“Certainly,” said the book in a rasping voice. It threw back its covers to reveal a page covered with crabbed and interlocked characters.
Duke Orbal put a perplexed question: “This is beyond my comprehension; you may furnish a translation.”
“The request is denied,” said the book. “Such poetry is too sweet for ordinary ears.”
Duke Orbal glanced at Xallops, who spoke quickly to the book: “Show us scenes from aeons past.”
“As you like. Reverting to the Nineteenth Aeon of the Fifty-second Cycle, I display a view across Linxfade Valley, toward Kolghut’s Tower of Frozen Blood.”
“The detail is both notable and exact!” declared Duke Orbal. “I am curious to gaze upon the semblance of Kolghut himself.”
“Nothing could be easier. Here is the terrace of the Temple at Tanutra. Kolghut stands beside the flowering wail-bush. In the chair sits the Empress Noxon, now in her hundred and fortieth year. She has tasted no water in her entire lifetime, and eats only bitter blossom, with occasionally a morsel of boiled eel.”
“Bah!” said Duke Orbal. “A most hideous old creature! Who are those gentlemen ranked behind her?”
“They constitute her retinue of lovers. Every month one of their number is executed and a new stalwart is recruited to take his place. Competition is keen to win the affectionate regard of the Empress.”
“Bah!” muttered Duke Orbal. “Show us rather a beautiful court lady of the Yellow Age.”
The book spoke a petulant syllable in an unknown language. The page turned to reveal a travertine promenade beside a slow river.
“This view reveals to good advantage the topiary of the time. Notice here, and here!” With a luminous arrow the book indicated a row of massive trees clipped into globular shapes. “Those are irix, the sap of which may be used as an effective vermifuge. The species is now extinct. Along the concourse you will observe a multitude of persons. Those with black stockings and long white beards are Alulian slaves, whose ancestors arrived from far Canopus. They are also extinct. In the middle distance stands a beautiful woman named Jiao Jaro. She is indicated by a red dot over her head, although her face is turned toward the river.”
“This is hardly satisfactory,” grumbled Duke Orbal. “Xallops, can you not control the perversity of your exhibit?”
“I fear not, your Grace.”
Duke Orbal gave a sniff of displeasure. “A final question! Who among the folk now residing in Cuirnif presents the greatest threat to the welfare of my realm?”
“I am a repository of information, not an oracle,” stated the book. “However, I will remark that among those present stands a fox-faced vagabond with a crafty expression, whose habits would bring a blush to the cheeks of the Empress Noxon herself. His name —”
Cugel leapt forward and pointed across the plaza. “The robber! There he goes now! Summon the constables! Sound the gong!”
While everyone turned to look, Cugel slammed shut the book and dug his knuckles into the cover. The book grunted in annoyance.
Duke Orbal turned back with a frown of perplexity. “I saw no robber.”
“In that case, I was surely mistaken. But yonder waits Iolo with his famous ‘Bagful of Dreams’!”
The Duke moved on to Iolo’s pavilion, followed by the enthralled onlookers. Duke Orbal said: “Iolo the Dream-taker, your fame has preceded you all the distance from Dai-Passant! I hereby tender you an official welcome!”
Iolo answered in an anguished voice: “Your Grace, I have sorry news to relate. For the whole of one year I prepared for this day, hoping to win the grand prize. The blast of midnight winds, the outrage of householders, the terrifying attentions of ghosts, shrees, roof-runners and fermins: all of these have caused me discomfort! I have roamed the dark hours in pursuit of my dreams! I have lurked beside dormers, crawled through attics, hovered over couches; I have suffered scratches and contusions; but never have I counted the cost if through my enterprise I were able to capture some particularly choice specimen.
“Each dream trapped in my net I carefully examined; for every dream cherished and saved I released a dozen, and finally from my store of superlatives I fashioned my wonderful crystals, and these I brought down the long road from Dai-Passant. Then, only last night, under the most mysterious circumstances, my precious goods were stolen by a robber only Cugel claims to have seen.
“I now point out that the dreams, whether near or far, represent marvels of truly superlative quality, and I feel that a careful description of the items —”
Duke Orbal held up his hand. “I must reiterate the judgment rendered upon Bazzard. A stringent rule stipulates that neither imaginary nor purported marvels qualify for the competition. Perhaps we will have the opportunity to adjudicate your dreams on another occasion. Now we must pass on to Cugel’s pavilion and investigate his provocative ‘Nowhere’.”
Cugel stepped up on the dais before his exhibit. “Your Grace, I present for your inspection a legitimate marvel: not a straggle of insects, not a pedantic almanac, but an authentic miracle.” Cugel whisked away the cloth. “Behold!”
The Duke made a puzzled sound. “A pile of dirt? A stump? What is that odd-looking member emerging from the hole?”
“Your Grace, I have here an opening into an unknown space, with the arm of one of its denizens. Inspect this tentacle! It pulses with the life of another cosmos! Notice the golden luster of the dorsal surface, the green and lavender of these encrustations. On the underside you will discover three colors of a sort never before seen!”
With a nonplussed expression Duke Orbal pulled at his chin. “This is all very well, but where is the rest of the creature? You present not a marvel, but the fraction of a marvel! I can make no judgment on the basis of a tail, or a hindquarters, or a proboscis, whatever the member may be. Additionally, you claim that the hole enters a far cosmos; still I see only a hole, resembling nothing so much as the den of a wysen-imp.”
Iolo thrust himself forward. “May I venture an opinion? As I reflect upon events, I have become convinced that Cugel himself stole my Dreams!”
“Your remarks interest no one,” said Cugel. “Kindly hold your tongue while I continue my demonstration.”
Iolo was not to be subdued so easily. He turned to Duke Orbal and cried in a poignant voice: “Hear me out, if you will! I am convinced that the ‘robber’ is no more than a figment of Cugel’s imagination! He took my dreams and hid them, and where else but in the hole itself? For evidence I cite that length of string which leads into the hole.”
Duke Orbal inspected Cugel with a frown. “Are these charges true? Answer exactly, since all can be verified.”
Cugel chose his words with care. “I can only affirm what I myself know. Conceivably the robber hid Iolo’s dreams in the hole while I was otherwise occupied. For what purpose? Who can say?”
Duke Orbal asked in a gentle voice: “Has anyone thought to search the hole for this elusive ‘bag of dreams’?”
Cugel gave an indifferent shrug. “Iolo may enter now and search to his heart’s content.”
“You claim this hole!” retorted Iolo. “It therefore becomes your duty to protect the public!”
For several minutes an animated argument took place, until Duke Orbal intervened. “Both parties have raised persuasive points; I feel, however, that I must rule against Cugel. I therefore decree that he search his premises for the missing dreams and recover them if possible.”
Cugel disputed the decision with such vigor that Duke Orbal turned to glance along the skyline, whereupon Cugel moderated his position. “The judgment of your Grace of course must prevail, and if I must, I will cast about for Iolo’s lost dreams, although his theories are clearly absurd.”
“Please do so, at once.”
