“Quite so,” said Drofo. “Ranked in order of indispensability, the wormingers would be first, myself, then Pulk, then Fuscule, and finally —” Drofo paused.

“Cugel?”

“Just so.”

“You are suggesting that we discharge Cugel upon this bleak and miserable island?”

“It is one of our options.”

“But how will Cugel return to the mainland?”

“No doubt some means will suggest itself.”

Pulk said: “Lausicaa, after all, is not the worst place in the world. The spraling is excellent.”

“Ah yes, the spraling!” Soldinck spoke with warmth in his voice. “How does one sample this delicacy?”

“Nothing could be easier,” said Pulk. “One merely walks along the streets of the female quarter until he sees a sign which meets his fancy. He thereupon reaches out, detaches the sign and carries it into the house.”

“Does he knock?” Soldinck inquired cautiously.

“Sometimes. Knocking is considered a mark of gentility.”

“Another matter. How does one discover the attributes of his hostess before he, let us say, commits himself?”

“Several tactics exist. The casual visitor, such as yourself, is well-advised to act upon local advice, since once the door opens and the visitor enters the house, he will find it difficult if not impossible to make a graceful exit. If you like, I will ask Fuscule to advise you.”

“Discreetly, of course. Madame Soldinck would not care to learn of my interest in the local cuisine.”

“You will find Fuscule accommodating in all respects.”

“Another matter: Madame Soldinck wants to visit the Paphnissian Baths, of which she has heard many remarkable reports.”

Pulk made a courteous gesture. “I myself would be happy to escort Madame Soldinck; unfortunately I will be more than busy during the next few days. I suggest that we assign Fuscule to this duty as well.”

“Madame Soldinck will be happy with this plan. Well, Drofo, shall we hazard another goblet of this phenolic seepage? It is at least not deficient in authority.”

“Sir, my tastes are austere.”

“Captain, what of you?”

Captain Baunt made a negative indication. “I must now return to the ship and discharge Cugel from his post, since this has been your disposition of the case.” He arose to his feet and departed the clubhouse, followed by Drofo.

Soldinck drank from the pewter goblet and made a wry face. “Conceivably, this brew might be painted upon the ship’s bottom, to discourage the growth of marine pests. Still, we must make do.” He tilted the goblet on high, and set it down with a thud. “Pulk, perhaps now is as good a time as any to taste the local spraling. Is Fuscule at liberty?”

“He might be resting, or perhaps burnishing his worm, but in any case he will be happy to assist you. Boy! Run to Fuscule’s house and ask him to meet Master Soldinck here at once. Explain that I, Pulk, sent the message and pronounced it urgent. And now, sir —” Pulk rose to his feet “— I will leave you in the care of Fuscule, who will be along shortly.”

Cugel jumped up from the booth, hastened outdoors and waited in the shadow beside the club-house. Pulk and the serving-boy emerged and went off in different directions. Cugel ran after the boy and called him to a halt. “One moment! Soldinck has altered his plans. Here is a florin for your trouble.”

“Thank you, sir.” The boy turned back toward the club-house. Cugel once again engaged his attention. “No doubt you are acquainted with the women of Pompodouros?”

“Only by sight. They will serve me no spraling; in fact they are quite vulgar in their taunts.”

“A pity! But no doubt your time will come. Tell me, of all the women, which might be considered the most formidable and awesome?”

The boy reflected. “That is a very hard choice to make. Krislen? Ottleia? Terlulia? In all justice, I must select Terlulia. There is a joke to the effect that when she goes to catch spraling, the sea-birds fly to the other side of the island. She is tall and portly, with red spots on her arms and large teeth. Her manner is commanding and it is said that she insists on a good bargain for her spraling.”

“And where does this person make her home?”

The boy pointed. “See yonder the hut with the two windows? That is the place.”

“And where will I find Fuscule?”

“Farther along this very avenue, at the worm-pen.”

“Good. Here is another florin for you. When you return to the club-house, tell Master Soldinck only that Fuscule will be along shortly.”

“As you say, sir.”

Cugel proceeded along the road at best speed, and in short order arrived at the house of Fuscule, hard beside a worm-pen built of stones piled out into the sea. At a work-bench, repairing a burnishing tool, stood Fuscule: a tall man, very thin, all elbows, knees and long spare shanks.

Cugel put on a haughty manner and approached. “You, my good fellow, I assume to be Fuscule?”

“What of it?” demanded Fuscule in a sour voice, barely looking up from his work. “Who are you?”

“You may call me Master Soldinck, of the ship Galante. I understand that you consider yourself a worminger of sorts.”

Fuscule looked briefly up from his work. “Understand as you like.”

“Come, fellow! Do not take that tone with me! I am a man of importance! I have come to buy your worm if you are willing to sell cheap.”

Fuscule put down his tools and gave Cugel a stony inspection from under his veil. “Certainly I will sell my worm. No doubt you are in dire need, or you would not come to Lausicaa to buy a worm. My price, under the circumstances and in view of your gracious personality, is five thousand terces. Take it or leave it.”

Cugel gave a rasping cry of outrage. “Only a villain could make such avaricious demands! I have traveled far across this dying world; never have I encountered such cruel rapacity! Fuscule, you are a larcenous scoundrel, and physically repulsive as well!”

Fuscule’s stony grin shifted the fabric of his veil. “This sort of abuse will never persuade me to lower my prices.”

“It is tragic, but I have no choice but to submit,” lamented Cugel. “Fuscule, you drive a hard bargain!”

Fuscule shrugged. “I am not interested in your opinions. Where is the money? Pay it over, every terce in cold hard coin! Then take the worm and our transaction is complete.”

“Patience!” said Cugel sternly. “Do you think I carry such sums on my person? I must fetch the money from the ship. Will you wait here?”

“Be quick! Though in all candour —” Fuscule gave voice to a harsh chuckle “— for five thousand terces I will wait an appreciable time.”

Cugel picked up one of Fuscule’s tools and carelessly tossed it into the worm-pen. In slack-jawed amazement Fuscule ran to look down after the tool. Stepping forward, Cugel pushed him into the water, then stood watching as Fuscule floundered about the pen. “That is punishment for your insolence,” said Cugel. “Remember, I am Master Soldinck and an important person. I will be back in due course with the money.”

With long strides Cugel returned to the club-house and went to the booth where Soldinck waited. “I am Fuscule,” said Cugel, disguising his voice. “I understand that you have worked up an appetite for some good spraling.”