"Father, your instruction is most excellent. Accept thanks from the center of this one's heart. You bring tidings of greatness for all Bindalche." He straightened, a grin that had nothing to do with humor illuminating his face. "That it should happen in my lifetime!" He collected himself with an effort. "The boy approaches with your meal. Eat well. A blanket shall be brought to you, so that you may rest for the final stage of the journey. O joyous—" He turned away and strode back toward his mates.

  Finchet shook his head and took the slab of dried meat and the handful of small sweet fruits from Veln and then sat with the meal in his hand, staring very hard at nothing.

  * * *

  The book was old—as old as the oldest he had seen in Shilban's house—bound in heavy leather. A picture had once been painted on the front cover—the chips of color that remained were purple, and green, and gold. The edges of the pages were gilded and those pages were not, as Gem had expected, thinner, more supple leather, but a thick, fine-grained paper that had taken the ink well and held it without fading.

  "The second of the Books of the Telios," said First from her station at his shoulder. "We have lost the secret of that ink, alas, and later books are not so easy to read as this."

  Gem ran his fingers lightly over the pages, noting the ridges where the pen had scored the paper. "And the first Book of the Telios?" he asked.

  "Is written on rock walls and on tablets of marble, malachite and gold. It may not be brought to you. You must go to it. If you think it will avail you. The Seeker must know that we have those among us who have devoted long lifetimes to the study of that single Book."

  "Hm," said Gem, more than half-concerned with the study of the Book within his hands. "And is the Smiter spoken of from the very beginning?"

  First of the Telios moved away, tucking her hands into her sleeves. Witness, watching the Trident in its resting place across the room, spared a moment of his attention to look at her face.

  "The Bindalche," she said slowly, "were without the Smiter for many years. So the Books teach us."

  Gem looked up sharply. "So the Books teach you," he repeated. "In what Book does the Smiter first appear?"

  She avoided his gaze. "The old writing—you understand, it is very dense, very difficult to follow. The Books that come after this one are faded, some pages impossible to read. . .." She squared her shoulders and looked at him straightly. "The first clear mention of the Smiter is in the third Book," she said. "There was a battle . . ."

  "Between the god and his children, the goddess and the younger god," said Gem and Witness for the Telios came to his feet, staring.

  First of the Telios also stared; regained her composure. "You have that tale from the Smiter?"

  "No," said Gem, "from a very old book, on a planet called Henron . . ." He glanced over and Witness saw humor in the depths of the large, fey eyes. "A fragment only—the kernel myth. Never any clue of what the myth might mean—or if the god had a name."

  Witness for the Telios sank back to his seat upon the floor and disciplined his mind for duty.

  Gem turned back to the Book before him, looked to First. "I will study this and consider what best is to be done from here," he said, in tones eloquent of dismissal. "Please, if you will, let me know when the other volumes arrive."

  She stiffened, but retained enough sense of what was due the Trident Bearer to bow with courtesy and retire.

  Gem ran his fingers once again over the fine paper with its ridges where the pen had passed over. He opened to the middle and studied a page there; opened to the end and did the same. He inspected the binding and frowned at the remains of the illumination upon the cover.

  Then he laid the Book carefully back down upon the table and stood. Without a word to Witness, he passed from the room into the second chamber, where Corbinye slept off the effects of her wound and its healing.

  The healing had not been as complete as he had hoped for—she was still weak, exhausted—but the learned of the Telios and the physician incarcerated with the Vornet crew both agreed that she was out of any danger. Rest and nourishment, they all had counseled, quietude and exposure to the kindness of those who loved her.

  This last had been from the youngest of the Telios healers and Gem had thanked her most profoundly, while he wondered in his heart where there were any who cared for Corbinye, besides himself, inept at love, and Witness, who bowed to duty first.

  He was forced to hope that his ineptness would not hinder her progress and he visited hourly, speaking with her if she were wakeful; just watching, if she were asleep.

  Presently, she was restless, tossing and twisting under the fur covers, as if she could find no easeful position.

  Gem leaned over and smoothed her hair, murmuring her name, bidding her, softly, to lie still. She did quiet somewhat, to his surprise, and he straightened the furs over her and turned to go.

  A slim hand caught his and he looked up to see her eyes open and bright.

  "I put you to a great deal of trouble, cousin."

  "No trouble," he protested and then grinned wryly. "Less trouble than the damned Trident, at least, and not nearly so much as First of the Telios."

  She chuckled, her fingers stroking the hand she held him by, so that he nearly snatched it away before forcing himself to be patient with the touch and ignore the flame it ignited.

  "Are you hungry?" he asked her. "Thirsty? I can send for something. . .."

  "Only wakeful," she said and pulled on his hand, urging him down to sit beside her on the bed. "Talk to me, Anjemalti. What have you been about while I've been sleeping the day away?"

  "There's a book," he began, meaning to tell her the tale of the Books of the Bindalche, but he got no further than that before the mat was thrust back from the door and one of the servants of the Bindalche burst into the room.

