“These names are unknown to me,” said Cugel. “What place is Benbadge Stull?”
The old man indicated the headland to the west. “An ancient port, though now you will find only a crumbled breakwater, an old jetty, a hut or two. Yet barques from Benbadge Stull once plied the sea to Falgunto and Mell.”
“Again, regions beyond my knowledge,” said Cugel. “What lies beyond Benbadge Stull?”
“The land dwindles into the north. The sun hangs low over marsh and bog; there are none to be found here but a few forlorn outcasts.”
Cugel turned his attention to the east. “And what place is Cil?”
“This entire domain is Cil, which my ancestor forfeited to the House of Domber. All grandeur is gone; there remains the ancient palace and a village. Beyond, the land becomes a dark and dangerous forest, so much has our realm dwindled.” The old man shook his head, returned to his sieving.
Cugel stood watching a moment, then, kicking idly in the sand, uncovered a glint of metal. Stooping, he picked up a bracelet of black metal shining with a purple luster. Around the circumference were thirty studs in the form of carbuncles, each circled by a set of engraved runes. “Ha!” exclaimed Cugel, displaying the bracelet. “Notice this fine object: a treasure indeed!”
The old man put down scoop and sieve, rose slowly to his knees, then to his feet. He lurched forward, blue eyes round and staring. He held forth his hand. “You have uncovered the amulet of my ancestors, the House of Slaye! Give it to me!”
Cugel stepped back. “Come, come, you make a flagrantly unreasonable request!”
“No, no! The amulet is mine; you do wrong by withholding it. Do you wish to vitiate the work of my lifetime and of four lifetimes before mine?”
“Why do you not rejoice that the amulet has been found?” demanded Cugel peevishly. “You are now relieved from further search. Explain, if you will, the potency of this amulet. It exhales a heavy magic. How does it profit the owner?”
“The owner is myself,” groaned the old man. “I implore you, be generous!”
“You put me in an uncomfortable position,” said Cugel. “My property is too small to admit of largesse, but I cannot consider this a failure of generosity. If you had found the amulet, would you have given it to me?”
“No, since it is mine!”
“Here we disagree. Assume, if you will, that your conviction is incorrect. Your eyesight will attest that the amulet is in my hands, under my control, and, in short, my property. I would appreciate, therefore, any information upon its capabilities and mode of employment.”
The old man threw his arms in the air, kicked his sieve with such wild emotion that he burst out the mesh, and the sieve went trundling down the beach to the water’s edge. A wave swept in and floated the sieve; the old man made an involuntary motion to retrieve it, then once more threw up his hands and tottered up the foreshore. Cugel gave his head a shake of grave disapproval, and turned to continue east along the beach.
Now occurred an unpleasant altercation with Firx, who was convinced that the most expeditious return to Almery lay west through the port of Benbadge Stull. Cugel clasped his hands to his belly in distress. “There is but one feasible route! By means of the lands which lie to the south and east. What if the ocean offers a more direct route? There are no boats to hand; it is not possible to swim so great a distance!”
Firx administered a few dubious pangs, but finally permitted Cugel to continue eastward along the shore. Behind, on the ridge of the foreshore, sat the old man, scoop dangling between his legs, staring out to sea.
Cugel proceeded along the beach, well pleased with the events of the morning. He examined the amulet at length: it exuded a rich sense of magic, and in addition was an object of no small beauty. The runes, incised with great skill and delicacy, unfortunately were beyond his capacity to decipher. He gingerly slipped the bracelet on his wrist, and in so doing pressed one of the carbuncles. From somewhere came an abysmal groan, a sound of the deepest anguish. Cugel stopped short, looked up and down the beach. Gray sea, pallid beach, foreshore with clumps of spinifex. Benbadge Stull to west, Cil to east, gray sky above. He was alone. Whence had come the great groan? Cautiously Cugel touched the carbuncle again, and again evoked the stricken protest.
In fascination Cugel pressed another of the carbuncles, this time bringing forth a wail of piteous despair in a different voice. Cugel was puzzled. Who along this sullen shore manifested so frivolous a disposition? Each carbuncle in turn he pressed and caused to be produced a whole concert of outcries, ranging the gamut of anguish and pain. Cugel examined the amulet critically. Beyond the evocation of groans and sobs it displayed no obvious power and Cugel presently tired of the occupation.
The sun reached its zenith. Cugel appeased his hunger with seaweed, which he rendered nutritious by rubbing it with the charm provided for this purpose by Iucounu. As he ate he seemed to hear voices and careless prattling laughter, so indistinct that it might have been the sound of the surf. A tongue of rock protruded into the ocean nearby; listening carefully, Cugel discovered the voices to be coming from this direction. They were clear and child-like, and rang with innocent gayety. He went cautiously out upon the rock. At the far end, where the ocean surged and dark water heaved, four large shells had attached themselves. These now were open; heads looked forth, attached to naked shoulders and arms. The heads were round and fair, with soft cheeks, blue-gray eyes, tufts of pale hair. The creatures dipped their fingers in the water, and from the drops they pulled thread which they deftly wove into a fine soft fabric. Cugel’s shadow fell on the water; instantly the creatures clamped themselves into their shells.
“How so?” exclaimed Cugel jocularly. “Do you always lock yourselves apart at the sight of a strange face? Are you so timorous then? Or merely surly?”
The shells remained closed. Dark water swirled over the fluted surfaces.
Cugel came a step closer, squatted on his haunches, cocked his head askew. “Or perhaps you are proud? So that you withdraw yourselves in disdain? Or is it that you lack grace?”
Still no response. Cugel remained as before, and began to whistle, trilling a tune he had heard at the Azenomei Fair.
Presently the shell at the far edge of the rock opened a crack, and eyes peered at him. Cugel whistled another bar or two, then spoke once more. “Open your shells! Here waits a stranger, anxious to learn the road to Cil, and other matters of import!”
Another shell opened a crack; another set of eyes glistened from the dark within.
“Perhaps you are ignorant,” scoffed Cugel. “Perhaps you know nothing save the color of fish and the wetness of water.”
The shell of the farthest opened further, enough to show the indignant face within. “We are by no means ignorant!”
“Nor indolent, nor lacking in grace, nor disdainful,” shouted the second.
“Nor timorous!” added a third.
Cugel nodded sagely. “This well may be. But why do you withdraw so abruptly at my mere approach?”
“Such is our nature,” said the first shell-creature. “Certain creatures of the sea would be happy to catch us unaware, and it is wise to retreat first and investigate second.”
All four of the shells were now ajar, though none stood as fully wide as when Cugel had approached.
“Well then,” he said, “what can you tell me of Cil? Are strangers greeted with cordiality, or driven off? Are inns to be found, or must the wayfarer sleep in a ditch?”
“Such matters lie beyond our specific knowledge,” said the first shell-creature. It fully opened its shell, extruded pale arms and shoulders. “The folk of Cil, if rumor of the sea goes correctly, are withdrawn and suspicious, even to their ruler, who is a girl, no more, of the ancient House of Domber.”
“There walks old Slaye now,” said another. “He returns early to his cabin.”
Another tittered. “Slaye is old; never will he find his amulet, the House of Domber will rule Cil till the sun goes out.”
“What is all this?” asked Cugel ingenuously. “Of what amulet do you speak?”
“As far as memory can return,” one of the shell-creatures explained, “old Slaye has sifted sand, and his father before him, and yet other Slayes across the years. They seek a metal band, by which they hope to regain their ancient privileges.”
