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The Eyes

of the

Overwork!

Book* by Jack Vance

The Best of Jack Vance Th« Eyes of the Overworld

Published by POCKET BOOKS

Jack Vance

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, A KANGAROO BOOK

PUBLISHED BY POCKET BOOKS NEW YORK

THE EYES OF THE OVERWORLD

Ace Books edition published 1956 POCKET BOOK edition published February, 1977

The chapters titled The Overworld, The Mountains of Mag-natz, The Sorcerer Pharesm, The Pilgrims,

The Cave in the Forest, and The Manse of lucounu have appeared as individual stories in The

Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. Copyright, ©, 1965, 1966, by Mercury Press, Inc.

The Eyes

of the

Overworld

This POCKET BOOK edition Includes every word contained In the original, higher-priced edition. It

is printed from brand-new plates made from completely xeset, clear, easy-to-read type, DOCKET BOOK

editions are published by

POCKET BOOKS,

a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc^ A GULF+WESTEBN COMPANY

630 Fifth Avenue,

New York, N.Y. 10020.

Trademarks registered in the United States

and other countries.

ISBN: 0-671-80904-0.

This POCKET BOOK edition is published by arrangement with Ace Books, Inc. Copyright, ©, 1966, by

without permission of the publisher; Ace Books, Inc., 1120 Avenue of the Americas,

New York, N.Y. 10036. Cover illustration by Hildebrandt.

Printed in the US.A.

The Overwork!

ON THE HEIGHTS above the river Xzan, at the site of certain ancient ruins, lucounu the Laughing

Magician had built a manse to his private taste: an eccentric structure of steep gables,

balconies, sky-walks, cupolas, together with three spiral green glass towers through which the red

sunlight shone in twisted glints and peculiar colors.

Behind the manse and across the valley, low hills rolled away like dunes to the limit of vision.

The sun projected shifting crescents of black shadow; otherwise the hills were unmarked, empty,

solitary. The Xzan, rising in the Old Forest to the east of Almery, passed below, then three

leagues to the west made junction with the Scaum. Here was Azenomei, a town old beyond memory,

notable now only for its fair, which attracted folk from all the region. At Azenomei Fair Cugel

had established a booth for the sale of talismans.

Cugel was a man of many capabilities, with a disposition at once flexible and pertinacious. He was

long of leg, deft of hand, light of finger, soft of tongue. His hair was the blackest of black

fur, growing low down his fore-bead, coving sharply back above his eyebrows. His darting eye, long

inquisitive nose and droll mouth gave his somewhat lean and bony face an expression of vivacity,

candor, and affability. He had known many vicissitudes, gaining therefrom a suppleness, a fine

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discretion, a mastery of both bravado and stealth. Coming into the possession of an ancient lead

coffin—after discarding the contents—he had formed a number of leaden lozenges.

The Eyes of the Overwork!

These, stamped with appropriate seals and runes, he offered for sale at the Azenomei Fair.

Unfortunately for Cugel, not twenty paces from his booth a certain Fianosther had established a

larger booth with articles of greater variety and more obvious efficacy, so that whenever Cugel

halted a passerby to enlarge upon the merits of his merchandise, the passerby would like as not

display an article purchased from Fianosther and go his way.

On the third day of the fair Cugel had disposed of only four periapts, at prices barely above the

cost of the lead itself, while Fianosther was hard put to serve all his customers. Hoarse from

bawling futile inducements, Cugel closed down his booth and approached Fianosther's place of trade

in order to inspect the mode of construction and the fastenings at the door.

Fianosther, observing, beckoned him to approach. "Enter, my friend, enter. How goes your trade?"

"In all candor, not too well," said Cugel. "I am both perplexed and disappointed, for my talismans

are not obviously useless."

"I can resolve your perplexity," said Fianosther. "Your booth occupies the site of the old gibbet,

and has absorbed unlucky essences. But I thought to notice you examining the manner in which the

timbers of my booth are joined. You will obtain a better view from within, but first I must

shorten the chain of the 'captive erb which roams the premises during the night."

"No need," said Cugel. "My interest was cursory.'* "As to the disappointment you suffer,"

Fianosther went on, "it need not persist. Observe these shelves. You will note that my stock is

seriously depleted."

Cugel acknowledged as much. "How does this concern me?"

Fianosther pointed across the way to a man wearing garments of black. This man was small, yellow

of skin, bald as a stone. His eyes resembled knots in a plank; his mouth was wide and curved in a

grin of chronic mirth. "There stands lucounu the Laughing Magician," said Fianosther. "In a short

time he will come into my booth and attempt to buy a particular red libram, the casebook of

Dibarcas Maior, who studied under Great Phandaal. My price is higher than he will pay, but he is a

patient

The Eyes of the Overworld

man, and will remonstrate for at least three hours. During this time his manse stands untenanted.

It contains a vast collection of thaumaturgical artifacts, instruments, and activans, as well as

curiosa, talismans, amulets and librams. I'm anxious to purchase such items. Need I say more?"

"This is all very well," said Cugel, "but would lucounu leave his manse without guard or

attendant?"

