"They don't want to run away. They're waiting for us to go with them," Nico said mildly. "Don Emilio, I had a thought: if we find out where Isaac lives, Signora Sofia will be pleased." The pistol was still in his hand and he kept an eye on his charges, just in case. "Don Carlo will know where we are," he said, glancing at the small lump on his forearm where the GPS transmitter capsule was lodged. "We have guns, and they don't."

"We're not going anywhere with them. We're waiting here for Sofia's escort," Sandoz said, not moving from the ground.

Joseba looked at Sean and then said, "Nico, would you please get Don Emilio some water? Perhaps a little something very plain to eat?" Nico nodded and trudged off toward the camp as Joseba sat down across from Emilio. "Sandoz, do you have any idea what the population of the Jana'ata was, when you were here before?" he asked.

Sandoz shrugged, eyes dull, not really caring that it was starting to rain again. "No. I don't know. Except that it was about three or four percent of the prey population. Maybe six hundred thousand? That's just guess." He looked at Joseba. "Why do you ask?"

Sean and Joseba exchanged glances, and Sean sat down as well. "Listen, Sandoz, the buggers may be lying, but that Rukuei says there're only about fifteen hundred Jana'ata left now." Sandoz looked up sharply and Sean went on. "The Runa've rousted them all off the land. They're scattered, but there're two main groups of several hundred apiece, plus some pockets of survivors too scared t'go near anyone else. The VaN'Jarri live in a valley on their own. They've got barely three hundred Jana'ata among them, with about six hundred Runa in the same settlement."

Joseba leaned forward. "Carnivores generally need at least two thousand individuals, with two hundred and fifty breeding pairs, just to keep the population genetically healthy. Even if Rukuei is underestimating the total, the Jana'ata are very close to extinction," he whispered, as though to speak aloud of this prediction would make it come true. "If he's overestimating it, they're probably doomed." He sat for a while, working it through. "It makes sense, Sandoz. From what we've seen and what Shetri says, the Jana'ata must be living at the absolute margins of their ecological range. Even without the collapse of civilization, this species would be on the edge."

"There's more," Sean said, a little loudly now that the rain had begun in earnest. "There's something goin' on up in the north. I had t'ask twice t'be sure of what I was hearin', but when we asked about them eatin' that froyil, one of them-that Shetri-told us the VaN'Jarri Jana'ata are near t'starvin'. They won't eat Runa." Sandoz looked at him, narrow-eyed. "Brace yersalf: the phrase he used was, The meat's not kosher." Sandoz reared back, and Sean raised a hand. "I swear that's what he said. Apparently this man Shetri's wife, Hanala or whatever her name is, was raised by Sofia Mendes in the south, among the Runa."

Joseba said, "Obviously, there has been a certain amount of cultural exchange. Shetri says his wife is a teacher, but Sandoz-the title he used was 'rabbi'. It's possible that these men are simply lying about not eating Runa, but look at them! They're thin, their coats are dull, they're missing teeth-"

"And they're travelin' with two fine, fat Runa, who don't seem a bit concerned about becomin' anybody's breakfast." Sean hesitated before going on. "And, Sandoz," he said, "listenin' t'this Kitheri? Well, it seems to me that Hanala may be a sort of... I don't know, but I ask myself, What if Moses had been an Egyptian, raised among the Hebrews?"

Sandoz sat open-mouthed, trying to take this in. "You're serious?" he asked, and when Sean nodded, Sandoz cried, "Oh, for God's sake!"

"Precisely," Joseba agreed, and watched without moving as Sandoz stood, soaked to the skin.

"You're hearing what you want to hear!" Sandoz accused. "You're imposing your own folklore on this culture!"

"Perhaps we are," Joseba agreed, from his seat in the mud, "but I came here as both an ecologist and a priest. I want to know about this. I am going north with them, Sandoz. Sean wants to go, too. You can stay here with Nico and wait for Sofia's people to arrive. All we ask is that you don't give them away. We'll take our chances with them-"

With Nico's approach, they fell silent and watched as Sandoz drank water from the canteen and got a little food into himself, refusing to discuss this nonsense further.