  "Trident Bearer, your pardon! There is come several of the warriors of the Bindalche, escorting an old man and a boy. They say they belong to you, Trident Bearer, and send the names Finchet and Veln."

  Chapter Seventy

  Finchet followed the short green robe down the stone corridor. He kept one hand firm on Veln's shoulder and one ear on the comforting slight sounds made by Borgin and his mates, keeping pace behind.

  They traversed several corridors, going deeper and deeper into the mountain. Finchet took care to memorize the turns: Right, right, right, left, right, left, left and—

  "This is the place," the robe said, sweeping a leather curtain back and stepping hastily aside. "The Trident Bearer is within."

  Finchet sent a sharp look into the depths of the hood, finding a pair of wide brown eyes in a face no older than Veln's.

  "Huh," he said and pulled Veln close, so they both went over the threshold together.

  The first thing he saw within the room was the Captain's trident, gems all a-gleaming in the firelight. And sitting before it, bland-faced as ever, was Witness for the Telios.

  Finchet stopped and raised a hand. "Good to see you, lad."

  Witness inclined his head. "Gardener. Veln Kristefyon. A man is joyful to see you both well."

  "Very nearly didn't," Finchet said. "Captain about?"

  Witness turned his head and Finchet followed his gaze to the right and middle of the room, to where a stone table stood, with a gaudy big book upon it, and a slender man in a dark gray robe standing behind both, his long yellow hair neatly tied in a tail down his neck and his eyes Crew-sized and blue.

  "Well, now, there's a sight for worried eyes," said Finchet, letting Veln go at last and coming straight across the room. "Feared we'd find you in several odd pieces. Happy to know an old man can be as wrong as a young one."

  Gem smiled and held out both his hands. "Hello, Uncle."

  The old man gripped the young one's hands and cocked a grizzled eyebrow. "Uncle, is it? Well, and it's true enough, gene-wise—cousins, aunts and uncles, all. Doubtless that's the long and short of why we're dying out."

  "Doubtless," Gem agreed. "But tell me, do—in what way was I wrong?"

  "Hah." Finchet stepped back, glanced over to tally Veln and Borgin's crew. He looked back to meet those bright eyes. "Garden crashed."

  The eyes moved, flashing to Veln, then back. "You both look hale enough. Have we lost the whole wood?"

  "Might well make a recover," Finchet allowed. "Given workers and an agreeable system. How-to's in the Book. Thing is, somebody's been adjusting this system already, Captain. Big dam up under the pole—saw it on the way down. Winds not how they ought to be, according to what the Book tells me, stream-flow—what there is—altered." He shook his head. "Don't look that good for the Garden, present conditions prevailing."

  "So the operators of the dam must be persuaded to reason," said Gem. "Who might that be?"

  "The Combine, that one says," Finchet jerked a thumb at Borgin.

  "He says truth," Witness put in from the floor. Gem nodded, eyes gleaming.

  "Why, in that case, I think we really have no problem at all, Uncle. We've already doubtless annoyed The Combine by taking their ship—" He looked up. "Have we taken their ship?"

  Finchet fished the comm out of his belt and laid it on the table next to the book. "Not a peep out of this since we hit, but it took a fair bit of knocking about."

  Gem nodded again and rested his fingers lightly against the comm-case. Out of his sleeve came a spider, waltzed down the back of his hand and onto the comm. It walked to the place where the power pack was seated and vanished inside the unit.

  "Let us assume for the moment," Gem said, "that we have been successful. Already then the Crew of the Gardenspot is struck from The Combine's guest lists. How much angrier can they become over a little thing like a dam on a world that doesn't even belong to them?"

  Finchet grinned. "Reasoning worthy of a Kristefyon, that. Your mother'd be proud to hear you. I recall me—"

  But what he recalled was not to be shared at this moment. A big voice cried out, "They will kill the dam!" And a big body surged forward, falling to its knees between Finchet and the table, offering a knife high on outstretched palms.

  "Captain Kristefyon, have me! I am Borgin Vo Riss of Wyalin Tribe and these are mine hunt-mates. I pledge us all to you, only send us with Finchet Gardener to destroy the Dam to be Hated!"

  Elegant eyebrows lifted above astonished blue eyes. Gem reached across the table and took the offered weapon up in two hands.

  "Rise, Borgin Vo Riss."

  The warrior stood, face lit with a hatred akin to holiness. Gem weighed the knife in his hands, looked into the other's eyes.

  "You know that I bear Shlorba's Smiter."

  "I do."

  "And you know, I presume, the old tales, which should be sufficient warning of all the ill that might befall you as a servant of the Trident Bearer."

  "Let me kill the dam," Borgin breathed. "Trident Bearer, let me only come near it and know it is to die. I shall gladly die myself, and sing your praises to the goddess ever after."

