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Its occupant-naked, unshaven, and looking very much the wolfling-stared down at Athaclena with an expression that would have burned even without the loathing he radiated. To Athaclena it felt as if the little glade were saturated with the prisoner's hatred. She planned to keep her visit as short as possible.
"I thought you would want to know. The Gubru Triumvirate has declared a protocol truce under the Rules of War," she told Major Prathachulthorn. "The ceremonial site is now sacrosanct, and no armed force on Garth can act except in self-defense for tsmall banner standshe duration."
Prathachulthorn spat through the bars. "So? If we'd attacked when I planned, we'd have made it before this."
"I find it doubtful. Even the best plans are seldom executed perfectly. And if we were forced to abort the mission at the last minute, every secret we had would have been revealed for nothing."
"That's your opinion," Prathachulthorn snorted.
Athaclena shook her head. "But that is not the only or even the most imsmall banner standsportant reason." She had grown tired of fruitlessly explaining the nuances of Galactic punctilio to the Marine officer, but somehow she found the will to try one more time. "I told you before, major. Wars are known to feature cycles of what you humans sometimes call 'tit-for-tat' where one side punishes the other side for its last insult, and then that other side retaliates in turn. Left unconstrained, this can escalate forever! Since the days of the Progenitors, there have been developed rules which help keep such exchanges from growing out of all proportion."
Prathachulthorn cursed. "Damn it, you admitted that our raid would've been legal if done in time!"
She nodded. "Legal, perhaps. But it also would have served the enemy well. Because it would have been the last action before the truce!"
"What difference does that make?"
Patiently, she tried to explain. "The Gubru have declared a truce while still in an overpowering position of strength, major. That is considered honorable. You might say they 'win points' for that.
"But their gain is multiplied if they do so immediately after taking damage. If they show restraint by not retaliating, the Gubru are then performing an act of fsmall banner standsorbearance. They gather credit-"
"Ha!" Prathachulthorn laughed. "Fat lot of good it'd do them, with their ceremonial site in ruins!"
Athaclena inclined her head. She really did not have time for this. If she spent too long here, Lieutenant McCue might suspect that this was where her missing commander was being hidden. The Marines had already swooped down on several possible hiding places.
"The upshot might have been to force Earth to finance a new site as a replacement," she said.
Prathachulthorn stared at her. "But-but we're at warl"
She nodded, misunderstanding him. "Exactly. One cannot allow war without rules, and powerful neutral forces to enforce them. The alternative would be barbarism."
The man's sour look was her only answer.
"Besides, to destroy the site would have implied that humans do not want to see their clients tested and judged for promotion! But now it is the Gubru who must pay honor-gild for this truce. Your clan has gained a segment of status by being the asmall banner standsggrieved party, unavenged. This sliver of propriety could turn out to be crucial in the days ahead."
Prathachulthorn frowned. For a moment he seemed to concentrate, as if a thread of her logic hung almost within reach. She felt his attention shimmer as he tried . . . but then it faded. He grimaced and spat again. "What a load of crap. Show me dead birds. That's currency I can count. Pile them up to the level of this cage, little Miss Ambassador's Daughter, and maybe, just maybe I'll let you live when I finally break out of here."
Athaclena shivered. She knew how futile it was to try to hold a man such as this prisoner. He should have been kept drugged. He should have been killed. But she could not bring herself to do either, or to further- prejudice the fate of the chims in her cabal by involving them in such crimes.
"Good day, major," she said. And turned to go.
He did not shout as she left. In a way, the parsimonious use he made of his threats made those few seem all the more menacing and believable.
She took a hidden trail from the secret glade over a shoulder of the mountain, past warm springs that hissed and steamed uncertainly. At the ridge crest Athaclena had to draw in her tendrils to keep them from being battered in the autumn wind. Few clouds could be seen in the sky, but the air was hazy with dust blowing in from faraway deserts.
Hanging from a nearby branch she encountered one of the parachutelike kite and spore pod combinations blown up here from some field of plate ivy. The autumn dispersal was fully under way now. Fortunately, it had begun in earnest more than two days ago, before the Gubru announced their truce. That fact might turn out to be very imporsmall banner standstant indeed.
The day felt odd, more so than any time since that night of terrible dreams, shortly before she climbed this mountain to wrestle with her parents' fierce legacy.
