Turned out L’Eesh had taken part in that great Ghost massacre on Snowball.

“Snowball was actually the first Ghost planet anybody found. When Ghost numbers collapsed the Commission slapped on conservation orders—some nonsense about preserving cultural diversity—but there wasn’t a great deal of will behind the policing.

“When the orders were lifted, we were already in orbit. We made a huge circle around the major Ghost nest, with aerial patrols overhead, and we just worked our way in on foot, firing at will, until we met in the center. The major challenge was counting up the carcasses.

“So it went: while those nests lasted, it was a feeding frenzy. You were born too late, Raida.”

“After all of that, why go on? Why risk your neck in places like this, for the last few scraps of hide?”

“Because some day there will be a last Ghost of all. I must be there when he is brought down. You know, a thousand years ago the Ghosts’ pits of twisted spacetime struck dread into human hearts. They were deployed as fortresses, a great wall right across the disc of the Galaxy. Magnificent! … And now we hunt the Ghosts for their hides.”

“Who cares? Ghosts are predators.”

“They are symbiotes,” he said gently. “You have been listening to too much Commission propaganda.”

As we talked we walked on, across a land like a dusty table-top.

L’Eesh kept up his dogged, unspectacular plod, hour after hour. He looked determined, sharp, as if he had plenty of reserve.

I was determined not to let my own gathering weakness show. I continued to carry that bone spear.

At the end of the third “day,” we reached the bridge.

L’Eesh was breathing hard, sucking water. “Magnificent,” he said. “Mad. They built a brick tower to reach to heaven! … ”

Exhausted, filthy, uncomprehending, I peered up. About a hundred paces across, it was just a rough pile of mud bricks. And yet it towered above me, reaching up to infinity.