_There is some of that. My main concern, of course, is for my brother_ ...

_He is safe_.

_I know that. But he will not recall our assurances. He will grow lonely, then afraid_.

_He will come to no harm, and we will be united soon_.

There was no reply, so Malacar sniffed his vapors and waited.

Half-dozing (for how long?), he was alerted:

_She comes! Now! She comes!_

Smiling, he stretched his muscles and looked upward, knowing that for a few moments he would be unable to see that which the eyes of Shind had already detected.

It dropped like a spider and hung like a grim festival float. For a moment it hovered above him, while Shind boarded it. Another moment, and it had lowered itself farther and extended the drop-bar. Seizing it, he put his weight upon it and was taken up into the belly of _The Perseus_, passing by that mask of Medusa with the smile of the Mona Lisa which he had painted there himself. He longed for a serpent, but would settle for worms.

He spat out of the hatch just before it closed, striking the side of the building below him.

Heidel von Hymack, on the way to Italbar, watched his companions die. There had been nine of them--volunteers all--who had set out to accompany him through the rain forest of Cleech to the mountain town Italbar where he was needed; Italbar, a thousand miles distant from the space port. He had taken an air car to reach it. Forced down, he had told his story to the villagers by the River Bart, who had come upon him walking westward. Now five remained of the nine who had accompanied him against his protestations. Now one of the five was sweating, and another coughed periodically.

Heidel ran his hand through his sandy beard and continued to kick his black boots through the growth that covered what was supposed to be a trail. He perspired and his shirt stuck to him. He had warned them that it was dangerous to accompany him, he reflected. It was not as if he had not warned them.