Cugel shrugged. "It is not an important distinction."

Faucelme seemed to pay no heed; his mercurial intellect was already exploring a new topic. "I was trained in the old tradition! We found our strength in the basic verities, to which you, as a patrician, must surely subscribe. Am I right in this?"

"Absolutely, and in all respects!" declared Cugel. "Recognizing, of course, that these fundamentental verities vary from region to region, and even from person to person."

"Still, certain truths are universal," argued Faucelme. "For instance, the ancient rite of gift exchange between host and guest. As an altruist I have given you a fine and nutritious meal, a length of magic rope and perduration of the sword. You will demand with full vigor what you may give me in return, and I will ask only for your good regard —"

Cugel said with generous spontaneity: "It is yours, freely and without stint, and the basic verities have been fulfilled. Now, Faucelme, I find myself somewhat fatigued and so —"

"Cugel, you are generous! Occasionally, as we toil along our lonely path through life we encounter one who instantly, or so it seems, becomes a dear and trusted friend. I shall be sorry to see you depart! You must leave me some little memento, and in fact I will refuse to take anything other than that bit of tinsel you wear on your hat. A trifle, a token, no more, but it will keep your memory green, until the happy day of your return! You may now give over the ornament."

"With pleasure," said Cugel. Using great care he reached into his pouch and withdrew the ornament which had originally clasped his hat. "With my warmest regards, I present you with my hat ornament."

Faucelme studied the ornament a moment, then looked up and turned the full gaze of his milky golden eyes upon Cugel. He pushed back the ornament. "Cugel, you have given me too much! This is an article of value — no, do not protest! — and I want only that rather vulgar object with the spurious red gem at the center which I noticed before. Come, I insist! It will hang always in a place of honour here in my parlour!"

Cugel showed a sour smile. "In Almery lives Iucounu the Laughing Magician."

Faucelme gave a small involuntary grimace.

Cugel continued. "When I see him he will ask: 'Cugel, where is my 'Pectoral Sky-break Spatterlight' which was entrusted into your care?' What can I tell him? That a certain Faucelme in the Land of the Falling Wall would not be denied?"

"This matter bears looking into," muttered Faucelme. "One solution suggests itself. If, for instance, you decided not to return to Almery, then Iucounu would not learn the news. Or if, for instance —" Faucelme became suddenly silent.

A moment passed. Faucelme spoke in a voice of affability: "You must be fatigued and ready for your rest. First then: a taste of my aromatic bitters, which calm the stomach and refresh the nerves!"