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ircle of close…pressed beings。 Indeed； the bargain contains inherent elegance。
〃How shall we know that all the items will be accounted for in this way？〃 Ro…kenn asks。
〃To some extent； you must trust to luck。 You were gamblers ing on this mission in the first place； were you not； mighty Rothen？ I can tell you this。 We have no grand desire to have these images arrive across the ages for Institute lawyers to pore over； looking for reasons to punish our own species…cousins； still roaming the stars。 In their hardness and durability； these plates are an insult to our own goal on this world； to be shriven down to innocence。 To earn a second chance。〃
Ro…kenn ponders this。
〃It seems we may have e to Jijo a few thousand years too soon。 If you succeed in following your Path； this world will be a treasure trove。〃
His meaning is not clear at first； then a mutter passes through the crowd； from urrish snorts to qheuenish hisses and finally booming hoonish laughter。 Some are impressed by Ro…kenn's wit； others by the implied pliment…that the Rothen would wish to adopt any presentient races that we Six might bee。 But that reaction is not universal。 Some of those assembled seethe angrily； rejecting any notion of adoption by Ro…kenn's folk。
Don't we/i find this anger silly； my rings？ Have client races any control over who bees their patron？ Not according to lore we've read。
But those books will be dust long before any of this es to pass。
〃Shall we swear oaths？〃 Ro…kenn asks。 〃This time based on the most pragmatic assurance of all…mutual deterrence？
〃By this new arrangement； we shall depart in our ship； waiting only till our scout craft returns from its final mission； choking back whatever bitterness we feel over the foul murder of our rades。 In return； you all vow to forget our intrusion and our foolish effort to speak through the voice of your Holy Egg。〃
〃It is agreed；〃 replies Knife…Bright Insight； clicking two claws。 〃Tonight we'll confer and choose a riddle whose secret key will be told to you。 When next your kind es to Jijo； may it be to find a world of innocents。 That key will guide you to the hiding place。 You may then remove the dross images。 Our deal will be done。〃
Hope washes over the crowd； striking our rewq as a wave of soft green tremors。
Can we credit the possibility； my rings？ That the Six might live to see a happy ending？ To the zealots this seems all that they desired。 Their young leader dances jubilation。 Now there will be no punishment for their violent acts。 Rather； they will be known as heroes of the mons。
What do you say； my ring？
Our second cognition…torus reminds us that some heretics might prefer that angry fire and plagues rid Jijo of this infestation called the Six。 And yes； there is yet another； even smaller heretical fringe。 Eccentrics who foresee our destiny lying in a different direction…scarcely hinted by sacred scrolls。 Why do you bring this up； my 'ring？ What possible relevance can such nonsense have； at this time and place？
Scribes write down details of the pact。 Soon High Sages will be called to witness and assent。 （Prepare； my lower rings！） Meanwhile； we ponder again the anomaly brought to our waxy notice by the rewq； which still conveys vexing colors from Ro…kenn。 Could they be shades of deceit！ Deceit and amusement！ Eager gladness to accept our offer； but only in appearance； buying time until…
Stop it； we mand our second ring； which gets carried away all too easily。 It has read too many novels。 We do not know the Rothen well enough to read subtle； plex meanings in his alien visage。
Besides； don't we have Ro…kenn trapped？ Has he not reason to fear the images on those plates of hard metal？ Logically； he dare not risk them being passed on to incriminate his race； his line。
Or does he know something we do not？
Ah…what a silly question to ask； when pondering a star…god！
While hope courses the crowd； i/we grow more nervous by the dura。 What if they care nothing about the photographs？ Then Ro…kenn might agree to anything； for it would not matter what vows were signed； once his almighty ship arrives。 From that point on； with his personal safety assured。。。
。。。
we never get a chance to plete that dripping contemplation。 For suddenly； something new happens！ Far too quickly for wax to ooze。
。。。
It begins with a shrill human cry…
One of the sycophants； a devoted Rothen…follower； points behind the star…beings； toward the raised bier where their two dead rades lie…
