The Eyes of the Overworld by Jack Vance Page A

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.
    â€œHow 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.
    â€œPerhaps 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!”
    â€œNor indolent, nor lacking in grace, nor disdainful,” shouted the second.
    â€œNor timorous!” added a third.
    Cugel nodded sagely. “This well may be. But why do you withdraw so abruptly at my mere approach?”
    â€œSuch 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.
    â€œWell 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?”
    â€œSuch 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.”
    â€œThere 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.”
    â€œWhat is all this?” asked Cugel ingenuously. “Of what amulet do you speak?”
    â€œAs 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.”
    â€œA fascinating legend!” said Cugel with enthusiasm. “What are the powers of the amulet, and how are they activated?”
    â€œSlaye possibly would provide this information,” said one dubiously.
    â€œNo, for he is dour