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.

“How 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 and 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 bad 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.

“Perhaps 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!”

“Nor indolent, nor lacking in grace, nor disdainful,” shouted the second.

“Nor timorous!” added a third.

Cugel nodded sagely. “This well may be. But why do you withdraw so abruptly at my mere approach?”

“Such 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.

“Well 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?”

“Such matters He beyond our specific knowledge,” said the first shell-creature. It fully opened its shell, and 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 “The folk of Cil, if rumor of the sea goes correctly, are withdrawn and suspicious, even to their ruler, who is a girl, no more, of the ancient House of Domber.”

“There walks old Slaye now,” said another. “He returns early to his cabin.”

Another tittered. “Slaye is old; never will he find his amulet, and thus the House of Domber will rule Cil till the sun goes out.”