Osherl looked out through the silken flap at the front of the pavilion. 'The villagers are excited; they are calling out in enthusiam."

''Curious," said Rhialto. "Perhaps Doulka, rather than cooperate, has seen fit to cut off his nose. . . . Otherwise they would seem to have little reason to rejoice. Now then, another thought has occurred to me: why does the blue spot fly so high in the air?"

"No mystery there: for reasons of far visibility."

"All very well, but surely another signal could have served more efficiently: for instance, a rod of blue light, conspicuous from afar, but also accurate at its lower end."

"In candour, I do not understand Sarsem's motives, unless he truly took Hache-Moncour's injunctions to heart."

"Oh? What injunctions were these?"

"Just idle badinage, or so I suppose. Hache-Moncour ordered that the sky-spot be made to perform so rudely that you would never truly strike home to the crystal, but would forever be chasing it back and forth like some mad fool chasing the will o' the wisp."

"I see. And why did you not tell me this before? No matter; the day will come when you learn who controls your indenture points: me or Hache-Moncour. . . . That howling and whooping is incessant! Doulka must be cutting off his nose an inch at a time. Osherl, order them to quiet."

"It seems a harmless jollity; they are merely preparing a feast."

Rhialto looked up alertly. "A feast? Of what sort?"

"The last of the Paragons: a maiden who has only just emerged from the alabaster egg. After ingestion is under way, the noise no doubt will abate."

Rhialto leapt to his feet. "Osherl, words fail me. Come along, on the double-quick."

Striding back to the village, Rhialto found Doulka sitting before his hut on a pair of enormous down pillows, his nose tied in a poultice. Preparations for a feast were under way, with women of the village cutting and slicing roots, vegetables and seasonings to the specifications of their recipe. In a pen to the side stood the last of the Paragons: a maiden whom a butcher might classify in the 'slightly smaller than medium' range, of 'choice quality,' 'tender if lacking in excessive fat.' Her garments had disintegrated during her long sleep; she wore nothing but a necklace of copper and turquoise. Haggard with fear, she looked through the bars of the pen as a pair of hulking apprentice butchers arranged a work table and began to sharpen their implements.

Doulka the Trundleman saw the approach of Rhialto and Osherl with a scowl. "What is it this time? We are preparing to indulge ourselves in a last feast of quality. Your business must wait, unless you have come to relieve me of my pain."

Rhialto said: "There will be no feast, unless you yourself wish to climb into the pot. Osherl, bring the lady from the pen and provide her suitable garments."

Osherl split the pen into a million motes, and draped the girl's body in a pale blue robe. Doulka cried out in grief and the villagers went so far as to take up weapons. For distraction, Osherl evoked four blue goblins eight feet tall. Hopping forward and gnashing their fangs, they sent the villagers fleeing with high heels into the forest.