“Truth to tell, I collect such objects. Yours will make a famous centerpiece for my display. Be so good as to hand it over, if only for my inspection.”

“That is not easily done. If you look closely you will see that it is fixed to my cap on a matrix of diambroid.”

Iucounu clicked his tongue in vexation. “Why would you go to such lengths?”

“To deter the hands of thieves; why else?”

“Surely you can detach the article in safety?”

“While we bump and sway in a speeding carriage? I would not dare make the attempt.”

Iucounu turned Cugel a lemon-yellow side-glance. “Cugel, are you trying to ‘twiddle my whiskers’, as the saying goes?”

“Naturally not.”

“Just so.” The two sat in silence while the landscape flashed past. All in all, thought Cugel, a precarious situation, even though his plans called for just such a progression of events. Above all, he must not allow Iucounu the close scrutiny of the scale; Iucounu’s lumpy nose indeed could smell out magic, or its lack.

Cugel became aware that the carriage traversed, not forest, but open countryside. He turned toward Iucounu. “This is not the way to Taun Tassel! Where are we going?”

“To Pergolo,” said Iucounu. “I insist upon extending you my best hospitality.”

“Your invitation is hard to resist,” said Cugel.

The carriage plunged over a line of hills and descended into a valley well-remembered by Cugel. Ahead he glimpsed the flow of the Twish River, with a momentary flash of red sunlight on the water, then Iucounu’s manse Pergolo appeared on the brow of a hill, and a moment later the carriage drew up under the portico.

“We have arrived,” said Iucounu. “Cugel, I welcome you once again to Pergolo! Will you alight?”

“With pleasure,” said Cugel.

Iucounu ushered Cugel into the reception hall. “First, Cugel, let us take a glass of wine to freshen our throats after the dust of the journey. Then we will tie up the loose strands of our business, which extend somewhat further into the past than you may care to remember.” Here Iucounu referred to a period during which Cugel had held him at a disadvantage.

“Those days are lost in the mists of time,” said Cugel. “All is now forgotten.”

Iucounu smiled behind pursed lips. “Later in your visit we will reminisce, to our mutual amusement! As for now, why not remove your cap, cloak and gloves?”

“I am quite comfortable,” said Cugel, gauging the distance between himself and Iucounu. One long step, a swing of the arm, and the deed would be done.

Iucounu seemed to divine the quality of Cugel’s thoughts and moved back a pace. “First, our wine! Let us step into the small refectory.”

Iucounu led the way into a hall panelled in fine dark mahogany, where he was greeted effusively by a small round animal with long fur, short legs and black button eyes. The creature bounded up and down and voiced a series of shrill barks. Iucounu patted the beast. “Well then, Ettis, how goes your world? Have they been feeding you enough suet? Good! I am glad to hear such happy tidings, since, other than Cugel, you are my only friend. Now then! To order! I must confer with Cugel.”

Iucounu signaled Cugel to a chair at the table, and seated himself opposite. The animal ran back and forth barking, pausing only long enough to gnaw at Cugel’s ankles.

A pair of young sylphs floated into the room with trays of silver which they set before Cugel and Iucounu, then drifted once more back the way they had come.

Iucounu rubbed his hands together. “As you know, Cugel, I serve only the best. The wine is Angelius from Quantique, and the biscuits are formed from the pollen of red clover blossom.”

“Your judgment has always been exquisite,” said Cugel.

“I am content only with the subtle and the refined,” said Iucounu. He tasted the wine. “Matchless!” He drank again. “Heady, tart, with a hint of arrogance.” He looked across the table at Cugel. “What is your opinion?”

Cugel shook his head in sad abnegation. “One taste of this elixir and I never again could tolerate ordinary drink.” He dipped a biscuit into the wine and tendered it to Ettis, who again had paused to gnaw at his leg. “Ettis of course has a wider discrimination than I.”

Iucounu jumped to his feet with a protest, but Ettis had already gulped down the morsel, thereupon to perform a curious contortion and fall down on its back, with feet raised stiffly into the air.

