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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…
Names are still hard to e by。 But now at least he has an image； rescued from imprisoned memory。 A scene in a tavern catering to low…class sapient races like his own； frequented by star travelers sharing certain tastes in food； music； and entertainment。 Often； songs were accepted as currency in such places。 You could buy rounds of drinks with a good one； and he seldom had to pay cash； so desired were the tunes warbled by his talented crewmates。
。。。 crewmates。。。
Now he confronts another barrier。 The tallest； harshest wall across his mind。 He tries once more but fails to e up with a melody to break it down。
Back to the bar； then。 With that recollection had e things he once knew about urs。 Especially a trick he used to pull on urrish panions when they dozed off； after a hard evening's revelry。 Sometimes he would take a peanut； aim carefully； and…
The Stranger's train of thought breaks as he realizes he is being watched。 UrKachu glares at him； clearly irritated by the increasing loudness of the thrumming dulcimer。 He quickly mollifies the leader of the urrish ambushers by plucking at the string more softly。 Still； he does not quite stop。 At a lower； quieter level； the rhythm is mildly hypnotic； just as he intended it to be。
The other raiders…both urs and men…lie down or snooze through the broiling middle of the day。 So does Sara； along with Prity and the other captives。 The Stranger knows he should rest； too； but he feels too keyed up。
He misses Pzora； though it does seem strange to long for the healing touch of a Jophur…
No； that is the wrong word。 Pzora is not one of those fearsome； cruel beings； but a traeki…something quite different。 As he grows a little better at names； he is going to have to remember that。
Anyway； he has work to do。 In the time remaining； he must learn to use the rewq that Sara bought for him…a strange creature whose filmy body covers his eyes； causing soft colors to waft around every urs and human； turning the shabby tent into a pavilion of revealing hues。 He finds unnerving the way the rewq quivers over his flesh； using a sucker to feed from veins near the gaping wound in his head。 Yet he cannot turn down a chance to explore yet another kind of munication。 Sometimes the confusing colors coalesce to remind him of the last time he muned with Pzora； back at the oasis。 There had been a moment of strange clarity when their cojoined rewqs seemed to help convey exactly what he wanted。
Pzora's answering gift lies inside the hole in his head…the one place the raiders would never think to search。
He resists an urge to slip his hand inside； to check if it's still there。 All in good time。
While he sits and strums； the oppressive heat slowly mounts。 Urrish and human heads sink lower to the ground； where night's lingering coolness can still be dimly felt。 He waits and tries to remember a little more。
His biggest blank zone…other than the loss of language…covers the recent past。 If ten fingers represent the span of his life up to now； most of the final two digits are missing。 All he has are the shreds that cling whenever he wakes from a dream。 Enough to know he once roamed the linked galaxies and witnessed things none of his kind ever saw before。 The seals holding back those memories have resisted everything he's tried so far…drawing sketches； playing math games with Prity； wallowing in Pzora's library of smells。 He remains fairly certain the key will be found in music。 But what music？
Sara snores softly nearby； and he feels a swelling of grateful fondness in his heart。。。 bined with a nagging sense that there is someone else he should be thinking about。 Another who had his devotion before searing fate swatted him out of the sky。 A woman's face flickers at a sharp angle to his thoughts； passing too swiftly to recognize…except for the wave of strong feelings it evokes。
He misses her。。。 though he can't imagine that she feels the same； wherever she may be。
Whoever she may be。
More than anything else； he wishes he could put his feelings into words； as he never did during all the dangerous times they spent together。。。 times when she was pining for another。。。 for a better man than he。
This thought thread is leading somewhere； he realizes； feeling some excitement。 Avidly； he follows it。 The woman in his dreams。。。 she longs for a man。。。 a hero who was lost long ago。。。 a year or two ago。。。 lost along with crewmates。。。 and also along with。。。
。。。 along with the Captain。。。
Yes； of course！ The mander they all missed so terribly； gone ever since a daring escape from that wretched water world。 A world of disaster and triumph。
He tries conjuring an image of the Captain。 A face。 But all that es to mind is a gray flash； a whirl of bubbles； and finally a glint of white； needlelike teeth。 A smile unlike any other。 Wise and serene。
Not human。
And then； out of nowhere； a soft warbling emerges。 A sound never before heard on the Slope。
*My good silent friend。。。
Lost in winter's dread stormcloud。。。
Lonely。。。 just like me。。。 *
The whistles； creaks； and pops roll out of his mouth before he even knows he's speaking them。 His head rocks back as a dam seems to shatter in his mind； releasing a flood of memories。
The music he'd been looking for was of no human making； but the modern tongue of Earth's third sapient race。 A language painfully hard for humans to learn； but that rewarded those who tried。 Trinary was nothing like Galactic Two or any other speech； except perhaps the groaning ballads sung by great whales who still plumbed the homeworld's timeless depths。
Trinary。
He blinks in surprise and even loses his rhythm on the plucked dulcimer。 A few urs lift their heads； staring at him blankly till he resumes the steady cadence； continuing reflexively while he ponders his amazing rediscovery。 The familiar/uncanny fact that had eluded him till now。
His crewmates…perhaps they still await him in that dark； dreary place where he left them。
His crewmates were dolphins。
XXV。THE BOOK OF THE SEA
B