Cliff dwellers and humans sat around the evening fire. The midsummer sun had reluctantly settled behind the soaring peaks, leaving clear skies layered in vivid orange and deepest blue above the stark sawtooth silhouette. The meal was over, but the campfire burned brightly, a celebration of survival.

MacArthur's provision of buffalo steaks and hides had changed the dubious nature of the occasion into a festive and social mood. The campers reveled in the telling and retelling of MacArthur' s adventure, embellishments growing with each new version. MacArthur regaled the listeners, humans and cliff dwellers, with outrageous histrionics and exaggerated sign language. The Marine danced around the fire, pulling Tonto along behind him. The young hunter parodied the dancing human, and soon all the hunters were jumping to their feet and dancing a pagan conga, whistling and screeching in a snaking line behind MacArthur, while the humans pounded out a rhythmic chant, clapping and laughing.

The cliff dwellers had taken to joining the humans at their evening campfire. The taller guilders had grown comfortable with the humans, having found living with earthlings more tolerable than living in the woods with their hunter cousins. A tent adjacent to the campfire had been provided for the visiting workers, while the hunters remained content inhabiting the rocks on the wooded peninsula, close to the fish.

Dancing shadows cast by the flickering firelight struck the newly risen stone walls and foundation of the main lodge looming above the fire pit, sheltering the flames from steady northerlies. With the help and guidance of dweller stone carvers, construction of the lodge had moved rapidly, and its stone walls were nearing completion.

The stone carvers were not the only ones to make a difference in the new community. With the frosts behind them, and despite some insect pests, the crops planted from Earth seed flourished. The cliff dweller gardeners were intrigued with the variety and impressed with the robust qualities of the fruit trees and vegetable plants. When Buccari presented them with a sampling of the seeds, they behaved as if they had been given precious gems, falling to their knees in effusive grat.i.tude.

In addition to helping with the crops, the gardeners spent time with Lee gleaning and gathering medicinal roots, tanning agents, and herbs. The gardeners had much earlier shown Lee the dark, pulpy plants by the river, giving her an emphatic caution as to its use-a medicinal narcotic. Using Lizard's writing skills as the communication vehicle, the gardeners described the weed's primary medical benefit-it was a potent but potentially lethal painkiller. MacArthur' s exploits had revealed yet another use for the thick, blackish leaves.

The dancing MacArthur fell to the ground, exhausted, and chirping hunters piled on top of the earthman. Tonto stood on the Marine's chest and whistled sharply, his whistle soaring into the ultrasonic realm as MacArthur suddenly sat up and lifted the dweller high in the air. The other hunters tumbled backwards as the laughing MacArthur regained his feet, hugging Tonto close to his chest. He placed the hunter on the ground and bowed low. The hunters, all of them, bowed in return.

MacArthur flopped on a log, and the other dancers stumbled and hopped back to their seats, tweeting and chirping.

"You didn't see them?" MacArthur asked Chastain and Tatum for the twentieth time since awakening from the thickweed stupor. "They were beautiful. I could smell them!"

"We were too far away, Mac," Tatum answered. "I thought you were dead. And the stink was too much. We both kept pa.s.sing out. I don't know how you were able to walk so far and stay conscious. We thought you were dead for sure."

"Beautiful," MacArthur said softly. "Horses. I smelled them."

"Well, at least now we know how to get close to the buffalo," Chastain said. "That loco weed grows along the river. I picked some."

"Careful with that stuff," MacArthur chided. "My head still hurts."

"Yes, be careful," Lee pleaded. "We need to experiment with it first. It's obviously a mind-altering substance, possibly habit-forming. It may have permanent effects."

"MacArthur's mind don't need any more altering," Tatum offered. "He already comes up with enough crazy ideas. You should have seen him staggering after those buffalo!"

"Don't get him started again!" Shannon shouted, and everyone laughed.

"Why don't you ask Lizard about the horses, Mac?" Buccari asked. She and the guilder had been sitting on adjacent flat rocks, industriously scrawling messages to each other in the flickering firelight. "I could use some help, and since Hudson's still enjoying the sunny south, it looks like you're elected."

"I don't know how much help I'll be," MacArthur responded. The Marine slid next to her and grabbed a writing implement and a clean parchment. She watched as he deftly made the interrogative signs and added a series of action icons describing the hunting activity. Lizard watched.

