The Precursor’s eyes went vague; he seemed to reflect.
Cugel indicated the various talismans and instruments. “In return for a service I will donate certain of these contrivances to the care of this office.”
“What is the service?”
Cugel explained in detail, and the Precursor nodded thoughtfully. “Once more, if you will demonstrate your magic goods.”
Cugel did so.
“These are all of your devices?”
Cugel reluctantly displayed the erotic stimulator and explained the function of the ancillary talisman. The Precursor nodded his head, briskly this time. “I believe that we can reach agreement; all is as omnipotent Gilfig desires.”
“We are agreed then?”
“We are agreed!”
The following morning the group of fifty-five pilgrims assembled at the Black Obelisk. They prostrated themselves before the image of Gilfig, and prepared to proceed with their devotions. Suddenly the eyes of the image flashed fire and the mouth opened. “Pilgrims!” came a brazen voice. “Go forth to do my bidding! Across the Silver Desert you must travel, to the shore of the Songan Sea! Here you will find a fane, before which you must abase yourselves. Go! Across the Silver Desert, with all despatch!”
The voice quieted. Garstang spoke in a trembling voice. “We hear, O Gilfig! We obey!”
At this moment Cugel leapt forward. “I also have heard this marvel! I too will make the journey! Come, let us set forth!”
“Not so fast,” said Garstang. “We cannot run skipping and bounding like dervishes. Supplies will be needed, as well as beasts of burden. To this end funds are required. Who then will subscribe?”
“I offer two hundred terces!” “And I, sixty terces, the sum of my wealth!” “I, who lost ninety terces gaming with Cugel, possess only forty terces, which I hereby contribute.” So it went, and even Cugel turned sixty-five terces into the common fund.
“Good,” said Garstang. “Tomorrow then I will make arrangements, and the following day, if all goes well, we depart Erze Damath by the Old West Gate!”
4
The Silver Desert and the Songan Sea
In the morning Garstang, with the assistance of Cugel and Casmyre, went forth to procure the necessary equipage. They were directed to an outfitting yard, situated on one of the now-vacant areas bounded by the boulevards of the old city. A wall of mud brick mingled with fragments of carved stone surrounded a compound, whence issued sounds: crying, calls, deep bellows, throaty growls, barks, screams and roars, and a strong multiphase odor, combined of ammonia, ensilage, a dozen sorts of dung, the taint of old meat, general acridity.
Passing through a portal the travelers entered an office overlooking the central yard, where pens, cages and stockades held beasts of so great variety as to astound Cugel.
The yard-keeper came forward: a tall, yellow-skinned man, much scarred, lacking his nose and one ear. He wore a gown of gray leather belted at the waist and a tall conical black hat with flaring ear-flaps.
Garstang stated the purpose of the visit. “We are pilgrims who must journey across the Silver Desert, and wish to hire pack-beasts. We number fifty or more, and anticipate a journey of twenty days in each direction with perhaps five days spent at our devotions: let this information be a guide in your thinking. Naturally we expect only the staunchest, most industrious and amenable beasts at your disposal.”
“All this is very well,” stated the keeper, “but my price for hire is identical to my price for sale, so you might as well have the full benefit of your money, in the form of title to the beasts concerned in the transaction.”
“And the price?” inquired Casmyre.
“This depends upon your choice; each beast commands a different value.”
Garstang, who had been surveying the compound, shook his head ruefully. “I confess to puzzlement. Each beast is of a different sort, and none seem to fit any well-defined categories.”
The keeper admitted that such was the case. “If you care to listen, I can explain all. The tale is of a continuing fascination, and will assist you in the management of your beasts.”
“We will doubly profit to hear you then,” said Garstang gracefully, though Cugel was making motions of impatience.
The keeper went to a shelf, took forth a leather-bound folio. “In a past aeon Mad King Kutt ordained a menagerie like none before, for his private amazement and the stupefaction of the world. His wizard, Follinense, therefore produced a group of beasts and teratoids unique, combining the wildest variety of plasms; to the result that you see.”
“The menagerie has persisted so long?” asked Garstang in wonder.
“Indeed not. Nothing of Mad King Kutt is extant save the legend, and a casebook of the wizard Follinense —” here he tapped the leather folio “— which describes his bizarre systemology. For instance —” he opened the folio. “Well … hmmm. Here is a statement, somewhat less explicit than others, in which he analyzes the half-men, little more than a brief set of notes:
GID: hybrid of man, gargoyle, whorl, leaping insect.
DEODAND: wolverine, basilisk, man.
ERB: bear, man, lank-lizard, demon.
GRUE: man, ocular bat, the unusual hoon.
LEUCOMORPH: unknown.
BAZIL: felinodore, man, (wasp?).
Casmyre clapped his hands in astonishment. “Did Follinense then create these creatures, to the subsequent disadvantage of humanity?”
“Surely not,” said Garstang. “It seems more an exercise in idle musing. Twice he admits to wonder.”
“Such is my opinion, in this present case,” stated the keeper, “though elsewhere he is less dubious.”
“How are the creatures before us then connected with the menagerie?” inquired Casmyre.
