Transcendence

Chapter Fifteen

The Indulgence arrowed at the surface of the planet in a suicide trajectory, held in the grip of a beam of startling yellow that controlled its movement absolutely. Nothing that Darya Lang did with the drive made a scrap of difference.

Her two companions were worse than useless. Tally reported their position and computed impact velocity every few seconds, in a loud, confident voice that made her want to scream, while Dulcimer, the “Master Pilot of the spiral arm” who claimed to thrive on danger, had screwed himself down tight into a moaning lump of shivering green. “I’m going to die,” he said, over and over. “I’m going to die. Oh, no, I don’t want to die.”

“Seven seconds to impact,” Tally said cheerfully. “Approach velocity two kilometers a second and steady. Just listen to the wind on the hull! Four seconds to impact. Three seconds. Two seconds. One second.”

And then the ship stopped. Instantly — just a moment before it hit the ground. They were hovering six feet up, no movement, no deceleration, no feeling of force, not even—

“Hold tight!” Darya shouted. “Free-fall.”

No feeling even of gravity. Dulcimer’s scoutship fell free in the fraction of a second until it smacked into the surface of Genizee with a force that jarred Darya’s teeth. Dulcimer rolled across the floor, a squeaking ball of green rubber.

“Approach velocity zero,” E.C. Tally announced. “The Indulgence has landed.” The embodied computer was sitting snug in the copilot’s seat, neurally connected to the data bank and main computation center of the Indulgence. “All ship elements are reporting normal. The drive is working; the hull has not been breached.”

Darya was beginning to understand why she might be ruined forever for academic life. Certainly, the world of ideas had its own pleasures and thrills. But surely there was nothing to compete with the wonderful feeling of being alive, after knowing without a shadow of doubt that you would be dead in one second. She took her first breath in ages and stared at the control boards. Not dead, but certainly down, on the surface of an alien world. A possibly hostile world. And — big mistake, Hans Rebka would have planned ahead better — not one of their weapons was at the ready.

“E.C., give us a perimeter defense. And external displays.”

The screens lit. Darya had her first view of Genizee — she did not count the brief and terrifying glimpses of the surface as the ship swooped down at it faster and faster.

What she saw, after weeks of imagining, was an anticlimax. No monsters, no vast structures, no exotic scenery. The scoutship rested on a plain of dull, gray-green moss, peppered with tiny flecks of brilliant pink. Off to the left stood a broken region of fanged rocks, half hidden by cycads and tall horsetail ferns. The tops of the plants were tossing and bending in a strong wind. On the other side stretched an expanse of blue water, sparkling with the noonday lightning of sunbeams reflected from white- topped waves. Now that she could see the effects of the wind, Darya also heard it buffeting at the hull of the Indulgence.

There was no way of telling where the seedship had landed. The chance that a pair of ships would arrive even within sight of each other, on a world with hundreds of millions of square kilometers of land, was negligible. But Darya reminded herself that she had not landed — she and the Indulgence had been landed, and the same may have been true of Hans Rebka and the seedship.

“Air breathable,” Tally said. “Suits not required.”

“Do you have enough information to compute where the seedship made planetfall?”

Instead of replying, E.C. Tally pointed to one of the display screens that showed an area behind the Indulgence. A long, shallow scar in the moss revealed an area of black mud of just the right width. But there was no evidence of the ship itself.

Darya scanned the whole horizon at high resolution. There was no sign of Hans and his party. No sign of Zardalu; no sign of any animal life bigger than a mouse. Other than the disturbed area of moss, nothing suggested that the seedship was anywhere within five thousand kilometers of the Indulgence. And — her brain should have been working earlier, but better late than never — the message drone could be launched only when the seedship was in orbit. So although the ship might have landed there, it was unlikely by this time to be anywhere close-by. Rebka and the others were probably far away. What should she do next? What would Hans Rebka or Louis Nenda do in such a situation?

“Open the hatch, E.C.” She needed time to think. “I’m going to take a look outside. You stay here. Keep me covered, sound and vision, but don’t shoot at anything unless you hear me shout. And don’t talk to me unless you think there’s something dangerous.”

