He wondered if he could impress them with his light. He held it in his hands.
"Then, the sooner you go, the better!" said Jayn bitterly. "If the spirits let you go, we may not touch you. But I do not care to keep you around until you bring certain disaster upon the village."
An old woman whispered in her ear, and she looked sharply at Vaneen.
"And you took the girl with you?" she demanded.
"Of course," he replied. "And if you are really anxious to have us gone, I think you should give us wollies to ride."
"You can have all the animals my cousin took from the flatland!" she snapped. "But first, another matter!"
An old man was pushed to the forefront of the crowd. He smoothed his white beard nervously and peered up at Yorgh and Vaneen with faded, short-sighted eyes.
Abruptly, he found his voice, and rattled off a brief, chanting patter. Then he stepped back behind a spearman who looked to Yorgh as if he would be poor protection.
"What was that, a curse?" demanded the Hunter, having had difficulty understanding the rapid words mumbled from the old man's toothless mouth.
To force an answer, he twisted the metal cylinder to flash the light at them.