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"From there? The north?" Eidhal was incredulous. Nothing human could have come from that direction.

"We were on a raft and had an accident. Three survived. One died when we were attacked by a beast."

Eidhal sucked his his breath as Dumarest described it.

"A tirran! And you killed it?"

"Rilled it and lived on its flesh." Dumarest looked at the pinnacles, the young, watching faces. "Don't you get them here?"

"Rarely. The last one I saw was years ago, and I counted myself fortunate that it did not attack." Eidhal looked at the pair with respect. "Here we get codors- smaller, but just as vicious in their way." Too vicious, but he did not like to think of that. And his duty remained to be done.

Down towards the valley, he decided. On the level place in the path. The boys would not be able to see the swift execution, and the bodies would have vanished by dawn. A pity, the man held strength, and the woman could provide healthy children. The rule was sometimes hard.

"You had best come with me," he said. "The boys must wait alone. Armand, your spear."

Dumarest retained it, looking from one to the other, judging distance. He could kill at least two, perhaps more, but if he fought now the end would be inevitable. And there could be no need to fight. He looked at Eidhal, the green he wore.

"A question, you will answer it?"

"Yes." A man, soon to die, should be treated with courtesy.

"I am looking for Nerth, have I found it?" He saw the blank expression and felt a momentary unease. Yet, if these were the Original People they would be reluctant to admit it. He said, quickly, "I come bearing a message from Leon Harvey. You know him?" Without waiting for an answer he produced the photograph. "I will give it to her."

* * * * *

There was a comfort in the Council chamber, as if time itself had been halted and trapped in the thick stone of the walls, the massive beams of the roof. Thick laminations of wood constructed with loving care. Signs of the ancients were on all sides, faces carved in timber which seemed to move and shift in the dancing flames of lanterns, to smile, nod and, sometimes, to frown.

A fantasy, Phal Vestaler knew. Inanimate things could not pass judgment, but if the stones could speak surely they would protest now. The thud of his gavel demanded silence.

"Gentlemen, you will please remember that you constitute the Council. We are not at festival, but at deliberation. Aryan, you may speak."

The man took his time. A skilled orator he knew the value of suspense and, thought Vestaler grimly, had much support from others less gifted.

"Aryan?"

"With respect, Master, I was assembling my thoughts." Rising, as custom demanded, so that all could see every play of expression Aryan cleared his throat. "The matter, as I see it, is basically simple. In fact, I am surprised that the Council has been convened to deal with it at all. Strangers are not allowed. All coming within the vicinity are to be destroyed. These two are strangers. Therefore, they should have been destroyed. Varg Eidhal failed in his sworn duty and should be punished." Pausing he added, "It is the rule."

Aryan knew the value of brevity in making a telling point. As he sat Vestaler said, "Croft?"

"I agree with all that Aryan has said." Croft, a small man, was eager to gain height by backing what he thought was the winning side. "The purpose of the rule is to ensure our isolation. Only by secrecy have we managed to remain apart and able to follow our ancient traditions. Once that is broken we will be subject to disruptive influences, the extent of which we can easily imagine."

"Usdon?"

"It seems that certain members of the Council are missing the point. We are not here to determine Eidhal's guilt, or to determine his punishment. Personally, I think the man acted with intelligent appreciation of the situation. The failure to kill is an error simple to rectify. The main object of concern, surely, is the man Dumarest and the message he claims to be carrying."

Sense at last, and Vestaler allowed himself to relax a little. Aryan and his supporters were evidence of a disturbing trend, an inward-turned concern with minutia and tradition. Blinded to the fact, though isolated, Nerth still existed in a larger universe than that of the valley.

Forgetting, too, the import of the message Dumarest might bear. If he had met Leon, and if the boy had- but that was to hope for too much.

He glanced at the photograph lying before him on the table, the smiling face. Zafra's face, younger than it was now. He hoped that she would be spared more hurt.

"Master?"

It was Byrute. He rose at Vestaler's nod.

"Why can't we summon the man and demand that he gives us the message?"

"He insists on giving it to one person only."

"We could demand-"

"And be refused." Vestaler was sharp in his interruption. "We are dealing with no ordinary man. The mere fact of his survival is proof of that."

"He could have lied," said Byrute stubbornly. "There may have been no raft, no crash as he claimed."

"I have considered the possibility, but how else could he have reached us? And there is no denying the physical condition of both of them. The woman was so near to collapse that she had to be carried on a litter. Dumarest was in need of medical attention, and the state of his body proves that he had suffered in a manner consistent with what he says happened. To question him now would gain us little. Therefore, I propose that both he and the woman be granted a limited freedom until a final resolution can be made as to their fate."

The vote was carried as he knew it would be. The entire session had, in a sense, been a waste of time. Yet, the formalities had to be observed. A commune worked, not on dictatorial lines, but on common agreement. No one man could ever be allowed to become truly the master. The title he had won was by courtesy, not by right.

Later Usdon joined him, entering the Alphanian Chamber to walk towards the altar, to stand looking at what it contained.

He said, for no apparent reason, "Three failed, Master."

"I know."

"One of them was my daughter's son."

The extension of his line, a metaphorical continuation of his body. Vestaler remembered the boy. Sharp and bright and impatient to become a man. His pinnacle had been empty at dawn.

"He wasn't weak," said Usdon fiercely. "He wasn't full of guilt. There was no reason for him to have failed."

Vestaler remained silent. At such times there was nothing to say.

"I wish-" Usdon reached out and touched the artifact before him. "Now I wish that-" He shook his head, a man hurt, helpless to ease his pain. He found refuge in a greater hurt, a more poignant loss. "Do you think it possible that Dumarest can help?"