The Thurists, paying no heed, departed, and Cugel was left with the old man, who hobbled to a bench and seated himself. Cugel started to speak but the old man held up his hand. “Calm yourself! You must remember that we are a benevolent people, lacking all spite or malice. We exist only to help other sentient beings! If a person commits a crime, we are racked with sorrow for the criminal, whom we believe to be the true victim, and we work without compromise that he may renew himself.”
“An enlightened viewpoint!” declared Cugel. “Already I feel regeneration!”
“Excellent! Your remarks validate our philosophy; certainly you have negotiated what I will refer to as Phase One of the program.”
Cugel frowned. “There are other phases? Are they really necessary?”
“Absolutely; these are Phases Two and Three. I should explain that Lumarth has not always adhered to such a policy. During the high years of the Great Magics the city fell under the sway of Yasbane the Obviator, who breached openings into five demon-realms and constructed the five temples of Lumarth. You stand now in the Temple of Phampoun.”
“Odd,” said Cugel, “that a folk so benevolent are such fervent demonists.”
“Nothing could be farther from the truth. The Kind Folk of Lumarth expelled Yasbane, to establish the Era of Love, which must now persist until the final waning of the sun. Our love extends to all, even Yasbane’s five demons, whom we hope to rescue from their malevolent evil. You will be the latest in a long line of noble individuals who have worked to this end, and such is Phase Two of the program.”
Cugel stood limp in consternation. “Such work far exceeds my competence!”
“Everyone feels the same sensation,” said the old man. “Nevertheless Phampoun must be instructed in kindness, consideration and decency; by making this effort, you will know a surge of happy redemption.”
“And Phase Three?” croaked Cugel. “What of that?”
“When you achieve your mission, then you shall be gloriously accepted into our brotherhood!” The old man ignored Cugel’s groan of dismay. “Let me see now: the month of Yaunt is just ending, and we enter the month of Phampoun, who is perhaps the most irascible of the five by reason of his sensitive eyes. He becomes enraged by so much as a single glimmer, and you must attempt your persuasions in absolute darkness. Do you have any further questions?”
“Yes indeed! Suppose Phampoun refuses to mend his ways?”
“This is ‘negativistic thinking’ which we Kind Folk refuse to recognize. Ignore everything you may have heard in regard to Phampoun’s macabre habits! Go forth in confidence!”
Cugel cried out in anguish: “How will I return to enjoy my honors and rewards?”
“No doubt Phampoun, when contrite, will send you aloft by a means at his disposal,” said the old man. “Now I bid you farewell.”
“One moment! Where is my food and drink? How will I survive?”
“Again we will leave these matters to the discretion of Phampoun.” The old man touched a button; the floor opened under Cugel’s feet; he slid down a spiral chute at dizzying velocity. The air gradually became syrupy; Cugel struck a film of invisible constriction which burst with a sound like a cork leaving a bottle, and Cugel emerged into a chamber of medium size, illuminated by the glow of a single lamp.
Cugel stood stiff and rigid, hardly daring to breathe. On a dais across the chamber Phampoun sat sleeping in a massive chair, two black hemispheres shuttering his enormous eyes against the light. The grey torso wallowed almost the length of the dais; the massive splayed legs were planted flat to the floor. Arms, as large around as Cugel himself, terminated in fingers three feet long, each bedecked with a hundred jeweled rings. Phampoun’s head was as large as a wheelbarrow, with a huge snout and an enormous loose-wattled mouth. The two eyes, each the size of a dishpan, could not be seen for the protective hemispheres.
Cugel, holding his breath in fear and also against the stench which hung in the air, looked cautiously about the room. A cord ran from the lamp, across the ceiling, to dangle beside Phampoun’s fingers; almost as a reflex Cugel detached the cord from the lamp. He saw a single egress from the chamber: a low iron door directly behind Phampoun’s chair. The chute by which he had entered was now invisible.
The flaps beside Phampoun’s mouth twitched and lifted; a homunculus growing from the end of Phampoun’s tongue peered forth. It stared at Cugel with beady black eyes. “Ha, has time gone by so swiftly?” The creature, leaning forward, consulted a mark on the wall. “It has indeed; I have overslept and Phampoun will be cross. What is your name and what are your crimes? These details are of interest to Phampoun — which is to say myself, though from whimsy I usually call myself Pulsifer, as if I were a separate entity.”