Fianosther held wide his hands. "Why not? Who would dare steal from lucounu the Laughing

Magician?"

"Precisely this thought deters me," Cugel replied. I am a man of resource, but not insensate

recklessness."

"There is wealth to be gained," stated Fianosther. "Dazzles and displays, marvels beyond worth, as

well as charms, puissances, and elixirs. But remember, 1 urge nothing, I counsel nothing; if you

are apprehended, you have only heard me exclaiming at the wealth of lucounu the Laughing Magician!

But here he comes. Quick: turn your back so that he may not see your face. Three hours he will be

here, so much I guarantee!"

lucounu entered the booth, and Cugel bent to examine a bottle containing a pickled homunculus.

"Greetings, lucounu!" called Fianosther. "Why have you delayed? I have refused munificent offers

for a certain red libram, all on your account! And here—note this casket! It was found in a crypt

near the site of old Kar-kod. It is yet sealed and who knows what wonder it may contain? My price

is a modest twelve thousand terces."

"Interesting," murmured lucounu. "The inscription— let me see, . . . Hmm. Yes, it is authentic.

The casket contains calcined fish-bone, which was used throughout Grand Motholam as a purgative.

It is worth perhaps ten or twelve terces as a curio. I own caskets eons older, dating back to the

Age of Glow."

Cugel sauntered to the door, gained the street, where he paced back and forth, considering every

detail of the proposal as explicated by Fianosther. Superficially the matter seemed reasonable:

here was lucounu; there was the manse, bulging with encompassed wealth. Certainly no harm could

result from simple reconnaissance. Cugel set off eastward along the banks of the Xzan.

The twisted turrets of green glass rose against the dark blue sky, scarlet sunlight engaging

itself in the volutes. Cugel paused, made a careful appraisal of

The Eyes of the Overworld

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the countryside. The Xzan flowed past without a sound. Nearby, half-concealed among black poplars,

pale green larch, drooping pall-willow, was a village—a dozen stone huts inhabited by bargemen and

tillers of the river terraces : folk engrossed in their own concerns.

Cugel studied the approach to the manse: a winding way paved with dark brown tile. Finally he

decided that the more frank his approach the less complex need be his explanations, if such were

demanded. He began the climb up the hillside, and lucounu's manse reared above him. Gaining the

courtyard, he paused to search the landscape. Across the river hills rolled away into the dimness,

as far as the eye could reach.

Cugel marched briskly to the door, rapped, but evoked no response. He considered. If lucounu, like

Fianosther, maintained a guardian beast, it might be tempted to utter a sound if provoked. Cugel

called out in various tones: growling, mewing, yammering.

Silence within.

He walked gingerly to a window and peered into a hall draped in pale gray, containing only a

tabouret on which, under a glass bell jar, lay a dead rodent. Cugel circled the manse,

investigating each window as he came to it, and finally reached the great hall of the ancient

castle. Nimbly he climbed the rough stones, leapt across to one of lucounu's fanciful parapets and

in a trice had gained access to the manse.

He stood in a bed chamber. On a dais six gargoyles supporting a couch turned heads to glare at the

intrusion. With two stealthy strides Cugel gained the arch which opened into an outer chamber.

Here the walls were green and the furnishings black and pink. He left the room for a balcony

circling a central chamber, light.streaming through oriels high in the walls. Below were cases,

chests, shelves and racks containing all manner of objects: lucounu's marvelous collection.

Cugel stood poised, tense as a bird, but the quality of the silence reassured him: the silence of

an empty place. Still, he trespassed upon the property of lucounu the Laughing Magician, and

vigilance was appropriate.

Cugel strode down a sweep of circular stairs into a great hall. He stood enthralled, paying

lucounu the tribute of unstinted wonder. But his time was limited; he

The Eyes of the Overworld

must rob swiftly and be on his way. Out came his sack; he roved the hall, fastidiously selecting

those objects of small bulk and great value: a small pot with antlers, which emitted clouds of

remarkable gasses when the prongs were tweaked; an ivory horn through which sounded voices from

the past; a small stage where costumed imps stood ready to perform comic antics; an object like a

cluster of crystal grapes, each affording a blurred view into one of the demon-worlds; a baton

sprouting sweetmeats of assorted flavor; an ancient ring engraved with runes; a black stone

surrounded by nine zones of impalpable color. He passed by hundreds of jars of powders and

liquids, likewise forebore from the vessels containing preserved heads. Now he came to shelves

stacked with volumes, folios and librams, where he selected with care, taking for preference those

bound in purple velvet, Phandaal's characteristic color. He likewise selected folios of drawings

and ancient maps, and .the disturbed leather exuded a musty odor.

He circled back to the front of the hall past a case displaying a score of small metal chests,

sealed with corroded bands of great age. Cugel selected three at random; they were unwontedly

heavy. He passed by several massive engines whose purpose he would have liked to explore, but time

was advancing, and best he should be on bis way, back to Azenomei and the booth of Fianosther. ...

