“The Lirrh-Aing was so placid as almost to be dull,” said Shimilko. “To be sure, I was fortunate in securing the services of Cugel, who guarded us so well by night that never were our slumbers interrupted.”
“Well done, Cugel!” said the head Thurist. “We will at this time take custody of the precious maidens. Tomorrow you may render your account to the bursar. The Wayfarer’s Inn lies yonder, and I counsel you to its comforts.”
“Just so! We will all be the better for a few days rest!”
However, Cugel chose not to so indulge himself. At the door to the inn he told Shimilko: “Here we part company, for I must continue along the way. Affairs press on me and Almery lies far to the west.”
“But your stipend, Cugel! You must wait at least until tomorrow, when I can collect certain monies from the bursar. Until then, I am without funds.”
Cugel hesitated, but at last was prevailed upon to stay.
An hour later a messenger strode into the inn. “Master Shimilko, you and your company are required to appear instantly before the Grand Thearch on a matter of utmost importance.”
Shimilko looked up in alarm. “Whatever is the matter?”
“I am obliged to tell you nothing more.”
With a long face Shimilko led his company across the plaza to the loggia before the old palace, where Chaladet sat on a massive chair. To either side stood the College of Thurists and all regarded Shimilko with somber expressions.
“What is the meaning of this summons?” inquired Shimilko. “Why do you regard me with such gravity?”
The Grand Thearch spoke in a deep voice: “Shimilko, the seventeen maidens conveyed by you from Symnathis to Lumarth have been examined, and I regret to say that of the seventeen, only two can be classified as virgins. The remaining fifteen have been sexually deflorated.”
Shimilko could hardly speak for consternation. “Impossible!” he sputtered. “At Symnathis I undertook the most elaborate precautions. I can display three separate documents certifying the purity of each. There can be no doubt! You are in error!”
“We are not in error, Master Shimilko. Conditions are as we describe, and may easily be verified.”
“‘Impossible’ and ‘incredible’ are the only two words which come to mind,” cried Shimilko. “Have you questioned the girls themselves?”
“Of course. They merely raise their eyes to the ceiling and whistle between their teeth. Shimilko, how do you explain this heinous outrage?”
“I am perplexed to the point of confusion! The girls embarked upon the journey as pure as the day they were born. This is fact! During each waking instant they never left my area of perception. This is also fact.”
“And when you slept?”
“The implausibility is no less extreme. The teamsters invariably retired together in a group. I shared my wagon with the chief teamster and each of us will vouch for the other. Cugel meanwhile kept watch over the entire camp.”
“Alone?”
“A single guard suffices, even though the nocturnal hours are slow and dismal. Cugel, however, never complained.”
“Cugel is evidently the culprit!”
Shimilko smilingly shook his head. “Cugel’s duties left him no time for illicit activity.”
“What if Cugel scamped his duties?”
Shimilko responded patiently: “Remember, each girl rested secure in her private cubicle with a door between herself and Cugel.”
“Well then — what if Cugel opened this door and quietly entered the cubicle?”
Shimilko considered a dubious moment, and pulled at his silky beard. “In such a case, I suppose the matter might be possible.”
The Grand Thearch turned his gaze upon Cugel. “I insist that you make an exact statement upon this sorry affair.”
Cugel cried out indignantly: “The investigation is a travesty! My honor has been assailed!”
Chaladet fixed Cugel with a benign, if somewhat chilly stare. “You will be allowed redemption. Thurists, I place this person in your custody. See to it that he has every opportunity to regain his dignity and self-esteem!”
Cugel roared out a protest which the Grand Thearch ignored. From his great dais he looked thoughtfully off across the square. “Is it the third or fourth month?”
“The chronolog has only just left the month of Yaunt, to enter the time of Phampoun.”
“So be it. By diligence, this licentious rogue may yet earn our love and respect.”
A pair of Thurists grasped Cugel’s arms and led him across the square. Cugel jerked this way and that to no avail. “Where are you taking me? What is this nonsense?”
One of the Thurists replied in a kindly voice: “We are taking you to the temple of Phampoun, and it is far from nonsense.”
“I do not care for any of this,” said Cugel. “Take your hands off of me; I intend to leave Lumarth at once.”
“You shall be so assisted.”
The group marched up worn marble steps, through an enormous arched portal, into an echoing hall, distinguished only by the high dome and an adytum or altar at the far end. Cugel was led into a side-chamber, illuminated by high circular windows and paneled with dark blue wood. An old man in a white gown entered the room and asked: “What have we here? A person suffering affliction?”
“Yes; Cugel has committed a series of abominable crimes, of which he wishes to purge himself.”
“A total mis-statement!” cried Cugel. “No proof has been adduced and in any event I was inveigled against my better judgment.”