But Nico, ordinarily the quietest of them, had something on his mind. "Don Emilio, one of those Jana people has a bad dream like yours," he said, wiping his wet hair back out of his eyes. Sandoz stared at him, and Nico continued, "He dreams of a city burning. He told me. It's from when he was a little boy, he says, but he's seen you there. In the city. In his dream. I think you should ask him about it."

WHICH IS WHY, AFTER CONSIDERABLE ADDITIONAL INTERROGATION AND discussion, eight people of three species finally went north together in secrecy and foul weather. They did not tell Carlo Giuliani of their decision, concerned that the radio was being monitored by the Gayjur government. Knowing now the danger the VaN'Jarri were in, it was Joseba's suggestion that they remove their GPS implants-a small cut each, nothing to be concerned about.

They intended to travel as quickly and inconspicuously as they could, but if anyone questioned them, their story would be simple. The foreigners were friends to Fia. Shetri and Rukuei were VaHaptaa mercenaries who were leading these Runa and the foreigners to the last stronghold of the predators who'd preyed on the Runa since time began. When the place was known, the army could come and clean the last of the djanada out, and then they would be gone, forever.

The VaN'Jarri believed that this was all merely a convincing lie. In fact, it was very nearly the precise truth.

Nico d'Angeli had not really understood what Joseba said about minimum breeding population and species collapse, nor had he followed much of the talk of revolution or religion. But Nico understood very well what Frans had told him before landfall. "I can't find you if you take the GPS implant out, Nico. The people on the Magellan were all lost-no one knows what happened to them, capisce? Never remove this, Nico. As long as you have a transmitter with you, I can find you."

So while the others were loading the boat and making ready to leave, Nico slowly came to the conclusion that it was best for Don Carlo and Frans to know where they were going, even if the others didn't think so. That was why he retrieved one of the discarded implants and put it in his pocket.

He meant no harm.

Central Inbrokar October 2078, Earth-Relative THEY WENT BY RIVER AT FIRST, JANA'ATA AND HUMANS CROWDED INTO the cargo hold, their Runa conspirators topside, calling out greetings to sodden barge passengers and crew as their wakes crossed. The powerboat's batteries were as silent as sail and its passengers almost as quiet, even when there was no one to hear them. One human or another would think of some objection to what he had been told, and would say what was on his mind, and have his doubts assuaged. The VaN'Jarri, too, would venture a question now and then, but the one most eaten by desire to know about the foreigners was also the one most frightened of Sandoz, who had barely spoken since agreeing to go as far as Inbrokar City with them. So Rukuei kept quiet as well.

Not wanting to compromise their safe houses by duplicating their route south, they left the river behind on their second day. Tiyat and Kajpin let the others off near a cave a few cha'ari short of the Tolal bridgehead, and then went on alone, returning the powerboat to the livery, where Tiyat made a show of disputing the damage done to the hull when they'd run the boat aground. Finally Kajpin waved the extra charge off and said expansively, "It's only money! Pay the woman-we'll make it up on that rakar deal." Which led to comfortable small talk about the new rakar plantations, and then to amiable farewells, called loudly over the pounding rain as Tiyat and Kajpin moved off toward town.

"It's only money," Tiyat echoed irritably, as they stopped in the Tolal market district and spent their last few bahli on salt.

"Don't worry," Kajpin told her when they were out of earshot, heading out of town on a road that went northeast. "We can jump a caravan next season!" When they were sure no one was behind them, they veered overland and doubled back toward the south at a trot.