Cugel frowned. In many respects the prospect seemed impractical. Fianosther would hardly choose to

pay full value for his goods, or, more accurately, lucounu's goods. It might be well to bury a

certain proportion of the loot in an isolated place. . . . Here was an alcove Cugel had not

previously noted. A soft light welled like water against the crystal pane, which separated alcove

from hall. A niche to the rear displayed a complicated object of great charm. As best Cugel could

distinguish, it seemed a miniature carousel on which rode a dozen beautiful dolls of seeming

vitality. The object was clearly of great value, and Cugel was pleased to find an aperture in the

crystal pane.

He stepped through, but two feet before him a second pane blocked his way, establishing an avenue

which evidently led to the magic whirligig. Cugel proceeded

The Eyes of fhe Overworld

confidently, only to be stopped by another pane which he had not seen until he bumped into it.

Cugel retraced his steps and to his gratification found the doubtlessly correct entrance a few

feet back. But this new avenue led him by several right angles to another blank pane. Cugel

decided to forego acquisition of the carousel and depart the castle. He turned, but discovered

himself to be a trifle confused. He had come from his left—or was it his right?

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. . . Cugel was still seeking egress when in due course lucounu returned to his manse.

Pausing by the alcove, lucounu gave Cugel a stare of humorous astonishment. "What have we here? A

visitor? And I have been so remiss as to keep you waiting! Still, I see you have amused yourself,

and I need feel no mortification." lucounu permitted a chuckle to escape his lips. He then

pretended to notice Cugel's bag. "What is this? You have brought objects for my examination?

Excellent! I am always anxious to enhance my collection, in order to keep pace with the attrition

of the years. You would be astounded to learn of the rogues who seek to despoil me! That merchant

of claptrap in his tawdry little booth, for instance—you could not conceive his frantic efforts in

this regard! I tolerate him because to date he has not been. bold enough to venture himself into

my manse. But come, step out here into the hall, and we will examine the contents of your bag."

Cugel bowed graciously. "Gladly. As you assume, I have indeed been waiting for your return. If I

recall correctly, the exit is by this passage . . ." He stepped forward, but again was halted. He

made a gesture of rueful amusement. "I seem to have taken a wrong turning."

"Apparently so," said lucounu, "Glancing upward, you will notice a decorative motif upon the

ceiling. If you heed the flexion of the lunules you will be guided to the hall."

"Of course!" And Cugel briskly stepped forward in accordance with the directions.

"One moment!" called lucounu. "You have forgotten your sack!"

Cugel reluctantly returned for the sack, once more set forth, and presently emerged into the halL

The Eyes of the Overworld

lucounu made a suave gesture. "If you will step this way I will be glad to examine your

merchandise."

Cugel glanced reflectively along the corridor toward the front entrance. "It would be a

presumption upon your patience. My little knickknacks are below notice. With your permission I

will take my leave."

"By no means!" declared lucounu heartily. "I have a few visitors, most of whom are rogues and

thieves. I handle them severely, I assure you! I insist that you at least take some refreshment.

Place your bag on the floor."

Cugel carefully set down the bag. "Recently I was instructed in a small competence by a sea-hag of

White Als-ter. I believe you will be interested, I require several ells of stout cord."

"You excite my curiosity!" lucounu extended his arm; a panel hi the wainscoting slid back; a coil

of rope was tossed to his hand. Rubbing his face as if to conceal a smile, lucounu handed the rope

to Cugel, who shook it out with great care.

"I will ask your cooperation," said Cugel. "A small matter of extending one arm and one leg."

"Yes, of course." lucounu held out his hand, pointed a finger. The rope coiled around Cugel's arms

and legs, pinning him so that he was unable to move. lucounu's grin nearly split his great soft

head. "This is a surprising development! By error I called forth Thief-taker! For your own

comfort, do not strain, as Thief-taker is woven of wasp-legs. Now then, I will examine the

contents of your bag." He peered into CugaTs sack and emitted a soft cry of dismay. "You have

rifled my collection! I note certain of my most treasured valuables!"

Cugel grimaced. "Naturally! But I am no thief; Fianos-ther sent me here to collect certain

objects, and therefore—"

lucounu held up his hand. "The offense is far too serious for flippant disclaimers. I have stated

my abhorrence for plunderers and thieves, and now I must visit upon you justice in its most

unmitigated rigor—unless, of course, you can suggest an adequate requital."

"Some such requital surely exists," Cugel averred. 'This cord however rasps upon my skin, so that

I find cogitation impossible."

"No matter. I have decided to apply the Charm of For-

The Eyes of the Overworld

lorn Encystment, which constricts the subject in a pore Some forty-five miles below the

surface Of the earth."

Cugel blinked hi dismay. "Under these conditions, requital could never be made."

"True," mused lucounu. "I wonder if after all there is some small service which you can perform

for me."

"The villain is as good as dead!" declared Cugel. "Now remove these abominable bonds!"

"I had no specific assassination hi mind," said lucounu. "Come."

