“Which schemes are these? Inform me, if you please.”

“As you wish,” said Cugel. “I will agree that your plot, to a certain degree, was ingenious. At your request we sailed south during the day on half-bait, that we might rest the worms. At night, when I had gone to take my rest, you veered course to the north.”

“More accurately, north by east.”

Cugel made a gesture to indicate that it was all one. “Then, driving the worms on tonics and double-bait, you tried to keep the ship in the neighborhood of Lausicaa. But I caught you out.”

Madame Soldinck gave a scornful chuckle. “We wanted no more sea-voyage; we were returning to Saskervoy.”

Cugel was momentarily taken aback. The plan had been insolent beyond his suspicions. He feigned easy carelessness of manner. “No great difference. From the first I sensed that we were not sailing new water, and indeed it caused me a moment or two of bafflement — until I noticed the sorry state of the worms, and all became clear. Still, I tolerated your mischief; such melodramatic efforts amused me! And meanwhile I enjoyed my rest, the ocean air, meals of fine quality —”

Meadhre interjected a comment. “I, Tabazinth, Salasser — we spat in every dish. Mama sometimes stepped into the galley. I do not know what she did.”

With an effort Cugel retained his aplomb. “At night I was entertained by games and antics, and here at least I have no complaint.”

Salasser said: “The reverse is not true. Your fumbling and groping with cold hands has bored us all.”

Tabazinth said, “I am not naturally unkind but the truth must be told. Your natural characteristics are really inadequate and, also, your habit of whistling between your teeth should be corrected.”

Meadhre began to giggle. “Cugel is innocently proud of his innovations, but I have heard small children exchanging theories of more compelling interest.”

Cugel said stiffly: “Your remarks add nothing to the discussion. On occasions to come, you may be assured that —”

“What occasions?” asked Madame Soldinck. “There will be no others. Your foolishness has run its course.”

“The voyage is not over,” said Cugel haughtily. “When the wind moderates, we will resume our course to the south.”

Madame Soldinck laughed aloud. “The wind is not just wind. It is the monsoon. It will shift in three months. When I decided that Saskervoy was impractical, I steered to where the wind will blow us into the estuary of the Great Chaing River. I have signaled Master Soldinck and Captain Baunt that all was in order, and to keep clear until I bring us in to Port Perdusz.”

Cugel laughed airily. “It is a pity, Madame, that a plot of such intricacy must come to naught.” He bowed stiffly and departed the galley.

Cugel took himself aft to the chart-room and consulted the portfolio. The estuary of the Great Chaing cut a long cleft into that region known as the Land of the Falling Wall. To the north a blunt peninsula marked ‘Gador Porrada’ shouldered into the ocean, apparently uninhabited save for the village ‘Tustvold’. South of the Chaing, another peninsula: ‘The Dragon’s Neck’, longer and narrower than Gador Porrada, thrust a considerable distance into the ocean, to terminate in a scatter of rocks, reefs and small islands: ‘The Dragon-Fangs’.

Cugel studied the chart in detail, then closed the portfolio with a fateful thud. “So be it!” said Cugel. “How long, oh how long, must I entertain false hopes and fond dreams? Still, all will be well … Let us see how the land lays.”

Cugel climbed to the quarter-deck. At the horizon he noted a ship which under the lens proved to be that lubberly little cog he had evaded several days before. Even without worms, using clever tactics, he could easily evade so clumsy a craft!

Cugel sheeted the sail hard back to the starboard, then jumping up to the quarter-deck, he swung the wheel to bring the ship around on a port tack, steering as close to north as the ship would point.

The crew of the cog, noting his tactic, veered to cut him off and drive him back south into the estuary, but Cugel refused to be intimidated and held his course.

To the right the low coast of Gador Porrada was now visible; to the left, the cog blundered importantly through the water.

Using the lens Cugel discerned the gaunt form of Drofo on the bow, signaling triple-bait for the worms.

Madame Soldinck and the three girls came from the galley to stare across the water at the cog, and Madame Soldinck screamed officious instructions to Cugel which were blown away on the wind.

The Galante, with a hull ill-adapted to sailing, made a great deal of leeway. For best speed Cugel fell away several points to the east, in the process veering closer upon the low-lying coast, while the cog pressed relentlessly down upon him. Cugel desperately swung the wheel, thinking to achieve a remarkable down-wind jibe which would totally discomfit those persons aboard the cog, not to mention Madame Soldinck. For best effect he sprang down upon the deck to trim the sheets, but before he could return to the wheel, the ship rushed off downwind.

