The remark evoked mingled amusement and surprise in the crowd. The spokesman said, “All of us are puzzled; explain if you will.”

“Very well,” said Cugel. “May I be absolutely frank?”

“By all means!”

“Certain aspects of your appearance impress us as feral and barbarous: your protruding fangs, the black mane which surrounds your faces, the cacophony of your speech — to name only a few items.”

The villagers laughed incredulously. “What nonsense!” they cried. “Our teeth are long that we may tear the coarse fish on which we subsist We wear our hair thus to repel a certain noxious insect, and since we are afl rather deaf, we possibly tend to shout Essentially we are a gentle and kindly folk.”

“Exactly,” said the elder, “and in order to demonstrate this, tomorrow we shall provision our best boat and send you forth with hopes and good wishes. Tonight there shall be a feast in your honor!”

“Here is a village of true sainttiness,” declared Garstang. “Are you by chance worshippers of Gilfig?”

“No; we prostrate ourselves before the fish-god Yob, who seems as efficacious as any. But come, let us ascend to the village. We must make preparations for the feast.”

They climbed steps hewn in the rock of the cliff, which gave upon an area illuminated by a dozen flaring torches. The elder indicated a hut more commodious than the others: “This is where you shall rest the night; I will sleep elsewhere.”

Garstang again was moved to comment upon the benevolence of the fisher-folk, at which the elder bowed his head. “We try to achieve a spiritual unity. Indeed, we symbolize this ideal in the main dish of our ceremonial feasts.” He turned, clapping his hands. “Let us prepare!”

A great cauldron was hung over a tripod; a block and a cleaver were arranged, and now each of the villagers, marching past the block, chopped off a finger and cast it into the pot.

The elder exxplained, “By this simple rite, which naturally you are expected to join, we demonstrate our common heritage and our mutual dependence. Come, let us step into the line.” And Cugel and Garstang had no choice but to excise fingers and cast them into the pot with the others.

The feast continued long into the night. In the morning the villagers were as good as their word. An especially seaworthy boat was provided and loaded with stores, including food left over from the previous night's feast.

The villagers gathered on the dock. Cugel and Garstang voiced their gratitude, then Cugel hoisted the sail and Garstang threw off the mooring lines. A wind filled the sail and the boat moved out on the face of the Songan Sea. Gradually the shore became one with the murk of distance, and the two were alone, with only the black metallic shimmer of the water to all sides.

Noon came, and the boat moved in an elemental emptiness: water below, air above; silence in all directions. The afternoon was long and torpid, unreal as a dream; and the melancholy grandeur of sunset was followed by a dusk the color of watered wine.