The rope relaxed, allowing Cugel to hobble after lucounu into a side chamber hung with intricately

embroidered tapestry. From a cabinet lucounu brought a small case and laid it on a floating disk

of glass. He opened the case and gestured to Cugel, who perceived that the box showed two

indentations lined with scarlet fur, where reposed a single small hemisphere of filmed violet

glass.

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"As a knowledgeable and traveled man," suggested lucounu, "you doubtless recognize this object.

No? You are familiar, of course, with the Cutz Wars of the Eighteenth Aeon? No?" lucounu hunched

up his shoulders in astonishment. "During these ferocious events the demon Unda-Hrada—he listed as

16-04 Green in Thrump's Almanac—thought to assist his principals, and to this end thrust certain

agencies up from the sub-world La-Er. In order that they might perceive, they were tipped with

cusps similar to the one you see before you. When events went amiss, the demon snatched himself

back to La-Er. The hemispheres were dislodged and broadcast across Cutz. One of these, as you see,

I own. You must procure its mate and bring it to me, whereupon your trespass shall be overlooked."

Cugel reflected. "The choice, if it lies between a sortie into the demon-world La-Er and the Spell

of Forlorn Encystment, is moot. Frankly, I am at a loss for decision."

lucounu's laugh almost split the big yellow bladder of his head. "A visit to La-Er perhaps will

prove unnecessary. You may secure the article hi that land once known as Cutz."

"If I must, I must," growled Cugel, thoroughly displeased by the manner in which the day's work

had ended. "Who guards this violet hemisphere? What is its function? How do I go and how return?

What necessary

The Eyes of the Overworld

weapons, talismans and other magical adjuncts do you undertake to fit me out with?"

"All in good time," said lucounu. "First I must ensure that, once at liberty, you conduct yourself

with unremitting loyalty, zeal and singleness of purpose."

"Have no fear," declared Cugel. "My word is my bond."

"Excellent!" cried lucounu. "This knowledge represents a basic security which I do not in the

least take lightly. The act now to be performed is doubtless supererogatory."

He departed the chamber and after a moment returned with a covered glass bowl containing a small

white creature, ah" claws, prongs, barbs and hooks, now squirming angrily. 'This," said lucounu,

"is my friend Firx, from the star Achernar, who is far wiser than he seems. Firx is annoyed at

being separated from his comrade with whom he shares a vat in my work-room. He will assist you in

the expeditious discharge of your duties." lucounu stepped close, deftly thrust the creature

against Cugel's abdomen. It merged into his viscera, and took up a vigilant post clasped around

CugeFs liver.

lucounu stood back, laughing hi that immoderate glee which had earned him his cognomen. Cugel's

eyes bulged from his head. He opened his mouth to utter an objurgation, but instead clenched his

jaw and rolled up his eyes.

The rope uncoiled itself. Cugel stood quivering, every muscle knotted.

lucounu's mirth dwindled to a thoughtful grin. "You spoke of magical adjuncts. What of those

talismans whose efficacy you proclaimed from your booth in Azenomei? Will they not immobilize

enemies, dissolve iron, impassion virgins, confer immortality?"

"These talismans are not uniformly dependable," said Cugel. "I will require further competences."

"You have them," said lucounu, "in your sword, your crafty persuasiveness and the agility of your

feet. Still, you have aroused my concern and I will help you to this extent." He hung a small

square tablet about Cugel's neck. "You now may put aside all fear of starvation. A touch of this

potent object will induce nutriment into wood, bark, grass, even discarded clothing. It will also

sound a chime hi the presence of poison. So now—there

The Eyes of the Overworld

is nothing to delay us! Come, we will go. Rope? Where is Rope?"

Obediently the rope looped around Cugel's neck, and Cugel was forced to march along behind

lucounu.

They came out upon the roof of the antique castle. Darkness had long since fallen over the land.

Up and down the valley of the Xzan faint lights glimmered, while the Xzan itself was an irregular

width darker than dark.

lucounu pointed to a cage. "This will be your conveyance. Inside."

Cugel hesitated. "It might be preferable to dine well, to sleep and rest, .to set forth tomorrow

refreshed."

"What?" spoke lucounu in a voice like a horn. "You dare stand before me and state preferences?

You, who came skulking into my house, pillaged my valuables and left all in disarray? Do you

understand your luck? Perhaps you prefer the Forlorn Encystment?"

"By no means!" protested Cugel nervously. "I am anxious only for the success of the venture!"

"Into the cage, then."

Cugel turned despairing eyes around the castle roof, then slowly went to the cage and stepped

within.

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"I trust you suffer no deficiency of memory," said lucounu. "But even if this becomes the case,

and if you neglect your prime responsibility, which is to say, the procuring of the violet cusp,

Firx is on hand to remind you,"

Cugel said, "Since I am now committed to this enterprise, and unlikely to return, you may care to

learn my appraisal of yourself and your character. In the first place—"

But lucounu held up his hand. "I do not care to listen; obloquy injures my self-esteem and I am

skeptical of praise. So now—be off!" He drew back, stared up into the darkness, then shouted that

invocation known as Thas-drubal's Laganetic Transfer. From high came a thud and a buffet, a

muffled bellow of rage.

lucounu retreated a few steps, shouting up words in an archaic language; and the cage with Cugel

crouching within was snatched aloft and hurled through the air.

