The driver spoke with unexpected spirit: “I am indeed loaded for the Avventura. As for delay, I know of none! These are choice viands and careful selection is of the essence.”
“True enough; no need to belabor the point. You have the invoice?”
“I do indeed! Captain Wiskich must pay to the last terce before I unload so much as an anchovy. Those are my strict instructions.”
Cugel held up his hand. “Be easy! All will go smoothly. Captain Wiskich is conducting business over here in the warehouse. Come; bring your invoice.”
Cugel led the way into the old gray warehouse, now dim with dusk, and signaled the driver into the office marked Ticket Agent.
The driver peered into the office. “Captain Wiskich? Why do you sit in the dark?”
Cugel threw his cloak over the driver’s head and tied him well with the wonderful extensible rope, then gagged him with his own kerchief.
Cugel took the invoice and the fine wide-brimmed hat. “I will be back shortly; in the meantime, enjoy your rest.”
Cugel drove the dray to the Avventura and drew up to a halt. He heard Captain Wiskich bawling to someone in the forecastle. Cugel shook his head regretfully. The risks were disproportionate to the gain; let Captain Wiskich wait.
Cugel continued along the wharf, and across the plaza to where Varmous worked among the wagons of his caravan.
Cugel pulled the driver’s wide-brimmed hat low over his face and hid the sword under his cloak. With the invoice in hand he sought out Varmous. “Sir, I have delivered your load of victual, and this is the invoice, now due and payable.”
Varmous, taking the invoice, read down the billing. “Three hundred and thirty terces? These are high-quality viands! My order was far more modest, and was quoted to me at two hundred terces!”
Cugel made a debonair gesture. “In that case, you need only pay two hundred terces,” he said grandly. “We are interested only in the satisfaction of our customers.”
Varmous glanced once more at the invoice. “It is a rare bargain! But why should I argue with you?” He handed Cugel a purse. “Count it, if you like, but I assure you that it contains the proper amount.”
“That is adequate assurance,” said Cugel. “I will leave the dray here and you may unload it at your convenience.” He bowed and departed.
Returning to the warehouse Cugel found the driver as he had left him. Cugel said: “Tzat!” to loosen the bonds and placed the wide-brimmed hat upon the driver’s head. “Do not stir for five minutes! I will be waiting just outside the door and if you stick out your head I will lop it off with my sword. Is that clear?”
“Quite clear,” muttered the driver.
“In that case, farewell.” Cugel departed and returned to the inn where he placed down a deposit and was assigned a chamber on the balcony.
Cugel dined upon bread and sausages, then strolled out to the front of the inn. His attention was attracted by an altercation near Varmous’ caravan. Looking more closely, Cugel found Varmous in angry confrontation with Captain Wiskich and Yoder. Varmous refused to surrender his victuals until Captain Wiskich paid him two hundred terces plus a handling charge of fifty terces. Captain Wiskich, in a rage, aimed a blow at Varmous, who stepped aside, then struck Captain Wiskich with such force that he tumbled over backwards. The crew of the Avventura was on hand and rushed forward, only to be met by Varmous’ caravan personnel carrying staves, and the seamen were soundly thrashed.
Captain Wiskich, with his crew, retired into the inn to plan new strategies, but instead they drank great quantities of wine and committed such nuisances that they were taken by the town constables and immured in an old fortress half-way up the hill, where they were sentenced to three days of confinement.
When Captain Wiskich and his crew were dragged away, Cugel thought long and carefully, then went out and once more conferred with Varmous.
“Earlier today, if you recall, I requested a place in your caravan.”
“Conditions have not changed,” said Varmous shortly. “Every place is taken.”
“Let us suppose,” said Cugel, “that you commanded another large and luxurious carriage, capable of carrying twelve in comfort — could you find enough custom to fill these places?”
“Without doubt! They now must wait for the next caravan and so will miss the Festival. But I leave in the morning and there would be no time to secure the supplies.”
“That too can be effected, if we are able to arrive at a compact.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I provide the carriage and the supplies. You recruit twelve more travelers and charge them premium prices. I pay nothing. We divide the net profits.”
Varmous pursed his lips. “I see nothing wrong with this. Where is your carriage?”
“Come; we shall get it now.”
Without enthusiasm Varmous followed Cugel out along the dock where finally all was quiet. Cugel boarded the Avventura and tied his rope to a ring under the bow and threw the end to Varmous. He kicked the hull with his ossip-charged boots and the vessel at once became revulsive of gravity. Debarking, Cugel untied the mooring lines and the vessel drifted up into the air, to the amazement of Varmous.
“Stretch, line, stretch!” called Cugel and the Avventura rose up into the darkness.
Together Varmous and Cugel towed the ship along the road and somewhat out of town and concealed it behind the cypress trees of the graveyard; the two then returned to the inn.
Cugel clapped Varmous on the shoulder. “We have done a good night’s work, to our mutual profit!”
“I am not apt for magic,” muttered Varmous. “Weirdness makes me eery.”
Cugel waved aside his apprehensions. “Now: for a final goblet of wine to seal our compact, then a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow, we set off on our journey!”
2
The Caravan
During the pre-dawn stillness Varmous marshaled his caravan, ordering wagons and carriages, guiding passengers to their allotted places, quieting complaints with mild comments and an ingenuous gaze. He seemed to be everywhere at once: a massive figure in black boots, a peasant’s blouse and baggy pantaloons, his blond curls confined under a flat wide-brimmed hat.
Occasionally he brought one of his passengers over to Cugel, saying: “Another person for the ‘premier’ class!”
One by one these passengers accumulated until there were six, including two women, Ermaulde and Nissifer, both of middle years, or apparently so, since Nissifer shrouded herself from head to toe in a gown of rusty brown satin and wore a clump hat with a heavy veil. Where Nissifer was dry and taciturn, and seemed to creak as she walked, Ermaulde was plump and voluble, with large moist features and a thousand copper-colored ringlets.
In addition to Nissifer and Ermaulde, four men had decided to enjoy the privileges of the ‘premier’ class: a varied group ranging from Gaulph Rabi, an ecclesiarch and pantologist, through Clissum and Perruquil, to Ivanello, a handsome young man who wore his rich garments with enviable flair and whose manner ranged that somewhat limited gamut between easy condescension and amused disdain.
Last to join the group was Clissum, a portly gentleman of good stature and the ineffable airs of a trained aesthete. Cugel acknowledged the introduction, then took Varmous aside.
“We now have assigned six passengers to the ‘premier’ category,” said Cugel. “Cabins 1, 2, 3, and 4 are those designated for passenger use. We can also take over that double cabin formerly shared by the cook and the steward, which means that our own cook and steward must go to the forecastle. I, as captain of the vessel, will naturally use the after cabin. In short, we are now booked to capacity.”
Varmous scratched his cheek and showed Cugel a face of bovine incomprehension. “Surely not yet! The vessel is larger than three carriages together!”
“Possibly true, but the cargo hold claims much of the space.”
Varmous gave a dubious grunt. “We must manage better.”
“I see no flaws in the existing situation,” said Cugel. “If you yourself wish to ride aboard, you can arrange a berth in the forepeak.”
Varmous shook his head. “That is not the problem. We must make room for more passengers. Indeed, I intended the after cabin, not for the use of either you or me — after all, we are veterans of the trail and demand no languid comforts —”
Cugel held up his hand. “Not so! It is because I have known hardship that I now so greatly enjoy comfort. The Avventura is full. We can offer no further ‘premier’ accommodation.”
