Free The Eyes of the Overworld by Jack Vance

with pungent oil. The footman brought fresh garments, and Cugel, much refreshed, dressed himself. Donning his jacket he chanced to touch the amulet at his wrist, pressing one of the carbuncles. From deep under the floor came a groan of the most profound anguish.
    The footman sprang about in terror, and his eye fell upon the amulet. He stared in gape-mouthed astonishment, then became obsequious. “My dear sir, had I realized your identity, I would have conducted you to apartments of state, and brought forth the finest robes.”
    â€œI make no complaints,” said Cugel, “though for a fact the linens were a trifle stale.” In jocular emphasis he tapped a carbuncle at his wrist, and the responsive groan caused the servitor’s knees to knock together.
    â€œI beseech your understanding,” he quavered.
    â€œSay no more,” said Cugel. “Indeed it was my hope to visit the palace incognito, so to speak, that I might see how affairs were conducted.”
    â€œThis is judicious,” agreed the servitor. “Undoubtedly you will wish to discharge both Sarman the chamberlain and Bilbab the under-cook when their peccancies come to light. As for myself, when your lordship restores Cil to its ancient grandeur, perhaps there will be a modest sinecure for Yodo, the most loyal and cooperative of your servants.”
    Cugel made a gracious gesture. “If such an event comes to pass — and it is my heart’s-desire — you shall not be neglected. For the present I shall remain quietly in this apartment. You may bring hither a suitable repast, with a variety of choice wines.”
    Yodo performed a sweeping bow. “As your lordship desires.” He departed. Cugel relaxed upon the most comfortable couch of the chamber and fell to studying the amulet which had so promptly aroused Yodo’s fidelity. The runes, as before, were inscrutable; the carbuncles produced only groans, which, while diverting, were of small practical utility. Cugel attempted every exhortation, compulsion, rigor and enjoinment his smattering of wizardry provided, to no avail.
    Yodo returned to the apartment, but without the repast Cugel had ordered.
    â€œYour lordship,” stated Yodo, “I have the honor to convey to you an invitation from Derwe Coreme, erstwhile ruler of Cil, to attend her at the evening banquet.”
    â€œHow is this possible?” demanded Cugel. “She has had no information of my presence; as I recall, I gave you specific instructions in this regard.”
    Yodo performed another sweeping bow. “Naturally I obeyed, your lordship. The wiles of Derwe Coreme exceed my understanding. By some device she learned of your presence and so has issued the invitation which you have just heard.”
    â€œVery well,” said Cugel glumly. “Be so good as to lead the way. You mentioned my amulet to her?”
    â€œDerwe Coreme knows all,” was Yodo’s ambiguous reply. “This way, your lordship, if you please.”
    He led Cugel along the old corridors, finally through a tall narrow arch into a great hall. To either side stood a row of what appeared to be men-at-arms in brass armour with helmets of checkered bone and jet; forty in all, but only six suits of armor were occupied by living men, the others being supported on racks. Telamons of exaggerated elongations and grotesquely distorted visage supported the smoky beams; a rich rug of green concentric circles on a black ground covered the floor. Derwe Coreme sat at the end of a circular table, this so massive as to give her the seeming of a girl, a sullen brooding girl of the most delicate beauty. Cugel approached with a confident mien, halted, bowed curtly. Derwe Coreme inspected him with gloomy resignation, her eyes dwelling upon the amulet. She drew a deep breath. “Whom do I have the privilege to address?”
    â€œMy name is of no consequence,” said Cugel. “You may address me as