They had heard of him, heard that he was a holy man, heard that he was on an errand of mercy.

"The last part is correct," he had told them, "but you will not score any heavenly merit points because of me."

They had laughed. No, he would need someone to protect him from the animals and show him the trail.

"Ridiculous! Point me in the right direction and I will get there," he had said. "You will be in more danger in my company than you would be out there alone."

But they had laughed again and refused to show him the way unless he permitted an escort to accompany him.

"But it can be death to be with me for too long a period of time!" he had protested.

They were adamant.

He had sighed.

"Very well, then. Give me a place where I may be completely alone and undisturbed for a day or so. It will be an expenditure of valuable time, time that should not really be lost at this point. But I must try to protect you if there is no other way that you will assist me."

They did this, and then they danced about one another and laughed at their part in a great adventure. Heidel von Hymack, the green-eyed saint from the stars, was obviously going to pray, to arrange things for their safety and the success of the trip.

Two or three days, walking, they had told him. So he had tried forcing the catharsis in order to get under way. A child lay dying in Italbar, and he had come to measure the minutes in terms of her breathing.

The Blue Lady had told him to wait, but he thought of that breathing and of the contractions of a large heart that had once been tiny. He had started out after fifteen hours and it had been a mistake.

The fevers of two of his companions had gone undetected, because of fatigue and the excessive heat of the forest. They had expired on the afternoon of the second day.