"Could it be a pattern developed since the Buyur left Jijo?"

Rann nodded. "Half an eon is a while, even by Galactic standards."

Ling spoke, eagerly. "Perhaps it's Terran."

The big man stared at her, then nodded, switching to Anglic.

"That might explain the vague familiarity. But why would any Rothen use an Earther code? You know what they think of wolfling technology. Especially anything produced by those unbelieving Terragens-"

"Rann," Ling cut in, her voice grown hushed. "These slabs may not have belonged to Ro-kenn or Ro-pol."

"Who then? You deny ever seeing them before. Neither have I. That leaves ..."

He blinked, then pounded a heavy fist on the wooden slats. "We must crack this thing! Ling, let us commence unleashing the unit's entire power on finding the key."

Lark stepped forward. "Are you sure that's wise?"

"You seek disease cures for your fellow savages? Well, the Jophur ship squats on the ruins of our station, and our ship is held captive. This may be your only chance."

Clearly, Rann had another reason for his sudden zeal. Still, everyone apparently wanted the same thing-for now.

Lester looked unhappy, but he gave permission with a nod, returning to his vigil over the sensor stones.

We're doing it for you, Uthen, Lark thought.

Moments later, he had to retreat'several more steps as s.p.a.ce above the prehistoric computer grew crowded. Innumerable glyphs and signs collided like snowflakes in an arctic blizzard. The Buyur machine was applying prodigious force of digital intellect to solving a complex puzzle.

As Rann worked-hands darting in and out of the pirouetting flurry-he wore an expression of simmering rage. The kind of resentful anger that could only come from one source.

Betrayal.

A midura pa.s.sed before the relic computer announced preliminary results. By then Lester Cambel was worn out. Perspiration stained his tunic and he wheezed each breath. But Lester would let no one else take over watching the sensor stones.

"It takes long training to sense the warning glows," he explained. "Right now, if I relax my eyes in just the right way, I can barely make out a soft glow in a gap between two of the bottommost stones."

Long training? Lark wondered as he peered into the fragile pyramid, quickly making out a faint iridescence, resembling the muted'flame that licked the rim of a mulching pan when a dead traeki was boiled, rendering the fatting rings for return to Jijo's cycle.

Cambel went on describing, as if Lark did not already see.

"Someday, if there's time, we'll teach you to perceive the pa.s.sive resonance, Lark. In this case it is evoked by the Jophur battleship. Its great motors are now idling, forty leagues from here. Unfortunately, even that creates enough background noise to mask any new disturbance."

"Such as?"

"Such as another set of gravitic repulsors . . . moving this way."

Lark nodded grimly. Like a rich urrish trader with two husbands in her brood pouches, big starships carried smaller ships-sc.r.a.ppy and swift-to launch on deadly errands. That was the chief risk worrying Lester.

Lark considered going back to watch the two Daniks work, invoking software demons in quest of a mathematical key. But what good would he do staring at the unfathomable? Instead, he bent close to the stones, knowing each flicker to be an echo of t.i.tanic forces, like those that drove the sun.

For a time he sensed no more than that soft bluish flame. But then Lark began noticing another rhythm, matching the mute shimmer, beat by beat. The source throbbed near his rib cage, above his pounding heart.

He slid a hand into his tunic and grabbed his amulet- a fragment of the Holy Egg that hung from a leather thong. It was warm. The pulselike cadence seemed to build with each pa.s.sing dura, causing his arm to vibrate painfully.

What could the Egg have in common with the engines of a Galactic cruiser? Except that both seem bent on troubling me till I die?

From far away, he heard Rann give an angry shout. The big Danik pounded the table, nearly toppling the fragile stones.

Cambel left to find out what Rann had learned. But Lark could not follow. He felt pinned by a rigor that spread from his fist on up his arm. It crossed his chest, then swarmed down his crouched legs.

"Uh-huhnnn ..."

y-t M u . . _ He tried to speak, but no words came. A kind of paralysis robbed him of the will to move.

Year after year he had striven to achieve what came easily to some pilgrims, when members of all Six Races sought communion with Jijo's gift-the Egg, that enigmatic wonder. To some it gave a blessing-guidance patterns, profound and moving. Consolation for the predicament of exile.

But never to Lark. Never the sinner.

Until now. But instead of transcendent peace, Lark tasted a bitter tang, like molten metal in his mouth. His eardrums sc.r.a.ped, as if some ma.s.sive rock were being pushed through a tube much too narrow. Amid his confusion, gaps in the sensor array seemed like the vacuum abyss between planets. The gemstones were moons, brushing each other with ponderous grace.

Before his transfixed eyes, the silken flame grew a minuscule swelling, like a new shoot budding off a rosebush. The new bulge moved, detaching from its parent, creeping around the surface of one stone, crossing a gap, then moving gradually upward.