  "I may well hold you to that," Gem said, and extended the knife. "I accept your service, Borgin Vo Riss. But I ask that you allow each of your hunt-mates to speak for themselves."

  One by one they came forward, then, fell to their knees, and offered up their names and their knives.

  One by one, the Trident Bearer accepted their service and when he had gathered all of their souls into his hand, he stepped back and beckoned the child waiting at the door.

  "Take these and let them bathe and eat and rest. Tomorrow, I shall send for them."

  "Yes, Trident Bearer," said the child and swept the leather back from the door, stepping aside to let them pass into the hallway.

  When they were gone, Gem looked again at Finchet and the boy. "You'll be wanting the same things, I expect. But before you go, perhaps you would like, Uncle, to step into the next room and visit—"

  "I am here, Anjemalti," a resonant, beautiful voice said from behind him. He turned to see Corbinye, clad in the loose blue robe they had given her, one hand braced against the wall.

  It was Veln who moved first, who cried out, "Aunt Corbinye!" and who flung himself against her, arms going tight around her waist.

  She swayed, and leaned into the wall, put both arms around the boy and hugged him tight to her. The face she raised was beatific and she smiled at Finchet like a goddess. "Uncle."

  "Corbinye. You all right, girl?"

  "Mending," she said, and gave Veln a fierce, final hug before pushing him gently away. "Go and get fed. Rest. Visit us tomorrow."

  "Likely so," said Finchet, cocking an eyebrow at his Captain. "You'll be telling us how to go about blowing up this dam then, I expect?"

  "Possibly," said Gem serenely. "I'll have to ask the Telios what they know."

  "Hah," said Finchet and went over to give Corbinye a hug and proper kin-kiss. When he looked again, there was the short green robe back again, or another just like it, holding the curtain aside and waiting for them to leave. He gave Corbinye another squeeze, flung his arm around Veln's shoulders and headed hallward, giving a nod each to Captain and to Witness.

  * * *

  He coaxed Corbinye back to her room and called a servant, as she asked. By the time he returned to the table, Number Four was standing atop the comm-link, purple eyes glowing.

  He offered a palm and the spider clambered into it, then up his wrist and arm, leaving the skin at last to cling to the inside of the sleeve. Gem sat down and thumbed on "receive."

  There was a small bloom of static, followed immediately by a voice: "GenerationShip Five, Class One, on cycle three of fifteen. Scattered Crew orient to second world perihelion and activate ID beacons. You will be tagged and recovered. Any who have taken damage, load assessments onto BroadCode, establish emergency measures and wait. You will be tagged and recovered."

  Slowly, Gem put out a hand and hit "send."

  "GenerationShip Five, Class One," he said. "Captain's override and scramble. Mael Faztherot to the comm. If she is not available, I will speak to—"

  "Mael Faztherot here, Captain," her cool voice held an undercurrent of pure glee. "Your plan was perfect in every particular—success is ours! The mother ship is taken and the outriders scattered. We have only to pick up our blade-ships and complete refinement of the key codes." There was a pause, as if she heard her own exuberance and stopped to school herself. "What are the Captain's orders?"

  Orders? Well, and there it was. He had hardly thought past the taking of The Combine ship and returning the Trident to the Bindalche. One plan had succeeded, but the second had failed, and he was caught here, surely as if the Vornet still held him in their intrigues, not to mention Finchet and his crew of Grounders, mad to kill the dam . . . He glanced over at the Trident; laid his hand upon the Second Book of the Telios.

  "How fares The Combine?" he asked Mael Faztherot.

  "Those we captured were put into a cargo pod and towed to Gardenspot, where they are even now unloading. The outriders are but momentarily confused by our attack. They will be back, Captain."

  "Doubtless." He stared hard at the wall opposite him, weighing needs and desires and fears. Eventually, he touched the "send" button once more.

  "Collect your ships, then do me the favor of making a pass over the pole. I need a map of the dam I am told is there. Download the information to Hyacinth's bank."

  "Yes, Captain. And yourself?"

  "Myself?" He shrugged, wryly. "I am detained rather longer than I had anticipated. The Garden took damage in descent and must be attended to—and it is not so easy to return the Trident to those who should hold it." He frowned. "There is something . . ."

  "The Captain need only command," Mael Faztherot told him, and he very nearly laughed.

  "On a planet called Henron, within the Renfrew System, there is—was—a library. If it still exists, it is in OldTown and the one who had owned it was named Shilban." He bit his lip, nodded once, though there was none but Witness and Trident to see.

  "I want that library."

  "Orders received and acknowledged," Mael Faztherot said. "Are more specific coordinates available?"

  He closed his eyes, called up the grid-map of Henron in his head and read off the location of Shilban's Library. "If it is still there," he repeated. "Understand that we are speaking of bound books—in some cases, of scrolls and hieroglyphics. Many of them are fragile."

  "I understand. The utmost care shall be taken in the loading and the books shall be brought back to you here." A small pause. "The Captain has further orders?"