"How's the coffee coming along?" asked the commander.

At eleven o'clock, navigational time, they landed in the so-called Puma Desert. It wasn't actually a desert, but rather a vast depression covered with yellowish vegetation.

"It's a sad land," said Leo Sessler.

"10:54," they answered.

And: "I didn't sleep at all last night."

"Who did?" said someone else.

All around them were precise sounds, mathematical, perfect. The Puma Desert stretched out, deceitfully dry, and rose up at the edges like a huge soup bowl. The men donned their white suits, eachstanding beside his own compartment; they put on hard, jointed gloves and knee-high boots, the complete landing outfit. Leo Sessler put on his glasses, and over them the required sunglasses-silly precautions. Savan was whistling.

"Stand next to the exit chamber when you're ready," said the commander, who was always the first one. And he opened the door.

"Would you rather die than go blind, Savan?" asked Leo Sessler.

"What?" said the commander from the door.

"The suns," said Leo Sessler.

"Don't worry," answered the commander, "young Reidt knows what he's doing." And he closed the door.

Young Reidt blushed; he dropped a glove so that when he bent down to pick it up the others wouldn't see his face.

"I'd rather die," said Savan.

Bonifacio of Solomea arched his back and sneezed.

"What's going on?" asked Lord Vantedour.

Downstairs, the dogs were howling.

Theophilus, however, was certain about the landing, or at least he had information that something had been seen in the sky and was headed in their direction. Hope had been replaced by a feeling of well-being, pushed back and forgotten as quickly as possible, as if it were something dangerous. But curiosity made him stay in contact with the master astronomer. That's how he'd found out where it had fallen or descended, and although he wasn't very keen on having to travel without sleep, he made them put him through to the master navigator.

"Shut off that music."

The clavichords were interrupted in the middle of the thirtieth sonata.

A horseman arrived at a gallop and stopped on the Patio of Honor below. Lord Vantedour got out of bed, threw a cape over his shoulders and went out onto the balcony. The man was shouting something down below. He had come from the observation posts and was motioning toward the west.

"After breakfast," said Lord Vantedour. But there was nobody in the room to hear him besides Bonifacio of Solomea, who silently agreed.

Carita Dulce was licking the wet walls of the cradle, and Lesvanoos-naked and tied to a table-was looking at the executioner and the executioner was waiting.

Dressed in a green velvet suit and supported by a cane, he walked away from the violet, singing. The sun shone brightly on the crystal glass he was holding in his hand and on the pearl buttons of his shirt. He was at peace, and happiness came so easily.

Eight of them left the ship: the commander; Leo Sessler; Savan, the engineer; the second radio operator; and four other crew members. All of them were carrying light weapons, but the only one who felt ridiculous was Leo Sessler.

Savan raised his head to look at the sky and said through his mask, in an unrecognizable voice, "Young Reidt was right. At least one of them is completely harmless. Look up, doctor."

"No thank you. I suppose that eventually, without realizing it, I will. The sun has always made me feel a certain distrust. Imagine what it'll be like with two of them."

They started gradually uphill.

"When we get out of this river basin," said the commander, and then he stopped.

A colt, black against the backlight, was galloping across the golden horizon. They all stood there, completely still and silent, and one of the crew members raised his rifle. Leo Sessler spotted him and gestured for him to stop. The colt, in full view of everyone, kept on galloping along the edges of the depression, as if offering itself as something for them to contemplate. It was full of strength, energized by the morning cold, animated by the rivers of warm blood in its flanks and legs, its nostrils dilated and derisive. Suddenly, it disappeared down the other side of the slope.

"It couldn't be," said Savan, the engineer, "but, yes, that was a horse."

And at the same time, the commander asked, "Did you all see that?" "A horse," said one of the crew members, "a horse, Commander, sir, but we weren't expecting to find animals."

"I know. We've made a mistake. We've left the ship at the wrong place."

"Be quiet, Savan. Don't say such stupid things. We got out exactly where we were supposed to."

