“Farewell then, to you as well,” and Subucule turned swiftly to hide the emotion on his face and started north. Cugel and Garstang watched the sturdy form recede into the distance and disappear. Then they turned to a consideration of the dock. Garstang was dubious. “The boats seem seaworthy enough, but to ‘commandeer’ is to ‘steal’: an act specifically discountenanced by Gilfig.”
“No difficulty exists,” said Cugel. “I will place gold coins upon the dock, to a fair valuation of the boat.”
Garstang gave a dubious assent. “What then of food and water?”
“After securing the boat, we will proceed along the coast until we are able to secure supplies, after which we sail due west.”
To this Garstang assented and the two fell to examining the boats, comparing one against the other. The final selection was a staunch craft some ten or twelve paces long, of ample beam, with a small cabin.
At dusk they stole down to the dock. All was quiet: the fishermen had returned to the village. Garstang boarded the craft and reported all in good order. Cugel began casting off the lines, when from the end of the dock came a savage outcry and a dozen of the burly villagers came lumbering forth.
“We are lost!” cried Cugel. “Run for your life, or better, swim!”
“Impossible,” declared Garstang. “If this is death, I will meet it with what dignity I am able!” And he climbed up on the dock. In short order they were surrounded by folk of all ages, attracted by the commotion. One, an elder of the village, inquired in a stern voice: “What do you here, skulking on our dock, and preparing to steal a boat?”
“Our motive is simplicity itself,” said Cugel. “We wish to cross the sea.”
“What?” roared the elder. “How is that possible? The boat carries neither food nor water, and is poorly equipped. Why did you not approach us and make your needs known?”
Cugel blinked and exchanged a glance with Garstang. He shrugged. “I will be candid. Your appearance caused us such alarm that we did not dare.”
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 all 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 saintliness,” 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, clapped 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 explained: “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, 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.
The wind seemed to freshen and all night they steered west. At dawn the wind died and with sails flapping idly both Cugel and Garstang slept.
Eight times the cycle was repeated. On the morning of the ninth day a low coast-line was sighted ahead. During the middle afternoon they drove the prow of their boat through gentle surf up on a wide white beach. “This then is Almery?” asked Garstang.
“So I believe,” said Cugel, “but which quarter I am uncertain. Azenomei may lie to north, west or south. If the forest yonder is that which shrouds East Almery, we would do well to pass to the side, as it bears an evil reputation.”
Garstang pointed down the shore. “Notice: another village. If the folk here are like those across the sea, they will help us on our way. Come, let us make our wants known.”
Cugel hung back. “It might be wise to reconnoiter, as before.”
“To what end?” asked Garstang. “On that occasion we were only misled and confused.” He led the way down the beach toward the village. As they approached they could see folk moving across the central plaza: a graceful golden-haired people, who spoke to each other in voices like music. Garstang advanced joyfully, expecting a welcome even more expansive than that they had received on the other shore; but the villagers ran forward and caught them under nets. “Why do you do this?” called Garstang. “We are strangers and intend no harm!”
“You are strangers; just so,” spoke the tallest of the golden-haired villagers. “We worship that inexorable god known as Dangott. Strangers are automatically heretics, and so are fed to the sacred apes.” With that they began to drag Cugel and Garstang over the sharp stones of the fore-shore while the beautiful children of the village danced joyously to either side.
Cugel managed to bring forth the tube he had secured from Voynod and expelled blue concentrate at the villagers. Aghast, they toppled to the ground and Cugel was able to extricate himself from the net. Drawing his sword he leapt forward to cut Garstang free, but now the villagers rallied. Cugel once more employed his tube, and the villagers fled in dismal agony.
“Go, Cugel,” spoke Garstang. “I am an old man, of little vitality. Take to your heels; seek safety, with all my good wishes.”
“This normally would be my impulse,” Cugel conceded. “But these people have stimulated me to quixotic folly; so clamber from the net; we retreat together.” Once more he wrought dismay with the blue projection, while Garstang freed himself, and the two fled along the beach.
The villagers pursued with harpoons. Their first cast pierced Garstang through the back. He fell without a sound. Cugel swung about, aimed the tube, but the spell was exhausted, and only a limpid exudation appeared. The villagers drew back their arms to hurl a second volley; Cugel shouted a curse, dodged and ducked, and the harpoons plunged past him into the sand of the beach. Cugel shook his fist a final time, then took to his heels and fled into the forest.
Chapter VI
The Cave in the Forest