Reunited at the cave without further incident, the party left roads and rivers behind and traveled instead through an endless rolling landscape. Stopping periodically to listen and watch and stand nose to the wind, the VaN'Jarri became increasingly confident that they'd escaped detection. Indeed, there was little left in this monstrous, lovely, depopulated land that bore the imprint of mortal mind or hand. For hours, walking without haste but without rest, they saw nothing but low-growing clumps of lavender-leaved plants with bell-shaped blooms that nodded on wiry stems, battered by rain as warm as blood, and heard nothing but the drumming of rain and the squelching of footsteps, and the lilt of Nico's singing.

"You don't mind?" Sandoz asked the Runa as they walked. "Someone could ask Nico to stop singing."

"I don't mind," Kajpin said.

"It's not as beautiful as Isaac's music," said Tiyat, "but it's nice."

The foreigners carried communications gear, and answered periodic status calls from the Giordano Bruno with laconic reports that sounded bored.

"It's rainin'here like the third ring of hell," Sean said once. "What's the weather look like for tomorrow?"

"Clearing up," Frans told him.

"Thank God for that," was the heartfelt reply. And Sean closed the connection.

THEIR SLEEP WAS BROKEN EARLY NOT BY THUNDER BUT BY THE RADIO transponder's whistle, clear and musical in the scrubbed morning air. It was Frans Vanderhelst, hailing anyone from the Giordano Bruno. Sean answered, yawning, and heard Frans say, "Is everything okay down there?"

"Shit, yes," Sean answered irritably. He nodded agreement as Joseba, bleary-eyed, leaned over to put the transmission on conference so everyone could listen to both sides of the conversation.

"We've lost live traces from three of the four GPS implants. What's going on?"

That brought them fully awake. They had expected questions about the implants eventually, but not this one. "Three of the four?" Sean looked at his companions and saw the story on Nico's face, rosy in the cloudless dawn. Joseba moaned and put his head in his hands. The VaN'Jarri roused as well and began to ask questions, but Sandoz hissed a warning as Sean raised a hand for silence.

"We have three GPS signals at the rendezvous showing no movement for three days," Carlo was saying. "There's another one two hundred and forty kilometers northeast of the site. Are you all right?"

"Yes! We're fine, dammit, except y'woke us all up! Can we talk later? I was havin' a very fine dream-"

"So what's going on with the implants?" John cut in. "Why can't Sofia's escort find you guys? They said the campsite smells of blood. For a minute there, we thought you were dead and eaten! We just talked to Sofia and she's convinced Emilio's been kidnapped by renegade Jana'ata-she's ready to come after you with an army! What's going on?"

Kajpin's ears folded back at the word "army," and the other VaN'Jarri began to show signs of stress. Sean yawned theatrically, and looked around with large, desperate eyes while sputtering, "Christ! Is that you now, Candotti? One question at a time! We're fine, I tell you! The blood was-" Sandoz, struggling to get a brace on, glared a warning at him. "Hang on, now. Sandoz wants to speak to you," Sean said, and handed the transceiver to him with some relief.

"John, this is Emilio. Tell Sofia she watched too many old Westerns with me," Sandoz suggested with a very nice imitation of amusement. "We don't need the U.S. Cavalry riding to the rescue! Wait-have Frans put me through, yes? I'll talk to her directly."

They all waited, tense and silent, as Sandoz walked a little distance away and stood with his back to them. Even so, they could hear his side of the conversation clearly in the still morning air. "Mendes? No, listen to me! We're all right-. Oh, God. Don't cry, Sofia! I'm fine. Truly.... Yes. Everything is fine.... Calm down, okay?" He looked at the others and winced, shaking his head slightly: never tell a woman to calm down. "No, Sofia, listen! That was just a froyil that Joseba shot! Yes-we barbecued it! I decided we should move camp so the blood wouldn't put the escort off. We're not far away."

"Relative to Earth," Joseba muttered.

"I don't know what to tell you about that signal north of the rendezvous site," Emilio said then.

"Not one lie so far," Sean whispered, impressed.

