Jack Vance - Cugel's Saga.pdf - Jack Vance - widez2

Contents

BUNDERWAL EXPLAINED THE WAGER

"It is so simple as to be embarrassing. The door yonder leads out to the

urinal. Look about the room; select a champion. I will do likewise. Whichever

champion is last to patronize the urinal wins the game for his sponsor."

"The contest seems fair," said Cugel.

The two champions seemed in no hurry; they paused to comment upon the

mildness of the night, then, almost in synchrony, went to the trough. Cugel

and Bunderwal followed, one to each side, and made ready to render judgment.

The two champions prepared to relieve themselves. Cugel's champion,

glancing to the side, noticed the quality of Cugel's attention, and instantly

became indignant. "What are you looking at? Landlord! Out here at once! Call

the Night-guards!"

Cugel tried to explain. "Sir, the situation is not as you think! Bunderwal will

verify the case! Bunderwal?"

A BAEN BOOK

CUGEL'S SAGA

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book

are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely

coincidental.

thereof in any form.

A Baen Book

Baen Enterprises

8-I0 W. 36th Street

New York, N.Y. I00I8

First Baen printing, November I984

ISBN: 0-67I-559I7-6

Cover art by Kevin Johnson

Printed in the United States of. America

Distributed by

SIMON & SCHUSTER

MASS MERCHANDISE SALES COMPANY

I230 Avenue of the Americas

New York, N.Y. I0020

CONTENTS

I. FROM SHANGLESTONE STRAND TO SASKERVOY II

1. FLUTIC

2. THE INN OF BLUE LAMPS

II. FROM SASKERVOY TO THE TUSTVOLD MUD-FLATS

1. ABOARD THE GALANTE

2. LAUSICAA

3. THE OCEAN OF SIGHS

III. FROM TUSTVOLD TO PORT PERDUSZ I39

1. THE COLUMNS

2. FAUCELME

IV. FROM PORT PERDUSZ TO KASPARA VITATUS I85

1. ON THE DOCKS

2. THE CARAVAN

V. FROM KASPARA VITATUS TO CUIRNIF

1. THE SEVENTEEN VIRGINS

2. THE BAGFUL OF DREAMS

VI. FROM CUIRNIF TO PERGOLO 305

1. THE FOUR WIZARDS

2. SPATTERLIGHT

247

CHAPTER I FROM SHANGLESTONE STRAND TO SASKERVOY

1 FLUTIC

IUCOUNU (known across Almery as 'the Laughing Magician') had

worked one of his most mordant jokes upon Cugel. For the second

time Cugel had been snatched up, carried north across the Ocean of Sighs,

dropped upon that melancholy beach known as Shanglestone Strand.

Rising to his feet, Cugel brushed sand from his cloak and adjusted his hat.

He stood not twenty yards from that spot upon which he had been dropped

before, also at the behest of Iucounu. He carried no sword and his pouch

contained no terces.

The solitude was absolute. No sound could be heard but the sigh of the

wind along the dunes. Far to the east a dim headland thrust into the water, as

did another, equally remote, to the west. To the south spread the sea, empty

except for the reflection of the old red sun.

Cugel's frozen faculties began to thaw, and a whole set of emotions, one

after the other, made themselves felt, with fury taking precedence over all.

Iucounu would now be enjoying his joke to the fullest. Cugel raised his fist

high and shook it toward the south, "Iucounu, at last you have exceeded

yourself! This time you will pay the price! I, Cugel, appoint myself your

nemesis!"

For a period Cugel strode back and forth, shouting and cursing: a person

long of arm and leg, with lank black hair, gaunt cheeks, and a crooked mouth

of great flexibility. The time was middle afternoon, and the sun, already half-

way into the west, tottered down the sky like a sick animal. Cugel, who was

nothing if not practical, decided to postpone the remainder of his tirade; more

urgent was lodging for the night. Cugel called down a final curse of pulsing

carbuncles upon Iucounu, then, picking his way across the shingle, he climbed

to the crest of a dune and looked in all directions.

To the north a succession of marshes and huddles of black larch straggled

away into the murk.

To the east Cugel gave only a cursory glance. Here were the villages Smolod

and Grodz, and memories were long in the Land of Cutz.

To the south, languid and listless, the ocean extended to the horizon and

beyond.

