has interesting aspects; still I am anxious to return to civilization.”
Lankwiler sniffed. “I am from Tugersbir sixty miles to the north, where civilization is also rife. Now then: here are Wagmund’s straddles. I think that I will borrow this set with the silver conches; you may choose from among the others. Be careful; Wagmund, like a bald-headed man in a fur hat, is proud and vain, and childishly meticulous with his gear. Briskly now, unless you are ready for another barrage of Drofo’s dogma.”
The two took their gear to the deck. With Drofo in the lead they disembarked from the Galante, and marched north along the dock to a long pen where a number of enormous tubular creatures, seven to nine feet in diameter and almost as long as the Galante itself, lay placidly afloat.
Drofo pointed. “Yonder with the yellow knobs, Lankwiler, are the beasts which were assigned into your care. As you see, they are in need of attention. Cugel, the two beasts at the extreme left, with the blue knobs, are Wagmund’s fine worms which now come under your supervision.”
Lankwiler made a thoughtful suggestion. “Why not let Cugel supervise the worms with the yellow knobs, while I command the Blues? This scheme has the advantage of affording Cugel valuable training in basic procedures at a formative time in his career.”
Drofo ruminated a moment. “Possibly so, possibly so. But we lack time to analyze the matter in all its aspects; therefore we will abide by the original plan.”
“This is correct thinking,” said Cugel. “It conforms with the Second Axiom of our trade: ‘If Worminger A despoils his beasts, then Worminger A must restore them to health, not blameless hard-working Worminger B’.”
Lankwiler was discomfited. “Cugel may have learned thirty different axioms from a book, but, as Drofo himself pointed out, these are no substitute for experience.”
“The original plan will hold,” said Drofo. “Now then: bring your beasts to the ship and clamp them into their cinctures: Cugel to port, Lankwiler to starboard.”
Lankwiler quickly recovered his composure. “Aye, aye, sir,” he cried heartily. “Come along, Cugel; shake a leg, now! We’ll have those worms clamped up in jig-time, Tugersbir-style!”
“So long as you tie none of your peculiar Tugersbir knots,” said Drofo. “Last trip Captain Baunt and I pondered the complications of your easy-off hitch for half an hour.”
Lankwiler and Cugel descended to the pens where a dozen worms idled at the surface of the water, or moved slowly to the thrust of their caudal flukes. Some were pink or even scarlet-rose; others were pale ivory or a sour and sulfurous yellow. The head parts were complicated: a short thick proboscis, an optical bump with a single small eye and immediately behind, a pair of knobs on short stalks. These knobs, painted in different colors, denoted ownership, and functioned as directional apparatus.
“Smartly now, Cugel!” called Lankwiler. “Use all your theorems! Old Drofo likes to see our coat-tails fluttering in the wind! Get into your straddles and mount one of your worms!”
“In all candour,” said Cugel nervously, “I have forgotten many of my skills.”
“Little skill is needed,” said Lankwiler. “Watch me! I jump on the beast, I throw the hood over its eye. I seize its knobs and the worm carries me where I wish to go. Watch! You will see!”
Lankwiler jumped out on one of the worms, ran along its length, jumped to another, and then another and at last straddled a worm with yellow knobs. He threw a hood over its eye and seized the knobs. The worm swung its flukes and carried him out the water-gate, which Drofo had opened, and across the water to the Galante.
Cugel gingerly sought to achieve the same result, but his worm, when finally he straddled it and grasped its knobs, promptly dived deep. Cugel, in despair, pulled back on the knobs and the worm rushed to the surface, flung itself fifteen feet into the air and sent Cugel flying across the pen.
Cugel struggled ashore. By the gate stood Drofo, his brooding gaze directed toward Cugel.
The worms floated as placidly as before. Cugel heaved a deep sigh, once again jumped down upon the worm, and again straddled it. He hooded the eye and with cautious fingers tweaked the blue knobs. The creature paid no heed. Cugel delicately twisted the organ, which startled the worm so that it moved forward. Cugel continued to experiment, and by spasms and jerks the worm approached the end of the pen, where Drofo waited. Through chance, or perversity, the worm swam for the gate; Drofo pulled it ajar, and the worm slid past, with Cugel, head on high, feigning a confident and easy control.
“Now then!” said Cugel. “To the Galante!”
The worm, despite Cugel’s wishes, veered toward the open sea. Standing by the gate, Drofo gave a sad nod, as if in verification of some inner conviction. He brought from his waistcoat a silver whistle and blew three shrill tones. The worm swung in a circle and drove up beside the water-gate. Drofo jumped down upon the ridged pink back, and kicked negligently at the knobs. “Observe! The knobs are played thus and so. Right, left. Shallow, deep. Halt, start. Is this clear?”
“Once more, if you will,” said Cugel. “I am anxious to learn your technique.”
Drofo repeated the procedure, then, urging the worm toward the Galante, stood in melancholy reflection while the worm drove through the water and ranged itself beside the ship, and at last Cugel apprehended the purpose of the walkways which had so perplexed him: they allowed swift and ready access to the worms.
“Observe,” said Drofo. “I will demonstrate how the beast is clamped. So, and so, and so. Unction is applied here and here, to prevent the formation of galls. Are you clear on this?”
“Absolutely!”
“Then bring the second worm.”
Profiting by the instruction, Cugel guided the second worm to its place and clamped it properly. Then, as Drofo had instructed, Cugel applied unction. A few minutes later, to his gratification, he heard Drofo chiding Lankwiler for neglecting the unction. Lankwiler’s explanation, that he disliked the odor of the substance, found no favor with Drofo.
A few minutes later, Drofo stood both Lankwiler and Cugel at attention while he again made the two under-wormingers aware of his expectations.
“On the last voyage Wagmund and Lankwiler were the wormingers. I was not aboard; Gieselman was Chief Worminger. I see that he was far too slack. While Wagmund dealt most professionally with his worms, Lankwiler, through ignorance and sloth, allowed his worms to deteriorate. Examine these beasts. They are yellow as quince. Their gills are black with gangue. You may be sure that in the future Lankwiler will deal more faithfully with his worms. As for Cugel, his training has definitely been sub-standard. Aboard the Galante his deficiency will almost magically be corrected, as will Lankwiler’s turpitude.
“Now heed! We depart Saskervoy for the wide sea in two hours time. You will now feed your beasts a half-measure of victual, and make ready your baits. Cugel, you will then groom your beasts and inspect for timp. Lankwiler, you will immediately begin to chip gangue. You will also inspect for timp, pust and fluke-mites. Your off-beast shows signs of impaction; you must give it a drench.
“Wormingers, to your beasts!”
With brush, scraper, gouge and reamer, with pots of salve, toner and unction, Cugel groomed his worms to Drofo’s instruction. From time to time a wave washed over the worms, and across the walkway. Drofo, leaning over the rail, advised Cugel from above: “Ignore the wet! It is an artificial and factitious sensation. You are constantly wet on the inside of your skin from all manner of fluids, many of a vulgar nature; why shrink from good salt brine on the outside? Ignore wetness of all sorts; it is a worminger’s natural state.”