It was subtle. Without the heightened sensitivity of his seizure, Lark might not have noticed. Something's coming.

But he could only react with a cataleptic gurgle. Behind Lark came more sounds of fury-Rann throwing a tantrum over some discovery. Figures moved around the I outraged alien . . . Lester and the militia guards. No one paid Lark any mind.

Desperately, he sought the place where volition resides.

The center of will. The part that commands a foot to step, an eye to shift, a voice to utter words. But his soul seemed captive to the discolored k.n.o.b of fire, moving languidly this way.

Now that it had his attention, the flicker wasn't about to let him go.

Is this your intent? he asked the Egg, half in prayer and half censure.

You alert me to clanger . . . then won't let me cry a warning?

Did another dura pa.s.s-or ten?-while the spark drifted around the next stone? With a soft crackle it crossed another gap. How many more must it traverse before reaching the top? What sky-filling shadow would pa.s.s above when that happened?

Suddenly, a huge silhouette did loom into Lark's field of view. A giant, globelike shape, vast and blurry to his fixed, unfocused gaze.

The intruding object spoke to him.

"Uh . . . Sage KoolKan? . . . You all right, sir?"

Lark mutely urged the intruder closer. That's it, Jimi. A bit more to the left . . .

With welcome abruptness, the flame vanished, eclipsed by the round face of Jimi the Blessed-Jimi the Simpleton-wearing a worried expression as he touched Lark's sweat-soaked brow.

"Can I get ya somethin', Sage? A drink o' water mebbe?"

Freed of the hypnotic trap, Lark found volition at last . . . waiting in the same place he always kept it.

"Uhhhh . . ."

Stale air vented as he took gasping breath. Pain erupted up and down his crouched body, but he quashed it, forcing all his will into Grafting two simple words.

". . . ever'body . . . out!"

E.

THEY ACT QUICKLY ON THEIR PROMISES, DO THEY not, my rings?

Do you see how soon the natives acquiesced to our demands?

You seem surprised that they moved so swiftly to appease us, but ,expected it. What other decision was possible, now that their so-called sages understand the way things are?

Like you lesser rings, the purpose of other races is ultimately to obey.

HOW DID THIS COME ABOUT? you ask.

Yes, you have My permission to stroke old-fashioned wax drippings, tracing recent memory. But I shall also retell it in the more efficient Oailie way so that we may celebrate together an enterprise well concluded.

WE BEGIN with the arrival of emissaries-one from each of the savage tribes, entering this shattered valley on foot and wheel, shambling like animals over the jagged splinters that surround our proud Polkjhy.

Standing bravely beneath the overhanging curve of our gleaming hull, they took turns shouting at the nearest open hatch, making pretty speeches on behalf of their rustic Commons. With surprising eloquence, they cited relevant sections of Galactic law, accepting on behalf of their ancestors full responsibility for their presence on this world, and requesting courteously that we in turn explain our purpose coming here.

Are we official inspectors and judges from the Inst.i.tute of Migration? they asked. And if not, what excuse have we for violating this world's peace?

Audacity! Among the crew of the Polkjhy, it most upset our junior Priest-Stack, since now we seem obliged to justify ourselves to barbarians.

"Why Did We Not Simply Roast This Latest Emba.s.sy, Like The One Before It?"

To this, our gracious Captain-Leader replied: "It Costs Us Little To Vent Informative Steam In The General Direction Of Half-Devolved Beings. And Do Not Forget That There Are Data Gleanings We Desire, As Well! Recall That The Scoundrel Ent.i.ties Called Rothen Offered To Sell Us Valuable Knowledge, Before We Righteously Double-Crossed Them. Perhaps That Same Knowledge Might Be Wrung From The Locals At A Much Smaller Price, Saving Us The Time And Effort Of A Search."

Did not the junior Priest-Stack then press its argument?

"Look Down At The Horrors! Abominations! They Commingle In The Shadow Of Our Great Ship-Urrish Forms Side By Side With Noons? Poor Misguided Traeki Cousins Standing Close 'To Wolfling Humans? And There Among Them, Worst Of All ... G'keks! What Can Be Gained By Talking With Miscegenists? Blast Them Now!"

AH, MY RINGS, would not things be simpler for us/me, had the Captain-Leader given in, accepting the junior priest's advice? Instead, our exalted commander bent toward the senior Priest-Stack for further consultation.

That august ent.i.ty stretched upward, a tower of fifty glorious toruses, and declared- "I/we Concede That It Is A Demeaning Task. But It Harms Us Little To Observe The Appropriate Forms And Rituals.

"So Let Us Leave The Ch.o.r.e To Ewasx. Let The Ewasx Stack Converse With These Devolved Savages. Let Ewasx Find Out What They Know About The Two Kinds Of Prey We Seek"

So it was arranged. The job was a.s.signed to this makeshift, hybrid stack. An appointment to be a lowly agent. To parley with half animals.