Cold wind bit Cugel's face. From above came a flapping and creaking of vast wings and dismal

lamentation;

The Eyes of the Overworld

the cage swung back and forth. Below all was dark, a blackness like a pit. By the disposition of

the stars Cugel perceived that the course was to the north, and presently he sensed the thrust of

the Maurenron Mountains below; and then they flew over that wilderness known as the Land of the

Falling Wall. Once or twice Cugel glimpsed the lights of an isolated castle, and once he noted a

great bonfire. For a period a winged sprite came to fly alongside the cage and peer within. It

seemed to find Cugel's plight amusing, and when Cugel sought information as to the land below, it

merely uttered raucous cries of mirth. It became fatigued and sought to cling to the cage, but

Cugel kicked it away, and it fell off into the wind with a scream of envy.

The east flushed the red of old blood, and presently the sun appeared, trembling like an old man

with a chill. The ground was shrouded by mist; Cugel was barely able to see that they crossed a

land of black mountains and dark chasms. Presently the mist parted once more to reveal a leaden

sea. Once or twice he peered up, but the roof of the cage concealed the demon except for the tips

of the leathern wings.

At last the demon reached the north shore of the ocean. Swooping to the beach, it vented a

vindictive croak, and allowed the cage to fall from a height of fifteen feet

Cugel crawled from the broken cage. Nursing his bruises, he called a curse after the departing

demon, then plodded back through sand and dank yellow spini-fex, and climbed the slope of the

foreshore. To the north were marshy barrens and a far huddle of low hills, to east and west ocean

and dreary beach. Cugel shook his fist to the south. Somehow, at some time, in some manner, he

would visit revenge upon the Laughing Magician! So much he vowed.

A few hundred yards to the west was the trace of an ancient sea-wall. Cugel thought to inspect it,

but hardly moved three steps before Firx clamped prongs into his liver. Cugel, rolling up his eyes

in agony, reversed his direction and set out along the shore to the east

Presently he hungered, and bethought himself of the charm furnished by lucounu. He picked up a

piece of driftwood and rubbed it with the tablet, hoping to see a transformation into a tray of

sweetmeats or a roast fowl.

The Eyes of the Overworld

But the driftwood merely softened to the texture of cheese, retaining the flavor of driftwood.

Cugel ate with snaps and gulps. Another score against lucounu! How the Laughing Magician would

pay!

The scarlet globe of the sun slid across the southern sky. Night approached, and at last Cugel

came upon human habitation: a rude village beside a small river. The huts were like birds'-nests

of mud and sticks, and smelled vilely of ordure and filth. Among them wandered a people as

unlovely and graceless as the huts. They were squat, brutish and obese; their hair was a coarse

yellow tangle; their features were lumps. Their single noteworthy attribute—one in which Cugel

took an instant and keen interest—was their eyes: blind-seeming violet hemispheres, similar in

every respect to that object required by lucounu.

Cugel approached the village cautiously but the inhabitants took small interest hi him. If the

hemisphere coveted by lucounu were identical to the violet eyes of these folk, then a basic

uncertainty of the mission was resolved, and procuring the violet cusp became merely a matter of

tactics.

Cugel paused to observe the villagers, and found much to puzzle him. In the first place, they

carried themselves not as the ill-smelling loons they were, but with a remarkable loftiness and a

dignity which verged at times upon hauteur. Cugel watched in puzzlement: were they a tribe of

dotards? In any event, they seemed to pose no threat, and he advanced into the main avenue of the

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village, walking gingerly to avoid the more noxious heaps of refuse. One of the villagers now

deigned to notice hi™, and addressed him in grunting guttural voice. "Well, sirrah: what is your

wish? Why do you prowl the outskirts of our city Smolod?"

"I am a wayfarer," said Cugel. "I ask only to be directed to the inn, where I may find food and

lodging."

"We have no inn; travelers and wayfarers are unknown to us. Still, you are welcome to share our

plenty. Yonder is a manse with appointments sufficient for your comfort." The man pointed to a

dilapidated hut. "You may eat as you will; merely enter the refectory yonder and select what you

wish; there is no stinting at Smolod."

"I thank you gratefully," said Cugel, and would have

The Eyes of the Overworld

spoken further except that his host had strolled away.

Cugel gingerly looked into the shed, and after some exertion cleaned out the most inconvenient

debris, and arranged a trestle on which to sleep. The sun was now at the horizon and Cugel went to

that storeroom which had been identified as the refectory. The villager's description of the

bounty available, as Cugel had suspected, was in the nature of hyperbole. To one side of the

storeroom was a heap of smoked fish, to the other a bin containing lentils mingled with various

seeds and cereals. Cugel took a portion to his hut, where he made a glum supper.

