The zealot flung high his arms. “My condition is fulfilled; you, Lodermulch, have demonstrated your virtue. The raft may proceed. In addition, since you employ your sword in the defense of honor, I now bestow upon you this salve, which when applied to your blade enables it to slice steel or rock as easily as butter. Away then, and may all profit by the lustral devotions!”
Lodermulch accepted the salve and returned to the raft. The chain was relaxed and the raft slid without hindrance past the weir.
Garstang approached Lodermulch to voice measured approval for his act. He added a caution: “In this case an impulsive, indeed almost insubordinate, act redounded to the general benefit. If a similar circumstance arises in the future it would be well to take counsel with others of proved sagacity: myself, Casmyre, Voynod or Subucule.”
Lodermulch grunted indifferently. “As you wish, so long as the delay involves me in no personal inconvenience.” And Garstang was forced to be content with this.
The other pilgrims eyed Lodermulch with dissatisfaction, and drew themselves somewhat apart, so that Lodermulch sat by himself at the forward part of the raft.
Afternoon came, then sunset, evening and night; when morning arrived it was seen that Lodermulch had disappeared.
There was general puzzlement. Garstang made inquiries, but none could throw light upon the mystery, and there was no general consensus as to what in fact had occasioned the disappearance.
Strangely enough, the departure of the unpopular Lodermulch failed to restore the original cheer and fellowship to the group. Thereafter each of the pilgrims sat dourly silent, casting glances to left and right; there were no further games, nor philosophical discussions, and Garstang’s announcement that Erze Damath lay a single day’s journey ahead aroused no great enthusiasm.
3
Erze Damath
On the last night aboard the raft a semblance of the old camaraderie returned. Vitz the locutor performed a number of vocal exercises and Cugel demonstrated a high-kneed capering dance typical of the lobster fishermen of Kauchique, where he had passed his youth. Voynod in his turn performed a few simple metamorphoses, and then displayed a small silver ring. He signaled Haxt. “Touch this with your tongue, press it to your forehead, then look through.”
“I see a procession!” exclaimed Haxt. “Men and women by the hundreds, and thousands, marching past. My mother and my father walk before, then my grandparents — but who are the others?”
“Your ancestors,” declared Voynod, “each in his characteristic costume, back to the primordial homuncule from which all of us are derived.” He retrieved the ring, and reaching into his pouch brought forth a dull blue and green gem. “Watch now, as I fling this jewel into the Scamander!” And he tossed the gem off to the side. It flickered through the air and splashed into the dark water. “Now, I merely fold forth my palm, and the gem returns!” And indeed, as the company watched there was a wet sparkle across the firelight and upon Voynod’s palm rested the gem. “With this gem a man need never fear penury. True, it is of no great value, but he can sell it repeatedly … What else shall I show you? This small amulet perhaps. Frankly an erotic appurtenance, it arouses intense emotion in that person toward whom the potency is directed. One must be cautious in its use; and indeed, I have here an indispensable ancillary: a periapt in the shape of a ram’s head, fashioned to the order of Emperor Dalmasmius the Tender, that he might not injure the sensibilities of any of his ten thousand concubines … What else can I display? Here: my wand, which instantly affixes any object to any other. I keep it carefully sheathed so that I do not inadvertently weld trouser to buttock or pouch to fingertip. The object has many uses. What else? Let us see … Ah, here! A horn of singular quality. When thrust into the mouth of a corpse, it stimulates the utterance of twenty final words. Inserted into the cadaver’s ear it allows the transmission of information into the lifeless brain … What have we here? Yes, indeed: a small device which has brought such pleasure!” And Voynod displayed a doll which performed a heroic declamation, sang a somewhat raffish song and engaged in repartee with Cugel, who squatted close in front, watching all with great attentiveness.
At last Voynod tired of his display, and the pilgrims one by one reposed themselves to sleep.
Cugel lay awake, hands behind his head, staring up at the stars, thinking of Voynod’s unexpectedly large collection of thaumaturgical instruments and devices.
When satisfied that all were asleep, he arose to his feet and inspected the sleeping form of Voynod. The pouch was securely locked and tucked under Voynod’s arm, much as Cugel had expected. Going to the little pantry where stores were kept he secured a quantity of lard, which he mixed with flour to produce a white salve. From a fragment of heavy paper he folded a small box, which he filled with the salve. He then returned to his couch.
On the following morning he contrived that Voynod, as if by accident, should see him anointing his sword blade with the salve.
Voynod became instantly horrified. “It cannot be! I am astounded! Alas, poor Lodermulch!”
Cugel signaled him to silence. “What are you saying?” he muttered. “I merely protect my sword against rust.”
Voynod shook his head with inexorable determination. “All is clear! For the sake of gain you have murdered Lodermulch! I have no choice but to lodge an information with the thief-takers at Erze Damath!”
