Cugel finished his sausages in leisure, ordered a second flagon of wine, and observed with pleasure the view across the Xzan. There was no need for haste; indeed, while dealing with Iucounu, impulsiveness was a serious mistake, as he already had learned.

On the following day, still finding no fault in his plan, he visited a glass-blower whose workroom was established on the banks of the Scaum a mile to the east of Azenomei, in a copse of fluttering yellow bilibobs.

The glass-blower examined the cusp. “An exact duplicate, of identical shape and color? No small task, with a violet so pure and rich. Such a color is most difficult to work into glass; there is no specific stain; all must be a matter of guess and hazard. Still — I will prepare a melt. We shall see, we shall see.”

After several trials he produced a glass of the requisite hue, from which he fashioned a cusp superficially indistinguishable from the magic lens.

“Excellent!” declared Cugel. “And now, as to your fee?”

“Such a cusp of violet glass I value at a hundred terces,” replied the glass-blower in a casual manner.

“What?” cried Cugel in outrage. “Do I appear so gullible? The charge is excessive.”

The glass-blower replaced his tools, swages and crucibles, showing no concern for Cugel’s indignation. “The universe evinces no true stability. All fluctuates, cycles, ebbs and flows; all is pervaded with mutability. My fees, which are immanent with the cosmos, obey the same laws and vary according to the anxiety of the customer.”

Cugel drew back in displeasure, at which the glass-blower reached forth and possessed himself of both cusps. Cugel exclaimed: “What do you intend?”

“I return the glass to the crucible; what else?”

“And what of that cusp which is my property?”

“I retain it as a memento of our conversation.”

“Hold!” Cugel drew a deep breath. “I might pay your exorbitant fee if the new cusp were as clear and perfect as the old.”

The glass-blower inspected first one, then the other. “To my eye they are identical.”

“What of focus?” Cugel challenged. “Hold both to your vision, look through both, then say as much!”

The glass-blower raised both cusps to his eyes. One allowed a view into the Overworld, the other transmitted a view of Reality. Stunned by the discord, the glass-blower swayed and would have fallen had not Cugel, in an effort to protect the cusps, supported him, and guided him to a bench.

Taking the cusps, Cugel tossed three terces to the work-table. “All is mutability, and thus your hundred terces has fluctuated to three.”

The glass-blower, too dazed to make sensible reply, mumbled and struggled to raise his hand, but Cugel strode from the studio and away.

He returned to the inn. Here he donned his old garments, stained and torn by much harsh treatment, and set forth along the banks of the Xzan.

As he walked he rehearsed the approaching confrontation, trying to anticipate every possible contingency. Ahead, the sunlight glinted through spiral green glass towers: the manse of Iucounu!

Cugel halted to gaze up at the eccentric structure. How many times during his journey had he envisioned himself standing here, with Iucounu the Laughing Magician close at hand!

He climbed the winding way of dark brown tile, and every step increased the tautness of his nerves. He approached the front door, and saw on the heavy panel an object which he had failed to notice: a visage carved in ancient wood, a gaunt face pinched of cheek and jaw, the eyes aghast, the lips drawn back, the mouth wide in a yell of despair or perhaps defiance.

With his hand raised to rap at the door, Cugel felt a chill settle on his soul. He drew back from the haggard wooden countenance, turned to follow the gaze of the blind eyes — across the Xzan and away over the dim bare hills, rolling and heaving as far as vision could reach. He reviewed his plan of operations. Was there flaw? Danger to himself? None was apparent. If Iucounu discovered the substitution Cugel could always plead error and produce the genuine cusp. Great advantage was to be gained at small risk! Cugel turned back, rapped on the heavy panel.

A minute passed. Slowly the portal swung open. A flow of cool air issued forth, carrying a bitter odor which Cugel could not identify. The sunlight slanting across his shoulder passed through the portal and fell upon the stone floor. Cugel peered uncertainly into the vestibule, reluctant to enter without an express invitation. “Iucounu!” he called. “Come forth, that I may enter your manse! I wish no further unjust accusations!”

Within was a stir, a slow sound of feet. From a room to the side came Iucounu, and Cugel thought to detect a change in his countenance. The great soft yellow head seemed looser than before: the jowls sagged, the nose hung like a stalactite, the chin was little more than a pimple below the great twitching mouth.

Iucounu wore a square brown hat with each of the corners tipped up, a blouse of brown and black diaper, loose pantaloons of a heavy dark brown stuff with black embroidery — a handsome set of garments which Iucounu wore without grace, as if they were strange to him, and uncomfortable; and indeed, he gave Cugel a greeting which Cugel found odd. “Well, fellow, what is your purpose? You will never learn to walk ceilings standing on your hands.” And Iucounu hid his mouth with his hands to conceal a snicker.

Cugel raised his eyebrows in surprise and doubt. “This is not my purpose. I have come on an errand of vast import: namely, to report that the mission I undertook on your behalf is satisfactorily terminated.”

“Excellent!” cried Iucounu. “You may now tender me the keys to the bread locker.”

