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ggles during the long qheuenish reign and were chained in place by victorious rivals； whiling away their last days under a blazing sun。
A sharply realistic bas relief； from one of the earliest eras； lay etched on a nearby pillar。 Slow subsidence into corrosive mud had eaten away most of the frieze。 Still； in several spots one could make out faces。 Huge bulging eyes stared acutely from globelike heads set on bodies that reared upward with supple forelegs raised； as if straining against the verdict of destiny。 Even after such a long time； the eyes seemed somehow lit with keen intelligence。 No one on Jijo had seen expressions of such subtlety or poignancy on a glaver's face for a very long time。
In recent years； Tarek's verdant canopy had been diverted over this part of the Jumble； putting most of the carvings under shade。 Even so； orthodox zealots sometimes called for all the sculptures to be razed。 But most citizens reasoned that Jijo already had the job in hand。 The mule…spider's ancient lake still dissolved rock； albeit slowly。 These works would not outlive the Six themselves。
Or so we thought。 It always seemed we had plenty of time。
〃There it is！〃 Jomah pointed excitedly。 The boy dashed toward a massive monument whose smooth flanks appeared dappled by filtered sunshine。 Humanity's Sacrifice was its title； memorating the one thing men and women had brought with them to Jijo that they esteemed above all else； even their precious books。
Something they renounced forever； as a price of peace。
The sculpted creature seemed poised in the act of bounding forward； its noble head raised； wind brushing its mane。 One had but to squint and picture it in motion； as graceful in full gallop as it was powerful。 Mentioned lovingly in countless ancient human tales； it was one of the great legendary wonders of old Earth。 The memorial always moved Sara。
〃It isn't like a donkey at all！〃 Jomah gushed。 〃Were horses really that big？〃
Sara hadn't believed it herself； till she looked it up。 〃Yes； they got that big； sometimes。 And don't exaggerate； Jomah。 Of course it looks quite a bit like a donkey。 They were cousins； after all。〃
Yeah； and a garu tree is related to a grickle bush。
In a hushed voice Jomah asked； 〃Can I climb up on top？〃
〃Don't speak of that！〃 Sara quickly looked around。 No urrish faces were in sight； so she relented a little and shook her head。 〃Ask your uncle。 Maybe he'll take you down here at night。〃
Jomah looked disappointed。 〃I bet you've been up there； haven't you？〃
Sara almost smiled。 She and Dwer had indeed performed the ritual when they were teens； late on a chill winter's eve； when most urs were snug among their wallow mates。 No triple…eyes； then； to grow inflamed at a sight that so enraged them for the first century after Earthlings landed…that of human beings magnified by symbiosis with a great beast that could outrun any urs。 Two creatures； amplified into something greater than either one alone。
They thought； after the second war； that it would put us down forever to demand all the horses； then wipe the species out。
I guess they learned different。
Sara shook off the bitter； unworthy thought。 It all happened so long ago； before the Great Peace or the ing of the Egg。 She glanced up past the stone figure and the flower…draped skeleton of the ancient Buyur town； toward a cloud…flecked sky。 They say when poison falls from heaven； its most deadly form will be suspicion。
The Explosers Guild occupied a building whose formal name was Tower of Chemistry； but that most Tarekians called the Palace of Stinks。 Tubes of treated boo climbed the spire's flank like parasitic vines； puffing and steaming so the place vaguely resembled Pzora after a hard day in the pharmacy。 Indeed； after humans； traeki were most numerous among those passing through the front portal； or riding a counterweighted lift to upper floors； where they helped make items coveted throughout the Slope…matches for lighting cook stoves； oils to treat qheuen shells against Itchyflake； soaps for cleaning human and hoon garments； lubricants to keep elderly g'Kek rolling after Dry…Axle set in…as well as paraffin for reading lamps； ink for writing； and many other products； all certified to leave no lasting trace in Jijo's soil。 Nothing to worsen punishment when the inevitable Day of Days came。
Despite smells that made Prity chuff in disgust； Sara felt a lightening of her spirit inside the tower。 All races mixed in the lobby； without any of the cliquishness she'd seen elsewhere in town。 The hustle of merce； with crisp murmurs in the language of science； showed some folk weren't letting the crisis drive them to gloom or hostility。 There was just too much to do。
Three floors up； Explosers Hall seemed to boil with confusion。 Men and boys shouted or hurried by； while guildswomen with clipboards told hoon helpers where to push barrels of ingredients。 Off in a corner； gray…headed human elders bent over long tables； consulting with traeki colleagues whose hardworking secretion rings were adorned with beakers； collecting volatile drippings。 What had seemed chaotic gradually resolved as Sara saw patterned order in the ferment。
This crisis may be confusing to others； but it's what explosers have spent all their lives thinking about。 In this place； the mood would be fierce dedication。 It was the first justification for optimism Sara had seen。
Jomah gave Sara a swift； efficient hug； then marched over to a man with a salt…and…pepper beard； poring over schematics。 Sara recognized the paper； which Nelo made in special batches once a year； for painters and explosers。
A family resemblance went beyond features of face or posture； to the man's expression when he set eyes on Jomah。 A lifted eyebrow was all Kurt the Exploser betrayed as Jomah placed a long leather tube in his calloused palm。
Is that all？ I could have delivered it for Henrik myself。 No need to send the boy on what might be a perilous mission。
If anyone knew about events up the Rimmers； it would be those in this room。 But Sara held back。 The explosers seemed busy。 Besides； she had her own source of information； nearby。 And now it was time to go there。
Engril the Copier refilled cups of tea while Sara read a slim sheaf of pages…a chronology of events and conjectures that had arrived from the Glade of Gathering； by urrish galloper； this very morning。 Sara's first emotion was a flood of relief。 Till now； there had been no way of knowing which rampant rumor to believe。 Now she knew the landing in the mountains had occurred without casualties。 Those at Gathering were safe； including her brothers。 For the time being。
In the next room； Engril's aides could be seen duplicating photostats of the report's pen…and…ink illustrations； while an offset press turned out printed versions of the text。 Soon copies would reach notice boards in Tarek Town； then surrounding hives； hamlets； and herds。
〃Criminals！〃 Sara sighed； putting down the first page。 She couldn't believe it。 〃Criminals from space。 Of all the possibilities…〃
〃It always seemed the most far…fetched；〃 Engril agreed。 She was a portly； red…headed woman； normally jovial and motherly but today more somber than Sara recalled。 〃Perhaps it wasn't much discussed because we dared not think of the consequences。〃
〃But if they came illegally； isn't that better than Institute police putting us all under arrest？ Crooks can't report us without admitting their own crime。〃
Engril nodded。 〃Unfortunately； that logic twists around the other way。 Criminals cannot afford to let us report them。〃
〃How reasonable a fear is that？ It's been several thousand years since the g'Kek came； and in all that time there's been just this one direct contact with Galactic culture。 The ancients calculated a half…million…year gap before the next orbital survey； and two million before a major inspection。〃
〃That's not so very long。〃
Sara blinked。 〃I don't get it。〃
The older woman lifted a steaming pot。 〃More tea？ Well； it's like this。 Vubben suspects these are gene raiders。 If true； the crime has no…what did the ancients call it？…no sculpture of limitations？ No time limit for