Cugel debated his best course of action. Face to face, chest to chest, the deodand would tear him to pieces. With his sword ready, Cugel might hack and stab and hold the creature at bay until its frenzy for blood overcame its fear of pain and it flung itself forward regardless of hurt. Possibly Cugel was more fleet, and might out-distance the creature, but only after a long and dogged pursuit … It slipped forward again, to stand behind a crumbling outcrop twenty paces down-slope from where Cugel sat. As soon as it had disappeared, Cugel ran to the outcrop, jumped to the top. Here he lifted a heavy stone and as the deodand came skulking below, threw it down upon the creature’s back. It toppled to lie kicking, and Cugel jumped down to deliver the death-stroke. The deodand had pulled himself against the rock and hissed in horror at the sight of Cugel’s naked blade. “Hold your stroke,” it said. “You gain nothing by my death.”

“Only the satisfaction of killing one who planned to devour me.”

“A sterile pleasure!”

“Few pleasures are otherwise,” said Cugel. “But while you live, inform me regarding the Mountains of Magnatz.”

“They are as you see: stern mountains of ancient black rock.”

“And what of Magnatz?”

“I have no knowledge of any such entity.”

“What? The men to the north shudder at the very word!”

The deodand pulled himself slightly more erect. “This well may be. I have heard the name, and consider it no more than a legend of old.”

“Why do travelers go south and none go north?”

“Why should anyone seek to travel north? As for those coming south, they have provided food for myself and my fellows.” And the deodand inched himself up. Cugel picked up a great stone, held it aloft, dashed it down upon the black creature, which fell back, kicking feebly. Cugel picked up another stone.

“Hold!” called the deodand in a faint voice. “Spare me, and I will aid you to life.”

“How is this?” asked Cugel.

“You seek to travel south; others like me inhabit caves along the way: how can you escape them unless I guide you by ways they do not frequent?”

“You can do this?”

“If you undertake to spare my life.”

“Excellent. But I must take safeguards; in your lust for blood you might ignore the agreement.”

“You have maimed me; what further security do you need?” cried the deodand. Cugel nevertheless bound the creature’s arms and arranged a halter around the thick black neck.

In such fashion they proceeded, the deodand limping and hopping, and directing Cugel by a circuitous route above certain caves.

The mountains lifted higher; winds boomed and echoed down the stone canyons. Cugel continued to question the deodand regarding Magnatz, but elicited only the opinion that Magnatz was a creature of fable.

At last they came to a sandy flat high above the lowlands, which the deodand declared beyond the zone of his particular sept.

“What lies beyond?” asked Cugel.

“I have no knowledge; this is the limit of my wandering. Now release me and go your way, and I will return to my people.”

Cugel shook his head. “Night is not too far distant. What is to prevent you from following to attack me once again? Best that I kill you.”

The deodand laughed sadly. “Three others follow us. They have kept their distance only because I waved them back. Kill me and you will never wake to see the morning sun.”

“We will travel further together,” said Cugel.

“As you wish.”

Cugel led the way south, the deodand limping to the rear. The valley became a chasm floored with giant boulders, and looking back Cugel saw black shapes moving among the shadows. The deodand grinned meaningfully at Cugel. “You would be well to halt at once; why wait until dark? Death comes with less horror while the light shines.”

Cugel made no response, but pressed forward with all speed. The trail left the valley, climbed to a high meadow where the air blew cool. Larch, kaobab and balm-cedar grew to either side, and a stream ran among grasses and herbs. The deodand began to evince uneasiness, jerking at its halter, limping with exaggerated debility. Cugel could see no reason for the display: the countryside, except for the presence of the deodands, seemed without threat. Cugel became impatient. “Why do you delay? I hope to find a mountain hospice before the coming of dark. Your lagging and limping discommode me.”

“You should have considered this before you maimed me with a rock,” said the deodand. “After all, I do not accompany you of my own choice.”

Cugel looked behind. The three deodands who previously had skulked among the rocks now followed quite casually. “You have no control over the grisly appetites of your fellows?” Cugel demanded.

“I have no control over my own,” responded the deodand. “Only the fact of my broken limbs prevents me from leaping at your throat.”

“Do you wish to live?” asked Cugel, putting his hand significantly to sword-hilt.

“To a certain extent, though with not so fervent a yearning as do true men.”

“If you value life even an iota, order your fellows to turn back, to give over their sinister pursuit.”

“It would be a futile exercise. And in any event what is life to you? Look, before you tower the Mountains of Magnatz!”

“Ha!” muttered Cugel. “Did you not claim the repute of the region to be purely fabulous?”

“Exactly; but I did not enlarge upon the nature of the fable.”

As they spoke there came a swift sigh in the air; looking about Cugel saw that the three deodands had fallen, transfixed by arrows. From a nearby grove stepped four young men in brown hunting costume. They were of a fair, fresh complexion, brown hair, good stature, and seemed of good disposition. The foremost called out, “How is it that you come from the uninhabited north? And why do you walk with this dire creature of the night?”

“There is no mystery to either of your questions,” said Cugel. “First, the north is not uninhabited, some hundreds of men yet remain alive. As to this black hybrid of demon and cannibal, I employed it to lead me safely through the mountains, but I am dissatisfied with its services.”

“I did all expected of me,” declared the deodand. “Release me in accordance with our pact.”

“As you will,” said Cugel. He released the halter which secured the creature’s throat, and it limped away glaring back over its shoulder. Cugel made a sign to the leader of the huntsmen; he spoke a word to his fellows; they raised their bows and shot the deodand with arrows.

Cugel gave a curt nod of approval. “What of yourselves? And what of Magnatz who reputedly makes the mountains unsafe for travel?”

The huntsmen laughed. “A legend merely. At one time a terrible creature named Magnatz did indeed exist, and in deference to the tradition we of Vull Village still appoint one of our number to serve as Watchman. But this is all the credit to be given the tale.”

“Strange,” said Cugel, “that the tradition wields so wide an influence.”

The huntsmen shrugged indifferently. “Night approaches; it is time to turn back. You are welcome to join us, and at Vull there is a tavern where you may rest the night.”

“I gladly avail myself of your company.” The group set off up the trail. As they marched Cugel made inquiry regarding the road to the south, but the huntsmen were of little assistance. “Vull Village is situated on the shores of Lake Vull, which is unnavigable for its whirlpools, and few of us have explored the mountains to the south. It is said that they are barren and drop off into an inhospitable gray waste.”

“Possibly Magnatz roams the mountains across the lake?” inquired Cugel delicately.

“Tradition is silent on this score,” replied the huntsmen.

After an hour’s march the group reached Vull, a village of an affluence surprising to Cugel. The dwellings were solidly constructed of stone and timber, the streets were neatly laid-out and well-drained; there was a public market, a granary, a hall, a repository, several taverns, a number of modestly luxurious mansions. As the huntsmen marched up the main street, a man called out to them. “Important news! The Watchman has perished!”