"Maybe the implants are defective?" Sandoz suggested, pacing now. "Or the software's no good?" A pause. "Well, it doesn't matter, because we're fine, okay? Listen, Mendes, we were up kind of late last night and everybody's pretty tired, so we'd like to get a little more rest before we-. Sure! Yes, have them wait right there for us! That's perfect!" he cried, standing still, eyes wide with relief. "You, too. Go back to bed-. Then have breakfast!" he said, smiling now. "Are you all right? Sure? Don't worry about us! We'll be in touch."

"Christ," Sean breathed as Sandoz returned to their circle and sank to the ground. "Remind me never to play poker with you again."

BACK ON THE SHIP, DANNY SHRUGGED. "D. W. YARBROUGH ALWAYS SAID Sofia Mendes could think too damned quick for her own good."

But Frans Vanderhelst was looking at Carlo. "There's nothing wrong with those implants."

"Oh, yeah?" said John. "Look at the screen."

The fourth trace had just gone dead.

"I'M SORRY, DON EMILIO," NICO REPEATED AS JOSEBA POUNDED THE GPS transponder to pieces between two rocks. "Frans said-"

"It's all right, Nico, I understand. You meant well," Emilio muttered, "for all the difference that ever makes."

"The army is coming," Kajpin said. "They think we've taken you hostage-"

"And they know where we are right now," Joseba told them.

"But Sandoz bought us some time," Sean pointed out. "They think we're safe and camped somewhere near the rendezvous site-" Then his face fell further than it normally hung, and he stared balefully at the remains of the GPS implant. "Fack."

Joseba, rock still in hand, went motionless and then closed his eyes, realizing the deception had just been revealed. Only Sandoz had a clue as to what he said for the next few moments, but the burden of his speech was clear even to the VaN'Jarri. "Apologies," he said finally, his face flushed with shame. "I acted in haste."

"Go on without us," Sean urged the VaN'Jarri then. "We'll go back and meet the escort. It's us they're concerned about. Soon as they know we're all right, they'll relax. We can figure out how to get to the N'Jarr later-"

"How much farther is it to Inbrokar?" Sandoz asked Rukuei quietly.

"We could be there by second sunrise today, if we move fast."

"It takes time to mobilize troops," Sandoz said. "We're three days away from the rendezvous site, and it will be farther for them, because they'll have to come overland the whole way, won't they?"

"No, they can use troop barges, but that's slow, too," Kajpin said.

Tiyat began to sway. "They don't need the troops-there'll be militia alerted all over the country. We're cooked."

"I'm sorry," Nico said again. "But-what if we told Signora Sofia that we'll bring back her son? We tell her, Don't follow us. If you do, the deal is off. You cooperate, your boy comes back to you, no harm done." He looked around, hopeful that he had redeemed himself.

"It might work," Sandoz said after a time. He started to laugh, but then sobered and lifted his chin thoughtfully, grew somehow heavier and older before their eyes, and when he spoke it was in the hoarse tones of Marlon Brando, resurrected in the Rakhati sunlight. "We make her an offer she can't refuse."

Joseba looked at Sean, who shrugged, and then put the call through to the Bruno. Emilio took the transceiver and cut off John's demands to know what the hell just happened to that fourth implant. "Don't ask, okay? Just don't ask. I'm going the extra mile, John. I can't tell you more than that. Have Frans put me through to Sofia."

The others watched while he waited, still grinning, for Sofia's connection, but the sense of fun died almost immediately. Reluctant to threaten, he began with an appeal to friendship and trust, but met an icy wall of objection.

"You're right, Sofia," he said. "Absolutely. But we are not under duress-. Listen to me!"

Instead he listened, letting her warn him, plead with him, threaten him, condemn his judgment. "Sofia," he cut in finally, "I have to do this. There is something I have to see for myself. All I'm asking is that you give me some time to work this through-a couple of weeks, maybe. Please. I never asked you for anything before, Sofia. Just this one thing, okay? Give me a chance to see for myself..."