Cugel made an imploring gesture. “Do not be hasty! You have mistaken all; I am innocent!”
Voynod, a tall saturnine man with a purple flush under his eyes, a long chin and a tall pinched forehead, held up his hand. “I have never been one to tolerate homicide. The principle of equivalence must in this case apply, and a rigorous requital is necessary. At minimum, the evil-doer may never profit by his act!”
“You refer to the salve?” inquired Cugel delicately.
“Precisely,” said Voynod. “Justice demands no less.”
“You are a stern man,” exclaimed Cugel in distress. “I have no choice but submit to your judgment.”
Voynod extended his hand. “The salve then, and since you are obviously overcome by remorse, I will say no more of the matter.”
Cugel pursed his lips reflectively. “So be it. I have already anointed my sword. Therefore I will sacrifice the remainder of the salve in exchange for your erotic appurtenance and its ancillary, together with several lesser talismans.”
“Do I hear correctly?” stormed Voynod. “Your arrogance transcends all! Such effectuants are beyond value!”
Cugel shrugged. “This salve is by no means an ordinary article of commerce.”
After dispute Cugel relinquished the salve in return for a tube which projected blue concentrate to a distance of fifty paces, together with a scroll listing eighteen phases of the Laganetic Cycle; and with these items he was forced to be content.
Not long afterward the outlying ruins of Erze Damath appeared upon the western banks: ancient villas now toppled and forlorn among overgrown gardens.
The pilgrims plied poles to urge the raft toward the shore. In the distance appeared the tip of the Black Obelisk, at which all emitted a glad cry. The raft moved slantwise across the Scamander and was presently docked at one of the crumbling old jetties.
The pilgrims scrambled ashore, to gather around Garstang, who addressed the group: “It is with vast satisfaction that I find myself discharged of responsibility. Behold! The holy city where Gilfig issued the Gneustic Dogma! where he scourged Kazue and denounced Enxis the Witch! Not impossibly the sacred feet have trod this very soil!” Garstang made a dramatic gesture toward the ground, and the pilgrims, looking downward, shuffled their feet uneasily. “Be that as it may, we are here and each of us must feel relief. The way was tedious and not without peril. Fifty-nine set forth from Pholgus Valley. Bamish and Randol were taken by grues at Sagma Field; by the bridge across the Asc Cugel joined us; upon the Scamander we lost Lodermulch. Now we muster fifty-seven, comrades all, tried and true, and it is a sad thing to dissolve our association, which we all will remember forever!
“Two days hence the Lustral Rites begin. We are in good time. Those who have not disbursed all their funds gaming —” here Garstang turned a sharp glance toward Cugel “— may seek comfortable inns at which to house themselves. The impoverished must fare as best they can. Now our journey is at its end; we herewith disband and go our own ways, though all will necessarily meet two days hence at the Black Obelisk. Farewell until this time!”
The pilgrims now dispersed, some walking along the banks of the Scamander toward a nearby inn, others turning aside and proceeding into the city proper.
Cugel approached Voynod. “I am strange to this region, as you are aware; perhaps you can recommend an inn of large comfort at small cost.”
“Indeed,” said Voynod. “I am bound for just such an inn: the Old Dastric Empire Hostelry, which occupies the precincts of a former palace. Unless conditions have changed, sumptuous luxury and exquisite viands are offered at no great cost.”
The prospect met with Cugel’s approval; the two set out through the avenues of old Erze Damath, past clusters of stucco huts, then a region where no buildings stood and the avenues created a vacant checkerboard, then into a district of great mansions still currently in use: these set back among intricate gardens. The folk of Erze Damath were handsome enough, if somewhat swarthier than the folk of Almery. The men wore only black: tight trousers and vests with black pom-pons; the women were splendid in gowns of yellow, red, orange and magenta, and their slippers gleamed with orange and black sequins. Blue and green were rare, being unlucky colors, and purple signified death. The women displayed tall plumes in their hair, while the men wore jaunty black disks, their scalps protruding through a central hole. A resinous balsam seemed very much the fashion, and everyone Cugel met exuded a waft of aloes or myrrh or carcynth. All in all the folk of Erze Damath seemed no less cultivated than those of Kauchique, and rather more vital than the listless citizens of Azenomei.
Ahead appeared the Old Dastric Empire Hostelry, not far from the Black Obelisk itself. To the dissatisfaction of both Cugel and Voynod, the premises were completely occupied, and the attendant refused them admittance. “The Lustral Rites have attracted all manner of devout folk,” he explained. “You will be fortunate to secure lodging of any kind.”
So it proved: from inn to inn went Cugel and Voynod, to be turned away in every case. Finally, on the western outskirts of the city, at the very edge of the Silver Desert, they were received by a large tavern of somewhat disreputable appearance: the Inn of the Green Lamp.
