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She swiveled to face the blue qheuen。 〃Are you ready； Blade？〃
〃I am； Sara！〃 The blue clacked two fierce pincers and stepped forward； as if prepared to fight the Battle of Znunir Trading Post all over again。
More laughter made her turn around。 This time it was Dedinger。 The former sage chortled amusement。
〃Oh； don't mind me； sister。 Your plan sounds delightful。 It'll save my life and those of my men。 So by all means； Kurt； do as she says！ Head for the rocks。 Go！〃
Sara quickly saw what Dedinger meant。 If Urunthai reinforcements found they could not follow the fugitives through a boulder field； or down some narrow grotto； or up a garu tree； that could force them to renew their broken alliance with the band of human radicals； forgoing vengeance…at least for as long as it took the desert trappers to hunt Kurt and the others down。
She sagged； seeing the futility of it all。
We've been through so much； only to e right back where we started。
〃Sara…〃 Kurt said again。 Then the old man stopped what he had been about to say and cocked his head。 〃Listen。〃
The clearing went silent。 Moments later； she heard it too…the approaching clatter of rushing hooves。 A great many of them。 She could feel their rumbling haste through the soles of her feet。
Too late to e up with another plan。 Too late for anything but dignity。
She took the Stranger's arm。 〃Sorry I didn't catch on when you first tried to warn us；〃 she said； brushing the worst streaks of dust off of his clothes and straightening his collar。 If he was to be their prize； he should at least look the part of a valuable hostage； not some ragamuffin drifter。 He repaid her with a tentative smile。 Together； they turned south； to face the onrushing cavalry。
The newers swelled out of the darkness； from between giant pillars of stone。 They're urs； all right； she thought。 Burly； powerful and well…armed they spilled into the clearing in a disciplined skirmish pattern； taking positions on all sides； brandishing their arbalests； scanning for danger signs。 Sara was startled； and a bit insulted； when the vanguard simply ignored the standing humans and Blade； finding them no threat at all。
More surprisingly； they paid little more heed to the trussed…up prisoners； leaving them right where they were。
Sara noticed that the war paint of the new arrivals was unlike that of UrKachu's band…more restrained； dabbed in smoother； more flowing lines。 Could that mean they weren't Urunthai； after all？
From the dismayed look on Ulgor's face； Sara realized this was not the band of 〃friends〃 the tinker was expecting。 She nursed a slim reed of hope。 Could they be militia？ They wore no formal brassards or tunics； nor did they act like the typical urrish militia unit…local herdsmen who drilled for fun every eighth day； when the weather was good。
Who are these guys？
Skirmishers whistled that the area was clear。 Then a senior matron with a gray…fringed muzzle sauntered into the firelight。 She approached the Dolo Villagers and lowered her neck； respectfully。
〃We regret our tardiness； friends。 It is sad you were inconvenienced； vut we are glad to see you overcane your trouvles； without helf。〃
Sara stared as Kurt touched noses with the aged urs。 〃You're not late if you arrive in the nick of time； Ulashtu。 I knew you'd scent our affliction and e for us。。。。〃
At that point； Sara lost track of the conversation。 For the Stranger pulled her about； squeezing her arm tight while a nervous； excited quaver throbbed along his skin。
More figures were approaching out of the darkness。
Perplexing shapes。
At first she thought it was another party of urs； outfitted for war。 Very large urs； with strange； stiff necks and an odd way of moving。 For an instant she recalled the ancient illustration that once rimmed the Parthenon…the one depicting savage； mythical centaurs。
A moment later； she sighed。
Silly thing。 It's only men riding donkeys。 Ifni！ This darkness would make anything ordinary seem mysterious； especially after all we've been thr…
She blinked and stared again。
They were big donkeys。 The human riders' feet did not drag but perched high off the ground； astride great torsos that seemed to pulsate with raw animal power。
〃It's them！〃 Jomah cried。 〃They're real！ They weren't all killed off； after all！〃
To Sara it felt like witnessing dragons； or dinosaurs； or stag…griffins e alive off the pages of a storybook。 A dream made real…or a nightmare to some。 The Urunthai prisoners let out a howl of anger and despair when they realized what was stepping into the firelight。 This meant their one great achievement…their league's sole claim to fame…was in fact a failure。 A farce。
The riders dismounted； and Sara realized they were all women。 She also saw that several more of the great beasts followed behind； bearing saddles but otherwise unburdened。
No； she thought； realizing what was about to be asked of her。 They can't seriously expect me to climb onto one of those things！
The nearest beast snorted as the Stranger reached up to stroke its mammoth head。 The creature easily out…massed four or five urs； with jaws big enough to swallow a person's arm； whole。 Yet； the man from space pressed his cheek against its great neck。
With tears in his eyes； he sang again。
〃When you wake； you shall have cake； and all the pretty little horses。〃
Epilogue
It is a strange universe。
He ponders this without putting it in words。 It's easier that way。
Lately； he has found quite a few means to express ideas without the swarm of busy； smacking； humming； clattering noises that used to run through all his thoughts。
Music and song。 Numbers。 Pencil sketches。 Feelings。 And the strange colors cast by those funny living…visors people sometimes wear on this world。
Rewq。
He can think the name of the beasts and is proud of the acplishment。
As he slowly gets better； he finds he can contemplate important names more clearly。
Sara； Jomah； Prity。。。
And some other words； occasionally two or three at a time。
Memory； too； is being more clarified。 He can recall the scoutship； for instance； blasted as he tried a futile diversion； attempting to draw a hunter ship away from its prey。
He failed； taking a jolting series of blows； and there had followed a period that was still a blur to him； a vague impression of rapid movement and change。。。 after which he found himself plummeting； on fire； crashing…
No； no。 Think of something else。
Riding。 That was a much nicer thing to muse upon。
Riding a saddled animal。 A spirited horse。 The heady； surprising joy of it； with cool wind in his face； bringing a thousand amazing smells。
How strange to find so many things to like about this new world！ About a life robbed of the one thing that makes most humans human。 A mand of words。
And now he remembers。 Something very much like this injury of his happened before。 To a friend。
To his captain。
An image swirls through his mind。 A handsome； sleek…gray figure。 Flukes thrashing through water filled with tiny bubbles。 A narrow； bottle…shaped jaw； filled with pointy； grinning teeth。 A brain； wounded； but still profoundly wise。
Silently； he mouths three syllables。
Crei。。。 dei。。。 ki。。。
And all at once this triggers more memories。 More friends。 A ship。 A mission。 A need。
An image of watery depths。 So deep and black that no light could ever penetrate…a hiding place； but no sanctuary。 In all the vast cosmos； there is no sanctuary。
But now； as if released from the prison of his illness； one more thing swarms through his mind； surprising him with sudden recognition。
A name。
My。。。 name。
Slippery from pent…up frustration； it shoots out from wherever it had lain； dammed up for so long。 Caroming back and forth； it finally settles down within reach。
It ought never have gone away。 It should be the most familiar word in a person's life； yet only now does it return； as if to say 〃wele back。〃
Riding through a night washed with exotic moonlight； surrounded by curious beings and a culture unlike any he had ever known； he now laughs aloud； ecstatic to be able to do this simple thing。 This one； cherished act。
My。。。 name。。。 is。。。 Emerson。
The End of Part One
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