The sun had set; Cugel went forth to see what the village offered in the way of entertainment, but

found the streets deserted. In certain of the huts lamps burned, and Cugel peering through the

cracks saw the residents dining upon smoked fish or engaged hi discourse. He returned to his shed,

built a small fire against the chill and composed himself for sleep.

The following day Cugel renewed his observation of the village Smolod and its violet-eyed folk.

None, he noticed, went forth to work, nor did there seem to be fields near at hand. The discovery

caused Cugel dissatisfaction. In order to secure one of the violet eyes, he would be obliged to

kill its owner, and for this purpose freedom from officious interference was essential.

He made tentative attempts at conversation among the villagers, but they looked at him hi a manner

which presently began to jar at Cugel's equanimity: it was almost as if they were gracious lords

and he the ill-smelling loutl During the afternoon he strolled south, and about a mile along the

shore came upon another village. The people were much like the inhabitants of Smolod, but with

ordinary-seeming eyes. They were likewise industrious; Cugel watched them till fields and fish the

ocean.

He approached a pair of fishermen on their way back to the village, their catch slung over their

shoulders. They stopped, eyeing Cugel with no great friendliness. -Cugel introduced himself as a

wayfarer and asked concerning the lands to the east, but the fishermen professed ignorance otjier

than the fact that the land was barren, dreary and dangerous.

"I am currently guest at the village Smolod," said

The Eyes of Ihe Overworld

Cugel. "I find the folk pleasant enough, but somewhat odd. For instance, why are their eyes as

they are? What Is the nature of their affliction? Why do they conduct themselves with such

aristocratic self-assurance and suavity of manner?"

"The eyes are magic cusps," stated the older of the fishermen hi a grudging voice. "They afford a

view of the Overworld; why should not the owners behave as lords? So will I when Radkuth Vomin

dies, for I inherit his eyes."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Cugel, marveling. "Can these magic cusps be detached at will and transferred

as the owner sees fit?"

"They can, but who would exchange the Overworld for this?" The fisherman swung his arm around the

dreary landscape. "I have toiled long and at last it is my turn to taste the delights of the

Overworld. After this there is nothing, and the only peril is death through a surfeit of bliss."

"Vastly interesting!" remarked Cugel. "How might I qualify for a pair of these magic cusps?"

"Strive as do all the others of Grodz: place your name on the list, then toil to supply the lords

of Smolod with sustenance. Thirty-one years have I sown and reaped lentils and emmer and netted

fish and dried them over slow fires, and now the name of Bubach Angh is at the head of the list,

and you must do the same."

"Thirty-one years," mused Cugel. "A period of not negligible duration." And Firs squirmed

restlessly, causing Cugel's liver no small discomfort.

The fishermen proceeded to their village Grodz; Cugel returned to Smolod. Here he sought out that

man to whom he had spoken upon his arrival at the village. "My lord," said Cugel, "as you know, I

am a traveler from a far land, attracted here by the magnificence of the city Smolod."

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"Understandable," grunted the other. "Our splendor cannot help but inspire emulation."

"What then is the source of the magic cusps?"

The elder turned the violet hemispheres upon Cugel as if seeing him for the first time. He spoke

in a surly f voice, "It is a matter we do not care to dwell upon, but there is no harm in it, now

that the subject has been

The Eyes of the Overworld

broached. At a remote time the demon Underherd sent up tentacles to look across Earth, each tipped

with a cusp. Simbilis the Sixteenth pained the monster, which jerked back to his subworld and the

cusps became dislodged. Four hundred and twelve of the cusps were gathered and brought to Smolod,

then as splendid as now it appears to me. Yes, I realize that I see but a semblance, but so do

you, and who is to say which is real?"

"I do not look through magic cusps," said Cugel.

"True. " The elder shrugged. "It is a matter I prefer to overlook. I dimly recall that I inhabit a

sty and devour the coarsest of food—but the subjective reality is that I inhabit a glorious palace

and dine on splendid viands among the princes and princesses who are my peers. It is explained

thus: the demon Underherd looked from the sub-world to this one; we look from this to the Over-

world, which is the quintessence of human hope, visionary longing, and beatific dream. We who

inhabit this world —how can we think of ourselves as other than splendid lords? This is how we

are."

"It is inspiring!" exclaimed Cugel. "How may I obtain a pair of these magic cusps?"

"There are two methods. Underherd lost four hundred and fourteen cusps; we control four hundred

and twelve. Two were never found, and evidently lie on the floor of the ocean's deep. You are at

liberty to secure these. The second means is to become a citizen of Grodz, and furnish the lords

of Smolod with sustenance till one of us dies, as we do infrequently."

"I understand that a certain Lord Radkuth Vomin is ailing."

"Yes, that is he." The elder indicated a potbellied old man with a slack, drooling mouth, sitting

in filth before his hut. "You see him at his ease in the pleasaunce of his palace. Lord Radkuth

strained himself with a surfeit of lust, for our princesses are the most ravishing creations of

human inspiration, just as I am the noblest of princes. But Lord Radkuth indulged himself too

copiously, and thereby suffered a mortification. It is a lesson for us alt."

"Perhaps I might make special arrangements to secure his cusps?" ventured Cugel.

