wounds. Then look among the aristocrats at those who no longer hunt. Look at their artificial hands and arms and legs. And tell me, then, whether that which did the one thing has not also done the other.”
“But the Hippae are herbivores,” Tony protested still, thinking of his father. “Behemoths. Why would they —”
“Who knows what the Hippae do, or are?” offered Brother Mainoa. “They stay far from us, except to watch us. And when they watch us—”
“We see contempt,” breathed Marjorie so quietly that Tony was not sure he had heard her correctly. “We see malice.”
“Malice,” agreed Brother Mainoa. “Oh, at the very least, malice.”
“Oh, come, come,” said Father Sandoval doubtfully, almost angrily. “Malice, Marjorie?”
“I have seen it,” she said, putting her arm around Tony’s slender shoulders “I have seen it, Father. There was no mistake.” She confronted his scolding look with a fierce one of her own. Father Sandoval had always maintained the spiritual supremacy of man. He did not like discussion of other intelligence.
“Malice? In an animal?” asked Father James.
“Why do you say ‘animal’?” asked Brother Mainoa. “Why do you say that, Father?”
“Why… why, because that is what they are.”
“How do you know?”
Father James did not reply. Instead he reached out to help Father Sandoval, who was angrily wiping his brow and looking around him for a place to sit down.
“Over here, Fathers.” Brother Lourai beckoned. “We have made our home in this house of the Arbai. I have something here for us to drink.”
They sat, grateful for the refreshment and the chairs, somewhat disconcerted at the proportions of them. The Arbai had been a long-thighed race. Their chairs did not fit man. At least not these men. They perched, as on stools.
Father James returned to their conversation. “You asked why I thought the Hippae are animals? Well. I have seen them. They show no signs of being more than animals, do they?”
“What kind of sign would you accept?” Brother Mainoa asked. “Tool-making? Burial of the dead? Verbal communication?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. Since we’ve been here, I’ve heard no one suggest that the Hippae or the hounds or… or any other animal on Grass was any more than just that.”
Brother Mainoa shrugged “Think about it, Father. Ma’am. I do. It’s an interesting exercise, leading to much fascinating conjecture.”
They shared lunch together, the Brothers’ rations plus the plenty that Marjorie had packed. Then they walked again, down other streets. into other rooms. They saw artifacts. They saw books, endless books, pages covered with curvilinear lines. They came back past the thing on the dais that might be a machine but was definitely represented on at least one door carving, and they went on to see other things that might or might not be machines.
The light began to slant across the trenches, throwing them into shadow. Marjorie shivered as she asked, “Brother, would you come to Opal Hill to meet my husband? He is Roderigo Yrarier, ambassador from Sanctity to this place.”
Brother Lourai looked up, suddenly attentive. “But I have met him!” he exclaimed. “He came to Sanctity. The Hierarch was his uncle. We spoke about the plague. The Hierarch said he must go — come here, that is — because of the horses!”
Tony turned, mouth open, not sure what he had heard.
Brother Mainoa faced Marjorie, reached out to her. “My young colleague has been indiscreet. Acceptable Doctrine denies that plague exists.”
“Mother?”
“Wait. Tony.” She brought herself under control. So. He had found out. Better he than Stella. She turned to the nearest of them, Rillibee. “Brother, what do you know about the plague?”
Rillibee shivered, unable to answer. “Let me die,” the parrot cried from the top of a ruined wall, fluttering its gray wings.
“The boy saw his family die of it,” Mainoa said hastily. “Don’t ask him. Instead, think on this. Elsewhere, something killed the Arbai slowly. I know that here something killed them quickly. I know that men are dying, everywhere, and that no cure exists. So much I know. That, and the fact that Sanctity denies it all.”
Her jaw dropped. Was he saying that the current plague had happened before? “What do you know about it here, on Grass?”
“We at the Friary seem to have escaped it, thus far. What else is there to know?”
“How many have died of it here on Grass?”
He shrugged. “Who can count deaths that may be hidden? Sanctity says there is no plague. Not now. Since they deny plague exists, they do not tell us if anyone dies of it. And, since there is none now, Sanctity finds it expedient to deny that there could ever have been plagues in the past. Acceptable Doctrine is that the Arbai died of ennui. Or of some environmentally related cause. But not of plague. ‘Not only are there no devils now, there never were,’ says Doctrine. Still, those of us who came from outside know that plague did exist, once. And devils, too.”
“You think that devils exist?” she asked with a sidelong look at Father Sandoval, whose mouth was pursed in distaste at this subject. “Have existed always, perhaps? Waiting for intelligent creatures to reach the stars? Waiting to strike them down, for hubris, perhaps?”
“Perhaps.”
“You have not answered. Will you come see my husband?”
He cocked his head again, staring over her shoulder at something only he could see. “If you send a car for me, ma’am, I’ll come, of course, since it would be discourteous to do otherwise You might want to consult me about the gardens at Opal Hill. I helped plant them, after all. It would be an understandable request. If you ask my superiors to send me for any reason, likely they won’t.”
She was silent for a moment, thinking. “Are you very loyal to your superiors, Brother Mainoa?”
Rillibee/Lourai snorted, a tiny snort. Brother Mainoa gave him a reproving glance.
“I was given to Sanctity, ma’am. I had no say in the matter. Brother Lourai, here, he was given, too. And then, when we didn’t like it, we were brought here. We had no say in that, either. I don’t recollect ever being asked if I was loyal.”
Father Sandoval cleared his throat and said firmly, “Thank you for your time, Brothers.”
“And yours, Father.”
“I’ll send a car,” Marjorie promised. “Within the next few days. Will you be here?”
“Now that we’re here, we’ll stay until someone makes us go back, Lady Westriding.”
“How is it, Brother, that you knew who I was, though we had not met before?”
“Ah. A friend of mine has been interested in Opal Hill. Your name came up.” He smiled vaguely. “During our discussion.”
The Brothers watched the aircar leave and then returned to their quarters, where Brother Mainoa took out his journal from a hidey-hole and wrote his comments upon the happenings of the day.
“Do you always do that?” asked Rillibee/Lourai.
“Always,” the older man sighed. “If I die, Lourai, look in these pages for anything I know or suspect.”
“If you die.” The other smiled.
Mainoa did not return the smile. “If I die. And if I die, Lourai, hide this book. They will kill you, too, if they find it in your possession.
Tony heard the word “plague” as he would have heard a thunderclap. The word began to resonate in his mind, causing other ideas to reverberate with them. Plague. One had heard of it, of course. One whispered about it. Sanctity denied there was any. For the first time he wondered why Sanctity had to continually deny something that did not exist. Why had his father gone to Sanctity and met with the Hierarch about plague?
Plague. He had seen no signs of it here. No one even talked of it, here. Tony spent a good deal of time with Sebastian Mechanic down at the village, learning the local way of things, meeting the people, getting to know them,