There was no reasoning with her; there never had been. He turned to look at the VaN'Jarri-their faces tight with anxiety, pinched with hunger-and listened to the uncompromising words of a woman he had known long ago.

"Sofia, you leave me no choice," he said finally, hating himself. "I believe I can locate Isaac and bring him back to you, but only on the condition that we are not followed. That's the deal, Mendes. Back off, and I'll do what I can to bring your son home to you."

He closed his eyes as he listened to her tell him what she believed he had become. He didn't argue. Mostly, she was right.

AT MIDDAY THEY CRESTED A LOW RISE THAT GAVE OUT ONTO A FIELD rank with weed, and from that vantage the ruins of Inbrokar could be seen in the milky haze of prairie heat. For a time, Emilio gazed silently at the blackened rubble. It was not the city of his dreams, but the charred gates seemed familiar, and if he closed his eyes, he could almost picture the chiseled stone walls that had once given an illusion of safety.

"Can you smell it?" Rukuei asked him.

"No," Emilio said. "Not yet." Then-a faint sweetness: corruption's ghost. "Yes. I smell it now," he said, and turned to meet Kitheri's eyes: beautiful, haunted, and as weary as his own. "Wait here," Sandoz told the others, and walked with Rukuei down the sloping hill onto the battlefield.

"I was twelve," Rukuei said, measuring his stride to the pace of the small person beside him. "The war was as old as I was. Thirty thousand men died here in a single day, and then a city full of refugees. Within another year or two-a civilization."

Weather and the work of scavengers had made dust or dung of all but the densest elements of bone, but of these, there were many. 'Their blood has been shed like water, round about Jerusalem, and there was none to bury them,' "Sandoz murmured. Here and there, the glint of fragile rusted metal caught the eye as they walked. Bending to examine a helmet, Sandoz saw a single tooth, flat-crowned and broad. "Runa," he remarked, with some surprise. "When did they start wearing armor?"

"Toward the end of the war," Rukuei said.

"I've heard it said: Choose your enemies wisely, for you will become them," Sandoz told him, and was moved to apologize for frightening the young man so badly at their first meeting, but fell silent when he saw Rukuei stiffen.

"My father wore silver and gold," the Jana'ata said quietly, walking toward a gleaming scrap of metal. A finely wrought fastener, ripped loose, trampled into the mud, concealed from gleaners for years, weathering out again sometime during the last rainy season. Rukuei bent to pick it up, but stayed his hand when he noticed something white nearby. The tough, compact bone of an opposable toe, perhaps. And there, a fragment of the heavy nuchal crest from the base of a skull. "We-we cremate our dead," Rukuei said, straightening, looking at the ruins now to escape the sight of scrappy remnants lying on the ground. "So, in some ways, it seemed acceptable that so many died in the fires, after the battle."

But this, he thought. This...

The mechanical whirr of the foreigner's hands brought him back to the present, and Rukuei saw in flesh what had once been merely dream- Emilio Sandoz, on the battlefield of Inbrokar. Stooped over, reaching for the bits of bone and teeth. Carefully picking each small piece up, gathering the remains methodically: Runa and Jana'ata, mingled in death.

Without speaking, Rukuei joined him in this task, and then the others came to help-Kajpin and Tiyat, Sean Fein and Joseba Urizarbarrena, and Shetri Laaks, silently bringing the anonymous dead together. Nico removed his shirt, spreading it out to collect the relics, and soon the quiet was broken by the plaintive melody of "Una furtiva lagrima." As fragmentary as the remains were, there was too much scattered across too broad a field to do right by it all, so when the makeshift shroud was filled, they counted themselves done, and carried what they had gathered to a place inside the ruins, where the smell of weathered char was stronger. They added to it with a smoky pyre built of half-burnt wood pried from what had once been a storage building near the Embassy of Mala Njer.