To the west, the shore stretched far to meet a line of low hills which,

thrusting into the sea, became a headland. ... A red glitter flashed across the

distance, and Cugel's attention was instantly attracted.

Such a red sparkle could only signify sunlight reflecting from glass!

Cugel marked the position of the glitter, which faded from view as the

sunlight shifted. He slid down the face of the dune and set off at best speed

along the beach.

The sun dropped behind the headland; gray-lavender gloom fell across the

beach. An arm of that vast forest known as The Great Erm edged down from

the north, suggesting a number of eery possibilities, and Cugel accelerated his

pace to a striding bent-kneed lope.

The hills loomed black against the sky, but no sign of habitation appeared.

Cugel's spirits sagged low. He proceeded more slowly, searching the landscape

with care, and at last, to his great satisfaction, he came upon a large and

elaborate manse of archaic design, shrouded behind the trees of an untidy

garden. The lower windows glowed with amber light: a cheerful sight for the

benighted wanderer.

Cugel turned briskly aside and approached the manse, putting by his usual

precautions of surveillance and perhaps peering through the windows,

especially in view of two white shapes at the edge of the forest which quietly

moved back into the shadows as he turned to stare.

Cugel marched to the door and tugged smartly at the bell-chain. From

within came the sound of a far gong.

A moment passed. Cugel looked nervously over his shoulder, and again

pulled at the chain. Finally he heard slow steps approaching from within.

The door opened and a pinch-faced old man, thin, pale, and stoop-

shouldered, looked through the crack.

Cugel used the suave tones of gentility, "Good evening! What is this

handsome old place, may I ask?"

The old man responded without cordiality: "Sir, this is Flutic, where Master

Twango keeps residence. What is your business?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," said Cugel airily. "I am a traveler, and I seem

to have lost my way. I will therefore trespass upon Master Twango's hospitality

for the night, if I may."

"Quite impossible. From which direction do you come?"

"From the east."

"Then continue along the road, through the forest and over the hill, to

Saskervoy. You will find lodging to meet your needs at the Inn of Blue Lamps."

"It is too far, and in any event robbers have stolen my money."

"You will find small comfort here; Master Twango gives short shrift to

indigents." The old man started to close the door, but Cugel put his foot into

the aperture.

"Wait! I noticed two white Chapes at the edge of the forest, and I dare go no

farther tonight!"

"In this regard, I can advise you," said the old man. "The creatures are

probably rostgoblers, or 'hyperborean sloths', if you prefer the term. Return to

the beach and wade ten feet into the water; you will be safe from their lust.

Then tomorrow you may proceed to Saskervoy."

The door closed. Cugel looked anxiously over his shoulder. At the entrance

to the garden, where heavy yews flanked the walk, he glimpsed a pair of still

white forms. Cugel turned back to the door and jerked hard at the bell-chain.

Slow steps padded across the floor, and once again the door opened. The old

man looked out. "Sir?"

"The ghouls are now in the garden! They block the way to the beach!"

The old man opened his mouth to speak, then blinked as a new concept

entered his mind. He tilted his head and spoke craftily. "You have no funds?"

"I carry not so much as a groat."

"Well then; are you disposed toward employment?"

"Certainly, if I survive the night!"

"In that case, you are in luck! Master Twango can offer employment to a

willing worker." The old man threw open the door and Cugel gratefully entered

the manse.

With an almost exuberant flourish the old man closed the door. "Come, I

will take you to Master Twango, and you can discuss the particulars of your

employment: How do you choose to be announced?"

"I am Cugel."

"This way then! You will be pleased with the opportunities! . . . Are you

coming? At Flutic we are brisk!"

Despite all, Cugel held back. "Tell me something of the employment! I am,

after all, a person of quality, and I do not turn my hand to everything."

"No fear! Master Twango will accord you every distinction. Ah, Cugel, you

will be a happy man! If only I were young again! This way, if you please."

Cugel still held back. "First things first! I am tired and somewhat the worse

for travel. Before I confer with Master Twango I would like to refresh myself and

perhaps take a bite-or two of nourishment. In fact, let us wait until tomorrow

morning, when I will make a far better impression."

The old man demurred. "At Flutic all is exact, and every jot balances against

a corresponding tittle. To whose account would I charge your refreshment? To

Jack Vance - Cugel's Saga.pdf

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