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dove for cover。
Sara squeezed her eyes shut tight as Dedinger began to shout a warning to his men…
A flash like a thousand lightning bolts filled all reality； stabbing through her eyelids。 At the same instant； roaring noise shook her like a bird in a ligger's jaws； rolling the mass of sweaty men off； releasing her twisted arms； so that waves of relief clashed with agonizing sensory overload。
It was over almost the moment that it happened…except for howling reverberations； rebounding off the stony pillars that now could be seen towering over the shredded tent。。。 or perhaps they were shock waves hammering inside her own head。 Hurriedly she fled the tangle of screaming men； who clutched their useless eyes。 Blinking past purple spots； she made out one other human who could stand and see： Dedinger； who would also have understood Kurt's brief warning。 The desert prophet peered ahead while holding forth a gleaming blade of Buyur metal。
He yelled past the bedlam in her ears and charged at Kurt； knocking the old man down before the exploser could bring a new weapon to bear。 Sara recognized a pistol from pictures in ancient texts。
〃So much for exploser neutrality！〃 Dedinger shouted； twisting Kurt's arm until the old man groaned and the weapon fell。 〃We should have searched you； and tradition be damned。〃
Overriding pain； Sara tried to spring at the ex…sage； but he lashed out with savage backhand； knocking her down amid a swirl of spinning stars。 Consciousness wavered。 Only gritty resolution let her rise again； turning on her knees to try one more time。
There came another flash…and…roar； as Dedinger fired the pistol just past her and then tried awkwardly to cock for a second shot…before being bowled over by two hairy forms； hitting him from both sides。 Sara somehow managed to fling herself into the fray； joining Ulgor and Prity in subduing the former scholar； whose wiry strength was astonishing for his age。
Fanaticism has rewards； she thought； as they finally managed to tie Dedinger's hands and feet。
Recovering his weapon； Kurt backed away； taking a rocky perch where he could watch the moaning remnants of the desert gang； as well as the surviving urs。 Especially Ulgor。 The tinker's sudden return might have been fortuitous； but that would not make him trust her。
A sticky sensation made Sara stare at her hands； trying to separate red stains from vision…blotches left by Kurt's stun bomb。 The stains had the color and scent of blood。
It isn't me…and Ulgor wouldn't bleed this shade of…
It was Prity stanching a crimson flow from a deep gash in her side。 Sara took the trembling little chimp into her arms and fought a sudden fit of weary sobs。
The wrecked tent was a horror scene of dead or delirious Urunthai and flash…blinded men。 The Stranger seemed in better shape than most； when he finally staggered to his feet。 At least he could see well enough to help Ulgor bind the arms of Dedinger's crew； while young Jomah returned to hobble the legs of sedated urs。 Still； it soon grew clear that the battered man from the stars could not hear a blessed sound。
Against every instinct that urged her to be thorough； Sara forced herself to make do with a pressure press over Prity's wound。 It did not seem immediately life…threatening； and someone else might yet be saved by quick action。 So with the chimp's grunt of approval； she hurried over to one wheezing quadruped； a young urs thrashing feebly with an arrow through her neck； whose labored breathing made noisy； purple bubbles…
…and who died with a shuddering gasp of despair； before Sara could do a thing to help her。
Asx
BATTLE…ECHOES GOUGED THE LAND； ONLY A FEW short duras ago。 Firebolts lashed from heaven； scourging the Six； laying open flesh； chitin； and bone。
Traekis gushed molten wax across the tortured valley； or else burst aflame； ignited by searing beams。
Oh my rings； what images lay seared throughout our trembling core！
The dead。
The dying。
The prudent ones； who fled。
The rash heroes； who came。
Their blur…cloth tunics are now grimy with mud and grue； no longer quite as slippery to the eye。 Young tree farmers and donkey…drivers。 Simple keepers of lobster pens。 Junior hands on the humblest fishing coracles。 Volunteers who never imagined their weekend training might e to this。
Our brave militia； who charged into that maelstrom； that cauldron of slicing rays。 Amateurs； soft and unready after generations of peace； who now wince silently； clenching their limbs while horrid wounds are dressed or while life slips away。 Bearing agony with the gritty resolve of veterans； their suffering eased by the only balm that soothes。
Victory。
Was it only yesterday； my rings； that we feared for the mons？ Feared that it might fly apart in jealous hatreds fostered by crafty star…devils？
That dread fate may yet e to pass； along with a thousand other terrors。 But not today。 Right now the arrogant aliens stand captive； staring about in surprise； stripped of their godlike tools； their hellish robots destroyed by the crude fire…tubes of our brave militia。
A day of reckoning may not be far off。 It could swoop at any moment from an unforgiving sky。
Yet there is exhilaration。 A sense of relief。 The time of ambiguity is over。 No more subtle games of misdirection and innuendo。 No more pretense or intrigue。 Ifni's dice have been shaken and cast。 Even now they tumble across Jijo's holy ground。 When they stop rolling； we will know。
Yes； my second ring。 You are right to point this out。 Not everyone shares a sense of grim elation。 Some see in recent events cause for nihilism。 A chance to settle old grudges； or to spread lawlessness across the land。
One vocal minority…〃Friends of the Rothen〃…demands the release of Ro…kenn。 They advise throwing ourselves prostrate before his godlike mercy。
Others call for the hostages to be done away with at once。
〃The starship may have means to track its lost members；〃 they claim； 〃perhaps by brain emanations； or body implants。 The sole way to be sure is to grind their bones and sift the dust into a lava pool！〃
These and other testy groups might think differently； if the full truth were told。 If only we sages could divulge the plans already set in motion。 But secrets are innately unfair。 So we hold our peace。
To the folk of the Six； we say only this…
〃Go to your homes。 See to your lattice screens and blur…webs。 Prepare to fight if you can。 To hide if you must。
〃Be ready to die。
〃Above all； keep faith with your neighbors…with the Scrolls…with Jijo。
〃And wait。〃
Now our survivors hurry to pull down pavilions； to pack up valuables； to bear the wounded off on litters。 Children of all races spend one sacred midura scouring the Glade for every scrap of dross they can find。 Alas； that midura is all we can spare for tradition。 There will be no festive mulching ceremony。 No gaudy caravan； bearing ribboned crates down to the sea and ships…the most joyous part of any Gathering。
Such a pity。
Anyway； the aliens' ruined station will take generations to haul away； one donkey…back at a time。 That task must wait