"What I remember most clearly is my small sister's voice," Rukuei told them as the fire crackled. "All the Paramount's freeborn children were in the embassy-he must have known how it would end, but hoped that there would be perhaps some respect for diplomats." Rukuei laughed-a short, hard sound-at his father's naivete. "My sister was somewhere in the fire. As we ran from the city, I could hear her call my name. A silver wire of sound: Ru-ku-eiiiii..."

That evening, as the light died, he sang for them a poetry of wounds, of loss and of regret and of yearning; of the concentration and intensification of such hurts with each new injury to the soul; of the slackening and rarefaction of pain and sorrow in the dance of life and in the presence of children. In the midst of this, Shetri Laaks stood and stumbled blindly away, hoping to escape the songs' pain, but when he came to rest a good distance from the pyre, he heard a foreigner's footsteps behind him, and knew from the scent that it was Sandoz.

"Tell me," Sandoz said, and his silence was a void that Shetri felt compelled to fill.

"He doesn't mean to hurt me," Shetri whispered. "How can he know? Rukuei thinks children are hope, but they're not! They're terror. A child is a limb that can be torn from you-" Shetri stopped, and tried to slow his breathing, to force it into an even rhythm.

"Tell me," Sandoz said again.

Shetri turned toward the foreigner's voice. "My wife is pregnant, and I fear for her. The Kitheris are small, and Ha'anala nearly died during the last birth-the baby was large in the hindquarters, like a Laaks. Ha'anala hides a great deal. This pregnancy has been very hard. I fear for her, and for the baby. And for myself," he admitted. "Sandoz, shall I tell you what my daughter Sofi'ala asked me when she learned her mother was pregnant again? She asked, Will this baby die, too? She has lost two younger brothers. She expects babies to die. So do I."

He sat down where he stood, heedless of the mud and ash. "I was once an adept of Sti," said Shetri. "I was third-born, and content. Sometimes I long for the time when there was nothing in my life but still water, and the chants. But six must sing together, and I think the others are all dead now, and there is no one who can be spared to learn the ritual. I once believed myself fortunate to become a father but now-. It is an awful thing to love so much. When my first son died..."

"I am sorry for your losses," Sandoz said, sitting down next to him. "When is the new baby due?"

"In a few days, perhaps. Who can tell with women? Maybe it's come already. Maybe it's over." He hesitated. "My first son died of a disease of the lungs." He tapped his chest, so the foreigner understood. "But the second-" He fell silent.

"Tell me," said the foreigner softly.

"The priests of Sti are known-were known for our medicines, our knowledge of how to heal wounds and help the body overcome illness when it was fitting to do so. I could not stand to watch Ha'anala die, so I tried to help her. There are drugs to ease pain..." It was a long while before he could finish. "It was my fault that the child was stillborn," he said at last. "I only wanted to help Ha'anala."

"I, too, watched a child dear to me die. I killed her," Sandoz told him plainly. "It was, I suppose, an accident, but I was responsible."

There was lightning to the east; for a moment Shetri could see the foreigner's face. "So," Shetri said with a soft grunt of commiseration. "I grant parity."

They listened for a time, waiting for the low rumble of thunder to reach them. When the foreigner spoke again, his voice was soft but clear in the darkness. "Shetri, you risked a great deal to come south. What did you expect us to do? We are but four men, and foreigners! What do you want from us?"

"Help. I don't know. Just-some new idea, some way to make them listen! We've tried everything we can think of, but.... Sandoz, we are no danger to anyone anymore," Shetri cried, too desperate to be ashamed. "We wanted you to see that, to tell them that! We're not asking them for anything. Just leave us alone! Let us live. And-if we could just move a little farther south, where the cranil and piyanot are, I think we could feed ourselves decently. We've learned ways to take wild meat - we can support ourselves without taking any Runa. We could even teach Athaansi's people, and then they'd stop the raiding! If we could just get someplace warmer - if we could keep the women better fed! The mountains are killing us!"

Nico was singing now: "Un bel d," the notes lifting on the night breeze.