MacArthur' s iconic skills had progressed markedly, almost on par with Hudson's, but still short of Buccari's. The mood around the campfire became quiet and peaceful, everyone patiently waiting for MacArthur's written query. Dawson hummed as she rocked Adam, the fire crackled and popped, and the modest noises satisfied everyone's need for society.

Buccari moved out of MacArthur' s way and turned her back to the fire so she could more easily puzzle out the long message Lizard had just prepared for her. Two hunters had flown in from the dweller colony late in the day, bringing instructions for Captain. The cliff dwellers spent almost an hour among themselves prior to the evening's feast, and Lizard was communicating the essence of that meeting to her now. Captain sat nearby, watching every move.

Buccari broke the serenity. "The dwellers all leave tomorrow," she said, getting everyone's attention and eliciting groans of disappointment.

"All of them? Even the stone carvers and gardeners?" Lee asked. "Why?"

"First, the bear people will be back soon," Buccari said. All cliff dwellers disappeared into the forests at the first sign of the konish airplane. "Secondly, and more importantly, the hunters must return for a salt mission. The hunters will not leave the guilders here unprotected."

"A salt mission, eh?" MacArthur said, looking up from the drawings.

"We'll miss our friends," Lee said.

"But it will be good to see Mr. Hudson and Chief Wilson again," Dawson said. "I bet they'll have a million sea-stories."

"After two weeks with the bugs," Shannon said, "they'll be glad to get back."

"I don't know," Buccari said. "The way Hudson went on about how warm it was there, neither one may ever come back."

"Finished," MacArthur said, handing Lizard his message. The cliff dweller scanned it before starting his reply, and as usual, the guilder was quick. He handed his reply to MacArthur. On the parchment was a clean and precise line drawing of a muscular, short-legged horse, its mane and tail flowing.

"That's it!" MacArthur shouted. "Look at this! This is what I saw!" He held the drawing up for the others to see, then abruptly sat down and began adding to the message. Buccari watched over his shoulder, quickly grasping MacArthur' s intention.

"They certainly must have thought of it before," she said. "There must be a reason why they haven't used horses to carry salt bags."

"They aren't strong enough to control a horse," MacArthur said, handing Lizard the message.

Lizard looked at the sequence of icons thoughtfully. He communicated with Captain for several minutes, and the hunter became very excited, unusual for the stolid warrior.

"What's his problem?" Fenstermacher yawned.

"We're going to catch us some horses," MacArthur said.

Chapter 34.

Discoveries Two abats banked over the settlement. Standing under the big solitary hardwood tree next to the tombstones, Buccari watched the aircraft. She turned and walked up the hill, away from the cove. This arrival was special: Hudson and Wilson were returning. She dispatched O'Toole and Pet.i.t up the steep trail to the landing area to greet the two men and to escort their alien visitors. Two hours later all had returned to camp.

"Welcome back, Chief!" Goldberg cried, rushing to hug the portly man.

"You're still ugly, Gunner!" Fenstermacher shouted.

"Ohh!" Wilson groaned. "Now I know why I liked being away so much."

The returning men were surrounded. The visiting kones waited patiently, content to let the greetings run their course. Buccari, acknowledging her duty, walked around the knot of people and up to the towering kones, bowing. Et Silmarn removed his helmet and graciously returned the gesture.

"Welcome back...to our settlement," Buccari said slowly.

"Thang yew, Sharl," Et Silmarn responded pa.s.sably. "Yew have-ah done much." His prodigious arm lifted and swept over the construction, sausagelike fingers pointing at the main lodge. Stone walls and chimneys were capped by a st.u.r.dy rafter frame for a high-pitched roof. A corner section and a long run of the pine log palisade were in place, and a plot of vegetables flourished in dark green abundance. Chips of wood lay thick underfoot, and odors of pine resin and sawdust permeated the air. The humans had made their mark.

"We must prepare, Et Silmarn," she replied. "Winter is unforgiving."

Et Silmarn looked to Kateos for help. The female translated quickly.

"Yes! B-berry unfork-ah...even. Winner tooo cold-ah! It b-berry cold now!" The bulky alien clasped his own bulky shoulders, a universal gesture.

Buccari nodded, smiling inwardly, for it was a warm day. She turned to Hudson. "Welcome back-yet again, Nash. You must be getting used to the trip."