Cugel spoke in a voice of brave conviction: “I am Cugel, inspector for the new regime which now holds sway in Lumarth. I descended to verify Phampoun’s comfort, and since all is well, I will now return aloft. Where is the exit?”
Pulsifer asked plaintively: “You have no crimes to relate? This is harsh news. Both Phampoun and I enjoy great evils. Not long ago a certain sea-trader, whose name evades me, held us enthralled for over an hour.”
“And then what occurred?”
“Best not to ask.” Pulsifer busied himself polishing one of Phampoun’s tusks with a small brush. He thrust his head forth and inspected the mottled visage above him. “Phampoun still sleeps soundly; he ingested a prodigious meal before retiring. Excuse me while I check the progress of Phampoun’s digestion.” Pulsifer ducked back behind Phampoun’s wattles and revealed himself only by a vibration in the corded grey neck. Presently he returned to view. “He is quite famished, or so it would appear. I had best wake him; he will wish to converse with you before …”
“Before what?”
“No matter.”
“A moment,” said Cugel. “I am interested in conversing with you rather than Phampoun.”
“Indeed?” asked Pulsifer, and polished Phampoun’s fang with great vigor. “This is pleasant to hear; I receive few compliments.”
“Strange! I see much in you to commend. Necessarily your career goes hand in hand with that of Phampoun, but perhaps you have goals and ambitions of your own?”
Pulsifer propped up Phampoun’s lip with his cleaning brush and relaxed upon the ledge so created. “Sometimes I feel that I would enjoy seeing something of the outer world. We have ascended several times to the surface, but always by night when heavy clouds obscure the stars, and even then Phampoun complains of the excessive glare, and he quickly returns below.”
“A pity,” said Cugel. “By day there is much to see. The scenery surrounding Lumarth is pleasant. The Kind Folk are about to present their Grand Pageant of Ultimate Contrasts, which is said to be most picturesque.”
Pulsifer gave his head a wistful shake. “I doubt if ever I will see such events. Have you witnessed many horrid crimes?”
“Indeed I have. For instance I recall a dwarf of the Batvar Forest who rode a pelgrane —”
Pulsifer interrupted him with a gesture. “A moment. Phampoun will want to hear this.” He leaned precariously from the cavernous mouth to peer up toward the shuttered eyeballs. “Is he, or more accurately, am I awake? I thought I noticed a twitch. In any event, though I have enjoyed our conversation, we must get on with our duties. Hm, the light cord is disarranged. Perhaps you will be good enough to extinguish the light.”
“There is no hurry,” said Cugel. “Phampoun sleeps peacefully; let him enjoy his rest. I have something to show you, a game of chance. Are you acquainted with ‘Zampolio’?”
Pulsifer signified in the negative, and Cugel produced his cards. “Notice carefully! I deal you four cards and I take four cards, which we conceal from each other.” Cugel explained the rules of the game. “Necessarily we play for coins of gold or some such commodity, to make the game interesting. I therefore wager five terces, which you must match.”
“Yonder in two sacks is Phampoun’s gold, or with equal propriety, my gold, since I am an integral adjunct to this vast hulk. Take forth gold sufficient to equal your terces.”
The game proceeded. Pulsifer won the first sally, to his delight, then lost the next, which prompted him to fill the air with dismal complaints; then he won again and again until Cugel declared himself lacking further funds. “You are a clever and skillful player; it is a joy to match wits with you! Still, I feel I could beat you if I had the terces I left above in the temple.”
Pulsifer, somewhat puffed and vainglorious, scoffed at Cugel’s boast. “I fear that I am too clever for you! Here, take back your terces and we will play the game once again.”
“No; this is not the way sportsmen behave; I am too proud to accept your money. Let me suggest a solution to the problem. In the temple above is my sack of terces and a sack of sweetmeats which you might wish to consume as we continue the game. Let us go fetch these articles, then I defy you to win as before!”
