Now you worry that the dross might fly away again, to pollute some part of Jijo beyond reach of any mule being? You fear it may never be properly disposed of?

Then worry no more, my responsible little ephemeral! It will be taken care of.

Just leave it to me.

Alvin I WAS RIGHT! THE PHUVNTHUS ARE EARTHLINGS! I haven't figured out the little amphibians yet, but the big six-legged creatures? They are dolphins. Just like the ones in King of the Sea or The Shining Sh.o.r.e . . . only these talk and drive s.p.a.ceships! How uttergloss.

And there are humans.

Sky humans!

Well, a couple of them, anyway.

I met the woman in charge-Gillian is her name. Among other things, she said some nice words about my journal. In fact, if they ever succeed in getting away from here, and returning to Earth, she promises to find an agent for me and get it published.

Imagine that. I can't wait to tell Huck.

There's just one favor Gillian wants in return.

E.wasx OH, HOW THEY PREVARICATE! * Is this what it means to take the Downward Path? Sometimes a citizen race decides to change course, rejecting the destiny mapped out for it by patron and clan. The Civilization of the Five Galaxies allows several traditional avenues of appeal, but if all other measures fail, one shelter remains available to all-the road that leads back, from starfaring sapience to animal nature. The route to a second chance. To start over again with a new patron guiding your way.

This much I/we can understand. But must that path have an intermediate phase, between citizen and dumb beast? A phase in which the half-devolved species becomes lawyers'.

Their envoys stand before us now, citing points of Galactic law that were handed down in sacred lore. Especially verbose is the g'Kek emissary. Yes, My rings, you identify this g'Kek as Vubben-a "friend and colleague" from your days as Asx the traeki. Oh, how that sage-among-sooners nimbly contorts logic, contending that his folk are not responsible for the debt his kind owes our clan, by rule of vendetta. A debt of extinction.

The senior Priest-Stack aboard our ship insists we must listen to this nonsense, for form's sake, before continuing our righteous vengeance. But most of the Polkjhy crew stacks side with our Captain-Leader, whose impatiencewith-drivel steams with each throbbing pulse of an angry mulching core. Finally, the Captain-Leader transmits a termination signal to Me,us. To faithful Ewasx.

"ENOUGH!" I interrupt Vubben in loud tones of Oailie decisiveness. All four of his eyestalks quail in surprise at my harsh resonance.

"YOUR CONTENTIOUS REASONINGS ARE BASED ON INVALID a.s.sUMPTIONS."

They stand before us/me, frozen silent by our rebuke. A silence more appropriate to half animals than all that useless jabber. Finally, the qheuen sage, Knife-Bright Insight, bows her blue-green carapace and inquires: "Might we ask what a.s.sumptions you refer to?"

Our second cognition ring performs a writhing twitch that I must overcome with savage pain jolts, preventing the rebellious ring's color cells from flashing visibly. Be thou restrained, I command, enforcing authority over our component selves. Do not try to signal your erstwhile comrades. The effort will accomplish nothing.

The minirebellion robs Me of resources to maintain a pontifical voice. So when I next speak aloud, it is in more normal tones. Yet the message is no less severe.

"Your faulty a.s.sumptions are threefold," I answer the thoughtful blue qheuen.

"You a.s.sume that law still reigns in the Five Galaxies. "You a.s.sume that we should feel restrained by procedures and precedents from the last ten million years. "But above all, your most defective a.s.sumption is that we should care."

Dwer IT WAS NOT ENOUGH SIMPLY TO COAX THE MULC beast. Dwer had to creep close and supervise, for the spider had no clear concept of haste.

Dwer could sense its concentration, shifting fluids and gathering forces from a periphery that stretched league after league, along the Rift coast. The sheer size of the thing was mind-boggling, far greater than the mad little alpine spider that nearly consumed Dwer and Rety. This t.i.tan was in the final stages of demolishing a vast city, the culmination of its purpose, and therefore its life. Millennia ago, it might have ignored Dwer, as a busy workman disregards the corner scratchings of a mouse. Now boredom made it responsive to any new voice, offering relief from monumental ennui.

