To the north the forest grew close to the old parapets, and at this point they caught the scent of wood smoke on the wind. Looking here and there, they discovered a crude village of twenty huts just inside the edge of the forest.

"We will make inquiries," said Rhialto. "I suggest that you change your appearance; otherwise they will think us a queer pair indeed."

"You should also make alterations. Your hat, for instance, is the shape of an inverted soup-pot, and purple to boot. I doubt if this is the current fashion."

"There is something in what you say," admitted Rhialto.

Using the semblance of Lavrentine Redoubtables in glistening armor, barbed and spiked, and with helmets crested with tongues of blue fire, Rhialto and Osherl approached the village, which lacked all charm and smelled poorly.

Rhialto reinforced himself with his glossolary and called out: "Villagers, attention! Two Lavrentine grandees stand nearby; come perform the proper ceremonies of welcome."

One by one the villagers appeared from their huts, yawning and scratching: folk of a squat, long-armed race with liver-coloured skins and long lank hair. Their garments were fashioned from bird-skins and the village showed few civilized amenities; still they seemed sleekly well-fed. At the sight of Rhialto and Osherl, certain of the men called out in pleasure, and taking up long-handled nets advanced upon the two with sinister purpose.

Rhialto called out: "Stand back! We are magicians! Your first sneer of menace will bring down a spell of great distress; be warned!"

The men refused to heed and raised high their nets. Rhialto made a sign to Osherl. The nets folded over backwards to enclose and clench into tight balls those who had thought to use them. Osherl jerked his thumb to whisk these balls way, into the northern sky, through the overcast and out of sight.

Rhialto looked around the group and spoke to a flat-faced woman: "Who is the chieftain of this repulsive group?"

The woman pointed. "There is Doulka who is butcher and trun-dleman. We need no chieftain; such folk eat more than their share."

A big-bellied old man with gray wattles sidled a few steps forward. He spoke in a wheedling nasal voice: "Must your disgust be so blatant? True: we are anthropophages. True: we put strangers to succulent use. Is this truly good cause for hostility? The world is as it is and each of us must hope in some fashion to be of service to his fellows, even if only in the form of a soup."

"Our talents lie elsewhere," said Rhialto. "If I see any more nets, you will be first to fly the sky."

"No fear, now that we know your preferences," declared Doulka. "What are your needs? Are you hungry?"

"We are curious in regard to Luid Shug, which at this time should be awakening to the Age of Gold. Instead we find only rubble, slime and the stink from your village. Why have events gone in this unhappy fashion?"