Dumarest said loudly, "I have come to talk and all can hear what I have to say. But is there one among you who can talk for the rest?"

A voice said, "Why did you come among us?"

"I have told you." Dumarest turned, looking at the speaker. He was old, his face seamed with tiny lines, hair bright with silver. An elder, possibly, or a wise man, a councilor perhaps-he knew too little about their social structure. "I came to meet you. To talk."

"Yet, when we waited for you, death came to two of our number."

"Against my order."

"Do your men not obey you?"

"Do yours?" Dumarest looked at the men pressing all around. "If one of your people does what he should not do, what then? Is he made to leave your company? Is punishment taken? Does he face the penalty of your law?" Words, he thought, and perhaps words without meaning to those who listened. They could have a different code, mores other than what he knew, customs that did not recognize the duties more civilized men placed upon themselves. He said, "The man killed against my order. Because of that, I killed him in turn."

A voice in the background said, "That is true. I saw it done."

"The one responsible was dying." Another voice, doubtful.

"Even so, he was slain."

A babble arose, soft voices whispering, as if a wind had passed over the assembly, stilling as the elder raised his hand.

"Why did the man fire? What had we done to harm him?"

"His family died in an outbreak of violence. He blamed you. Among my people the desire for revenge is very strong."

"And would killing us restore his family?"

"No."

"Did he know that?"

"He knew it."

"Then why did he seek to kill?"

"Because he was a man," said Dumarest harshly. "A man suffering pain and hurt from his loss and wanting to give to those he thought responsible the same pain and hurt he had known. You have worked among us, you know how we are. And you too have killed. What drove you to take innocent lives?"

"Innocent?" The elder made a gesture, one hand lifting, fingers extended, thumb pointed downward. "They came against us with fire and steel and killed without warning. And you, you came to talk, you say. Do you need guns to make conversation?"

"For defense… and I have no gun."

Again the babble rose, men speaking, not raising their voices, arriving at a conclusion by a means Dumarest could guess at but not really know. Telepathy, perhaps, vocalized thoughts resolving, meeting, transmitted to their spokesman. As it died the man said, "According to the habits of your people, you display great courage. Why are you here?"

"To end the war."

"That too is our wish. It is not good for our people to bear instruments designed to kill those of our own kind. It hurts them. But it is a thing I cannot alone decide. There are others-you must meet them, talk with them, let them judge you in our manner. You are willing?"

"Yes," said Dumarest. "Let's waste no more time."

* * *

It was dawn when he returned, the stars paling, fading motes in the light of the rising sun. A sentry called out as he approached the circle of stones, his voice high, brittle with tension.

"Halt! Who-"

"Marshal Dumarest."

"Earl?" Ven Taykor rose at the sentry's side, knocking down the aimed rifle. "You're back! I was beginning to get worried. Half the men thought you'd been roasted and eaten, the rest that you'd sold us out. How did it go?"

"Fair enough." Dumarest added, "Ven, have you ever known any of the Ayutha to lie?"

"No."

"Never? Not even in small things?"

"They've never lied to me, and not to anyone else as far as I know. They just don't bother. They simply tell the truth, and to hell with the consequences."

Natural enough if they were telepathic, even if the talent were rudimentary. Lies would be too easily discovered and serve no useful purpose. The very concept of falsehood would be alien to a race that exposed its innermost thoughts.

As Dumarest entered the circle, Lieutenant Paran sprang to his feet. He had been sleeping, his face still drawn with the lines of fatigue.

"Any luck, sir?"

"Some. We can get out of here alive, at least. Send for a raft to pick us up. Just the vehicle and pilot, no troops. How are the injured?"

"Comfortable, but one man is pretty bad. I doubt if he'd make it if we had to carry him." The officer busied himself with his communicator. "Anything else, sir?"

"Get me headquarters."

Captain Louk appeared on the tiny screen. He looked harassed. "Marshal! Thank God you've made contact. We've had a hell of a night."

"Report."

"Two more villages were hit." He gave the map references. "A total wipe-out. The field detachments close by got there while it was happening. They were unaffected, but there was nothing they could do. Colonel Paran's out there now." He added, "It's bad, marshal. Damned bad. Those villages were close, and if the Ayutha is stepping up the attack-"

"Were any signs of the Ayutha found?"

"No, but that doesn't mean anything. If they're using gas, and they must be, we wouldn't-"

"Have men search every inch of the area for at least a mile around each village," interrupted Dumarest sharply. "Concentrate on the ground. If a living enemy attacked, there must be traces."

"Sir?"

"Find trackers, men accustomed to hunting game. Damnit, captain, use your head. I want a full report when I return. In the meantime, no offensive action is to be taken against the Ayutha of any kind. Do you understand me? I have arranged a truce."

The captain hesitated, then said, "There was a Council meeting last night, sir. The decision was to launch punitive expeditions at noon."

"Cancel those instructions."

"Sir?"

"You heard me, captain. Use the men to form a thick line around the base of the hills. If you have body-capacitance detectors, use them; if not, cut a clear path through the lofios. Halt and hold for questioning any Ayutha you may find. You understand? I don't want them shot, simply held. That's an order, captain. The success of the truce depends on your cooperation."

"Yes, sir. The Council?"

"I will report on my return."

As Dumarest broke the connection, the young officer said dubiously, "Will they keep it, sir? The truce, I mean. Those two villages-"

"Were affected last night. The truce runs from this dawn. You'd better notify all units as to the success of this mission."

"Yes, sir, but your plan? It will need a lot of men."

"They can be found." From the streets, the restaurants, those sporting uniforms and those still waiting to join the forces. Arms wouldn't be necessary; all he wanted was for men to watch. A living line of witnesses, so as to prove a point. "Check the men, lieutenant. Have them put by their arms. We won't be attacked, but I want to take no chances."

At his side Ven Taykor said, "I wish I'd gone with you, Earl."

"One was enough."

"I guess so." The guide sucked in his cheeks. "Did you reach one of their councils?"

"I saw a lot of old men. If that is a council, then I saw it. Is their word good?"

"You mean can they speak for the rest?" Taykor nodded. "I would say they could, but how can I be sure now? That attack, that was something I've never seen before, and that flame they used. How did they get weapons like that? They're primitive; to make such things you need a knowledge of chemicals, a factory of sorts." He shook his head, thinking; then, after a moment he said quietly, "What was it like, Earl? Tough?"

Dumarest leaned back against the stone, not answering, remembering the journey he had made, the twists and turns, the cavern into which he had been ushered. There had been fires and torches and things of painstaking fabrication; mats woven from fine materials, seeds linked into patterns, bones carved into delicate shapes, wooden artifacts, and items of fretted stone.