"The lodge looks terrific!" Hudson exclaimed.

"O'Toole and Fenstermacher are first rate carpenters, and MacArthur's friends have been a big help," Buccari replied cryptically, referring to the cliff dwellers. Buccari noticed Kateos's questioning expression.

Hudson quickly continued. "The trip's a grind, but they let me fly. It's a big, wild planet, Sharl. It's beautiful...." He paused, his expression speaking for itself.

"I envy you," Buccari said. "You'll have to take me up."

"You bet. The kones want us all to fly south. They're friendly, Sharl," he continued, "and Kateos will be speaking Legion better than you or me pretty soon. She's programming a voice recognition system that translates in real time. It doesn't work too well yet, but wait a few weeks." The konish female's face dropped demurely.

"She's an expert," Hudson continued. "She's asks questions about tenses, grammar, nouns, verbs, sentence structure- everything. It was good to have Chief Wilson along just to give her a new subject to study and give me a break from all the questions."

"I'll bet he taught her some choice words!" Fenstermacher joked.

"Watch it, Fensterman!" Wilson shouted. "Or I'll tell the Lieutenant not to let you go south." Wilson turned to Buccari. "Oh, man, Lieutenant, it's wonderful! Rains a bit, but the place is beautiful-turquoise-blue ocean with wide, sandy beaches. And islands with lagoons. Trees with fruit-we brought some back for the mess. To be honest, I'm looking forward to going back."

Buccari looked at the sun-burnished, unworried face, the clear hazel eyes beseeching permission to return with the kones-a powerful testimony to the allure of the south.

"We missed you, Chief," she said. "Go check out the lodge. Help Tookmanian decide how to lay out the galley-er, the kitchen."

Wilson's face flickered with disappointment as he moved away, taking the bulk of the chattering crew with him. a.s.sisted by Chastain, the kones migrated to their campsite and set up their huge tents, leaving Shannon, Hudson, and Buccari standing alone.

"Hey, Sharl," Hudson said quietly. "Kateos started hitting me up for skinny on HLA drives. She and those two new guys really worked me over."

"What did you tell them?" she asked.

"Nothing worth knowing," Hudson snorted. "Give me a little credit. And watch out, they're recording everything. I mean, they're friendly, but they're d.a.m.n serious about it."

She pondered the implications of Hudson's information. "Gunner sure wants to go back," Shannon said. "Must be nice there."

"It really is," Hudson said softly. "Chief Wilson has found a home. I practically had to tie him down to get him in the abat. You should see him walking bare-a.s.sed naked down those beaches, bald head sunburned and his gut hanging out. You know, Sharl, before we got out of the 'vette, Virgil Rhodes said Wilson would die on a tropical island. Gunner took him seriously. I think he's already picked out the island."

"Well, I'm not ready for him to die," Buccari said impatiently. "We need all hands working-maybe even you, Nash. Winter will be here before we know it, and I'm-we're going to be ready." going to be ready."

"Why not move everyone south?" Hudson asked. "Like the kones want."

Buccari remained silent. She looked past the camp, surveying the verdant valley with its clear lake and frothy waterfalls.

"Welcome back, Nash," she finally said. "Sarge, take Mr. Hudson down and show him what the boys have done." She grabbed Hudson's arm and gently pushed him down the path. Shannon led the way, and the two men headed for the new construction. Buccari followed for a few steps and then stopped. She stared again at the magnificent scenery, as if for the first time. Nagging doubts hectored her.

Hudson's unanswered question had struck a nerve. She thought of Commander Quinn's original reluctance to leave the plateau in favor of the valley prior to the first killing winter. Would they really have been better off in the valley? Or would they have just lasted a little longer, without the cliff dwellers close enough tosave them? Was this another verse of the same song? Should she order everyone south? Or should they persevere, continuing what they had started? Perhaps the coldness of the north was their best protection. Going south would only increase contact with the konish governments, and increased contact would inevitably cause problems. Of that, somehow, she was positive.

Decisions! Decisions! The frustration of leadership-the price of leadership. But Buccari had made up her mind. They would face winter in the valley, and they would be ready for the cold and deprivation. Maybe they would move to the warm and sunny south the next summer-maybe. Yet somehow the thought had no appeal; somehow it was important to stay near the cliff dwellers; somehow it was important to have them as an ally. Perhaps suffering through another winter would change her mind.