"And the horses that ran toward the boneyard passed by, the sage mouths of the earth still fresh.

Except this isn't Earth and there aren't supposed to be any horses here," said Leo Sessler.

The commander didn't order him to be quiet. He said, "Let's go."

The master navigator had let him know everything was ready. Seated in front of the communicator, Theophilus was listening. He heard, " 'And the horses that ran toward the boneyard passed by, the sage mouths of the earth still fresh.' Except this isn't Earth and there aren't supposed to be any horses here."

And after that, another voice: "Let's go."

By the time they reached the edge of the Puma Desert, the sun had warmed the outside of their white suits, but inside they did not feel the heat.

They stopped at the edge of a blue and green world, stained by violet spots. They were on Earth on the first morning of a new age with two suns and horses, forests of oak and sycamore trees, parcels of cultivated land, sunflowers and paths.

Leo Sessler sat down on the ground; something was jumping up and down in the pit of his stomach, something had sealed off his throat and was playing around inside him, Proteus, legends. He broke down: Please, let's stay calm. He assumed that Savan was looking pale and that the commander had decided to keep being the commander; Leo Sessler knew he was a sick man. He thought it was lucky young Reidt had stayed behind. The commander spread out a map and explained the matter at hand, addressing everybody. Far away, the colt was galloping against the wind.

"Tell the master navigator I'm going down," said Theophilus.

Carita Dulce curled up, his knees against his chin. Lesvanoos was pleading for them to whip him; the executioner had orders to continue waiting.

He spun the cane around in his right hand and with his left brought the mug to his lips to drink.

Whiskey dripped down the front of his green velvet suit.

"How many men?" asked Lord Vantedour.

"Eight," answered the lookout.

"The thing is," said the commander, "the data don't match up, so there must be an error somewhere.

I don't think it's possible we've made a mistake. The discrepancy must be in the information that we were given."

Each man responds to the linguistic ritual of his class, Leo Sessler thought to himself.

"We were informed of the presence of insignificant vegetation, mosses, grasses, and the occasional bush, and we find trees (farming, that's more serious, thought Sessler), tall grass, in essence a surprisingly rich and diverse vegetation. Not to mention animals. According to previous reports, we should only have seen a few wormlike insects."

"Then there's the matter of water," said Leo Sessler.

"What?"

"Listen."

In the distance, the torrents were roaring.

"The water, yes, the water," said the commander, "another inconsistency."

Savan sat down on the ground next to Leo Sessler. The commander coughed.

"I think they recorded traces of water that would sink into the ground," he said, "intermittent in any case, and seasonal. But what's important now is to decide what we're going to do. We can keep going or we can return and hold a sort of council and compare the previous information with what we've just seen."

"We're going to have to go on sometime," said Savan, the engineer.

"Agreed," said the commander. "I was thinking basically the same thing. The meeting can be held afterward, and the benefit of continuing is that we can gather more data. Anyway, if anyone wants to go back-that includes crew members, but perhaps not the second radio operator-you may do so." Nobody moved.

"Then we'll keep going."

He folded the maps. Savan and Leo Sessler got to their feet.

"Have your guns ready but no one is to use them without my order, regardless of what you see."

Horses? A telephone booth? A train? A bar? Everyday things: insects, and intermittent, seasonal traces of water.

"Everything seems so calm."

Leo Sessler thought one of his famous phrases and laughed at himself. One day he would write his memoirs, the memoirs of a solitary man, with a special section dedicated to his famous aphorisms: the brief dogmatic statements born of unexpected situations that neither he nor the others understood, his attempts at distilling them to their no-moral of human fragility. For example, in this case, beauty-because all this had a maternal beauty-did not guarantee a friendly welcome. It undoubtedly had not for Commander Tardon and the crew of the Luz Dormida Tres. There might have been silent ambushes. Or monsters. Or maybe here, death could take on friendly forms. Or mermaids, or simply floating poisons.