"I fear not. You must go to Grodz and toil as do the others. As did 1, in a former existence which

now seems

The Eyes of the Overworld

dim and inchoate. ... To think I suffered so long! But you are young; thirty or forty or fifty

years is not too long a time to wait."

Cugel put his hand to his abdomen to quiet the fretful stirrings of Firx. "In the space of so much

time, the sun may well have waned. Look!" He pointed as a black flicker crossed the face of the

sun and seemed to leave a momentary crust. "Even now it ebbs!"

"You are over-apprehensive," stated the elder. "To us who are lords of Smolod, the sun puts forth

a radiance of exquisite colors."

"This may well be true at the moment," said Cugel, "but when the sun goes dark, what then? Will

you take an equal delight in the gloom and the chill?"

But the elder no longer attended him. Radkuth Vomin had fallen sideways into the mud, and appeared

to be dead.

Toying indecisively with his knife, Cugel went to look down at the corpse. A deft cut or two—no

more than the work of a moment—and he would have achieved his goal. He swayed forward, but already

the fugitive moment had passed. Other lords of the village had approached to jostle Cugel aside;

Radkuth Vomin was lifted and carried with the most solemn nicety into the ill-smelling precincts

of his hut.

Cugel stared wistfully through the doorway, calculating the chances of this ruse and that.

"Let lamps be brought!" intoned the elder. "Let a final effulgence surround Lord Radkuth on his

gem-encrusted bier! Let the golden clarion sound from the towers; let the princesses don robes of

samite; let their tresses obscure the faces of delight Lord Radkuth loved so welll And now we must

keep vigil! Who will guard the bier?"

Cugel stepped forward. "I would deem it honor indeed."

The elder shook his head. "This is a privilege reserved for his peers. Lord Maulfag, Lord Glus:

perhaps you will act in this capacity." Two of the villagers approached the bench on which Lord

Radkuth Vomin lay.

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"Next," declared the elder, "the obsequies must be proclaimed, and the magic cusps transferred to

Bubach Angh, that most deserving squire of Grodz. Who, again, will go to notify this squire?"

The Eyes of the Overworld

"Again," said Cugel, "I offer my services, if only to requite in some small manner the hospitality

I have enjoyed at Smolod."

"Well spoken!" intoned'the elder. "So, then, at speed to Grodz; return with that squire who by his

faith and dutiful toil deserves advancement."

Cugel bowed, and ran off across the barrens toward Grodz. As he approached the outermost fields he

moved cautiously, skulking from tussock to copse, and presently found that which he sought: a

peasant turning the dank soil with a mattock.

Cugel crept quietly forward and struck down the loon with a gnarled root. He stripped off the best

garments, the leather hat, the leggings and foot-gear; with his knife he hacked off the stiff

straw-colored beard. Taking all and leaving the peasant lying dazed and naked in the mud, he fled

on long strides back toward Smolod. In a secluded spot he dressed himself in the stolen garments.

He examined the hacked-off beard with some perplexity, and finally, by tying up tufts of the

coarse yellow hair and tying tuft to tuft, contrived to bind enough together to make a straggling

false beard for himself. That hair which remained he tucked up under the brim of the flapping

leather hat.

Now the sun had set; plum-colored gloom obscured the- land. Cugel returned to Smolod. Oil lamps

flickered before the hut of Radkuth Vomin, where the obese and misshapen village women wailed and

groaned.

Cugel stepped cautiously forward, wondering what might be expected of him. As for his disguise it

would either prove effective or it would not. To what extent the violet cusps befuddled perception

was a matter of doubt; he could only hazard a trial.

Cugel marched boldly up to the door of the hut Pitching his voice as low as possible, he called,

"I am here, revered princes of Smolod: Squire Bubach Angh of Grodz, who for thirty-one years has

heaped the choicest of delicacies into the Smolod larders. Now I appear, beseeching elevation to

the estate of nobility."

"As is your right," said the Chief Elder. "But you seem a man different from that Bubach Angh who

so long has served the princes of Smolod."

"I have been transfigured—through grief at the passing

The Eyes of the Overworld

of Prince Radkuth Vomin and through rapture at the prospect of elevation."

"This is clear and understandable. Come, then—prepare yourself for the rites."

"I am ready as of this instant," said Cugel, "Indeed, if you will but tender me the magic cusps I

will take them quietly aside and rejoice."

The Chief Elder shook his head indulgently. "This is not in accord with the rites. To begin with

you must stand naked here on the pavilion of this mighty castle, and the fairest of the fair will

anoint you in aromatics. Then comes the invocation to Eddith Bran Maur. And then—"

"Revered," stated Cugel, "allow me one boon. Before the ceremonies begin, fit me with the magic

cusps so that I may understand the full portent of the ceremony." The Chief Eider considered. "The

request is unorthodox, but reasonable. Bring forth the cusps!"

There was a wait, during which Cugel stood first on one foot then the other. The minutes dragged;

the garments and the false beard itched intolerably. And now at the outskirts of the village he

saw the approach of several new figures, coming from the direction of Grodz. One was almost

certainly Bubach Angh, while another seemed to have been shorn of his beard.

