There was no hint that half a minute earlier Atvar H’sial had been facing possible death. “Think about it, Louis. We have been very good to them. We did not exterminate them, although the very name of Zardalu strikes terror through the whole spiral arm. We did not kill or mutilate them, although that is their own habit with slaves. We have not taken their most prized possessions — a short-sighted omission on my part, I admit, and one for which I take full responsibility. And we have even left them their planet.”

“You’re all heart, At.”

“In Zardalu terms, we have been Masters both kind and generous.” Atvar H’sial settled lower on the cabin floor. “However, we have done one other thing for the Zardalu, which pleases me less. We have demonstrated that the road to space from Genizee is now open.”

“No thanks to us that the singularities went away. That just happened. Maybe they’ll come back.” Nenda caught another drift of pheromones, with an unmistakable molecular message. “Hey, you better not be falling asleep back there. This isn’t the time for it. We’re still in the middle of the Anfract. Suppose it’s changing, too? The flight plan we made before may not take us out.”

“We escaped from Genizee.” The Cecropian was closing the twin yellow horns, turning off her echolocation receivers. The six-foot antennas on top of her head were furling their delicate fanlike receptors. “I have no doubt that you will find a way to take us out of the Torvil Anfract. Wake me when we are clear. Then I will compute a trajectory to take us to the Have-It-All.”

“Don’t try to get off the hook by talking about my ship.” Nenda turned to glare at Atvar H’sial’s body, with the six jointed legs housed comfortably along its sides. “You need to stay awake and alert. If I don’t handle the exit from the Anfract just right, it could kill you.”