"Tell them, Brodaa, this river will take us to Big-Water. We go south along the coast, to the island where our friends are, where we believe Spearman has gone in the winged boat. Tell them, on this island there are no kaksmas, the omasha never come, nor the lake boats of Lantis. There is game, good ground, room for all. Tell them--No, wait.... Oh, Brodaa, tell them in your own way that we hope to live there in peace." The lean witch interrupted Brodaa's translation with a wailing diatribe, twitching his twigs of arms, lashing the battered soldiers with his oratory. Brodaa turned to Wright in misery: "He says--he saw Ismar change Spearman back to a marsh lizard and the boat to an omasha." Mijok laughed savagely. "When did he see that? Ask him." Brodaa did, on a thin shout. The scarecrow flashed her a glare of resentment and a snapping answer.... "He says he saw it in sleep picture." Paul snarled, "Yes, a dream's as near as he came to a battlefield." Brodaa was shocked, but Nisana laughed. The fat witch on the litter was fuming. Coming from Pakriaa's village, he probably had enough English to understand it; he leaned forward, embracing his hideous belly, croaking at the soldiers. Nisana translated in swift whispers: "Says--you Charins all marsh lizards, changed by Inkar-Goddess-of-Kaksmas.... Says we lose to Vestoians because image was broke; Ismar punishes.... Will I kill him, Paul-Mason?" Brodaa choked: "You cannot touch Amisura. Your spear will turn--" "My spear is lost," said Nisana, loudly enough for all to hear. "But Aksona, Amana, two other men of magic--those I saw killed at Abro Samiraa's village. Vestoian spears was not turn in the hand--I saw." She stepped forward, fingering her white-stone knife, and the fat Amisura cringed, squeaking. Wright cried, "I forbid it, Nisana. Let them go. Brodaa!" Brodaa said quickly, "He asks sacrifice--you, Paul, Pakriaa--" Nisana laughed again. She dropped her white-stone dagger on the ground and slapped the thin witch in the face. The crowd gasped and shrank back. Such a man, Paul knew, was altogether holy, never to be touched; one must not even look him in the eye. But Nisana slapped him again and shoved him sprawling. She caught a pole of Amisura's litter, heaved at it, and he tumbled like a red melon. "_Now_ let them choose!" She came back to Paul with grin and swagger, patting her scarred chest. "I am little Spearman. I break images too." And the pygmies were choosing, not as she or the witches had hoped--choosing headlong retreat from this sacrilege, dissolving away into the forest with sick-eyed backward looks. Paul saw Amisura weeping, humping pitiably back to his litter on all fours, and heard Pakriaa laugh. The two soldiers who had carried Amisura brought the litter nearer, not daring to touch him; when he flopped on it they bore him away. The other witch had run blindly, covering his insulted face, and Wright said like a machine, "Let them go--let them--"