Cugel spoke in a voice of strained politeness: “Well, what is it this time? The sun has risen; my innocence in the matter of the regulatory beam has been established.”
“I am now concerned with another matter. Are you acquainted with the penalties for fraud?”
Cugel shrugged. “The matter is of no interest to me.”
“They are severe and I will revert to them in a moment. First, let me inquire: did you entrust to Maier a purse purportedly containing valuable jewels?”
“I did indeed. The property is protected by a spell, I may add; if the seal is broken the gems become ordinary pebbles.”
Huruska exhibited the purse. “Notice, the seal is intact. I cut a slit in the leather and looked within. The contents were then and are now —” with a flourish Huruska turned the purse out upon the table “— pebbles identical to those in the road yonder.”
Cugel exclaimed in outrage: “The jewels are now worthless rubble! I hold you responsible and you must make recompense!”
Huruska uttered an offensive laugh. “If you can change gems to pebbles, you can change pebbles to gems. Maier will now tender the bill. If you refuse to pay, I intend to have you nailed into the enclosure under the gallows until such time as you change your mind.”
“Your insinuations are both disgusting and absurd,” declared Cugel. “Innkeeper, present your account! Let us finish with this farrago once and for all.”
Maier came forward with a slip of paper. “I make the total to be eleven terces, plus whatever gratuities might seem in order.”
“There will be no gratuities,” said Cugel. “Do you harass all your guests in this fashion?” He flung eleven terces down upon the table. “Take your money and leave me in peace.”
Maier sheepishly gathered up the coins; Huruska made an inarticulate sound and turned away. Cugel, upon finishing his breakfast, went out once more to stroll across the square. Here he met an individual whom he recognized to be the pot-boy in the tavern, and Cugel signaled him to a halt. “You seem an alert and knowledgeable fellow,” said Cugel. “May I inquire your name?”
“I am generally known as ‘Zeller’.”
“I would guess you to be well-acquainted with the folk of Gundar.”
“I consider myself well-informed. Why do you ask?”
“First,” said Cugel, “let me ask if you care to turn your knowledge to profit?”
“Certainly, so long as I evade the attention of the Nolde.”
“Very good. I notice a disused booth yonder which should serve our purpose. In one hour we shall put our enterprise into operation.”
Cugel returned to the inn where at his request Maier brought a board, brush and paint. Cugel composed a sign:
THE EMINENT SEER CUGEL
Counsels, Interprets, Prognosticates.
ASK! YOU WILL BE ANSWERED!
CONSULTATIONS: Three Terces.
Cugel hung the sign above the booth, arranged curtains and waited for customers. The pot-boy, meanwhile, had inconspicuously secreted himself at the back.
Almost immediately folk crossing the square halted to read the sign. A woman of early middle-age presently came forward.
“Three terces is a large sum. What results can you guarantee?”
“None whatever, by the very nature of things. I am a skilled voyant, I have acquaintance with the arts of magic, but knowledge comes to me from unknown and uncontrollable sources.”
The woman paid over her money. “Three terces is cheap if you can resolve my worries. My daughter all her life has enjoyed the best of health but now she ails, and suffers a morose condition. All my remedies are to no avail. What must I do?”
“A moment, madam, while I meditate.” Cugel drew the curtain and leaned back to where he could hear the pot-boy’s whispered remarks, then once again drew aside the curtains.
“I have made myself one with the cosmos! Knowledge has entered my mind! Your daughter Dilian is pregnant. For an additional three terces I will supply the father’s name.”
“This is a fee I pay with pleasure,” declared the woman grimly. She paid, received the information and marched purposefully away.
Another woman approached, paid three terces, and Cugel addressed himself to her problem: “My husband assured me that he had put by a canister of gold coins against the future, but upon his death I could find not so much as a copper. Where has he hidden the gold?”
Cugel closed the curtains, took counsel with the pot-boy, and again appeared to the woman. “I have discouraging news for you. Your husband Finister spent much of his hoarded gold at the tavern. With the rest he purchased an amethyst brooch for a woman named Varletta.”
The news of Cugel’s remarkable abilities spread rapidly and trade was brisk. Shortly before noon, a large woman, muffled and veiled, approached the booth, paid three terces, and asked in a high-pitched, if husky, voice: “Read me my fortune!”
Cugel drew the curtains and consulted the pot-boy, who was at a loss. “It is no one I know. I can tell you nothing.”
“No matter,” said Cugel. “My suspicions are verified.” He drew aside the curtain. “The portents are unclear and I refuse to take your money.” Cugel returned the fee. “I can tell you this much: you are an individual of domineering character and no great intelligence. Ahead lies what? Honors? A long voyage by water? Revenge on your enemies? Wealth? The image is distorted; I may be reading my own future.”
The woman tore away her veils and stood revealed as the Nolde Huruska. “Master Cugel, you are lucky indeed that you returned my money, otherwise I would have taken you up for deceptive practices. In any event, I deem your activities mischievous, and contrary to the public interest. Gundar is in an uproar because of your revelations; there will be no more of them. Take down your sign, and be happily thankful that you have escaped so easily.”
“I will be glad to terminate my enterprise,” said Cugel with dignity. “The work is taxing.”
Huruska stalked away in a huff. Cugel divided his earnings with the pot-boy, and in a spirit of mutual satisfaction they departed the booth.