Or emanations that strengthened a man's desire to die. None of which explained the horse, or the cultivated fields.

"There's a trail," said Savan.

Or the trails.

They stopped next to the path of trampled ground.

Or anything as familiar as the sunflowers.

"We'll take the trail," said the commander. "It will always be easier for us to follow a trail than to cut across the rough terrain."

Even a career military man could have admirable characteristics, and without a doubt, those admirable characteristics could very well make up part of the set of inclinations and qualities that drive a man to choose such a detestable profession. That was too long, decided Leo Sessler. It wouldn't be part of the chapter of famous phrases, but rather, hmm, let's see, the part called "Late Afternoon Reflections."

The suns were over their heads and their boots kicked up tiny whirlwinds of dust, a white dust that hovered for a moment and then fell, blurring their footprints. The commander said that they would walk for another hour and if they found nothing new, they would go back and plan a more complete exploration for the next day. The trail passed through an oak forest. There were birds but nobody commented on them. The horse had summed up all of the animals that shouldn't have existed.

"Indeed, it's possible," said Lord Vantedour. "How did you hear them?"

"By creating a communicator. Incredibly easy, remind me to explain it to you."

"The advantages of being an expert in advanced electronics," said Lord Vantedour, smiling. "Why did you come to see me?"

"Who'd you expect me to go see," asked Theophilus. "Moritz? Kesterren is out of reach. And you have to find Leval when he's Les-Van-Oos, but I'm afraid nowadays he spends most of his time as Lesvanoos."

"I mean, do you expect us to do something?"

"I don't know."

"Of course, you understand that we could do anything."

"And by anything, you mean get rid of them," said Theophilus.

"Yes."

"That was the first thing I thought of. Nevertheless."

"That's it," said Lord Vantedour. "Nevertheless."

The trail gradually emerged from the oak forest and Carita Dulce demanded more and more caresses, while the man in the green velvet suit fell once more, the cup in his hand shattered, the executioner tightened the ropes, Lesvanoos howled, and Lord Vantedour and Theophilus tried to agree on what they were going to do about the eight men from the Nini Paume Uno.

Leo Sessler was the first to see the line of patrolmen, but he kept walking without saying anything.

They heard the gallop: the colt? The men saw the horseman rise up behind the next hill, or maybe theybecame aware of the two things at the same time: the wall of patrolmen and the horseman coming toward them. The commander gestured for them to lower their guns. The horseman reined in his horse and approached at a walk.

"Greeting from Lord Vantedour, sirs. He awaits you in the castle." The commander nodded his head.

The horseman dismounted and began to walk in front of the group, leading his horse by the bridle.

The horse was, or seemed to be, an English thoroughbred, very tall, with a straight profile. The reins were made of leather, dyed dark blue and branded with gold stars. The bit, the rings for the reins, and the stirrups were all made of silver. The horse blanket that it wore was the same color as the reins, with stars around the border.

"Equus incredibilis," said Leo Sessler.

"What?" asked Savan.

"Or maybe Eohippus Salariis improbabilis ."

Savan didn't ask anything else.

The rider was a young, inexpressive man, dressed in blue and black. His tailored pants were black, his coat blue with gold stars around the border. A hood covered his head and came down to his shoulders.

The commander asked the second radio operator to call the Nini Paume Uno, informing them of the direction they were taking, no explanations, and that they would be in touch again. The man gradually fell behind.

They proceeded across a cracked ramp that spanned a dry moat, and then crossed the drawbridge.

They entered the stone patio. There was a cistern, and men dressed like the guide, and the sound of barking dogs; it smelled of animals and burned tree trunks, of leather and warm bread. Flanked by towers, embattlements and archers, preceded by the commander, for whom the entire march must have been torture, they let themselves be led to the Ceremonial Door. Two men were waiting in the shadows inside, only their legs partially visible in the pool of light the sun made on the flagstone floor. The guide moved aside and the commander said, "Tardon."