“I might politely venture to point out that the day is waning and that I wish to arrive at Taun Tassel before dark.”

Iucounu said heartily: “And so you shall! First, be good enough to place upon the work-table the ‘Pectoral Skybreak Spatterlight’, with all traces of diambroid detached. No other option is open to you.”

“Only one,” said Cugel. “I prefer to keep the scale. It brings me luck and wards off acrid magic, as you have already learned.”

Yellow lights flickered behind Iucounu’s eyes. “Cugel, your obstinacy is embarrassing. The scale indeed holds a proud crust between you and enemy magic of the casual sort. It is indifferent to overworld magic, some of which I command. Meanwhile, please desist from this constant skulking forward in the attempt to bring me within range of your sword. I am tired of jumping backward every time you sidle in my direction.”

Cugel spoke haughtily: “Such an ungracious act never so much as crossed my mind.” He drew his sword and laid it on the work-bench. “There! See for yourself how you have misjudged me!”

Iucounu blinked at the sword. “Still, keep your distance! I am not a man who welcomes intimacies.”

“You may expect my full cooperation,” said Cugel with dignity.

“I will be frank! Your deeds have long cried out for retribution, and as a man of conscience I am forced to act. Still, you need not aggravate my task.”

“This is harsh language!” said Cugel. “You offered me a ride to Taun Tassel. I did not expect treachery.”

Iucounu paid no heed. “I will now make my final request: give me the scale at once!”

“I can not oblige you,” said Cugel. “Since that was your final request, we can now leave for Taun Tassel.”

“The scale, if you please!”

“Take it from my cap, if you must. I will not assist you.”

“And the diambroid?”

“Sadlark will protect me. You must take your chances.”

Iucounu uttered a cry of laughter. “Sadlark also protects me, as you will see!” He threw aside his garments and with a quick movement inserted himself into the center of the matrix, so that his legs fitted into Sadlark’s motilators and his face showed behind the gap in the turret. The wires and scales contracted around his pudgy body; the scales fit him as if they were his own skin.

Iucounu’s voice rang like a choir of brass horns: “Well then, Cugel: what do you think now?”

Cugel stood gaping in wonder. At last he said: “Sadlark’s scales fit you remarkably well.”

“It is no accident, of this I am certain!”

“And why not?”

“I am Sadlark’s avatar; I partake of his personal essence! This is my destiny, but before I can enjoy my full force, I must be whole! Without further quibbling you may fit ‘Spatterlight’ into place. Remember, Sadlark will no longer protect you against my magic, since it is his magic, as well.”

A crawling sensation in Cugel’s glove indicated that Sadlark’s protonastic centrum ‘Spatterlight’ endorsed the remark. “So it must be,” said Cugel. He carefully detached the ornament from his cap and removed the diambroid. He held it in his hand a moment, then placed it against his forehead.

Iucounu cried out: “What are you doing?”

“For the last time I am renewing my vitality. Often this scale has helped me through my trials.”

“Stop at once! I will be needing every iota of force for my own purposes. Hand it over!”

Cugel let the true scale slip into his gloved palm and concealed the false ornament. He spoke in a melancholy voice: “With pain I give up my treasure. May I for a final few moments hold it to my brow?”

“By no means!” declared Iucounu. “I plan to put it to my own brow. Lay the scale on the work-bench, then stand back!”

“As you wish,” sighed Cugel. He placed ‘Spatterlight’ on the work-bench, then, taking his sword, walked mournfully from the room.

With a grunt of satisfaction, Iucounu applied the scale to his brow.

Cugel went to stand by the fountain in the foyer, with one foot raised to the lip of the basin. In this position he listened gravely to the awful noises rising from Iucounu’s throat.

Silence returned to the work-room.

Several moments passed.

A thudding clashing sound reached Cugel’s ears.

Sadlark propelled himself by clumsy hops and jumps into the foyer, using his motilators in the manner of feet, with only fair success, so that he fell heavily from time to time, to wallow and roll with a great rattling of scales.

Late afternoon light streamed through the door; Cugel made no move, hoping that Sadlark would blunder out into the open and return to the overworld.

Sadlark came to a halt and spoke in a gasping voice. “Cugel! Where is Cugel? Each of the forces I have consumed, including eel and weasel, requests that they be joined by Cugel! Where are you? Cugel, announce yourself! I cannot see by this peculiar Earth-light, which explains why I plunged into the mire.”

Cugel remained silent, scarcely daring to breathe. Sadlark slowly turned the red node of his sky-breaker around the foyer. “Ah, Cugel, there you are! Stand without motion!”

Sadlark lurched forward. Disobeying the order, Cugel ran to the far side of the fountain. Angry at Cugel’s insubordination, Sadlark gave a great bound through the air. Cugel seized a basin, scooped up water and flung it upon Sadlark, who thereby misjudged his distance and fell flat into the fountain.

The water hissed and bubbled as Sadlark’s force was spent. The scales fell apart and swirled idly about the bottom of the fountain.

Cugel stirred among the scales until he found ‘Spatterlight’. He wrapped the scale in several thicknesses of damp cloth and taking it into the work-room placed it into a jar of water, which he sealed and stored away.

Pergolo was silent, but Cugel could not rest easy; Iucounu’s presence hung in the air. Could the Laughing Magician be watching from some secret place, stifling his merriment with great effort while he planned a set of humorous pranks?

Cugel searched Pergolo with care but discovered no significant clues except Iucounu’s black opal thumb-ring, which he found in the fountain among the scales, and at last Cugel felt assured that Iucounu was no more.

At one end of the table sat Cugel; at the other, Bazzard. Disserl, Pelasias, Archimbaust and Vasker ranged at either side. The missing parts had been recovered from the vaults, sorted and restored to their owners, to the general satisfaction.

Six sylphs served the banquet, which, while lacking the bizarre condiments and improbable juxtapositions of Iucounu’s ‘novel cuisine’, was nevertheless enjoyed by the company.

Various toasts were proposed: to Bazzard’s ingenuity, to the fortitude of the four wizards, to Cugel’s brave deceits and duplicities. Cugel was asked, not once but several times, as to where his ambitions might now take him; on each occasion he responded with a glum shake of the head. “With Iucounu gone, there is no whip to drive me. I look in no direction and I have no plans.”

After draining his goblet, Vasker voiced a generalization: “Without urgent goals, life is insipid!”

Disserl also tilted his goblet high, then responded to his brother: “I believe that this thought has been enunciated before. A surly critic might even use the word ‘banality’.”

Vasker replied in even tones: “These are the ideas which true originality rediscovers and renews, for the benefit of mankind. I stand by my remark! Cugel, do you concur?”

Cugel signalled the sylphs to the better use of their decanters. “The intellectual interplay leaves me bewildered; I am quite at a loss. Both viewpoints carry conviction.”