Perhaps the Gubru are warming up their hyperwave shunt, again.
She had since learned that her fit of dreams on that fateful night had coincided with the invaders' first test of their huge new facility. Their experiments had let surges of unallocated probability loose in all directions, and those who were psychically sensitive reported bizarre mixtures of deathly dread and hilarity.
That sort of mistake did not sound like.the normally meticulous Gubru, and it seemed to be validation of Fiben Bolger's report, that the enemy had serious leadership problems.
Was that why tutsunucann collapsed so suddenly and violently that evening? Was all that loose energy responsible for the terrific power of her s'ustru'thoon rapport with Uthacal thing?
Could that and the subsequent tests of those great engines explain why the gorillas had begun behaving so very strangely?
All Athaclena knew for certain was that she felt nervous and afraid. Soon, she thought. It will all approach climax very soon.
She had descended halfway down the trail leading back to her tent when a pair of breathless chims emerged from the forest, hurrying^ uphill toward her. "Miss . . small banner stands. miss ..." one of them breathed. The other held his side, panting audibly.
Her initial reading of their panic triggered a brief hormone rush, which only subsided slightly when she traced their fear and kenned that it did not come from an enemy attack. Something else had them terrified half out of their wits.
"Miss Ath-Athaclena," the first chim gasped. "You gotta come quick!"
"What is it, Petri? What's happening?"
He swallowed. "It's the Villas. We can't control 'em anymore!"
So, she thought. For more than a week the gorillas' low, atonal music had been driving their chim guardians to nervous fits. "What are they doing now?"
"They're leaving!" the second messenger wailed plaintively.
She blinked. "What did'you say?"
Petri's brown eyes were filled with bewilderment. "They're leaving. They just got up and left! They're headin' for the Sind, an' there doesn't seem t'be anythin' we can do to stop "em!"
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82
Uthacalthing
Their progress toward the mountains had slackened considerably recently. More and more of Kault's time seemed to be spent laboring over his makeshift instruments . . . and in arguing with his Tymbrimi companion.
How quickly things change, Uthacalthing thought. He had labored long and hard to bring Kault to this fever pitch of suspicion and excitement. And now he found himself recalling with fondness their earlier peaceful comradeship-the long, lazy days of gossip and reminiscences and common exile-however frustrating they had seemed at the time.
Of course that had been when Uthacalthing was_whole, when he had beensmall banner stands able to look upon the world through Tymbrimi eyes, and the softening veil of whimsy.
Now? Uthacalthing knew that he had been considered dour and serious by others of his race. Now, though, they would surely think him crippled. Perhaps better off dead.
Too much was taken from me, he thought, while Kault muttered to himself in the corner of their shelter. Outside, heavy gusts blew through the veldt grasses. Moonlight brushed long hillcrests that resembled sluggish ocean waves, locked amid a rolling storm.
Did she actually have to tear away so much? he wondered, without really being able to feel or care very much.
Of course Athaclena had hardly known what she was doing, that night when she decided in her need to call in the pledge her parents had made. S'ustru'thoon was not something one trained for. A recourse so drastic and used so seldom could not be well described by science. And by its very nature, s'ustru'thoon was something one could do but once in one's lifetime.
Anyway, now that he looked back upon it, Uthacalthing remembered something he hadn't noticed at the time.small banner stands
That evening had been one of great tension. Hours beforehand he had felt disturbing waves of energy, as if ghostly half-glyphs of immense power were throbbing against the mountains. Perhaps that explained why his daughter's call had carried such strength. She had been tapping some outside source!
And he remembered something else. In the s'ustru'thoon storm Athaclena triggered, not everything torn from him had gone to her!
Strange that he had not thought of it until now. But Uthacalthing now seemed vaguely to recall some of his essences flying past her. But where they had actually been bound he could not even imagine. Perhaps to the source of those energies he had felt earlier. Perhaps . . .
Uthacalthing was too tired to come up with rational theories. Who knows? Maybe they were drawn in by Garth lings. It was a poor joke. Not even worth a tiny smile. And yet, the irony was encouraging. It showed that he had not lost absolutely everything.
"I am certain of it now, Uthacalthing." Kault's voice was low and confident as the Thennanin turned to face him. He put aside the instrument he had constructed out of odd items salvaged from the wrecked pinnace.
"Certain of what, colleague?"
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