Balch and the others only shrugged. “We will not plunge blindly south.”

“What will you do, then? Go north? Or return to Erze Damath?”

“Erze Damath? Without food and only four pack-beasts? Bah!”

“Then let us fare south in search of the fane.”

Balch gave another mulish shrug, at which Subucule became angry. “So be it! Those who fare south to this side, those who cast in with Balch to that!”

Garstang, Cugel and Casmyre joined Subucule; the others stayed with Balch, a group numbering eleven, and now they fell to whispering among themselves, while the four faithful pilgrims watched in apprehension.

The eleven jumped to their feet. “Farewell.”

“Where do you go?” asked Garstang.

“No matter. Seek your fane if you must; we go about our own affairs.” With the briefest of farewells they marched to the village of the lizard folk, where they slaughtered the males, filed the teeth of the females, dressed them in garments of reeds, and installed themselves as lords of the village.

Garstang, Subucule, Casmyre and Cugel meanwhile traveled south along the shore. At nightfall they pitched camp and dined upon molluscs and crabs. In the morning they found that the four remaining pack-beasts had departed, and now they were alone.

“It is the will of Gilfig,” said Subucule. “We need only find the fane and diel”

“Courage!” muttered Garstang. “Let us not give way to despair!”

“What else is left? Will we ever see Pholgus Valley again?”

“Who knows? Let us first perform our devotions at the fane.”

With that they proceeded, and marched the remainder of the day. By nightfall they were too tired to do more than slump to the sand of the beach.

The sea spread before them, flat as a table, so calm that the setting sun cast only its exact image rather than a trail. Clams and crabs once more provided a meager supper, after which they composed themselves to sleep on the beach.

Somewhat after the first hours of night Cugel was awakened by a sound of music. Starting up, he looked across the water to find that a ghostly city had come into existence. Slender towers reared into the sky, lit by glittering motes of white light which drifted slowly up and down, back and forth. On the promenades sauntered the gayest of crowds, wearing pale luminous garments and blowing horns of delicate sound. A barge piled with silken cushions, moved by an enormous sail of cornflower silk, drifted past Lamps at the bow and stern-post illuminated a deck thronged with merrymakers: some singing and playing lutes, others drinking from goblets.

Cugel ached to share their joy. He struggled to his knees, and called out. The merrymakers put down their instruments and stared at him, but now the barge had drifted past, tugged by the great blue sail. Presently the city flickered and vanished, leaving only the dark night sky.

Cugel stared into the night, his throat aching with a sorrow he had never known before. To his surprise he found himself standing at the edge of the water. Nearby were Subucule, Garstang and Casmyre. All gazed at each other through the dark, but exchanged no words. Ail returned up the beach, where presently they fell asleep on the sand.