Another glittering twinkle Lark quickly recognized as a different kind of duty； more plex； focused； and vain。 It acpanied a brief reflection off a glass lens。 Bloor and his rades at work； Lark guessed。 Busy recording the moment。
Lark's symbiont was working better now。 In fact； despite its lack of training； it might never again be quite this sensitive。 At this moment almost every rewq in the valley was the same age； fresh from caves where they had lately mingled in great piles； sharing unity enzymes。 Each would be acutely aware of the others； at longer than normal range。
I should warn Bloor。 His people shouldn't wear rewq。 If it lets me spot them； it might help robots； too。
Another swirl caught his eye； flashing bitterly from the far end of the Glade； standing out from the prevailing mood like a fire burning on an ice…field。 There was no mistaking a flare of acrid hate。
Finally he made out a shaggy snakelike neck； rising from the profile of a small centaur。 Rewq…mediated colors； like a globe of distilled loathing； obscured the head itself。
The wearer of that distant； powerful symbiont suddenly seemed to notice Lark's focused regard。 Shifting her attention from aliens and sages； she turned to face Lark directly。 Across a crowd of shifting； sighing citizens； they watched each other's colors。 Then； in unison each pulled back their rewq。
In clear light； Lark met her unblinking stare…the urrish leader of the zealot cause。 A rebel whose malice toward invaders was stronger than Lark had realized。 With those three fierce eyes turned his way； Lark needed no symbiont to translate the zealot's feelings toward him。
Under the late afternoon sun； her neck twisted and she snarled an urrish smile of pure； disdainful contempt。
The pilgrimage menced at dusk； with long forest shadows pointing toward a hidden mountain pass。 Twelve twelves of chosen citizens represented all the mons； along with two star…humans； four robots； and one tall ancient being whose shambling gait hinted great strength under glossy white robes。
Judging by his so…humanlike smile； Ro…kenn seemed to find delight in countless things； especially the rhythmic chanting…a blending of vocal contributions from all races…as the assembly set out past steaming vents and sheer clefts； weaving its slow way toward the hidden oval Valley of the Egg。 The Rothen's long…fingered hands stroked slim…boled welpal trees； whose swaying resonated with emanations from that secret vale。 Most humans would hear nothing till they got much closer。
In Lark's heart； dark feelings churned。 Nor was he alone。 Many； especially those farthest from Ro…kenn's cheerful charisma； still felt uneasy about guiding strangers to this sacred place。
The procession marched； rolled； and slithered； wending higher into the hills。 Soon the heavens glittered with formations of sparkling lights…brittle bright clusters and nebulae…divided by the dark stripe of the Galactic disk。 If anything； the sight reinforced the starkly uneven order of life； for tonight's guests would shortly cross those starscapes； whether they departed in peace or betrayal。 To them； Jijo would bee another quaint； savage； perhaps mildly interesting spot they had visited once in long； deified lives。
The last time Lark came up this way…so earnest about his self…appointed mission to save Jijo from invaders like himself…no one had any thought of starships cruising Jijo's sky。
Yet they were already up there； preparing to land。
What is more frightening？ The danger you already dread； or the trick the universe hasn't pulled on you yet？ The one to make all prior concerns seem moot。
Lark hoped none of this gloom carried into his letter to Sara； which he had finished in a hurried pencil scrawl by the headwaters of the Bibur after the Rothen emerged。 The kayak pilot added Lark's note to a heavy bundle from Bloor； then set off in a flash of oars； speeding down the first set of spuming rapids in a pell…mell rush toward Biblos； two days' hard rowing away。
On his way back to rendezvous with the other heretics； he had stopped to watch the alien aircraft glide out of its dark tunnel like a wraith； rising on whispering engines。 Lark glimpsed a small human silhouette； hands and face pressed against an oval window； drinking in the view。 The figure looked familiar。。。 but before he could raise his pocket ocular； the machine sped away； eastward； toward a cleft where the largest moon was rising above the Rimmer Range。
