It was warm. He raised the heavy cloth covering.

There was a cup of something brown. There were two very small bread loaves, what looked like honey, and some orange segments. He did not recognizeanything else, but it all looked good, smelled good, and had to be expensive, the kind of stuff they had at home only on the most important holy days.

He started eating.

He felt better immediately.

The men from the second cart carried a thing like a trunk into the cage andset it down beside another exactly like it. It sloshed. So did the other whenthe men picked it up to take it away. That one was a kind of giant chamberpot. Zouki had seen the other kids use it and had gone to urinate into ithimself once he knew. There was another like it thirty feet along.

The men came back to exchange that. Then they hauled in a taller case andexchanged it for its twin. This one contained fresh drinking water.

The women had finished passing out food. They stepped away from the childrenand waited. The four men got shovels and bags and went back into the foliage, apparently to clean up after the rock apes. None of the adults said a word.

Some of the children finished quickly. What they did then seemed to depend onthe child. Some took their dishes to the women, who scraped the remains oftheir meals onto one of several metal trays sitting atop their cart. When oneof those was full one of the men took it into the foliage for the rock apes.

He brought a dirty pan back.

Most of the children were not bold enough to approach the women. They just left their plates where they were and moved away. The men collected them forthe women.

The giant man never left the entrance.

The adults all went away.

Zouki spent a long time in a bubble of fear, homesickness, and longing for hismother. But curiosity about the apes slowly intruded upon his misery. Hefinally went to see what could be seen.

Before he got to the foliage the men and women appeared again, pushing cartsthat were not the same as those they had brought before. Once more the giantstood guard after the carts had come into the cage.

Each of the women selected a child that she led to a cart. The kids went docilely. The women stripped them naked and lifted them into the carts andbegan to wash and scrub them.

The carts were tubs on wheels. Part of them, anyway.

Zouki did not like baths. He asked the girl who had spoken to him earlier, "Dowe all have to take a bath?"

"You do. You're new."

Holy Aram! They were even washing their hair! He hated having his hair washedmore than he hated anything else in the world. He thought about running tohide with the apes, but he could not move.

The women removed their victims from the tubs, toweled them off, and dressedthem in clean clothing taken from a hamper on the end of the cart. Then theywent after more kids.

One headed straight for Zouki!

His muscles refused to act. He could do nothing but shake and start to leaktears.

The woman was not unkind as she took his hand, hoisted him, and led himunresisting to her cart.

He did not fight back till he saw the pitcher rising to dump water over hishead. He squealed and batted at it, missed. The water gushed down over hishead while a firm hand held him still. He shrieked then, and started pumpinghis legs up and down, running in place, splashing.

Firm hands sat him down in the water and forced him to lean forward. Water cascaded over him, leaving him sputtering. Hands began rubbing soap into hisscalp. But after the indignity of the wash and rinse there was more, somethingthat smelled vile and burned his head.

A woman's voice asked, "Is this the new one?"

"Yes, ma'am." Another woman. The one torturing him.

"Is he in good shape?"

"Except for head and body lice, which they all have when they come in, he appears to be in good health and excellent physical condition."

"Good. Are you about ready to pull him out of there?" "One more rinse, ma'am."

Water splashed over Zouki's head. Then hands hoisted him out of the tub, set him on the floor, began drying his hair with a towel. He opened his eyes. Facing him was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

She reached out and took his face between her hands, her palms against his cheeks, and made him look into her eyes. "Don't be afraid. Nobody's going to hurt you."

"I want mom!"

"I know." She patted his cheek.

The woman toweling Zouki asked, "Is he the one, ma'am?"

"I don't think so. Not obviously."

Zouki thought she looked very sad.

Arif considered the tactical situation. Mom was trying to get dressed while Stafa was trying to climb on her and Mish was complaining about something Nana had said to her. None of them were watching the door. It was a good time to go see what was happening. He just walked out the door like it was something he was allowed to do anytime he wanted.

As children will, he had forgotten to take into account all facets of the situation. His grandmother grabbed hold of his clothing and with one yank sat him down beside her. "Where do you think you're going, Arif?" "I was just ..."

"Just what, Arif?"

"Just going to see what the Dartars are doing." He stuck out his lower lip.

"A bird is going to nest there." Nana pinched his lip. "You know the rule. You and Stafa can't go out unless a grown-up goes with you."

"I was just going right up there."

"Right up there is where the bad man grabbed Zouki yesterday. Remember?"

"Well, he wouldn't grab me! If he did I'd punch him in the nose! I'd punch him so hard ..."

"Arif!" Nana glared at him. Her face was starkly serious. "This isn't a game.

It isn't play. It's real. How are you going to get away from the bad men when you can't even get away from your old Nana?" She reiterated, "It's not a game, Arif. Now tell me the rules. What are you supposed to do?"

Lip out farther, Arif began reciting the litany of responses he was to make ifsomebody tried to kidnap him.

Mish rushed out of the house. "Mom, did you see Arif? He ..." She saw himsitting there. Almost instantly, her eye strayed to the Dartars up the street.

She did not hear a word Nana said. She always got deaf whenever Mom or Nanastarted yelling at her.

Azel strolled all the way around Government House twice, looking to see whowas watching, if anyone was. He did not spot anyone. If someone was around hewas good enough not to give himself away. That would be unusual for theground-level men of the Living and impossible for the Dartars, who could not- and probably would not-disguise themselves as anything but what they were.

There were jokes and parables about the Dartar inability to adapt. "Stubbornas a Dartar," was a maxim as old as Qushmarrah itself.

Azel strolled to a tradesman's entrance, knocked. A soldier opened a peekhole.

"What you want?" he demanded.

"I got to see Colonel Bruda about the cut flowers he ordered." He grinned. Theguy wouldn't know what the hell was going on, but he'd have a damned goodidea, what with all the guys coming around about flowers for the Colonel. Hecould not be unique, could he? What the hell would a Colonel do with a ton ofposies?

The Herodian bolted up behind Azel. In his own language he told his partner,

"I'm going to take this gink up to Bruda. Hold the fort."

The partner grunted. He had not bothered to look up from his lap. Too long ingarrison, Azel figured.

His guide led him through dusty, seldom-used passages. He amused himselftrying to estimate Government House's backdoor traffic from the disturbancesin the dust. He played the same game every time.

The guide turned into the long north-south hall. Azel glanced back. Nobodybehind them. Nobody up ahead. There never was, but you had to check. Youdidn't let up.