"Yahoud. Dartars." "What?"

"Dartars are coming. Right back there."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Yahoud looked at the skull a moment. "Here, Zouki. Go throw it into thatalley."

Zouki held the skull in both hands and wove through the press. The alley wasnot far away. Before he reached it several boys were following him, alerted by Yahoud.

He was about to step into the alley when he saw the vague shape back in theshadows. He paused.

A voice just loud enough to be heard said, "Bring it here, boy. Give it tome."

Zouki took three steps, paused. He did not like this.

"Will you hurry it up?"

Zouki responded to the authority in the voice, taking another three steps.

That was one too many. The man leaped. A hand slammed down on his shoulder, aclamp of agony. "Yahoud!"

"Are you Zouki, son of Naszif?"

"Yahoud!"

"Answer me, brat!"

"Yes! Yahoud!"

Children crowded the alley mouth, shouting. The man shifted his grip toZouki's arm and dragged him deeper into the shadows. Zouki screamed and kickedand struck out with the skull he still clenched.

Yoseh fought the awe that threatened to overwhelm him whenever he left theDartar compound. So many people. So many thousands of people, more than hecould have conceived of as inhabiting the whole world a year ago. And the bay?

Who cold conceive such a sprawl of water, vast as an arm of the Takes, but theblue of heavenstone? With far vaster expanses of sea beyond the Brothers, theheadlands flanking the strait that led into the bay.

And the buildings! He did not believe he would get used to the buildings, ever. In his native mountains there were no builded things at all, exceptancient fortresses that had begun their fall to ruin centuries ago.

There was an eddy and swirl in the mass of humanity ahead. An exuberant crywent up.