Cugel climbed back to the quarter-deck and spun the wheel, hoping to bring the ship back on a starboard reach. Glancing toward the near shore of Gador Porrada, Cugel saw a curious sight: a group of sea-birds walking on what appeared to be the surface of the water. Cugel stared in wonder, as the sea-birds walked this way and that, occasionally lowering their heads to peck at the surface.

The Galante came to a slow sliding halt. Cugel decided that he had run aground on the Tustvold mud-flats.

So much for birds who walked on water.

A quarter-mile to sea the cog dropped anchor and began to lower a boat. Madame Soldinck and the girls waved their arms in excitement. Cugel wasted no time in farewells. He lowered himself over the side and floundered toward the shore.

The mud was deep, viscous, and smelled most unpleasantly. A heavy ribbed stalk terminating in a globular eye reared from the mud to peer at him, and twice he was attacked by pincer-lizards, which luckily he was able to out-distance.

Finally Cugel arrived at the shore. Rising to his feet, he found that a contingent from the cog had already arrived aboard the Galante. One of the forms Cugel saw to be Soldinck, who pointed toward Cugel and shook his fist. At this same moment Cugel discovered that he had left the total sum of his terces aboard the Galante, including the six golden centums received from Soldinck in the sale of Fuscule’s worm.

This was a bitter blow. Soldinck was joined at the rail by Madame Soldinck, who made insulting signals of her own.

Disdaining response, Cugel turned and trudged off along the shore.

Chapter III

From Tustvold to Port Perdusz

1

The Columns

Cugel marched along the foreshore, shivering to the bite of the wind. The landscape was barren and dreary; to the left, black waves broke over the mud-flats; to the right, a line of low hills barred access to inland regions.

Cugel’s mood was bleak. He carried neither terces nor so much as a sharp stick to protect himself against footpads. Slime from the mud-flats squelched in his boots and his sodden garments smelled of marine decay.

At a tidal pool Cugel rinsed out his boots and thereafter walked more comfortably, though the slime still made a mockery of style and dignity. Hunching along the shore Cugel resembled a great bedraggled bird.

Where a sluggish river seeped into the sea, Cugel came upon an old road, which might well lead to the village Tustvold, and the possibility of food and shelter. Cugel turned inland, away from the shore.

To keep himself warm Cugel began to trot and jog, with knees jerking high. So passed a mile or two, and the hills gave way to a curious landscape of cultivated fields mingled with areas of wasteland. In the distance steep-sided knolls rose at irregular intervals, like islands in a sea of air.

No human habitation could be seen, but in the fields groups of women tended broad-beans and millet. As Cugel jogged past, they raised from their work to stare. Cugel found their attention offensive, and ran proudly past, looking neither right nor left.

Clouds sliding over the hills from the west cooled the air and seemed to presage rain. Cugel searched ahead for the village Tustvold, without success. The clouds drifted across the sun, darkening the already wan light, and the landscape took on the semblance of an ancient sepia painting, with flat perspectives and the pungko trees superimposed like scratchings of black ink.

A shaft of sunlight struck through the clouds, to play upon a cluster of white columns, at a distance of something over a mile.

Cugel stopped short to stare at the odd array. A temple? A mausoleum? The ruins of an enormous palace? Cugel continued along the road, and presently stopped again. The columns varied in height, from almost nothing to over a hundred feet, and seemed about ten feet in girth.

Once more Cugel proceeded. As he drew near he saw that the tops of the columns were occupied by men, reclining and basking in what remained of the sunlight.

The rent in the clouds sealed shut and the sunlight faded with finality. The men sat up and called back and forth, and at last descended the columns by ladders attached to the stone. Once on the ground, they trooped off toward a village half-hidden under a grove of shrack-trees. This village, about a mile from the columns, Cugel assumed to be Tustvold.

At the back of the columns a quarry cut into one of the steep-sided knolls Cugel had noted before. From this quarry emerged a white-haired old man with stooping shoulders, sinewy arms and the slow gait of one who precisely gauges each movement. He wore a white smock, loose gray trousers and well-used boots of strong leather. From a braided leather cord around his neck hung an amulet of five facets. Spying Cugel he halted, and waited as Cugel approached.