“You are looking for hostile nomads, especially those hidden in ambush.”
Cugel scanned the countryside. “I see nothing answering to this description: only hills and waste, although far ahead I notice the dark line of a forest, or maybe it is only a river fringed with trees.”
“Very good, Cugel. Maintain your look-out.”
The day passed and the line of dark trees seemed to recede before them, and at sundown camp was made on a sandy area open to the sky.
As usual, a fire was built, but the disappearance of Ivanello weighed heavy, and though Varmous served out wine, no one drank with cheer, and conversation was pitched in low tones.
As before Varmous arranged his guard-fence. He spoke again to the company. “The mystery remains profound! Since we are without a clue, I recommend everyone to extreme caution. Certainly, do not so much as approach the guard-fence!”
The night passed without incident. In the morning the caravan got under way in good time, with Cugel once more serving as look-out.
As the day went by, the countryside became somewhat less arid. The line of trees now could be seen to mark the course of a river wandering down from the hills and out across the waste.
Arriving at the riverbank the road turned abruptly south and followed the river to a stone bridge of five arches, where Varmous called a halt to allow the teamsters to water their farlocks. Cugel ordered the rope to shorten itself and so drew the Avventura down to the road. The ‘premier’ passengers alighted and wandered here and there to stretch their legs.
At the entrance to the bridge stood a monument ten feet tall, holding a bronze plaque to the attention of those who passed. The characters were illegible to Cugel. Gaulph Rabi thrust close his long nose, then shrugged and turned away. Doctor Lalanke, however, declared the script to be a version of Sarsounian, an influential dialect of the nineteenth aeon, in common use for more than four thousand years.
“The text is purely ceremonial,” said Doctor Lalanke. “It reads:
TRAVELERS! AS DRY SHOD YOU CROSS
THE THUNDERING TURMOIL OF THE RIVER SYK,
BE ADVISED THAT YOU HAVE BEEN ASSISTED
BY THE BENEFICENCE OF
KHAIVE, LORD-RULER OF KHARAD
AND
GUARDIAN OF THE UNIVERSE
As we can see, the River Syk no longer thunders a turmoil, but we can still acknowledge the generosity of King Khaive; indeed, it is wise to do so.” And Doctor Lalanke performed a polite genuflection to the monument.
“Superstition!” scoffed Gaulph Rabi. “At the Collegium we turn down our ears in reverence only to the Nameless Syncresis at the core of the Hub.”
“So it may be,” said Doctor Lalanke indifferently and moved away. Cugel looked from Gaulph Rabi to Doctor Lalanke, then quickly performed a genuflection before the monument.
“What?” cried the gaunt ecclesiarch. “You too, Cugel? I took you for a man of judgment!”
“That is precisely why I gave honor to the monument. I judged that the rite could do no harm and cost very little.”
Varmous dubiously rubbed his nose, then made a ponderous salute of his own, to the patent disgust of Gaulph Rabi.
The farlocks were brought back to their traces; Cugel caused the Avventura to rise high in the air and the caravan proceeded across the bridge.
During the middle afternoon Cugel became drowsy and dropping his head upon his arms, dozed off into a light slumber … Time passed and Cugel became uncomfortable. Blinking and yawning, he surveyed the countryside, and his attention was caught by stealthy movements behind a thicket of smoke-berry bushes which lined the road. Cugel leaned forward and perceived several dozen short swarthy men wearing baggy pantaloons, dirty vests of various colors and black kerchiefs tied around their heads. They carried spears and battle-hooks, and clearly intended harm upon the caravan.
Cugel shouted down to Varmous: “Halt! Prepare your weapons! Bandits hide in ambush behind yonder thicket!”
Varmous pulled up the caravan and blew a blast on his signal horn. The teamsters took up weapons as did many of the passengers and prepared to face an onslaught. Cugel brought the boat down so that the ‘premier’ passengers might also join the fight.
Varmous came over to the boat. “Exactly where is the ambush? How many lie in wait?”
Cugel pointed toward the thicket. “They crouch behind the smoke-berry bushes, to the number of about twenty-three. They carry spears and snaffle-irons.”
“Well done, Cugel! You have saved the caravan!” Varmous studied the terrain, then, taking ten men armed with swords, dart-guns and poison go-thithers, went out to reconnoiter.
Half an hour passed. Varmous, hot, dusty and irritated, returned with his squad. He spoke to Cugel: “Again, where did you think to observe this ambush?”
“As I told you: behind the thicket yonder.”
“We combed the area and found neither bandits nor any sign of their presence.”
Cugel looked frowningly toward the thicket. “They slipped away when they saw that we were forewarned.”
“Leaving no traces? Are you sure of what you saw? Or were you having hallucinations?”
“Naturally I am sure of what I saw!” declared Cugel indignantly. “Do you take me for a fool?”
“Of course not,” said Varmous soothingly. “Keep up the good work! Even if your savages were but phantasms, it is better to be safe than sorry. But next time look twice and verify before you cry out the alarm.”
Cugel had no choice but to agree, and returned aboard the Avventura.
The caravan proceeded, past the now-tranquil thicket and Cugel once again kept an alert look-out.
