The dreamlike days ended when they reached Kyshaat.

It was a regular stop in the troupe's circuit. Over the centuries the people of Kyshaat had turned the vast plains surrounding their walled town into wide fields of fat grain. The circus folk expected a large profit from their visit to the region and were dismayed when they saw the desolation of the usually lush fields. It was as if an enormous ravenous beast had swept through, devouring the grainstalks and allnearly to the ground.

Hungry and pitiful eyes stared up at the Cloudship as it sailed overhead. To Safar the usually joyful circus music had an eerie edge to it as they serenaded the crowds and Biner's big booming call of Come one, Come all, seemed to be flattened and swallowed up by a thick miasma.

"Don't know what's happened here, Biner muttered to Methydia. But maybe it'd be best if we moved on."

Methydia pressed her lips together and shook her head. We were eager enough for their company when there was a profit to be made, she said. I'll not turn away now because fortune no longer favors them."

Biner nodded and turned back to his duties, but Safar could see he was worried. On the ground hundreds of people followed the Cloudship's shadow, but they were so silent Safar could hear the wails of small children carried in their parents arms.

A few minutes later the Cloudship was tied up over a barren patch and the roustabouts were swaying down the equipment.

When Safar's feet touched ground he turned to face the onrushing crowd. To his amazement they all stopped at the edge of the field. It was as if an invisible barrier had been thrown up. They remained there for two hours while the roustabouts put the circus together. Methydia had them dispense with the tentsthe stands were set up in the open.

When she thought all was ready she beckoned to Safar and the two of them advanced on the crowd. About twenty paces away a shout brought them up short:

"Beware, Methydia! Come no closer!"

Methydia's pose was unbroken. Her eyes swept the crowd.

"Who spoke? she demanded.

There were mutters in the crowd, but no one answered.

"Come on, Methydia insisted. We've traveled many miles to entertain our friends in Kyshaat. What kind of greeting is this? Speak up!"

There were more mutterings, then the crowd parted and an old man, bent nearly double, hobbled out, supported by a heavy cane.

"It was I, Methydia, he said. I was the one who cried the warning."

Bent over and aged as the old man was, Safar could see the skeletal outline of once broad shoulders. The fingers gripping the cane were thick, the wrists broad-bladed.

"I know you, Methydia said. You're Neetan. The one with the seven grandchildren I always let in free."

Neetan's wrinkled face drooped like an old beaten dog's. There's only two, now, Methydia, he said. All the rest have been called to the realm of the gods."

Methydia's eyes widened. She took a step forward.

The crowd stirred uneasily and once again Neetan shouted, Come no closer!"

Methydia stopped. What happened here? she asked.

"We are becursed, Methydia, Neetan said. All of Kyshaat is becursed. Flee while you can, or the curse will afflict you."

Safar saw momentary fear register on Methydia's face. Then her chin came up, stubborn. I'm not leaving, she said, until I've heard what it is that has brought you to this state."

Neetan stamped his cane. It wasn't one catastrophe, he said, but many. First we were visited by King Protarus."

Safar was startled. Iraj was here? he asked.

"Beware how you address him, my son, the old man said. Do not be so familiar with his royal name."

Safar ignored this. He pointed at the barren fields. Iraj Protarus did that? he demanded.

"Only some of it, Neetan said. And it was one of his generals, not the king, who came. The general arrived with a small troop and demanded our fealty to King Protarus and food for his armies."

"And you granted this? Safar asked, Without at least asking payment? It was inconceivable to him that his former friend would not at least offer to pay these people.

"What choice did we have? Neetan said. It is well known that King Protarus is not so kind to any who oppose him. Why, several cities have been sacked and burned for defying him. Then the men and old ones were killed and the rest sold into slavery."

Safar was furious. Methydia laid a hand on his arm, steadying him.

"You said this was but the first of many catastrophes, she said to Neetan. What else has befallen you, my friend?"

"At least King Protarus left us enough to live, Neetan said. But then we were visited by plague to ravage our homes, birds and locusts to denude our fields and beasts to devour our flocks."

While the old man enumerated the evils that afflicted Kyshaat, Safar caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure at the edge of the crowd. But when he looked directly at the spot the figure was gone. He suddenly caught a whiff of a foul odor. Then the scent vanished.

Meanwhile, Neetan was saying, We are the most miserable of people, Methydia. The gods have forsaken us. Because we love you, because of all the joy you have brought us over the years, please leave this place. Leave us to our curse. Before you too fall under its thrall."

"Nonsense! Methydia said. I fear no curse. The circus will begin in one hour. All who want to come are welcomefree of charge. This is my gift to old friends. So do not insult me by staying away."

Then she turned and marched back to the others, leaving Neetan and the frightened people gaping.

Safar lengthened his stride and caught up to her. There really is something here, he said. It's… some kind of… and then words failed him.

He gestured, wanting to convey the feeling he had of a cold, greasy breath at the back of his neck. A presence, is the only thing I can think of.

"It's watching us."

Methydia suddenly quickened her pace. Yes, yes, she whispered. Now I can feel it too.

"I think I made a mistake coming here. We'd better get away."

Safar heard a sound like boulders grating against one another and then the ground heaved up beneath his feet.

"Run! he shouted, grabbing Methydia by the hand and sprinting for the Cloudship.

Behind him he heard the screams of the crowd and the long tearing rip of the earth itself. Ahead he saw Biner and the others scrabbling for hammers and axes and anything that would make a weapon. Soon as he reached them, Safar released Methydia and whirled around to confront the threat.

He saw the ground coming up, the roots of bushes and small trees ripping away, gravel and earth and stones showering down a gathering hill. Before his eyes the hill became a towering earthen figure with arms and a head and a torso supported by two mighty legs. A hole opened in the place where a mouth ought to be.

The creature spoke, rocks and gravel tumbling from its lips:

"Mine! it said, voice grating and grumbling like it was formed in a deep cavern.

It waved a huge arm, showering Safar and others with gravel and clods of earth.

"Mine! it said again, gesturing at the crowd of people.

Then an immense arm came forward, a gnarly finger as long as a man shooting outpointing at Safar and his group.

"Now, you mine! the creature said.

It took a slow step forward and the ground shuddered. Small bushes and trees crashed down. Instantly they took life, brushy limbs and hairy roots clawing up dirt, which formed around their woody skeletons to make bodies.

"Mine! the earth creature howled and its spawn moved toward Safar and his friends, thorny hands reaching out to grasp.

The creatures fanned out into a half-circle which they tightened around the troupe, their earthen creator urging them on with bellows of Mine!"