Silky cloths had been draped across the two who were slain in the explosion。 But now we see those coverings are pulled back； exposing the late Rothen and the late sky…human…
Do we now perceive Bloor the Portraitist； poised with his recording device； attempting to photograph the faces of the dead！
Bloor ignores growls of anger rising from those…who…follow…the…Rothen…as…patrons。 Calmly； he slides out one exposed plate and inserts another。 He appears entranced； focused on his art； even as attention turns his way from Rann； then an outraged Ro…kenn； who screams in terse Galactic Six…
Bloor glimpses the swooping robot and has time to perform one last act of professionalism。 With his fragile body； the portraitist shields his precious camera and dies。
Have patience； you lesser rings that lie farthest from the senses。 You must wait to caress these memories with our inner breath。 For those who squat higher up our tapered cone； events e as a flurry of muddled images。
Behold…the livid anger of the star…gods； apoplectic with affronted rage！
Observe…the futile cries of Lester； Vubben； and Phwhoon…dau； beseeching restraint！
Witness…Bloor's crumpled ruin； a smoldering heap！
Note…how the crowd backs away from the violence； even as other dark…clad figures rush inward from the forest rim！
Quail…from the roaring robots； charging up to strike； ready to slay at mand！
Above all； stare…at the scene right before us； the one Bloor was photographing when he died。。。。
An image to preserve as long as this tower of rings stands。
Two beings lie side by side。
One； a human female； seems posed in death； her newly washed face serene； apparently at peace。
The other figure had seemed equally tranquil when we saw it last； before dawn。 Ro…pol's visage was like an idealized human； impressive in height and breadth of brow； in strong cheekbones and the set of her womanlike chin； which in life had sustained a winning smile。
That is not what we see now！
Rather； a quivering thing； suffering its own death tremors； creeps off of Ro…pol's face。。。 taking much of that face with it！ The very same brow and cheek and chin we had been pondering…these make up the body of the creature； which must have ridden the Rothen as a rewq rides one of the Six； nestled so smoothly in place that no join or seam was visible before。
Does this explain the dissonance？ The clashing colors conveyed by our veteran rewq？ When some parts of Ro…kenn's face relayed tart emotions； others always seemed cool； unperturbed； and friendly。
It crawls aside； and onlookers gasp at what remains…a sharply narrower face； chinless and spiny； with cranial edges totally unlike a human being's。
Gone is the mirage of heavenly eliness in Earthling terms。 Oh； the basic shape remains humanoid； but in a tapered； predatory caricature of our youngest sept。
〃Hr…rm。。。 I have seen this face before；〃 croons Phwhoon…dau； stroking his white beard。 〃In my readings at Biblos。 An obscure race； with a reputation for…〃
Rann whips the coverings back over the corpses； while Ro…kenn shrilly interrupts； 〃This is the final out…
Until now。
The Rothen points to Rann； manding…〃Break radio silence and recall Kunn； now！〃
〃The prey will be warned；〃 Rann objects； clearly shaken。 〃And the hunters。 Dare we risk…〃
〃We'll take that chance。 Obey now！ Recall Kunn； then clear all of these away。〃
Ro…kenn motions at the crowd； the sycophants； and all six sages。
〃No one leaves to speak of this。〃
The robots start to rise； crackling with dire strength。 A moan of dread escapes the crowd。
Then…as is sometimes said in Earthling tales…All Hell Breaks Loose。
Our rewq now clearly show Ro…kenn as two beings； one a living mask。 Gone is the patient amusement； the pretense at giving in to blackmail。 Until now； we had nothing to blackmail with。
The Stranger
He strums the dulcimer slowly； plucking one low note at a time； feeling nervous over what he plans to attempt； yet also pleased by how much he is remembering。
About urs； for instance。 Ever since first regaining consciousness aboard the little riverboat； he had tried to pin down why he felt so friendly toward the four…footed beings； despite their prickly； short…tempered natures。 Back at the desert oasis； before the bloody ambush； he had listened to the ballad recited by the traitor Ulgor； without understanding more than a few click…phrases； here and there。 Yet the rhythmic chant had seemed strangely familiar； tugging at associations within his battered brain。
Then； all at once； he recalled where he heard the tale before。 In a bar； on faraway…
on faraway…
Nam