Cugel looked questioningly at Iucounu. “You have trained Ettis well in the ‘dead dog’ trick. He is a clever beast.”

Iucounu slowly subsided into his chair. Two sylphs entered the chamber and carried Ettis away on a silver tray.

Iucounu spoke through tight lips. “Let us get down to business. While strolling Shanglestone Strand, did you meet a certain Twango?”

“I did indeed,” said Cugel. “An extraordinary individual! He became perturbed when I would not sell him my little trinket.”

Iucounu fixed Cugel with the keenest of scrutinies. “Did he explain why?”

“He spoke of the demiurge Sadlark, but in such an incoherent fashion that I lost interest.”

Iucounu rose to his feet. “I will show you Sadlark. Come! To the work-room, which of course is dear to your memory.”

“‘Work-room’? These episodes are lost in the past.”

“I remember them distinctly,” said Iucounu in an easy voice. “All of them.”

As they walked toward the work-room, Cugel tried to sidle close to Iucounu, but without success; Iucounu seemed always a yard or so beyond the reach of Cugel’s gloved hand, in which he held ‘Spatterlight’ at the ready.

They entered the work-room. “Now you shall see my collection,” said Iucounu. “You will wonder no longer as to my interest in your talisman.” He jerked up his hand; a dark red cloth was whisked away, to reveal the scales of Sadlark, arranged upon an armature of fine silver wire. From the evidence of the restoration, Sadlark would have been a creature of moderate size, standing on two squat motilators, with two pairs of jointed arms ending each in ten clasping fingers. The head, if the term were at all appropriate, was no more than a turret surmounting the keen and taut torso. The belly scales were white-green, with a dark green keel tinged with vermilion swinging up to end at the frontal turret in a blank and eye-catching vacancy.

Iucounu made a grand gesture. “There you see Sadlark, the noble overworld being, whose every contour suggests power and velocity. His semblance fires the imagination. Cugel, do you agree?”

“Not altogether,” said Cugel. “Still, by and large, you have recreated a remarkably fine specimen, and I congratulate you.” He walked around the structure as if in admiration, all the while hoping to come within arm’s-length of Iucounu, but as Cugel moved, so did the Laughing Magician, and Cugel was thwarted in his intent.

“Sadlark is more than a mere specimen,” said Iucounu in a voice almost devout. “Now notice the scales, each fixed in its proper place, except at the thrust of the keel where a staring vacancy assaults the eye. A single scale is missing, the most important of all: the protonastic centrum, or, as it is called, the ‘Pectoral Skybreak Spatterlight’. For long years I thought it lost, to my unutterable anguish. Cugel, can you imagine my surge of gladsomeness, the singing of songs in my heart, the crepitations of pure joy along the appropriate passages, when I looked at you, and discovered there in your cap the missing scale? I rejoiced as if the sun had been conceded another hundred years of life! I could have leapt in the air from sheer exhilaration. Cugel, can you understand my emotion?”

“To the extent that you have described it — yes. As to the source of this emotion, I am puzzled.” And Cugel approached the armature, hoping that Iucounu in his enthusiasm would step within reach of his arm.

Iucounu, moving in the other direction, touched the armature to set the scales jingling. “Cugel, in some respects you are dense and dull; your brain is like luke-warm porridge, and I say this without heat. You understand only what you see, and this is the smallest part.” Iucounu emitted a whinny of laughter, so that Cugel sent him a questioning look. “Observe Sadlark!” said Iucounu. “What do you see?”

“An armature of wires and a number of scales, in the purported shape of Sadlark.”

“And what if the wires were removed?”

“The scales would fall into a heap.”

“Quite so. You are right. The protonastic centrum is the node which binds the other scales with lines of force. This node is the soul and force of Sadlark. With the node in place, Sadlark lives once again; indeed Sadlark was never dead, but merely disassociated.”

“What of, let us say, his inner organs?”

“In the overworld, such parts are considered unnecessary and even somewhat vulgar. In short, there are no inner parts. Have you any other questions or observations?”