She walked over to the kones. Kateos brightened at her approach.

"The war on Kon continues, Sharl," she reported. "We cannotah tell anything new, but we are worried-worried about ourselves. No one knows what-ah to happen. We have not heard-ah what became of Et Avian, not-ah even if he live or died. Et Silmarn is, uh...concerned. He is like brother to Et Avian." Kateos's loquaciousness was unfettered with her increasing command of the human language.

Buccari pushed; perhaps there was something to be gained. "What is the war about, Kateos? What do they fight over?"

"Power. They fight-ah for power. As always." Kateos removed her helmet and leaned onto her forelimbs, putting her eyes at the same level as the eyes of the sitting human.

"Are many kones dying?" Buccari asked.

Kateos snuffled and nodded her head. "The reports are, uh...not clear, but it-ah appear that-ah many kones have died- millions."

"Millions! Is there no concern for loss of life?"

"Yess. Yess, but-ah only as...as one values fuel in rocket, or grain in silo. Our rulers not-ah concern for the ma.s.ses. Unskilled kones-we call them trods trods-are numbers, statistics-po... tential soldiers or laborers or workers," Kateos answered, a metallic note in her deep voice. "Huhsawn, ah... Hudd-sawn, has told-ah me much about your families and about freedom. Our evil system does not-ah permit these ideas." numbers, statistics-po... tential soldiers or laborers or workers," Kateos answered, a metallic note in her deep voice. "Huhsawn, ah... Hudd-sawn, has told-ah me much about your families and about freedom. Our evil system does not-ah permit these ideas."

"My world also has many problems," Buccari said.

"But look at-ah you!" Kateos said. "You-a tiny female-are officer and leader! Leader of warriors. And Huh... Hudd-sawn says that-ah you are s.p.a.ce pilot. That can never, never happen among konish female."

"Perhaps I am not a good example."

"Good example or not-ah, you have reached status of which konish females cannot even dream," Kateos said with a forlorn tone. "And your race has traveled across s.p.a.ce-a, uh.. .miraculous, yes?... a miraculous thing to travel the stars."

Buccari's head jerked upward at the unintended confession. "You mean your race does not travel outside of your own-er, to other stars?"

Kateos looked confused. "Ah, no.. .I should-ah not talk about it-ah. It-ah is great mystery with my people. Kon has been attack-ah from s.p.a.ce. My government-ah feels threat-ah by attacks from s.p.a.ce. We want-ah to know how you fly between stars. We be asking you about-"

"We did not attack you," Buccari said, her mind racing-the kones were not the Killers of Shaula. kones were not the Killers of Shaula. "You attacked us. We came in peace." "You attacked us. We came in peace."

"We not-ah know that-ah. Kon has been attacked before," Kateos rumbled, looking about nervously. "Many kones killed. We a.s.sume you come to attack us again and you tricking us."

"We have never been here," Buccari said. "My race did not attack yours. Who attacked you? When?"

"It was m-many years ago," Kateos stuttered. "P-perhaps your generals keep it-ah hidden, for their own benefit."

"How many years, Kateos?"

"Over four hundred-ah years. Kone years."

Five hundred Earth years! Five hundred years ago earthlings had not even reached Mars, the hyperlight anomaly still a century from being discovered.

"Kateos, how long have kones been traveling to Genellan?"

"Many years, perhaps nine hundred," Kateos replied.

Buccari gulped. Kones had been flying in s.p.a.ce for over twice the time humans had, but they had failed to break the hyperlight barrier. they had failed to break the hyperlight barrier. She was beginning to understand the game. She changed the subject. She was beginning to understand the game. She changed the subject.

"Why do you call yourselves evil? Your race has accomplished much," Buccari said. "Your system works well. You are intelligent. I perceive you to be gentle and good. An evil system would be incapable of producing such beings."

Kateos thought for several seconds. "In many ways our culture, our system, works well. Very well," she remarked. "You have met-ah only scientists and technicians. Most science is the artah and, uh...uh, application of gentle logic. Our social system controls personality. It controls our, uh...dispositions and our intellects. We are b-bred-ah to the task. If we gentle and good, it is b-because it makes us better at our jobs. We are b-bred-ah for job, with traits that-ah you describe."

"Bred to be scientists! How?"