Darya stepped down onto the surface, her feet sinking an inch into soft mud covered with a dense and binding thicket of moss. Close up, the bright spots were revealed as little perfumed flowers, reaching up on hair-thin stalks of pale pink from the low ground cover of the plants. Every blossom was pointing directly at the noon sun. Darya walked forward, feeling guilty as each step crushed fragile and fragrant beauty. She walked down to the shore, where the moss ended and an onshore wind was carrying long, crested breakers onto pearly sand. She sat down above the high-water mark and stared at the moving water. A few yards in front of her feet the shore was alive with inch-long brown crustaceans, scuttling frantically up and down to try to stay level with the changing waterline. If this region was typical, Genizee was a fine world on which to live, an unlikely spawning ground for the most feared species of the spiral arm.

“Professor Lang.” E.C. Tally’s voice in her earpiece interrupted her thoughts. “May I speak?”

Darya sighed. The interruptions were coming before she had even started to generate ideas. “What do you want, E.C.?”

“I wish you to be aware of what this scoutship’s sensors are reporting. Four organisms — very large organisms — are approaching you. Because of their location, however, I am unable to provide an image or an identification.”

That did not make sense to Darya. Either the ship’s sensors could see what was coming, or they could not. “Where are they, E.C.? Why can’t you get an image?”

“They are in the water. About forty meters offshore from where you are sitting, and coming closer. We are unable to obtain images because the sensors are not designed for good underwater sighting. I disobeyed your instructions and spoke to you of this because although the weapons of the Indulgence are activated, you forbade me to shoot them without your command. But I thought you would like to know—”

“My God.” Darya was on her feet and backing away from the wind-tossed water. Every random surge in the breakers became the head of a huge beast. She could hear Hans Rebka lecturing her: Don’t judge a planet by first appearances.

“Although what you said was not, strictly speaking, a shout, if you wish me to fire, I can certainly do so.”

“Don’t shoot anything.” Darya hurried back toward the Indulgence. “Just keep watching,” she added as she rounded the curve of the hull and headed for the port from which she had exited. “Watch, and I’ll be back inside in—”

Something rose from its crouching position on the gray-green moss and sailed toward her in a long, gliding leap. She gasped with shock, tried to jump away, and tripped over her own feet. Then she was sprawled on the soft turf, staring at eyes that seemed as wide and startled as her own.

“Tally!” She could feel her heart pounding in her throat. “For heaven’s sake, why didn’t you tell me…”

“You gave specific instructions.” The embodied computer was all wounded innocence. “Do not speak, you said, unless you think there is something dangerous. Well, that’s just J’merlia, walking all nice and peaceful. We agree that he’s not dangerous, don’t we?”

“There was evidence of Zardalu presence,” J’merlia said. “But when Captain Rebka and the others entered the buildings, they were all empty.”

The Lo’tfian was leading the way, with E.C. Tally and Dulcimer just behind. A few minutes cuddled up next to the main reactor of the Indulgence, added to J’merlia’s assurance that the members of the party who had landed earlier were all alive and well, had worked wonders. The Chism Polypheme was three shades lighter, his apple-green helix was less tightly coiled, and he was bobbing along jauntily on his muscular spiral tail.

Darya was walking last, uncomfortable about something she could not put a name on. Everything was fine. So why did she feel uneasy? It had to be the added sense that Hans Rebka insisted any human had the potential to develop. It was a faint voice in the inner ear, warning that something — don’t ask what — was not right. Hans Rebka swore that this voice must never be ignored. Darya had done her best. The defense systems of the Indulgence were intelligent enough to recognize the difference in appearance of different life-forms. Darya had commanded the ship to allow entry of any of the types present in their party, but to remain tight-closed to anything that remotely resembled a Zardalu. J’merlia had said that the buildings were empty, but who knew about the rest of the area?

As they approached the cluster of five buildings Darya realized that the structures must actually be visible from the place where the Indulgence had landed. It was their odd shapes, matching the natural jutting fingers of rock, that made them easy to miss. They were built of fine-grained sandy cement, the same color as the beach and the rock spurs. One had to come close to see that they rose from a level, sandy spit of land and must be buildings.

“I went into orbit with the seedship and launched the message drone that told the path through the singularities,” J’merlia went on. “The others remained here.”

“And they are in the buildings now?” They were halfway along the projecting point of land; still Darya could find no cause for her uneasiness.

“I certainly have not seen them emerge.”

Darya decided that it must be the manner of the Lo’tfian’s answers. J’merlia was usually self-effacing to the point of obsequiousness, but now he was cool, laconic, casual. Maybe it was freedom from slavery, at last asserting itself. They had all been wondering when that would happen.