Still, Dwer wondered.

Why was I able to communicate with One-of-a-Kind? And now this spider, as well? We are so different-creatures meant for opposite sides of a planet's cycle.

His sensitivity, if anything, had increased . . . perhaps from letting the Danik robot conduct force fields down his spine. But the original knack must be related to what made him an exceptional hunter.

Empathy. An intuitive sense for the needs and desires of living things.

The Sacred Scrolls spoke darkly of such powers. Psitalents. They were not recommended for the likes of the Six, who must cringe away from the great theater of s.p.a.ce. So Dwer never mentioned it, not to Sara and Lark, or even Fallen, though he figured the old chief scout must have suspected.

Have I done this before? He mused on how he coaxed the spider into action. I always thought my empathy was pa.s.sive. That I listened to animals, and hunted accordingly. But have I been subtly influencing them, all along? When I shoot an arrow, is it my legendary aim that makes it always strike home? Or do I also nudge the flight of the bush quail so it dodges into the way of the shaft? Do I make the taniger swerve left, just as my stone is about to strike?

It made him feel guilty. Unsporting.

Well? What about right now? You're famished. Why not put out a call for nearby fish and fowl to gather round your knees for plucking?

Somehow, Dwer knew it did not work that way.

He shook his head, clearing it for matters close at hand. Just ahead, rounded silhouettes took uneven bites out of the arching star field. Two sky boats, unmoving, yet mysterious and deadly as he drew near. He swished a finger through the water and tasted, wincing at some nasty stuff leaking into the fen from one or both fallen cruisers.

Now Dwer's sensitive ears picked up noise coming from the larger vessel. Clankings and hammerings. No doubt the crew was working around the clock to make repairs. Despite Rety's a.s.surances, he had no faith that the new day would see a Rothen starship looming overhead to claim both its lost comrades and long-sought prey. The opposite seemed rather more likely.

Either way, he had a job to do.

Till I hear otherwise from the sages, I've got to keep acting on Danel Ozawa's orders.

He said we must defend Jijo.

Star G.o.ds don't belong here, any more than sooners do. Less, in fact.

The cry of a mud wren made Dwer slide his torso lower in the water.

Rety's mimicked call came from a lookout point on a Buyur ruin near the dunes. He scanned above the reeds, and caught sight of a glimmering shape-a patrol robot sent out by the stranded untraekis, returning from its latest search spiral.

The mule spider read his concern and expressed curiosity.

More dross?

Maintaining aloof reserve, Dwer suggested the creature concentrate on its present task, while he worried about flying things.

Your memories a.s.sert one of these hovering mechanisms slew my brother of the highlands. Mad he may have been, but his job was left undone by that untimely end. Now who will finish it?

A fair enough question. This time, Dwer formed words.

If we survive this time of crisis, the sages will have a mule bud planted in the old one's lake. It's our way. By helping get rid ofBuyur remains, each generation of the Six leaves Jijo a little cleaner, making up for the small harm we do. The scrolls say it may ease our penance, when judges finally come. But don't worry about this robot now. You have a goal to focus on. Over there, in that hull of the larger ship, there is a rip, an opening. ...

Dwer felt hairs on his neck p.r.i.c.kle. He crouched low while the unmistakable tingle of gravitic fields swept close. Clearly this was a more powerful robot than the unit he nearly defeated back at the sooner village. That one still cowered in a hole under the sand, while he and Rety took on its enemies.

He hunched like an animal, and even tried thinking like one as the humming commotion pa.s.sed, setting the tense surface of the water trembling like a qheuen drum. Dwer closed his eyes, but an onslaught of images a.s.sailed him. Sparks flew from an urrish forge. Stinging spray jetted over a drowned village. Starlight glinted off a strange fish whose noorlike mouth opened in a wry grin. ...