In this way, i/we learned the low esteem by which our Jophur peers regard us.

BUT NEVER MIND THAT NOW. Do you recall how we took on our apportioned task, with determined aplomb? By gravity plate, we dropped down to the demolished forest, where the six envoys waited. Our ring of a.s.sociation recognized two of them-Phwhoon-dau, stroking his white hoonish beard, and Vubben, wisest of the g'Kek. This pair shouted surprised gladness at first, believing they beheld a lost comrade-Asx.

Then, realizing their mistake, all six quailed, emitting varied noises of dismay. Especially the traeki in their midst-our,your replacement among the High Sages?- who seemed especially upset by our transformation. Oh, how that stack of aboriginal toruses trembled to perceive our Jophurication! Would its segmented union sunder on the spot? Without a master ring to bind and guide them, would the component rings tear their membranes and crawl their separate ways, returning to the feral habits of our ancestors? Eventually the six representatives recovered enough to listen. In simple terms, I explained Polkfhy's endeavor in this far-off system.

WE ARE NOT OF THE MIGRATION INSt.i.tUTE, I/we told them, although we did invoke a clause of Galactic law to self-deputize and arrest the Rothen gene raiders. There will be few questions asked by an indifferent cosmos, if, when we render judgment on them . . . or on criminal colonists.

To whom will savages appeal?

BUT THAT NEED NOT BE OUR AIM.

This I added, soothingly. There are worse villains to pursue than a hardscrabble pack of castaways, stranded on a forbidden reef, seeking redemption the only way they can.

OUR CHIEF QUEST is for a missing vessel crewed by Earthling dolphins. A ship sought by ten thousand Heels, across all Five Galaxies. A ship carrying secrets, and perhaps the key to a new age.

I told the emissaries that we might pay for data, if local inhabitants help shorten our search.

(Yes, My rings-the Captain-Leader also promised to pay those Rothen rascals, when their ship hailed ours in jump s.p.a.ce, offering vital clues. But those impatient fools gave away too much in their eagerness. We made vague promises, dispatching them for more proof . . . then covertly followed, before a final deal was signed! Once they led us to this world, what further purpose did they serve? Rather than pay, we seized their ship.

(True, they might have had more data morsels to sell. But if the dolphin ship is in this system, we will find it soon enough.) (Yes, My rings, our memory core appears to hold no waxy imprints of a "dolphin ship. "But others on Jijo might know something. Perhaps they kept data from their traeki sage. Anyway, can we trust memories inherited from Asx, who slyly remelted many core drippings?

(So we must query the Jijoan envoys, using threats and rewards.) While the emissaries pondered the matter of the dolphin ship, I proceeded to our second requirement. Our goal of long-delayed justice!

YOU MAY FIND THIS ADDITIONAL REQUEST UNPLEASANT, OR DISLOYAL. BUT YOU HAVE NO CHOICE. YOU MUST BEND TO THE IMPLACABILITY OF OUR WILL. THE SACRIFICE WE DEMAND IS ESSENTIAL. DO NOT THINK OF SHIRKING!.

The hoon sage boomed a deep umble, inflating his throat sac. "We are unclear on your meaning. What must we sacrifice?"

To this obvious attempt at dissembling, I replied derisively, adding rippling emphasis shadows across our upper rings.

YOU KNOW WHAT MUST BE GIVEN UP TO US. SOON WE WILL EXPECT A TOKEN PORTION. A DOWN PAYMENT TO SHOW US THAT YOU UNDERSTAND.

With that, I commanded our ring-of-manipulators to aim all our tendrils at the aged g'Kek.

Toward Vubben.

This time, their reactions showed comprehension. Some former Asx rings shared their revulsion, but I clamped down with electric jolts of discipline.

The intimidated barbarians retreated, taking with them the word of heaven.

We did not expect to hear from the agonized sooners for a day or two. Meanwhile, the Captain-Leader chose to send our second corvette east to help the other unit whose selfrepairs go too slowly, stranded near a deepwater rift. (A candidate hiding place for the missing Earthling ship!) Once, we feared that dolphins had shot down our boat, and Polkjhy itself must go on this errand. But our tactician stack calculated that the Rothen scout simply got in a lucky shot. It seems safe to dispatch a smaller vessel.

Then, just as our repair craft was about to launch, we picked up a signal from these very mountains! What else could it be, but the Jijoan envoys, responding to My,our demands!

The corvette was diverted north, toward this new emission.

And lo! Now comes in its report. A g'Kek settlement-a midget city of the demon wheels-hidden in the forest!

Oh, we would have found it anyway. Our mapping has only just begun.

Still, this gesture is encouraging. It shows the Six (who will soon be five) possess enough sapient ability to calculate odds, to perceive the inevitable and minimize their losses.