J’merlia had paused by the first of the buildings. He swiveled his pale-yellow eyes on their short stalks and stabbed one forelimb at the entrance. “They went in there.”

As though the word was a signal, a blue flicker moved in the dark recesses of the building. Darya went past Dulcimer and E.C. Tally and craned forward for a better look. As she did so, there was a scream from behind and something banged hard in her back and clung to her. She managed to keep her feet and turn. It was the Chism Polypheme, collapsing against her.

“Dulcimer! You great lout, don’t do that.”

The Polypheme was blubbering and groaning, wrapping his nine-foot length around her and clinging to her with his five little arms. Darya struggled to break loose, wondering what was wrong with him, until suddenly she could see past Dulcimer and E.C. Tally, along the spur of land that led back to the beach.

Zardalu.

Zardalu of all sizes, scores of them, still dripping with seawater. They blocked the return path along land, and they were rising on all sides from the sea. And now she also knew the nature of that blue flicker inside the building behind her.

Impossible to run, impossible to hide. Darya felt sympathy with Dulcimer for the first time. Blubbering and groaning was not a bad idea.

Humans, Cecropians — maybe even Zardalu — might entertain the illusion that there were things in the universe more interesting than the acquisition of information. Perhaps some of them even believed it. But E.C. Tally knew that they were wrong — knew it with the absolute certainty that only a computer could know.

Nothing was more fascinating than information. It was infinite in quantity, or effectively so, limited only by the total entropy of the universe; it was vastly diverse and various; it was eternal; it was available for collection, anywhere and anytime. And, perhaps best of all, E.C. Tally thought with the largest amount of self-satisfaction that his circuits permitted, you never knew when it might come in useful.

Here was an excellent example. Back on Miranda he had learned from Kallik the language she used to communicate with the Zardalu. It was an ancient form, employed back when the Hymenopts had been a Zardalu slave species. Most of the spiral arm would have argued that learning a dead language used only to speak to an extinct race was an idiotic waste of memory capacity.

But without it, E.C. Tally would have been unable to communicate with his captors in even the simplest terms.

The Zardalu had not, to Tally’s surprise, torn their four captives apart in the first few moments of encounter. But they had certainly let everyone know who was boss. Tally, whisked off his feet and turned upside down in the grasp of two monstrous tentacles, had heard an “Oof!” from J’merlia and Darya Lang on one side, and a gargling groan from Dulcimer on the other. But those were sounds of surprise and disorientation, not of pain. Tally himself was moved in against a meter-wide torso of midnight blue, his nose squashed against rubbery ammoniac skin. Still upside down, he saw the ground flashing past him at a rare rate. A moment later, before he had time to take a breath, the Zardalu that held him was plunging under the water.

Tally overrode the body’s reflex that wanted to breathe. He kept his mouth closed and reflected, with some annoyance, that a few more minutes of this, and he would have to be embodied yet again, even though the body he was wearing was in most respects as good as new. And it was becoming more and more determined to breathe water, no matter how much he tried to block the urge. Tally cursed the designers of the computer/body interface who had left the reflexes organic, when he could certainly have handled them with ease. Don’t breathe, don’t breathe, don’t breathe. He sent the order to his body with all his power.

The breathing reflex grew stronger and stronger. His lips were moving — parting — sucking in liquid. Don’t breathe!

In midgulp he was turned rapidly through a hundred and eighty degrees and placed on his feet.

He coughed, spat out a mouthful of brackish water, and blinked his eyes clear. He glanced around. He stood at the edge of a great shallow upturned bowl, forty or fifty meters across, with a raised area and a gray circular parapet at its center. Two tentacles of the Zardalu were loosely wrapped around him. Another pair were holding Dulcimer, who was coughing and choking and seemed to have taken in a lot more water than Tally. The wall of the bubble was pale blue. Tally decided that it was transparent, they were underwater, and its color was that of the sea held at bay outside it.

Of Darya Lang and J’merlia there was no sign. Tally hoped they were all right. So far as he could tell, the treatment he had received was not intended to kill or maim — at once. But there was plenty of time for that.

And he could think of a variety of unpleasant ways that it might happen.

