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thought Cugel, and he examined the amulet with a new attentiveness. His
temporary heart's-desire, sovereignty over Cil, had become no longer
felici-tious. And Cugel wondered if he should not fix upon a new
heart's-desire an aspiration to master the lore of animal husbandry, for
instance, or a compelling urge to excel at acrobatic feats . . . Reluctantly
Cugel dismissed the scheme. In any event, the cogency of the shell-creature's
curse was not yet certain.
A path left the beach, to wind up among bushes and odorous shrubs: dymphian,
heliotrope, black quince, olus, beds of long-stemmed stardrops, shade
ververica, flowering amanita. The beach became a ribbon fading into the maroon
blur of sunset, and the headland at Benbadge Stull could no longer be seen.
The path became level, traversed a dense grove of bay trees, and issued upon a
weed-grown oval, at one time a parade ground or exercise field.
Along the left boundary was a tall stone wall, broken by a great ceremonial
portico which held aloft a heraldic device of great age. The gates stood wide
upon a marble-flagged promenade a mile in length leading to the palace: this a
richly detailed structure of many tiers, with a green bronze roof. A terrace
extended along the front of the palace; promenade and terrace were joined by a
flight of broad steps. The sun had now disappeared; gloom descended from the
sky. With no better shelter in prospect, Cugel set off toward the palace.
The promenade at one time had been a work of monu-
48
The Eyes of the Overworld mental elegance, but now all was in a state of
dilapidation which the twilight invested with a melancholy beauty. To right
and left were elaborate gardens now untended and overgrown. Marble urns
festooned with garlands of carnelian and jade flanked the promenade; down the
center extended a line of pedestals somewhat taller than the height of a man.
Each of these supported a bust, identified by an inscription in runes which
Cugel recognized as similar to those carved on the amulet The pedestals were
five paces apart, and proceeded the entire mile to the terrace. The carving of
the first was softened by wind and rain until the faces were barely
discernible; as
Cugel proceeded the features became more keen. Pedestal after pedestal, bust
after bust; each face stared briefly at Cugel as he marched toward the palace.
The last of the series, obscure in the fading Jight, depicted a young woman.
Cugel stopped short: this was the girl of the walking boat, whom he had
encountered in the land to the north: Derwe Coreme, of the House of Domber,
ruler of
Cil!
Beset by misgivings, Cugel paused to consider the massive portal. He had not
departed from Derwe
Coreme hi amity; indeed she might be expected to harbor resentment. On the
other hand, at their
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encounter she had invited him to her palace, using language of unmistakable
warmth; possibly her resentment had disappeared, leaving only the warmth. And
Cugel, recalling her remarkable beauty, found the prospect of a second meeting
stimulating.
But what if she were still resentful? She must be impressed by the amulet,
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provided she did not insist that Cugel demonstrate its use. If only he knew
how to read the runes, all would be simplicity itself. But since the knowledge
was not to be derived from Slaye, he must seek it elsewhere, which in
practicality meant within the palace.
He stood before a reach of shallow steps leading up to the terrace. The marble
treads were cracked; the balustrade along the terrace was stained by moss and
lichen: a condition which the murk of twilight invested with a mournful
grandeur. The palace behind seemed hi somewhat better repair. An extremely
tali arcade rose from the terrace, with slender fluted columns and an
elaborately carved entablature, the pattern of which Cugel could not
49
The Eyes of the Overworld discern through the gloom. At the back of the arcade
were tall arched windows, showing dim lights, and the great portal.
Cugel mounted the steps, beset by renewed doubts. What if Derwe Coreme laughed
at his pretensions, defied him to do his worst? What then? Groans and outcries
might not be enough. He crossed the terrace on lagging steps, optimism waning
as he went, and halted under the arcade; perhaps after all, it might be wise
to seek shelter elsewhere. But looking back over his shoulder, he thought to
see a tall still shape standing among the pedestals. Cugel thought no more of
seeking shelter elsewhere, and walked quickly to the tall door: if he
presented himself in humble guise he might escape the notice of Derwe Coreme.
There was a stealthy sound on the steps. With great urgency
Cugel plied the knocker. The sound reverberated inside the palace.
A minute passed, and Cugel thought to hear further sounds behind him. He
rapped again, and again the sound echoed within. A peephole opened and an eye
inspected Cugel with care. The eye moved up;
a mouth appeared. "Who are you?" spoke the mouth. "What do you wish?" The
mouth slid away, to reveal an ear.
"I am a wayfarer, I wish shelter for the night, and with haste for a creature
of dread approaches."
The eye reappeared, looked carefully across the terrace, then returned to
focus on Cugel. "What are your qualities, where are your certifications?"
"I have none," said Cugel. He glanced over his shoulder. "I much prefer to
discuss the matter within, since the creature step by step mounts to the
terrace."
The peephole slammed shut. Cugel stared at the blank door. He banged on the
knocker, peering back into the gloom. With a scrape and a creak the portal
opened. A small stocky man wearing purple livery motioned to him. "Inside,
with haste."
Cugel slipped smartly through the door, which the footman at once heaved shut
and bolted with three iron pegs. Even as he did so there came a creak and a
pressure upon the door.
The footman struck the door smartly with his fist. "I have thwarted the
creature again," he said with satisfaction. "Had I been less swift, it would
have been upon you, 50
The Eyes of the Overworld to my distress as well as yours. This is now my
chief amusement, depriving the creature of its pleasures."
"Indeed," said Cugel, breathing heavily. "What manner of being is it?"
The footman signified his ignorance. "Nothing definite is known. It has only
appeared of late, to lurk by night among the statues. Its behavior is both
vampirish and unnaturally lustful, and several of my associates have had cause
to complain; in fact, all are dead by its odious acts. So now, to divert
myself, I taunt the creature and cause it dissatisfaction." The footman stood
back, to survey Cugel with attention. "What of yourself? Your manner, the tilt
of your head, the swing of your eyes from side to side denotes recklessness
and unpredictability. I trust you will hold this quality in abeyance, if
indeed it exists." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]