The Broken Sphere

instead of six, he could understand the 'incomplete' part. Did the transition from 'animal' to 'person' mean that Speaks First was willing to consider him an equal?

'Greetings, Speaks First,' Teldin said. 'You're right, we're not of the People'-he pointed, one at a time, to the three trilaterals-'or of the World of the People'-he indicated the ground under his feet. 'We came here from beyond the suns. And that seemed to scare the first of your group to talk with us. Why was that?'

Looks Around lives the Legends too much [amusement]. No immediate understanding, then fear [condescension].

Teldin nodded slowly. He'd met two-legged people like that: anything they didn't understand at once was an object of fear. Yet there was more to it than that, wasn't it? All that babbling about the 'ancient time' and 'the Others'…

The creature edged forward. Although it moved slowly, Teldin didn't get the sense that it did so out of fear- more that it didn't want to frighten him with a precipitous approach. When it was less than a man's height away, it stopped. May this one [fascination] touch? it asked.

For a moment, Teldin considered refusing. This thing was just so alien-more so, he found, than even the beholder Beth-Abz. But he steeled himself and nodded.

It took him a few seconds to realize the creature wouldn't know how to interpret his gestures. But before he could express his agreement in words, the trilateral had started to reach toward him with one of its twice- trifurcated tentacles. Apparently the cloak will translate gestures as well, part of his mind noted. I'll have to remember that….

With the delicacy of a lover's caress, the nine tentacle tips touched his face, traced the lines of his cheekbones and jaw, brushed his nose and lips. The trilateral's skin was as smooth as a baby's, slightly cooler than human flesh. It exuded a complex, faint odor, with a slight undertone of musk-sharp, yet by no means distasteful. Teldin closed his eyes and felt feather touches across his eyelids.

Then the examination was over. The creature backed a step away. Cloakmaster is not incomplete [curiosity-certainty], it stated mentally. Cloakmaster is not [resolution] of the People. Cloakmaster is not [doubt- decision) of the Others.

'What are the Others?' Teldin demanded.

Legends tell, Speaks First answered slowly. Legends [reverence] tell of Others, tell of place of People [certainty] in life. Legends [perplexity] for People only [doubt]… yet though Cloakmaster not of People [indecision] Cloakmaster speaks with People…. The creature's mental voice fell silent for a moment. Then, Cloakmaster [decision] not- People [resolution], it stated firmly, yet Legends for Cloakmaster also. Cloakmaster to Place of People [certainty] will come. As though that had totally settled matters, Speaks First strode off to join its fellows.

'Wait,' Teldin called after it. 'What about my friends?'

The trilateral paused. With five tentacle tips it indicated Djan, Julia, and the others. Other not- People [hesitation] speak with People? it queried.

Teldin shook his head. 'No,' he said unwillingly. Speaks First rubbed its tentacle tips together with a hissing sound. Legends [decision-determination] not for not-People not-CIoakmaster, it stated firmly. Cloakmaster alone [certainty] come.

And that seemed to be that.

Chapter Eight

As he'd expected, Teldin was hard pressed to match the pace the three People were setting through the forest. All three of the creatures were walking in front of him, 'chattering' back and forth among themselves- probably thinking the 'not-People' couldn't overhear their conversation. The Cloakmaster smiled wryly. With the cloak's help, he could decipher their crosstalk… if he wanted to. But he'd quickly decided the creatures didn't have much to 'say' that wasn't banal-comments about the position of the mini-suns, the way the foliage was growing, and such things-and had soon 'tuned out' their conversation until it became nothing more than a background mental hum.

Even though they didn't discuss him-presumably out of some sense of politeness-Teldin knew he still fascinated the creatures. When they didn't think he was paying attention, all three of them oriented themselves so that one of their three eyes was fixed directly on him. As soon as they saw his own eyes on them, however, without breaking stride they pivoted slightly-a matter of sixty degrees or so-so they weren't staring right at him. Each time he noticed this shift, he chuckled slightly to himself.

It's fascinating, he told himself. I have no fear of these creatures. Why is that?

When Speaks First had made it clear that the invitation to the 'Place of People' was for Teldin alone, the Cloakmaster had passed the message on to Julia and Djan. Predictably. both first and second mate had tried to talk him out of going alone with the trilateral-Julia even going so far as to call him an overtrusting, rock-headed idiot. But he'd been adamant, eventually 'pulling rank' on the two of them, ordering them-as captain-to wait for his return. He shook his head. Maybe that hadn't been such a swift move, particularly in Julia's case. Odds were, she'd make him pay later, one way or another.

The path the creatures were following was smooth and free of obstacles, an easy walk. That allowed Teldin to let his concentration wander from the ground at his feet to the grass-trees that towered around him. At first he'd thought the foliage and underbrush were empty of life. Once he'd figured out what to look for, and where, however, he was amazed by the profusion of creatures surrounding him.

To his fascination, there wasn't a single specimen that even vaguely resembled a creature with which he was familiar. Certainly, it was easy to pick out the niche each creature filled, or the function it fulfilled in the forest, but the details were decidedly alien.

Take the 'birds,' for example. They perched on the branches of the grass-trees, feeding on the leaves or on bright purple berries, delicately picking the fruit with one delicate, three-clawed foot while clinging to their perch with the other two, and consuming it with a mouth mounted on their undersides. When they flew from perch to perch, they did so, not by flapping their three wings-covered with short, wiry hair, he noticed, not feathers-but by whirling them around their bodies in complex, interwoven patterns. Althrough they looked like small, swirling bundles of chaos, he couldn't help but notice the precision with which they avoided obstacles and landed on the slender branches.

Is everything trilaterally symmetrical here? he asked him-self. If so-and that was certainly how it appeared- the fact that the People matched Estriss's vague description of the Juna didn't necessarily mean much after all. There could well have been two intelligent races on Nex-the Juna and the People. In that case, the 'Others' that Speaks First mentioned might be the Juna themselves.

But how likely was it that a race sharing a planet with the advanced Juna would remain at this relatively primitive level? He mused on that for a while. On Ansalon, there were more 'primitive' races. But either the humans had 'civilized' them to some degree, or-in the case of some of the humanoids-the other races had borrowed or stolen components of human civilization. No, he thought, it didn't seem likely that advanced and primitive races could coexist without some kind of 'cultural diffusion' between the two.

So maybe the People arose after the Juna had left. That made a little more sense, didn't it? When the Juna were present, the race that would become the People wasn't intelligent. Perhaps they bore the same relationship to the Juna that apes bore to humankind. When the Star Folk moved on-or died out, or whatever-the People continued to evolve, increasing in intelligence and sophistication over the passing millennia. Maybe magic and other artifacts left behind by the Juna had helped this new race up the evolutionary ladder. In a way, then, if that were true, didn't it make the People the heirs of the Juna? It was an interesting thought. He found himself staring at his three guides with ever deeper fascination.

The trek through the forest lasted no more than a quarter hour. The path they followed led across the slope of the terrain, angling only slightly downward while the hills above and below the path itself were inclined at almost forty-five degrees. Eventually the path opened into a clearing only slightly smaller than the meadow where the