The creepy force receded. He cracked his eyelids to watch the slab-sided drone move east down a line of phosph.o.r.escent surf, then vanish among the dunes.

More vines now cl.u.s.tered and writhed around the base of the larger sky boat, bunching to send shoots snaking higher. This whole crazy idea counted on one a.s.sumption-that the ship's defenses, already badly damaged, would be on guard against "unnatural" things, like metals or energy sources. Under normal conditions, mere plants or beasts would pose no threat to a thick-hulled vessel.

In here?

The spider's query accompanied mental images of a jagged recess, slashed in the side of the untraeki vessel . . . the result of Kunn's riposte, even as his air boat plunged in flames. The visual impression reaching Dwer was tenuous as a daydream, lacking all but the most vague visual details. Instead, he felt a powerful scent of substance. The spider would not know or care how Galactic machines worked, only what they were made of-and which concocted juices would most swiftly delete this insult to Jijo's fallow peace.

Yes, in there, Dwer projected. And all over the outside, as well.

Except the transparent viewing port, he added. No sense warning the creatures by covering their windows with slithering vines. Let them find out in the morning. By then, with Ifni's luck, it would be too late.

Remember-he began. But the spider interrupted.

I know. I shall use my strongest cords.

Mule monofiber was the toughest substance known to the Six. With his own eyes, Dwer had seen one rare loop of reclaimed filament pull gondolas all the way to the heights of Mount Guenn. Still, a crew of star G.o.ds would have tools to cut even that staunch material. Unless they were distracted.

Time pa.s.sed. By moonlight the marsh seemed alive with movement-ripples and jerky slitherings-as more vines converged on a growing ma.s.s surrounding the ship. Snakelike cables squirmed by Dwer, yet he felt none of the heartsick dread that used to come from contact with One-of-a-Kind. Intent is everything. Somehow, he knew this huge ent.i.ty meant him no harm.

At uneven intervals, Rety used clever calls to warn him of the guard robot's return. Dwer worried that it might find the cowardly Danik machine, hiding under the sand. If so, the alerted Jophur might emerge, filling the bog with blazing artificial light.

Dwer moved slowly around the vessel, taking its measure. But as he counted footsteps, his thoughts drifted to the Gray Hills, where Lena Strong and Jenin Worley must be busy right now, uniting Rety's old band with surviving urrish sooners, forging a united tribe.

Not an easy task, but those two can do it, if anyone can.

Still, he felt sad for them. They must be lonely, with Danel Ozawa gone. And me, carried off in the claws of a Rotben machine. They must think I'm dead, too.

Jenin and Lena still had Ozawa's "legacy" of books and tools, and an urrish sage to help them. They might make it, if they were left alone. That was Dwer's job-to make sure no one came across the sky to bother them.

He knew this scheme of his was farfetched. Lark would surely have thought of something better, if he were here.

But I'm all there is. Dwer the Wild Boy. Tough luck for Jijo.

The spider's voice caught him as he was checking the other side of the grounded cruiser, where a long ramp led to a closed hatch.

In here, as well?

His mind filled with another image of the vessel's damaged recess. Moonlight shone through a jagged rent in the hull. The clutter of sooty machinery seemed even more crowded as vine after vine crammed through, already dripping caustic nectars. But Dwer felt his attention drawn deeper, to the opposite wall.

Dim light shone through a crack on that side. Not pale illumination, but sharp, blue, and synthetic, coming from some room beyond.

The ship probably isn't even airtight anymore.

Too bad this didn't happen high in the mountains. Traeki hated cold weather, A glacier wind would be just the thing to send whistling through here!

No, he answered the spider. Don't go into the lighted s.p.a.ce. Not yet.

The voice returned, pensively serious.

This light . work?

it could interfere with my Dwer a.s.sented. Yeah. The light would interfere, all right. Then he thought no more of it, for at that moment a trace of movement caught his eye, to the southeast. A dark figure waded stealthily, skirting around the teeming mound of mule vines.

