"Gentlemen, this is pure gold.
Gold through and through.
You may subject it to every known physical and chemical test, if you wish to prove the point.
It cannot be identified from naturally-occurring gold in any way.
Any iron can be so treated.
Rust will not interfere, not will a moderate amount of alloying metals-"
But Ponyets spoke only to fill a vacuum.
He let the buckles remain in his outstretched hand, and it was the gold that argued for him.
The Grand Master stretched out a slow hand at last, and the thin-faced Pherl was roused to open speech.
"Your Veneration, the gold is from a poisoned source."
And Ponyets countered, "A rose can grow from the mud, your Veneration.
In your dealings with your neighbors, you buy material of all imaginable variety, without inquiring as to where they get it, whether from an orthodox machine blessed by your benign ancestors or from some space-spawned outrage.
Come, I don't offer the machine. I offer the gold."
"Your Veneration," said Pherl, "you are not responsible for the sins of foreigners who work neither with your consent nor knowledge.
But to accept this strange pseudo-gold made sinfully from iron in your presence and with your consent is an affront to the living spirits of our holy ancestors."
"Yet gold is gold," said the Grand Master, doubtfully, "and is but an exchange for the heathen person of a convicted felon.
Pherl, you are too critical."
But he withdrew his hand. Ponyets said,
"You are wisdom, itself, your Veneration.
Consider - to give up a heathen is to lose nothing for your ancestors, whereas with the gold you get in exchange you can ornament the shrines of their holy spirits.
And surely, were gold evil in itself, if such, a thing could be, the evil would depart of necessity once the metal were put to such pious use."
"Now by the bones of my grandfather," said the Grand Master with surprising vehemence.
His lips separated in a shrill laugh,
"Pherl, what do you say of this young man?
The statement is valid.
It is as valid as the words of my ancestors."
Pherl said gloomily, "So it would seem.
Grant that the validity does not turn out to be a device of the Malignant Spirit."
"I'll make it even better," said Ponyets, suddenly.
"Hold the gold in hostage.
Place it on the altars of your ancestors as an offering and hold me for thirty days.
If at the end of that time, there is no evidence of displeasure - if no disasters occur - surely, it would be proof that the offering was accepted.
What more can be offered?"
And when the Grand Master rose to his feet to search out disapproval, not a man in the council failed to signal his agreement.
Even Pherl chewed the ragged end of his mustache and nodded curtly.
Ponyets smiled and meditated on the uses of a religious education. 5.
Another week rubbed away before the meeting with Pherl was arranged.
Ponyets felt the tension, but he was used to the feeling of physical helplessness now.
He had left city limits under guard. He was in Pherl's suburban villa under guard.
There was nothing to do but accept it without even looking over his shoulder.
Pherl was taller and younger outside the circle of Elders.
In nonformal costume, he seemed no Elder at all.
He said abruptly, "You're a peculiar man."
His close-set eyes seemed to quiver.
"You've done nothing this last week, and particularly these last two hours, but imply that I need gold.
It seems useless labor, for who does not?
Why not advance one step?"
"It is not simply gold," said Ponyets, discreetly.
"Not simply gold. Not merely a coin or two.
It is rather all that lies behind gold."