Devi-en said, “I can’t discuss this subject.”

“No?” The wild one was screaming. “What are you going to do about it? How long will you wait? Why not nudge it a little? Don’t just wait, vulture. Start one.”

Devi-en jumped to his feet. “What are you saying?”

“Why else are you waiting, you duty—” He choked on a completely incomprehensible expletive, then continued, breathlessly, “Isn’t that what vultures do when some poor miserable animal, or man, maybe, is taking too long to die? They can’t wait. They come swirling down and peck out his eyes. They wait till he’s helpless and just hurry him along the last step.”

Devi-en ordered him away quickly and retired to his sleeping room, where he was sick for hours. Nor did he sleep then or that night. The word “vulture” screamed in his ears, and that final picture danced before his eyes.

Devi-en said firmly, “Your Height, I can speak with the wild one no more. If you need still more data, I cannot help you.”

The Archadministrator looked haggard. “I know. This vulture business—very difficult to take. Yet you notice the thought didn’t affect him. Large-primates are immune to such things, hardened, calloused. It is part of their way of thinking Horrible.”

“I can get you no more data.”

“It’s all right. I understand. Besides, each additional item only strengthens the preliminary answer; the answer I thought was only provisional; that I hoped earnestly was only provisional.” He buried his head in his grizzled arms. “We have a way to start their nuclear war for them.”

“Oh? What need be done?”

“It is something very direct, very simple. It is something I could never have thought of. Nor you.”

“What is it, your Height?” He felt an anticipatory dread.

“What keeps them at peace now is that neither of two nearly equal sides dares take the responsibility of starting a war. If one side did, however, the other—well, let’s be blunt about it—would retaliate in full.”