Things are starting to make a little more sense now, Teldin told himself. He remembered how the little ratlike creature had brought the fruit to Message Bearer. The trilateral hadn't had to issue any kind of mental order-the Cloakmaster would have "heard" it if it had. Instead, the trilateral had presumably felt hunger, or maybe just a desire for a fruit. The planetary Mind had somehow sensed that need or desire and had sent part of it forth-in the form of the rat-thing-to satisfy it.

Did it go even further than that? Had the rat-thing picked the fruit, or had the plant-being part of the world-Mind itself-just let the fruit fall? The possibilities were almost endless…

And quite frightening. A human was more intelligent than a rat, largely because a human had a larger brain. A dragon was-arguably-more intelligent than a human, again because it had a larger brain.

What about a brain the size of an entire planet… ? Teldin felt his fear like ice water in the marrow of his bones. "Do you… communicate with the Mind?" he asked. "Do you 'think-together' with it?"

The incessant motions of Message Bearer's tentacle tips slowed. Teldin could feel the creature's sadness like a palpable pressure against the fringes of his mind. Mind of the World [loneliness-melancholy] not think-together, it "said" softly. People try often [sadness], never succeed. Mind of the World not made [isolation] for think-together with People, Mind cherishes People, Mind protects People. But not [despair] think-together.

"Protects? "Protects how?" the Cloakmaster asked, suddenly sure he knew the answer. "Through magic'"

People [puzzlement] not know magic.

"By lights in the sky, by lightning strikes from the ground… ?"

By [undemanding] making the suns move, yes, Message Bearer's mental voice cut him off. This [curious] magic?

"It must be," Teldin confirmed.

Message Bearer's pupil tightened down to three fine, intersecting black lines. The sense of scrutiny, of speculation was undeniable. This magic [doubt], the reason [suspicion] why Cloakmaster to World of People come?

"If you're asking what I think you're asking, yes," the Cloakmaster told the creature. "Your Mind of the World almost destroyed my ship, almost killed my friends."

The trilateral didn't respond immediately. When it did, its mental voice was slow. Mind of World [doubt] protects People from harm. Not [sadness] cause harm to not-People not-Others not-animals [regret]. Wrong [decision] is.

I get the feeling that was an apology, Teldin mused wryly. Then another thought struck him.

"Do the People regret the harm that was done to me and my ship?" he asked.

The answer was as immediate as it was unequivocal. Regret, yes.

"Then," the Cloakmaster pressed, "if the Mind of the World really responds to your desires, I think you can help us out…."

*****

Teldin stood beside the smashed hull of the Boundless, flanked by Message Bearer and Speaks First. After leading them back to the clearing, he'd steered them on a stem-to-stern tour of the crippled vessel, pointing out the critical damage inflicted by the magical blasts from the surface. As other members of the crew looked on, gaping openly, he'd shown the trilateral the fractures in the keel, stressing repeatedly that the damage prevented the ship from ever lifting back into space.

Throughout, he'd sensed their emotional reactions, "eavesdropped" on their conversation between themselves. While they'd been puzzled at first by the ship's design, they soon came to understand its purpose and basic structure. He could easily detect their surprise and dismay over the fact that the Mind of the World, in protecting and "cherishing" them, could mete out destruction to "not-People not-Others not-animals" such as Teldin Moore.

At last he finished his explanations. He gestured around to the crew lining the deck rails-including Djan and Julia, both of whom quite obviously wanted to know just what was going on. They can wait until this is over with, he decided. "That's the situation we find ourselves in," he concluded. "The Mind of the World did this. Can the Mind of the World undo it? It's up to you, I think." And then he stepped back, reaching out with whatever extended perception the cloak saw fit to grant him at the moment.

If he'd been hoping to be able to detect a moment of decision, to sense the interaction between the two trilateral and the planetary mind, he was disappointed. He sensed nothing.

For a long moment, he thought nothing was happening. But then, in his peripheral vision, he saw movement.

From this spot, on the soft "grass" of the meadow, he could see through the great rent in the squid ship's hull, into the bilges. The light from the speeding mini-suns shone down through the open cargo hatch, then through the hole blown in the cargo deck itself, illuminating the smashed keel. In the yellow-orange light Teldin saw the wood of the keel shift-saw it flex slightly, watched as the individual wood fibers interwove with one another, knitting themselves back together.

He felt the almost uncontrollable urge to recoil from the sight, to deny it, to refuse to accept that such things were possible. But with a titanic effort of will, he forced himself to watch the process through to its conclusion.

It didn't take long. Within three or four minutes, Teldin found he couldn't tell anymore where the breaks had been. Under even the closest scrutiny, the thick keel looked like one solid piece of wood again. He reached in through the hull breach, ran his hand over the smooth wood. Under his fingers, the only evidence of the damage was that certain regions were slightly warmer than others.

Major damage [satisfaction] undone. Ship [expectation] function with other damage?

Teldin turned to face the two trilateral. It was Speaks First who'd "spoken." He glanced up at Djan, at the rail above. "It wants to know if we can fly with the other damage," he relayed.

The half-elf shrugged dispiritedly. He hadn't seen the miracle in the bilges, Teldin reminded himself. "The only thing that matters is the keel," Djan replied. "We can fix everything else while we're underway, but without that keel…"

"Be careful what you ask for. You might just get it," Teldin said with a quick grin. Djan stared at him for a few moments as though the half-elf thought the captain had lost his mind. Then the first mate's eyes widened with surprise, and he disappeared. Teldin heard his friend's running footsteps thundering down the ladder into the cargo deck. With a smile, he turned back to the trilaterals.

"The other damage doesn't matter," he told Speaks First. "Thank you for our keel."

The creature waved its tentacles-dismissively, the Cloak-master thought. Then Cloakmaster [certainty]should from [impatience] World of the People, it "said" firmly. World of the People [decision] not for the Cloakmaster, Mind of the World [detachment] not for the Cloakmaster. And with that, the two creatures strode away for the edge of the forest.

'What was all that about?" Julia called down to him.

The Cloakmaster shrugged. "I think we've just been dismissed."

From within the hull, he heard Djan's yell of astonishment and joy as the half-elf saw the mended keel.

Teldin stood on the afterdeck of the Boundless. Julia and Djan were still leaning on the rails of the grounded ship, staring at the periphery of the meadow. Since the departure of Speaks First and Message Bearer, nobody had seen any sign of the trilaterals. It's almost as if they've decided the Incomplete animals" are off-limits, the Cloakmaster mused. Certainly, the creatures seemed to have no curiosity about Teldin and the others, or what they'd do now that the ship's keel was fixed. That, perhaps, was the most alien thing about them, he mused. Virtually every other race he'd ever encountered had some touch of what his grandfather had called "monkey curiosity."