Rety! But she's supposed to be on lookout duty. This was no time for her impulsiveness. With a larger moon due to rise in less than a midura, the two of them had to start making their getaway before the untraeki woke to what was happening.

With uncanny courtesy, mule cables slithered out of his path as he hurried after the girl, trying not to splash too noisily. Her apparent objective was the other crashed ship, the once-mighty sky steed Kunn had used to drop bombs into the Rift, chasing mysterious prey. From the dunes, Dwer and Rety had seen the sleek dart overwhelmed and sent plunging to the swamp, its two human pa.s.sengers taken captive.

That could happen to us, too. More than ever, Dwer regretted leaving behind Rety's urrish "husband," her conscience and voice of good sense.

About the interfering light.

I thought you would like to know.

It is being taken care of.

Dwer shrugged aside the spider's mind touch as he crossed an open area, feeling exposed. Things improved slightly when he detoured to take advantage of two reedcovered hummocks, cutting off direct sight of the untraeki ship. But the robot guardian still patrolled somewhere out there. Lacking a lookout, Dwer had just his own wary senses to warn him if it neared.

While wading though a deeper patch, floundering in water up to his armpits, he felt a warning shiver.

I'm being watched.

Dwer slowly turned, expecting to see the gla.s.sy weapons of a faceless killer. But no smooth-sided machine hovered above the reedy mound. Instead, he found eyes regarding him, perched at the knoll's highest point, a ledge that might have been the wall of a Buyur home. Sharp teeth grinned at Dwer.

Mudfoot.

The noor had done it again.

Someday, I'll get even,or the times you 've scared me half to death.

Mudfoot had a companion this time, a smaller creature, held between his paws. Some recent prey? It did not struggle, but tiny greenish eyes seemed to glow with cool interest. Mudfoot's grin invited Dwer to guess what this new friend might be.

Dwer had no time for games. "Enjoy yourselves," he muttered, and moved on, floundering up a muddy bank. He was just rounding the far corner, seeking Rety in the shadows of the Rothen wreck, when a clamor erupted from behind. Loud bangs and thumps reverberated as Dwer crouched, peering back at the large vessel.

This side appeared undamaged-a glossy chariot of semidivine star G.o.ds, ready at an instant to leap into the sky.

But then a rectangular crack seamed its flank above the ramp, releasing clots of smoke, like foul ghosts charging into the night.

The interference is taken care of.

The spider's mind touch seemed satisfied, even proud. Dark figures spilled through the roiling soot, then down the ramp, wheezing in agony. Dwer counted three untraeki . . . then two shambling biped forms, leaning on each other as they fled the noxious billows.

What followed nauseated Dwer-solitary doughnut shapes, slithering traeki rings shorn from the waxy moorings that once united them as sapient beings. One large torus burst from the murk, galloping on pulsating legs without guidance or direction, trailing mucus and silvery fibers as it plunged off the ramp into deep water. Another hapless circle b.u.mped along unevenly,-staring in all directions with panicky eye patches until surging black vapors overtook it.

I have not acted thus-with such vigor and decisiveness-since the early days, when stillanimate Buyur servant machines sometimes tried to hide and reproduce amid the ruins, after their masters departed. Back then, we were fierce, we mule agents of deconstruction, before the long centuries of patient erosion set in.

Now do you see how efficient my kind can be, when we feel a need? And when we have a worthy audience? Now will you acknowledge me, O unique young ephemeral?

Dwer turned and fled, kicking spray as he ran.

The Rothen scout boat was a wreck, split in the middle, its wings crumpled. He found an open hatch and clambered inside. The metal deck felt chill and alien beneath his bare feet.

The interior lacked even pale moonlight, so it took time to find Rety in a far corner, taking treasures from a cabinet and stuffing them in a bag. What's she looking for? Food? After all the star-G.o.d poisons that've spilled here since the crash?