It was as he expected. Derwe Coreme had looked through the cusp and lay back in a daze. The violet cusp reposed in her lap.
Cugel seized it then for a moment stared down into the exquisite face and wondered if he dared more. Firx thought not. Already Derwe Coreme was sighing and moving her head.
Cugel leapt from the boat, and only just in time. Had she seen him? He ran to a clump of reeds which grew by a pond, flung himself in the water. From here he saw the walking-boat halt while Derwe Coreme rose to her feet. She felt through the pink down for the cusp, then she looked all around the countryside. But the blood-red light of the low sun was in her eyes when she looked toward Cugel, and she saw only the reeds and the reflection of sun on water.
Angry and sullen as never before, she set the boat into motion. It walked, then cantered, then loped to the south.
Cugel emerged from the water, inspected the magic cusp, tucked it into his pouch, looked back toward Smolod. He started to walk south, then paused. He took the cusp from his pocket, closed his left eye, held the cusp to his right. There rose the palaces, tier on tier, tower above tower, the gardens hanging down the terraces … Cugel would have stared a long time but Firx became restive.
Cugel returned the cusp to his pouch and once again set his face to the south, for the long journey back to Almery.
Chapter II
Cil
Sunset across the northern wastelands was a mournful process, languid as the bleeding of a dead animal; twilight came to find Cugel toiling across a salt-marsh. The dark red light of afternoon had deceived him; starting across a low-lying barrens he first found dankness underfoot, then a soggy softness, and now on all sides were mud, bog-grass, a few larches and willows, puddles and sloughs reflecting the leaden purple of the sky.
In Cugel’s pouch reposed the violet cusp which he must convey to Iucounu’s manse above the river Xzan in Almery. Cugel would have preferred to return at convenience, but Firx, that irascible tangle of spines and barbs which Iucounu had clasped about Cugel’s liver, permitted no loitering, and Cugel’s only solace was the prospect of revenge. To the east were low hills; toward these Cugel proceeded, jumping from tussock to tussock, running delicately over the crusted slime. At times he missed his footing, to sprawl into mud or rotting reeds, whereupon his threats and imprecations in regard to Iucounu the Laughing Magician reached a maximum of rancor.
Dusk held until, tottering with fatigue, he reached the slope of the eastern hills, where his condition was worsened rather than improved. Certain half-human bandits had noted his approach, and now they set upon him. A vile reek reached Cugel even before the sound of their foot-steps; fatigue forgotten, he sprang away, and was pursued up the slope.
A shattered tower rose against the sky. Cugel clambered over mouldering stones, drew his sword, stepped into the gape which once had served as doorway. Within was silence, the odor of dust and damp stone; Cugel dropped to his knee and against the skyline saw the three grotesque shapes come to a halt at the edge of the ruins.
Odd, thought Cugel, though gratifying — if coincidentally somewhat ominous. The creatures apparently feared the tower.
The last vestige of twilight departed; by various portents Cugel came to understand that the tower was haunted. Near the middle of night a ghost appeared, wearing pale robes and a silver fillet supporting twenty moonstones on long silver stalks. It swirled close to Cugel, staring down with vacant eye-sockets into which a man might lose his thoughts. Cugel pressed back against the wall so that his bones creaked, unable to move a muscle.
The ghost spoke: “Demolish this fort. While stone joins stone I must stay, even while Earth grows cold and swings through darkness.”
“Willingly,” croaked Cugel, “if it were not for those outside who seek my life.”
“To the back of the hall is a passage. Use stealth and strength, then do my behest.”
“The fort is as good as razed,” declared Cugel fervently. “But what circumstances bound you to so unremitting a post?”
“They are forgotten; I remain. Perform my charge, or I curse you with an everlasting tedium like my own!”
Cugel awoke in the dark, aching with cold and cramp. The ghost had vanished: how long had he slept? He looked through the door to find the eastern sky colored by the approach of dawn.
After an interminable wait the sun appeared, sending a flaming ray through the door and to the back of the hall. Here Cugel found a stone stairway descending to a dusty passage, which after five minutes of slow groping returned him to the surface. From concealment he surveyed the ground, and saw the three bandits, at separate points, each hidden behind a tumbled pillar.
Cugel unsheathed his sword and with great caution stole forth. He reached the first prone figure, thrust steel into the corded neck. The creature flung out its arms, groped at the ground and died.
Cugel wrenched free his blade, wiped it on the leather of the corpse. With the deftest and most facile stealth he came up behind the second bandit, which in its dying made a sound of distress. The third bandit came to investigate.
Springing from concealment, Cugel ran it through. The bandit screamed, drew its own dagger and lunged, but Cugel leapt back, hurled a heavy stone which felled it to the ground. Here it lay, grimacing in hate.
Cugel came cautiously forward. “Since you face death, tell me what you know of hidden treasure.”
“I know of none,” said the bandit. “Were there such you would be the last to learn for you have killed me.”
“This is no fault of mine,” said Cugel. “You pursued me, not I you. Why did you do so?”
“To eat, to survive, though life and death are equally barren and I despise both equally.”
Cugel reflected. “In this case you need not resent my part in the transition which you now face. The question regarding hidden valuables again becomes relevant. Perhaps you have a final word on this matter?”
“I have a final word. I display my single treasure.” The creature groped in its pouch, withdrew a round white pebble. “This is the skull-stone of a grue, and at this moment trembles with force. I use this force to curse you, to bring upon you the immediate onset of cankerous death.”
Cugel hastily killed the bandit, then heaved a dismal sigh. The night had brought only difficulty. “Iucounu, if I survive, there shall be a reckoning indeed!”
Cugel turned to examine the fort. Certain of the stones would fall at a touch; others would require much more effort. He might well not survive to perform the task. What were the terms of the bandit’s curse? “— immediate onset of cankerous death.” Sheer viciousness. The ghost-king’s curse was no less oppressive: how had it gone? “— everlasting tedium.” Cugel rubbed his chin, nodded gravely. Raising his voice he called, “Lord ghost, I may not stay to do your bidding: I have killed the bandits and now I depart. Farewell and may the aeons pass with despatch.”
From the depths of the fort came a moan, and Cugel felt the pressure of the unknown. “I activate my curse!” came a whisper to Cugel’s brain.
Cugel strode quickly away to the southeast. “Excellent; all is well. The ‘everlasting tedium’ exactly countervenes the ‘immediate onset of death’ and I am left only with the ‘canker’ which, in the person of Firx, already afflicts me. One must use his wits in dealing with maledictions.”
He proceeded over the barrens until the fort was beyond vision, and presently came once more to the sea. Mounting the foreshore he looked up and down the beach, to see a dark headland to east and another to west. He descended to the beach, and set off to the east. The sea, sluggish and gray, sent listless surf against the sand, which was smooth, unmarked by footprint.
Ahead Cugel spied a dark blot, which a moment later proved to be an aged man on his knees, passing the sand of the beach through a sieve.
Cugel halted to watch. The old man gave him a dignified nod and proceeded with his work.
Cugel’s curiosity at last prompted him to speak. “What do you seek so assiduously?”
The old man put down his sieve, rubbed his arms. “Somewhere along the beach an amulet was lost by the father of my great-grandfather. During his entire life he sifted sand, hoping to find that which he had lost. His son, and after him my grandfather, then my father and now I, the last of my line, have done likewise. All the way from Cil we have sifted sand, but there is yet six leagues to Benbadge Stull.”
