'You would be wise to. If I had obeyed Juvens, perhaps I would not have this.' Bayaz undid the top two buttons of his shirt and pulled his collar to one side. The firelight flickered on a faded scar, from the base of the old man's neck down towards his shoulder. 'The Maker himself gave it to me. Another inch and it would have been my death.' He rubbed sourly at it. 'All those years ago, and it still aches, from time to time. The pain it has given me over the slow years… so you see, Master Luthar, although you bear a mark, it could be worse.'

Longfoot cleared his throat. 'That is quite an injury, of course, but I believe I can do better.' He took hold of his dirty trouser leg and pulled it right up to his groin, turning his sinewy thigh towards the firelight. There was an ugly mass of puckered grey scar flesh almost all the way round his leg. Even Logen had to admit to being impressed.

'What the hell did that?' asked Luthar, looking slightly queasy.

Longfoot smiled. 'Many years ago, when I was yet a young man, I was shipwrecked in a storm off the coast of Suljuk. Nine times, in all, God has seen fit to dump me into his cold ocean in bad weather. Luckily, I have always been truly blessed as a swimmer. Unluckily, on this occasion, some manner of great fish took me for its next meal.'

'A fish?' muttered Ferro.

'Indeed. A most huge and aggressive fish, with a jaw wide as a doorway and teeth like knives. Fortunately, a sharp blow on the nose,' and he chopped at the air with his hand, 'caused it to release me, and a fortuitous current washed me up on shore. I was doubly blessed to find a sympathetic lady among the natives, who allowed me to recuperate in her abode, for the people of Suljuk are generally most suspicious of outsiders.' He sighed happily. 'That is how I came to learn their language. A highly spiritual people. God has favoured me. Truly.' There was a silence.

'I bet you can do better.' Luthar was grinning across at Logen.

'I got bitten by a mean sheep once, but it didn't leave much of a mark.'

'What about the finger?'

'This?' He stared at the familiar stub, waggling it back and forward. 'What about it?'

'How did you lose it?'