One of them was right in front of him. At first sight the space between Tally and the raised center of the room was a lumpy floor, an uneven carpet of pale apricot. But it was moving. The inside of the chamber was a sea of tiny heads, snapping with sharp beaks at anything in sight. Miniature tentacles writhed, tangling each with its neighbor.

They were in an underwater Zardalu breeding ground. A rapid scan counted more than ten thousand young — up from a total of fourteen just a few months earlier. Zardalu bred fast.

He was recording full details of the scene for possible future use by others when the Zardalu lifted him and Dulcimer and carried them effortlessly forward, on through the sea of waving orange tentacles. The little Zardalu made no attempt to get out of the way. They stood their ground and snapped aggressively at the base of the adult Zardalu as it passed. In return, the infants were swatted casually out of the way by leg-thick tentacles, with a force that sent them flying for many meters.

Tally and Dulcimer were dropped before a hulking Zardalu squatted on the waist-high parapet of the inner ring of the bowl. This alien was a real brute, far bigger than the one that had been carrying them. Tally could see a multicolored sheath of webbing around its thick midriff, marked with a pattern of red curlicues.

It looked familiar. He took a closer look at the Zardalu itself. Surprise! He recognized the creature. To most people, those massive midnight-blue torsos, bulging heads, and cruel beaks might have made all Zardalu identical, but Tally’s storage and recall functions were of inhuman accuracy and precision.

And now, at last, that “wasted” effort of language learning back on Miranda could pay off.

“May I speak?” Tally employed the pattern of clicks and whistles that he had learned from Kallik. “This may sound odd, but I know you.”

The Zardalu behind Tally at once smacked him flat to the slimy floor and muttered a warning growl, while the big one in front writhed and wriggled like a tangle of pythons.

“You speak.” The king-size Zardalu leaned forward, producing the whistling utterances with the slitted mouth below its vicious beak. “You speak in the old tongue of total submission. But that tongue is to be spoken by slaves only when commanded. The penalty for other use by slaves is death.”

“I am not a slave. I speak when I choose.”

“That is impossible. Slaves must speak the slave tongue, while only submissive beings may speak it. The penalty for other beings who speak the slave tongue is death. Do you accept total slavery? If not, the young are ready. They have large appetites.”

There was a nice logical problem here on the question of nonslaves who chose to use the slave tongue, but Tally resisted the temptation to digress. The Zardalu in front of him was reaching down with a powerful tentacle. Flat in the slime next to Tally, Dulcimer was gibbering in terror. The Chism Polypheme could not understand anything that was being said, but he could see the vertical slit of a mouth, and above it the up-curved sinister beak, opening and closing and big enough to bite a human — or a Polypheme! — in two.

“Let’s just agree that I can speak, and defer the slave question,” Tally said. “The main thing is, I know you.”

“That is impossible. You dare to lie? The penalty for lying is death.”

An awful lot of things in the Zardalu world seemed to require the death penalty. “It’s not impossible.” Tally lifted his head again, only to be pushed back down into the slime by the junior Zardalu behind him. “You were in the fight on Serenity, the big Builder construct. In fact, you were the one who grabbed hold of me and pulled me to bits.”

That stopped the questing tentacle, a few inches from Tally’s left arm. “I was in battle, true. And I caught one of your kind. But I killed it.”

“No, you didn’t. That was me. You pulled my arms off, remember, first this one, then this one.” Tally held up his intact arms. “Then you pulled my legs off. And then you threw me away to smash me against the corridor wall. The top of my skull broke off, and the impact just about popped my brain out. Then that loose piece of my skull was crushed flat — but now I think of it, one of your companions did that, not you.”

The tentacle withdrew. When Tally raised his head again, nothing pushed him back down.

The big Zardalu was leaning close. “You survived such drastic dismemberment?”

“Of course I did.” Tally stood up and wiggled his fingers. “See? Everything as good as new.”

“But the agony… and with your refusal to accept slave status, you risk it again. You would dare such pain a second time?”

“Well, that’s a bit of a sore point with me. My kind doesn’t feel pain, you see. But I can’t help feeling that there are times when it would be better for my body if I did. Hey! Put me down.”

Tentacles were reaching out and down. Tally was lifted in one pair, Dulcimer in another. The big Zardalu turned and dropped the two of them over the waist-high parapet. They fell eight feet and landed with a squelch in a smelly heap that sank beneath their weight.

