Krinata coughed at what those few phrases did to her throat while all the rest stared at her, amazed. Chinchee stopped in mid-phrase, dashed up to Krinata, threw himself down prone in front of her, and, with the hivebinder scurrying onto his back, did three push-ups. Everyone who had not been with them on the trek across the continent from the desert where Ephemeral Truth had crashed, laughed. But those who had been there when Chinchee led them to the hive refuge lined up to do push-ups back at Chinchee.

//Jindigar, I don't think I can do it.//

//Relax, Krinata. I doubt Chinchee expects you to.//

But the Native was obviously delighted with the others' response. As he rose to his feet he warbled, "Oh, Great Jindigar, your hive will prosper, your memory will tunnel through eternity. Your generosity will be recorded for all time."

"What did he say?" asked someone.

"Wait," admonished one of the Dushau. "Let the Oliat question him."

Storm added, "Somebody go get Terab. She's probably in the field, trying to prevent an all-out attack on the Natives."

Peripherally the Oliat knew that was exactly what Terab was doing. And she was succeeding. Apparently people had finally begun to grasp that little could be gained on this planet by frontal assault. Or perhaps the Imperial troopers who had experienced the wrath of the hivebinders were unwilling to stir that up again. "//Tell her,//" called the Oliat, "//that our attack on the hive-bleeders has made the Natives less hostile toward us.//"

One of the Lehiroh women with burned hands turned to go, saying, "I heard your report. I'll tell her."

Chinchee carolled, "Did I hear a familiar name? The name of Greatfursixarms?"

"//You are the most talented of all Heralds, Chinchee. The name of Terab is far greater than Jindigar's, for she speaks for this hive, not Jindigar, and not the Oliat. She will decide if this new hive can stay.//"

"Newhiveswarm cannot leave. Cannot move again. Greatfursixarms must know. Swarmed at startime, and settled new land on the plain. Built hive-dome, began new life." Chinchee*S voice took on the cadence of a bard reciting a long series of great historical events, for Heralds were also the newsbringers of the hives. "Flood waters came, high and higher, swift as wind, shattered hive-dome. Survivors flee, across plain, into strange land of hive-bleeders. Chinchee come, fight hive-bleeders, lead newhiveswarm to safety with fellow hive-people. Newhiveswarm need friend, need help, need peace. Here, Chinchee, Jindigar, made peace. Here, newhiveswarm find peace we made here."

All so logical!

"//Why did the newhiveswarm smash into our hive and hurt and destroy?//"

Chinchee folded to the ground, his knees sticking out at an angle, his head drooping. Through Llistyien Emulation the Oliat knew this was shame. His voice was tremulous as he told them, "Hive-mind, stripped of hive, so many dead to plainwater, so many dead to hive-bleeders, so many dead to newlifemaking, younghivemind broken, hurting, terrified, sensed throb of newlifemaking, sensed safe goodplace. Chinchee is Herald, not of younghivemind—not of hive. Herald cannot command hive."

He was trying to keep his story simple, but even so, Jindigar knew they weren't getting all the nuances. One thing was clear. The worldcircle itself had attracted the swarming hive irresistibly. The Oliat's projection of Renewal energies into the circle had probably triggered the swarm's headlong dash toward what they perceived as the oasis of safety the Herald had promised them. And they had been too mad with the need to settle again in time for new births to heed Chinchee's objections.

"//We understand now, Chinchee.//" Krinata's voice cracked on the high note, and she doubled over in a fit of raw, throaty coughing.

"Is she sick again?" It was Terab striding into the outer court on four legs. She was wearing a field worker's cloak over a tool harness and carrying a small grenade-thrower under one arm.

While Cyrus explained, Jindigar told Krinata, //I'm sorry. If anybody else could have done that//

//It's all right,// she returned. Cyrus handed her a cup of tea the herbalist had brewed, and she accepted it gratefully. It soothed her throat, and she could speak again by the time Terab was ready to hear what Chinchee had to say.

Folding her walking legs under her, Terab faced them both and heard the Oliat out before objecting, "I don't care how, but find some way of explaining to him that they've got to move. We don't want neighbors that can blow our minds to spacedust. We can't let them have the ships. 'Specially not now."

"//Chinchee is learning Cassrian. In a few weeks he may be able to negotiate some sort of access treaty. That's the best 1 think you can hope for.//" It seemed a forlorn hope-. For all Chinchee's skill as a Herald, he knew nothing about different cultures on his own world, let alone assimilating different species. He'd never have enough Cassrian to handle something delicate like this.

"Krinata—" started Terab, then corrected herself. "Oliat, listen to me. While you were saving Eithlarin, four people have come down with Krinata's Fever—" She broke off again to apologize, "Krinata, if you can hear me, I'm sorry, but that's what they're calling that fever you had after the clickerhive attacked us. The lab just identified the mutated strain that's turned up now. It's a bad one, Jindigar—vectored across species, different life stages, too complicated for an old spaceship captain to understand. But one thing's sure—it's got a short incubation time.

"The children are malnourished—it's going to hit them hard. And the Lehiroh are frightened for those nursing infants—because they've sacrificed their oil. What drugs we have are on those ships. The lab was working on Jindigar's blood and asking for more Dushau blood. We thought we had it under control—but now... And one way or another we've got to rescue those lab techs."

Overwhelming despair swept through the Oliat, sapping the very last of their strength. Krinata buried her face in her hands, needing to cry and not daring to unleash the turbulence among the Oliat. //Jindigar, oh, Jindigar.//

Cyrus pulled his hand back from touching her and offered, "I'll make them change the name. It wasn't your doing, Krinata."

"//She knows,//" answered the Oliat with Krinata, and Jindigar added, "//Terab, your lab techs are dead. And—we lost Eithlarin.//" Reception wavered as Zannesu recoiled into himself. Jindigar closed down his link to Receptor as much as he dared and told the Oliat along with the ephemerals, "//We can't, Terab. We simply cannot.//"

He'd said that before. He'd lost credibility as, time after time, they'd responded to new emergencies. He saw it in Terab's dark eyes as she gazed at Krinata. But then Krinata met her eyes, and Terab believed. Jindigar could see it, even though Holot was not included in the multieniulation. Stricken, Terab looked into failure, final and absolute. But she said, "I'm sorry. I thought—since you were still functioning, I thought..."

"//Trinarvil has been able to take Office–but only very temporarily.//"

Terab understood something of the problems Dushau had with colonizing. She accepted that. "You've done enough miracles for us. 1 guess we're on our own now." She rose. "I'll send someone to find Shorwh. Maybe he can get through to Chinchee." To the Outriders she said, "Take care of him. He may be the most important Native on this planet."

As they watched her leave Jindigar addressed the two Dushau with the litter. "//It doesn't seem that Krinata can walk back to us.//"

They left Storm to set the other Dushau's broken arm and carried Krinata back to the Temple.

After a few hours' rest under Trinarvil's therapy lamps, some solid food, and endless amounts of herbal potions, they were able to join Zannesu in grieving Eithlarin. It helped, but even by late afternoon of the next day, Zannesu was still glassy-eyed and sluggish in his responses. Jindigar didn't want to adjourn, leaving him like that, and didn't want to try the Dissolution until Zannesu could work.