of the half-darkness, ghost-pale, except that, he reminded himself, hrinnti imaginations had never conceived of anything so fanciful as spirits. She cast her eyes down. “Black/on/black, Vexk asks your assistance.”
If he lived here a thousand years, he thought irritably, he would not become accustomed to the way these creatures never looked you in the eye unless they intended to kill you. He touched her shoulder. “What does she need?”
The cubling shrank from his fingers without seeming to move. “Outsiders are approaching from the south. She hopes you will speak with them.”
Absentmindedly, he nodded, then realized the gesture was meaningless. “Show me,” he amended, then followed her slender yellow-robed form back through the rapidly growing light.
At the edge of the gentle bluff leading up to the Meeting Ground, Vexk waited beside the trail. “Outsiders,” she said and wrinkled her nose in frustration. “I mean humans. I found them close to the river, but only one speaks our language and that very badly. I could not understand what it wanted.”
Boots scraped against the rocky path that led up from the flood plain. Ten . . . perhaps fifteen, Heyoka estimated. A dark-haired head emerged from the trail’s cleft and stopped.
Heyoka stepped closer. “Are you from the station?”
“Yes.” The figure edged forward. “Sergeant Blackeagle?”
Then he caught her scent. “Dr. Alvarez! What are you doing up here?”
“I—” She sagged against the rock, legs buckling. “I’m sorry.” She rubbed at a scabbed cut on her forehead. “We’ve been walking all night.” One by one, a line of weary, grime-encrusted figures appeared behind her and waited in dogged silence.
He studied her face. Lines of strain outlined her mouth and her eyes were bleak. “Did you contact the nearest base?”
“The—the flek blasted the station again after you left.” e