“Just so! Perhaps you will leave us your cap ornament as a keepsake, so that when we see it we will think of you.”

Cugel shook his head in distress. “Anything else is yours! But I could never part with my lucky talisman!”

“No matter! We will remember you in any case. Bazzard, foster the fire! Tonight is unseasonably cold.”

So went the conversation until the spy departed, whereupon, at Cugel’s request, Bazzard instructed him in that cantrap controlling the Twelve-fold Bounty. Then, upon sudden thought, Bazzard addressed Vasker, now wearing eye, ear and arm. “Another of our small magics which might help Cugel on his way: the Spell of the Tireless Legs.”

Vasker chuckled. “What a thought! Cugel will not care to be visited with a spell customarily reserved for our wheriots! Such a spell does not accord with his dignity.”

“I give dignity second place to expedience,” said Cugel. “What is this spell?”

Bazzard said half-apologetically: “It guards the legs from the fatigue of a long day’s march, and as Vasker indicates, we use it mainly to encourage our wheriots.”

“I will consider the matter,” said Cugel, and there the subject rested.

In the morning Bazzard took Cugel to his work-shop, where, after donning wet gloves, he duplicated the scale in fine gold, with a central node of flaming red hypolite. “Now then,” said Bazzard. “Three minims of diambroid, or perhaps four, and Iucounu’s fate is as good as sealed.”

Cugel watched glumly as Bazzard cemented diambroid to the ornament and attached it to his cap by a secret clasp. “You will find this a great comfort,” said Bazzard.

Cugel gingerly donned the cap. “I see no obvious advantage to this false, if explosive, scale, save for the fact that duplicity is valuable for its own sake.” He folded ‘Spatterlight’ into the flap of a special glove provided by the four wizards.

“I will provide you with a packet of nuts and fruit, and then you will be ready for the road,” said Bazzard. “If you move at a good pace, you should arrive at Taun Tassel on Water’s-gleam before nightfall.”

Cugel said thoughtfully: “As I consider the way ahead, I become ever more favorably inclined to the Spell of the Untiring Legs.”

“It is the work of a few minutes only,” said Bazzard. “Let us consult my fathers.”

The two repaired to the parlour, where Archimbaust consulted an index of spells. Encompassing the syllables with effort, he released the salutary force toward Cugel.

To the amazement of all, the spell struck Cugel’s legs, rebounded, struck again without effect, then clattered away, reverberated from wall to wall, and finally lapsed in a series of small grinding sounds.

The four wizards consulted together at length. Finally Disserl turned to Cugel: “This is a most extraordinary happening! It can only be explained by the fact that you carry ‘Spatterlight’, whose alien force acts as a crust against earthly magic!”

Bazzard cried out in excitement: “Try the Spell of Internal Effervescence upon Cugel; if it proves fruitless, then we shall know the truth!”

“And if the spell is efficacious?” asked Disserl coldly. “Is this your concept of hospitality?”

“My apologies!” said Bazzard in confusion. “I failed to think the matter through.”

“It seems that I must forego the ‘Untiring Legs’,” said Cugel. “But no matter: I am accustomed to the road, and now I will take my leave.”

“Our hopes go with you!” said Vasker. “Boldness and caution: let them work hand in hand!”

“I am grateful for your wise counsel,” said Cugel. “Everything now depends upon Iucounu. If avarice dominates his prudence, you shall soon know the enjoyment of your missing organs. Bazzard, our chance acquaintance has yielded profit, so I hope, for all concerned.” Cugel departed Llaio.

2

Spatterlight

Where a bridge of black glass crossed the River Sune, Cugel found a marker announcing that he had once again come into the Land of Almery.

The road forked. Old Ferghaz Way followed the Sune, while the Kang Kingdom Marchway, swinging south, crossed the Hanging Hills and so descended into the valley of the River Twish.

Cugel held to the right and so fared west through a countryside of small farmsteads, demarcated one from the other by lines of tall mulgoon trees.

A stream flowed down from the Forest Da to join the Sune; the road crossed over by a bridge of three arches. At the far side, leaning against a damson tree and chewing a straw stood Iucounu.

Cugel halted to stare, and at last decided that he saw, not an apparition nor a yellow-faced hallucination with pendulous jowls, but Iucounu himself. A tawny coat contained the pear-shaped torso; the thin legs were encased in tight pink- and black-striped trousers.

Cugel had not expected to see Iucounu so soon. He leaned forward and peered, as if in doubt. “Am I correct in recognizing Iucounu?”

“Quite correct,” said Iucounu, rolling his yellow eyes in every direction except toward Cugel.

“This is a true surprise!”

Iucounu put his hand to his mouth to conceal a smile. “A pleasant surprise, I hope?”

“Needless to say! I never expected to find you loitering along the wayside, and you quite startled me! Have you been fishing from the bridge? But I see that you carry neither tackle nor bait.”

Iucounu slowly turned his head and surveyed Cugel from under drooping eyelids. “I too am surprised to see you back from your travels. Why do you walk so far afield? Your former depredations took place along the Twish.”

“I am purposely avoiding my old haunts, and my old habits as well,” said Cugel. “Neither have brought me profit.”

“In every life comes a time for change,” said Iucounu. “I too consider metamorphosis, to an extent which might surprise you.” He discarded the straw from his mouth and spoke with energy. “Cugel, you are looking well! Your garments become you, as does that cap! Where did you find so handsome an ornament?”

Cugel reached up and touched the duplicated scale. “This little piece? It is my lucky talisman. I found it in a mire near Shanglestone Strand.”

“I hope that you brought me another of the same sort, as a memento?”

Cugel shook his head as if in regret. “I found but a single specimen of this quality.”

“Tsk. I am disappointed. What are your plans?”

“I intend a simple life: a cabin on the banks of the Sune, with a porch overhanging the water, and there I will devote myself to calligraphy and meditation. Perhaps I will read Stafdyke’s Comprehensive Survey of All the Aeons, a treatise to which everyone alludes, but which no one has read, with the probable exception of yourself.”

“Yes, I know it well. Your travels, then, have brought you the means to gratify your desires.”

Cugel smilingly shook his head. “My wealth is scant. I plan a life of simplicity.”

“The ornament in your cap is very showy. Is it not valuable? The nexus, or node, gleams as brightly as a good hypolite.”

Cugel once more shook his head. “It is only glass refracting the red rays of sunlight.”

Iucounu gave a noncommittal grunt. “Footpads are common along this road. Their first objective would be this famous ornament of yours.”

Cugel chuckled. “So much the worse for them.”

Iucounu became attentive. “How so?”