The Chief Elder appeared, holding in each hand a violet cusp. "Step forward!"

Cugel called loudly, "I am here, sir." "I now apply the potion which sanctifies the junction of

magic cusp to right eye."

At the back of the crowd Bubach Angh raised bis voice. "Holdl What transpires?"

Cugel turned, pointed. "What jackal is this that interrupts solemnities? Remove him: hence!"

"Indeed!" called the Chief Elder peremptorily. "You demean yourself and the dignity of the

ceremony." Bubach Angh crouched back, momentarily cowed. "In view of the interruption," said

Cugel, "I had as lief merely take custody of the magic cusps until these louts can properly be

chastened."

"No," said the Chief Elder. "Such a procedure is impossible." He shook drops of rancid fat in

Cugel's right eye. But now the peasant of the shorn beard set up an

The Eyes of the Overworld

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outcry: "My hat! My blouse! My beard! Is there no justice?"

"Silence!" hissed the crowd. "This is a solemn occasion!"

"But I am Bu—"

Cugel called, "Insert the magic cusp, lord; let us ignore these louts."

"A lout, you call me?" roared Bubach Angh. "I recognize you now, you rogue. Hold up proceedings!"

The Chief Elder said inexorably, "I now invest you with the right cusp. You must temporarily hold

this eye closed to prevent a discord which would strain the brain, and cause stupor. Now the left

eye." He stepped forward with the ointment, but Bubach Angh and the beardless peasant no longer

would be denied.

"Hold up proceedingsl You ennoble an impostor! I am Bubach Angh, the worthy squirel He who stands

before you is a vagabond!"

The Chief Elder inspected Bubach Angh with puzzlement. "For a fact you resemble that peasant who

for thirty-one years has carted supplies to Smolod. But if you are Bubach Angh, who is this?"

The beardless peasant lumbered forward. "It is the soulless wretch who stole the clothes from my

back and the beard from my face."

"He is a criminal, a bandit, a vagabond—"

"Hold!" called the Chief Elder. "The words are ill-chosen. Remember that he has been exalted to

the rank of prince of Smolod."

"Not altogether!" cried Bubach Angh. "He has one of my eyes. I demand the other!"

"An awkward situation," muttered the Chief Elder. He spoke to Cugel: "Though formerly a vagabond

and cutthroat, you are now a prince, and a man of responsibility. What is your opinion?"

"I suggest a hiding for these obstreperous louts. Then—"

Bubach Angh and the beardless peasant, uttering shouts of rage, sprang forward. Cugel, leaping

away, could not control his right eye. The lid flew open; into his brain crashed such a wonder of

exaltation that his breath caught in his throat and his heart almost stopped from astonishment But

concurrently his left eye showed the reality of Smolod. The dissonance was too wild to

The Eyes of the Overworld

be tolerated; he stumbled and fell against a hut. Bubach Angh stood over him with mattock raised

high, but now the Chief Elder stepped between.

"Do you take leave of your senses? This man is a prince of Smolod!"

"A man I will kill, for he has my eye! Do I toil thirty-one years for the benefit of a vagabond?"

"Calm yourself, Bubach Angh, if that be your name, and remember the issue is not yet entirely

clear. Possibly an error has been made—undoubtedly an honest error, for this man is now a prince

of Smolod, which is to say, justice and sagacity personified." /

"He was not that before he received the cusp," argued Bubach Angh, "which is when the offense was

committed."

"I cannot occupy myself with casuistic distinctions," replied the elder. "In any event, your name

heads the list and on the next fatality—"

"Ten or twelve years hence?" cried Bubach Angh. "Must I toil yet longer, and receive my reward

just as the sun goes dark? No, no, this cannot bel"

The beardless peasant made a suggestion: "Take the other cusp. In this way you will at least have

half of your rights, and so prevent the interloper from cheating you totally."

Bubach Angh agreed. "I will start with my one magic cusp; I will then kill that knave and take the

other, and all will be well."

"Now then," said the Chief Elder haughtily. "This is hardly the tone to take in reference to a

prince of Smolod!"

"Bah!" snorted Bubach Angh. "Remember the source of your viands! We of Grodz will not toil to no

avail."

"Very well," said the Chief Elder. "I deplore your uncouth bluster, but I cannot deny that you

have a measure of reason on your side. Here is the left cusp of Radkuth "Vomin. I will dispense

with the invocation, annointment and the congratulatory paean. If you will be good enough to step

forward and open your left eye—so."

As Cugel had done, Bubach Angh looked through both eyes together and staggered back in a daze. But

clapping his hand to his left eye he recovered himself, and advanced upon Cugel. "You now must see

the futility of

The Byes of the Overworld

your trick. Extend me that cusp and go your way, for you will never have the use of the two."

"It matters very little," said Cugel. "Thanks to my friend Firx I am well content with the one."

Bubach Angh ground his teeth. "Do you think to trick me again? Your life has approached its end:

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