"An-ehon, let it continue.
"She'pan," it responded.
"There are none of the People in your limits?
"No.
"Do any remain, An-ehon?
"Rephrase.
"Do any others of the People survive, An-ehon?
"Yes, she'pan. Many live.
The answer struck; it went uncomprehended for several heartbeats, for Niun had waited for no. Yes. Yes, many, many, MANY!
"She'pan," Niun exclaimed, and tears stung his eyes. He stood still, nonetheless, and breathed deeply to drive the weakness from him, felt Duncan's hand on his shoulder, offering whatever moved the human, and after a moment he was aware of that, too. Gladness, he thought; Duncan was glad for them. He was touched by this, and at the same time annoyed by the human contact.
Human.
Before he had heard An-ehon speak, he had had no resentment for Duncan's humanity; before he had known that there were others, he had not felt the difference in them so keenly.
Shame touched him, that he should go before others of the People, drawing this with them self-interested shame and dishonorable, and hurtful. Perhaps Duncan even sensed it. Niun lifted his arm, set it likewise on Duncan's shoulder, pressed with his fingers.
"Sov-kela," he said in a low voice.
The human did not speak. Perhaps he likewise found nothing to say.
"An-ehon," Melein addressed the machine, "where are they now?
A graphic flashed to a central screen: dots flashed.
Ten, twenty sites. The globe shaped, turned in the viewer, and there were others.
"There were no power readings for those sites," Duncan murmured. Niun tightened his hand, warning him to silence.
Melein turned to them, hands open in dismissal. "Go. Wait below.
Perhaps it was because of Duncan; more likely it was that here began sen-matters that the Kel had no business to overhear.
The People survived.
Melein would guide them: the thought came suddenly that he would have need of all the skill that his masters had taught him that first in finding the People, it would be necessary to kilclass="underline" and this was a bitterness more than such killing ever had been.
"Come," he said to Duncan. He bent to take the pan'en' into his own arms, trusting their safety now to the city, that obeyed Melein.
"No," Melein said. "Leave it.
He did so, brought Duncan out and down again, where they had left their other belongings; and there they prepared to wait.
Night came on them. From sen-tower there was no stir; Niun sat and fretted at Melein's long silence, and Duncan did not venture conversation with him. Once, restless, he left the human to watch and climbed up to kel-halclass="underline" there was only emptiness there, vaster by far than the earth-walled kel-hall he had known. There were pictures, maps, painted there, age-faded, showing a world that had ceased to be, and the sight depressed him.
He left the place, anxious for Duncan, alone in main hall, and started down the winding ramp. A cnittering, mechanical thing darted behind him ... he whirled and caught at his pistol, but it was only an automaton, a cleaner such as regul had employed. It answered what kept the place clean, or what did repairs to keep the ancient machinery running.
He shrugged, half a shiver, and descended to Duncan startled the human, who settled back again, distressed and relieved at once.
"I wish the dusei would come back," Duncan said.
"Yes," Niun agreed. They were limited without the animals. They dared not leave the outer door unguarded. He looked in that direction, where there was only night, and then began to search through their packs. "I am going to take the she'pan up some food. I do not think we will be moving tonight. And mind, there are some small machines about. I think they are harmless. Do not damage one.
"It comes to me," Duncan said softly, "that An-ehon could be dangerous if it chose to be.
"It comes to me too.
"It said that it permitted the ship to land. That means it could have prevented it.
Niun drew a slow breath and let it go, gathered up the packet of food and a flask, the while Duncan's words nagged at him. The human had learned well how to keep his thoughts from his face; he could no longer read him with absolute success. The implications disturbed him; it was not the landing of their own ship that Duncan was thinking of.
Others.
The humans that would come.
Such a thought Duncan offered to him.
He rose and went without looking back, climbed the way to sen-hall, thoughts of treachery moiling in him: and not treachery, if Duncan were Melein's.
What was the man?
He entered cautiously into the outer hall of the Sen, called out aloud, for the door was left open; he could hear the voice of the machine, drowning his words, perhaps.
But Melein came. Her eyes were shadowed and held a dazed look. Her weariness frightened him.
"I have brought you food," he said.
She gathered the offering into her hands. "Thank you," she said, and turned away, walked slowly back into that room. He lingered, and saw what he ought not, the pan'en open, and filled with leaves of gold saw the pulse of lights welcome Melein, mortal flesh conversing with machines that were cities. She stood, and light bathed her white-robed figure until it blazed blue-white like a star. The packet of food tumbled from her loose hand, rolled. The flask slipped from the other and struck the floor without a sound. She did not seem to notice.
"Melein!" he cried, and started forward.
She turned, held out her hands, forbidding, panic on her face. Blue light broke across his vision: he flung himself back, crashed to the floor, half dazed.
Voices echoed, and one was Melein's. He gathered himself to one knee as she reached him, touched him: he gained his feet, though his heart still hammered from the shock that had passed through him.
"He is well?" asked the voice of An-ehon. "He is well?
"Yes," Melein said.
"Come away," Niun urged her. "Come away; leave this thing, at least until the morning. What is time to this machine? Come away from it, and rest.
"I shall eat and rest here," she said. Her hands caressed his arm, withdrew as she stepped back from him, retreating into the room with the machine. "Do not try to come here.
"I fear this thing.
"It should be feared," she lingered to say, and her eyes held ineffable weariness. "We are not alone. We are not alone, Niun. We will find the People. Look at yourself, she'pan's-kel'en.
"Where shall we find them, and when, she'pan? Does it know?
"There have been wars. The seas have dried; the People have diminished and fought among themselves; cities are abandoned for want of water. Only machines remain here: An-ehon says that it teaches the she'panei that come here, to learn of it Go away. I do not know it all. And I must. It learns of me too; it will share the knowledge with all the Cities of the People, and perhaps, with that One it calls the Living City. I do not know, I cannot grasp what the connection is among the cities. But I hold An-ehon. It listens to me. And by it I will hold Kutath.
"I am," he said, dazed by the temerity of such a vision, "the she'pan's Hand." "Look to Duncan.
"Yes," he said; and accepted her gesture of dismissal and left, still feeling in his bones the ache that the machine's weapon had left; dazed he was still, and much that she had said wandered his mind without a tether to hold it ... only that Melein meant to fight, and that therefore she would need him.
A'ani. Challenge. She'panei did not share: the she'pan served by the most skillful kel'en, survived. Melein prepared herself.
He returned in silence to the hall below, curled up in the corner, massaging his aching arms and reckoning in troubled thoughts that there was killing to be done.
"Is she all right?" Duncan intruded into his silence, unwelcome.