“You will wait here until we return.” A bulbous head peered over the edge of the parapet. A pair of huge cerulean blue eyes stared down at them. “You will be unharmed, at least until I and my companions decide your fate. If you attempt to leave, the penalty is death.”

The midnight-blue head withdrew. Tally tried to stand up and reach the rim of the pit, but it was impossible to keep his balance. They had been dropped onto a mass of sea creatures, fish and squid and wriggling sea cucumbers and anemones. There was just enough water in the pit to keep everything alive.

“Dulcimer, you’re a lot taller than I am when you’re full-length. Can you stretch up to the edge?”

“But the Zardalu…” The great master eye stared fearfully at E.C. Tally.

“They left. They’ve gone for a consultation to decide what to do with us.” Tally gave Dulcimer a summary of the whole conversation. “Strange, wasn’t it,” he concluded, “how their attitude changed all of a sudden?”

“Are you sure that they have gone?”

“If we could just reach the edge, you could see for yourself.”

“Wait one moment.” Dulcimer coiled his spiral downward, squatting in among the writhing fish. He suddenly straightened like a released spring and soared fifteen feet into the air, rotating as he flew.

“You are right,” he said as he splashed back down. “The chamber is empty.”

“Then, jump right out this time, and reach over to help me. We have to look for a way to escape.”

“But we know the way out. It is underwater. We will surely drown, or be caught again.”

“There must be another way in and out.”

“How do you know?”

“Logic requires it. The air in here is fresh, so there has to be circulation with the outside atmosphere. Go on, Dulcimer, jump out of this pit.”

The Polypheme was cowering again. “I am not sure that your plan is wise. They will not harm us if we accept slave status. But they said that if we try to escape, they will surely kill us. Why not agree to be slaves? An opportunity to escape safely will probably come along in three or four hundred years, maybe less. Meanwhile—”

“Maybe you’re right. But I’m going to do my best to get out of here.” Tally stared down and poked with his foot at a hideous blue crustacean with spiny legs. “I’d have more faith in the word of the Zardalu if they hadn’t left us here in their larder—”

“Larder!”

“ — while they’re having their consultation to decide what to do with us.”

But Dulcimer was too busy leaping out of the pit to hear Tally finish the sentence.

Darya had fared better — or was it worse? — than the others. She was grabbed and held, but at first the Zardalu who captured her remained near the sandstone buildings. She saw the other three taken and carried underwater, presumably to their deaths. When her turn came after ten more minutes, her intellect told her that it was better to die quickly. But the rest of her would have nothing to do with that idea. She took in the deepest breath that her lungs would hold as the Zardalu headed for the sea’s edge. There was the shock of cold water, then the swirl of rapid movement through it. She panicked, but before her lungs could complain of lack of oxygen, the Zardalu emerged into air.

Dry, fresh air.

Darya felt a stiff breeze on her wet face. She pushed hair out of her eyes and saw that she was in a great vaulted chamber, with the draft coming from an open cylinder in the middle of it. The Zardalu hurried in that direction. Darya heard the chugging rhythm of air pumps, and then she was being carried down a spiraling path.

They went on, deeper and deeper. The faint blue light of the chamber faded. Darya could see nothing, but ahead of her she heard the click and whistle of alien speech. She felt the unreasoning terror that only total darkness can produce. She strained to see, until she felt that her eyes were bleeding into the darkness. Nothing. She began to fight against the firm hold of the tentacles.

“Do not struggle.” The voice, which came from a few feet away, was familiar. “It is useless, and this path is steep. If you were dropped now you would not survive the fall.”

“J’merlia! Where did you come from? Can you see?”

“A little. Like Zardalu, I am more sensitive than humans to dim light. But more than that, I am able to speak to the Zardalu who holds me. We are heading down a long stairway. In another half minute you also will be able to see.”

Half a minute! Darya had known shorter weeks. The Zardalu was moving on and on, in a glide so smooth that she hardly felt the motion. But J’merlia was right. A faint gleam was visible below, and it was becoming brighter. She could see the broad back of another Zardalu a few yards ahead, whenever it intercepted the light.

The tunnel made a final turn in the opposite direction. They emerged into a room shaped like a horizontal teardrop, widening out from their point of entry. The floor was smooth-streaked glass, the dark rays within it diverging from the entrance and then converging again at the far end to meet at a horizontal set of round apertures, like the irises and pupils of four huge eyes. In front of the openings stood a long, high table. And at that table, leaning back in a sprawl of pale-blue limbs, sat four giant Zardalu. As they approached, Darya caught the throat-clutching smell of ammonia and rancid grease.