Now； as the evening procession entered a final twisty canyon leading to the Egg； Lark tried putting temporal concerns aside； preparing for munion。 It may be my last chance； he thought； hoping this time he might fully take part in the wholeness others reported； when the Egg shared its full bounty of love。
Drawing his right arm inside his sleeve； he grasped the rocky flake； despite its growing heat。 A passage from the Scroll of Exile came to mind…an Anglic version； modified for Earthlings by one of the first human sages。
We drift； rudderless； down the stream of time；
betrayed by the ancestors who left us here；
blind to much that was hard…learnt by other ages；
fearful of light and the law；
but above all； anxious in our hearts
that there might be no God；
no Father；
no heavenly succor；
or else that we are already lost to Him；
to fate；
to destiny。
Where shall we turn； in banished agony；
with our tabernacle lost；
and faith weighed down by perfidy？
What solace es to creatures lost in time？
One source of renewal；
never fails。
With rhythms long；
its means are fire and rain；
ice and time。
Its names are myriad。
To poor exiles it is home。
Jijo。
The passage ended on a strange note of bined reverence and defiance。
If God still wants us； let him find us here。
Till then； we grow part of this；
our adopted world。
Not to hinder； but to serve Her cyclic life。
To sprout humble goodness out of the foul seed of crime。
Not long after that scroll gained acceptance in the human sept； one winter's day； ground tremors shook the Slope。 Trees toppled； dams burst； and a terrible wind blew。 Panic swept from mountains to sea amid reports that Judgment Day had e。
Instead； bursting through a cloud of sparkling dust； the Egg appeared。 A gift out of Jijo's heart。
A gift which must be shared tonight…with aliens。
What if they achieved what he had always failed？ Or worse； what if they reacted with derisive laughter； declaring that the Egg was a simple thing that only yokels would take seriously…like fabled Earth…natives worshipping a music box they found on the shore？
Lark struggled to push out petty thoughts； to tune himself with the basso rumble of the hoon； the qheuens' calliope piping； the twanging spokes of the g'Keks； and all of the other contributions to a rising song of union。 He let it take over the measured pace of his breathing； while warmth from the stone fragment seemed to swell up his hand and arm； then across his chest； spreading relaxed detachment。
Close； he thought。 A tracery of soft patterns began taking shape in his mind。 A weblike meshing of vague spirals； made up partly of images； partly of sound。
It's almost as if something is trying to…
〃Is this； not exciting？〃 a voice broke in from Lark's right； splitting his concentration into broken shards。 〃I believe I can feel something now！ It's quite unlike any psi phenomenon I have experienced。 The motif is highly unusual。〃
Ignore her； Lark thought； clinging to the patterns。 Maybe she'll go away。
But Ling kept talking； sending words clattering up avenues that could not help hearing them。 The harder he tried holding on； the quicker detachment slipped away。 Lark's hand now clenched a clammy ball of rock and twine； warm with his body heat alone。 He let go in disgust。
〃We picked up some tremors on instruments several days ago。 The cycles have been rising in strength and plexity for some time。〃
Ling seemed blithely unaware of having done anything wrong。 That； in turn； made Lark's simmering resentment seem both petty and futile。 Anyway； her beauty by moonlight was even more unnerving than usual； cutting through his anger to a vulnerable loneliness within。
Lark sighed。 〃Aren't you supposed to be guarding your boss？〃
〃Robots do the real guarding…as if we have anything to fear。 Ro…kenn gave Rann and me permission to look around while he talks to your sages； preparing them for what's about to happen。〃
Lark stopped so suddenly； the next pilgrim in line had to stumble to avoid him。 He took Ling's elbow。 〃What are you talking about？ What's about to happen？〃
Ling's smile carried a touch of the old sardonicism。
〃You mean you haven't guessed by now？ Oh； Lark。 Think about the coincidences。
〃For two thousand years sooners of various races lived on this world； squabbling and slowly devolving。 Then humans came and everything changed。 Though you started few and helpless； soon your culture became the most influential on the planet。
〃Then； just a few generations after your arrival； a miracle suddenly erupts out of the ground； this spirit guide you all re