“What kind of people are you? says the merchant Zygfryd. A person heals you, dedicates his whole life to you, and you torture him his whole life. And when he dies, you tie a rope to his feet, drag him, and tears stream down your faces.

You have already been in our land for a year and eight months, answers blacksmith Averky, but have not understood a thing about it.

And do you yourselves understand it? asks Zygfryd.

Do we? The blacksmith mulls that over and looks at Zygfryd. Of course we, too, do not understand”