Darya was lowered to the floor next to J’merlia. The two Zardalu who had brought them turned and went back to the entrance. They were noticeably smaller than the massive four at the table, and they lacked the decorated webbing around their midsections.

The Zardalu closest to Darya leaned forward. The slit mouth opened, and she heard a series of meaningless clicks and whistles. When she did not reply, a tentacle came snaking out across the table and poised menacingly just above her head. She cowered down. She could see plate-sized suckers, with their surround of tiny claws.

“They command you to speak to them, like the others,” J’merlia said. “It is not clear what that means. Wait a moment. I will seek to serve as spokesbeing for both of us.”

He crawled forward, pipestem body close to the ground and eight legs splayed wide. A long exchange of clucks and clicks and soft whistles began. After a minute the menacing tentacle withdrew from above Darya’s head.

“I have made it clear to them that you are not able to speak or to understand them,” J’merlia said. “I also took the liberty of describing myself to them as your slave. They therefore find it quite natural that I speak only after I have spoken to you, serving as no more than the vessel for the delivery of your words to them.”

“What are they saying, J’merlia? Why didn’t they kill us all at once?”

“One moment.” There was another lengthy exchange before J’merlia nodded and turned again to Darya. “I understand their words, if not their motives. They know that we are members of races powerful in the spiral arm, and they were impressed by the fact that our party was able to defeat them when we were on Serenity. They appear to be suggesting an alliance.”

“A deal! With Zardalu? That’s ridiculous.”

“Let me at least hear what they propose.” J’merlia went back into unintelligible conversation. After a few seconds the biggest of the Zardalu made a long speech, while J’merlia did no more than nod his head. At last there was silence, and he turned again to Darya.

“It is clear enough. Genizee is the homeworld of the Zardalu, and the fourteen survivors headed here after they were expelled from Serenity and found themselves back in the spiral arm. They began to breed back to strength, as we had feared. But now, for reasons that they cannot understand, they find themselves unable to leave this planet. They saw our seedship arrive, and they saw it take off again. They know that it has not been returned to the surface, while all their takeoff attempts have been returned. Therefore they are sure that we know the secret to coming and going from Genizee as we please.

“They say that if we will help them to leave Genizee, and give them free access to space here and beyond the Torvil Anfract, they will in return offer us something that they have never offered before: we will have status as their junior partners. Not their equals, but more than their slaves. And if we help them to reestablish dominion over all the worlds in this part of the spiral arm, we will share great power and wealth.”

“What if we say no?”

“Then there will be no chance of our survival.”

“So they want us to trust the word of the Zardalu? What happens if they change their minds, as soon as they know how to get away from Genizee?” Darya reminded herself that she had no idea what force had carried the Indulgence to the surface of the planet, or how to get away.

“As proof that they will not later renege on their part of the bargain, they will agree to a number of Zardalu hostages. Even of the infant forms.”

Darya recalled the behavior of the ravenous infant Zardalu. She shuddered.

“J’merlia, I will never, in any circumstances, do anything that might return the Zardalu to the spiral arm. Too many centuries of bloodshed and violence warn us against that. We will not help them, even if it means we all die horribly. Wait a minute!”

J’merlia was turning back to face the four Zardalu. Darya reached out and grabbed him. “Don’t tell them I said that, for heaven’s sake. Say, say…” What? What could she offer, what would stall them? “Say that I am very interested in this proposal, but first I require proof of their honorable intentions — if there’s words for such an idea in the Zardalu language. Tell them that I want E.C. Tally and Dulcimer brought here, safe and unharmed. And Captain Rebka and the rest of the other party, too, if they are still alive.”

J’merlia nodded and had another exchange with the Zardalu, this one much briefer. The biggest of Zardalu began threshing all its tentacles in a furious fashion, flailing at the tabletop with blows that would have pulped a human body.

“They refuse?” Darya asked.

“No.” J’merlia gestured at the Zardalu. “That is not anger, that is their own frustration. They would like to prove that they mean what they say, but they are unable to do so. Tally and Dulcimer will be no problem, they will bring them here. But the other group somehow escaped, into the deep interior of Genizee — and no Zardalu has any idea of their present location.”