“‘Bread locker’?” Cugel stared in surprise. Was Iucounu mad? “I am Cugel, whom you sent north on a mission. I have returned with the magic cusp affording a view into the Overworld!”

“Of course, of course!” cried Iucounu. “‘Brzm-szzst.’ I fear I am vague, among so many contrasting situations; nothing is quite as before. But now I welcome you. Cugel, of course! All is clear. You have gone forth, you have returned! How is friend Firx? Well, I trust? I have longed for his companionship. An excellent fellow, Firx!”

Cugel acquiesced with no great fervor. “Yes, Firx has been a friend indeed, an unflagging source of encouragement.”

“Excellent! Step within! I must provide refreshment! What is your preference: ‘sz-mzsm’ or ‘szk-zsm’?”

Cugel eyed Iucounu askance. His demeanor was more than peculiar. “I am familiar with neither of the items you mention, and hence will decline both with gratitude. But observe! The magic violet cusp!” And Cugel displayed the glass fabrication which he had procured only a few hours previously.

“Excellent!” declared Iucounu. “You have done well, and your transgressions — now I recall all, having sorted among the various circumstances — are hereby declared nullified. But give me the cusp! I must put it to trial!”

“Of course,” said Cugel. “I respectfully suggest, that in order to comprehend the full splendor of the Overworld, you bring forth your own cusp and look through both simultaneously. This is the only appropriate method.”

“True, how true! My cusp; now where did that stubborn rascal conceal it?”

“‘Stubborn rascal’?” inquired Cugel. “Has someone been misarranging your valuables?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Iucounu gave a wild titter, and kicked up both feet far to the side, falling heavily to the floor, from where he addressed the astounded Cugel. “It is all one, and no longer of consequence, since all must now transpire in the ‘mnz’ pattern. Yes. I will shortly consult with Firx.”

“On a previous occasion,” said Cugel patiently, “you procured your cusp from a cabinet in that chamber yonder.”

“Silence!” commanded Iucounu in sudden annoyance. He hauled himself to his feet. “‘Szsz’! I am well aware as to where the cusp is stored. All is completely coordinated! Follow me. We shall learn the essence of the Overworld at once!” He emitted a bray of immoderate laughter, at which Cugel stared in new astonishment.

Iucounu shuffled into the side-chamber, returned with the case containing his magic cusp. He made an imperious gesture to Cugel. “Stand exactly at this spot. Do not move, as you value Firx!”

Cugel bowed obediently. Iucounu took forth his cusp. “Now — the new object!”

Cugel tendered the glass cusp. “To your eyes, both together, that you may enjoy the full glory of the Overworld!”

“Yes! This is as it shall be!” Iucounu lifted the two cusps and applied them to his eyes. Cugel, expecting him to fall paralyzed by the discord, reached for the cord he had brought to tie the insensible savant; but Iucounu showed no signs of helplessness. He peered this way and that, chortling in a peculiar fashion. “Splendid! Superb! A vista of pure pleasure!” He removed the cusps, placed them carefully in the case. Cugel watched glumly.

“I am much pleased,” said Iucounu making a sinuous gesture of hands and arms, which further bewildered Cugel. “Yes,” Iucounu continued, “you have done well, and the insensate wickedness of your offense is hereby remitted. Now all that remains is the delivery of my indispensable Firx, and to this end I must place you in a vat. You will be submerged in an appropriate liquid for approximately twenty-six hours, which may well suffice to tempt Firx forth.”

Cugel grimaced. How was one to reason with a magician not only droll and irascible, but also bereft? “Such an immersion might well affect me adversely,” he pointed out cautiously. “Far wiser to allow Firx a period of further perambulation.”

Iucounu seemed favorably impressed by the suggestion, and expressed his delight by means of an extremely intricate jig, which he performed with agility remarkable in a man of Iucounu’s short limbs and somewhat corpulent body. He concluded the demonstration with a great leap into the air, alighting on his neck and shoulders, arms and legs waving like those of an overturned beetle. Cugel watched in fascination, wondering if Iucounu were alive or dead. But Iucounu, blinking somewhat, nimbly gained an upright posture. “I must perfect the exact pressures and thrusts,” he ruminated. “Otherwise there is impingement. The eluctance here is of a different order than of ‘ssz-pntz’.” He emitted another great chortle, throwing back his head, and looking into the open mouth Cugel saw, rather than a tongue, a white claw. Instantly he apprehended the reason for Iucounu’s bizarre conduct. In some fashion a creature like Firx had inserted itself into Iucounu’s body, and had taken possession of his brain.

Cugel rubbed his chin with interest. A situation of marvel! He applied himself to concentrated thought. Essential to know was whether the creature retained Iucounu’s mastery of magic. Cugel said, “Your wisdom astounds me! I am filled with admiration! Have you added to your collection of thaumaturgical curios?”

“No; there is ample at hand,” declared the creature, speaking through Iucounu’s mouth. “But now I feel the need for relaxation. The evolution I performed a moment or so ago has made quietude necessary.”

“A simple matter,” said Cugel. “The most effective means to this end is to clamp with extreme intensity upon the Lobe of Directive Volition.”