“One or two more words, I beg you. These three here, Zechtior Lukin, Lisspar Moen, Gheppilin — do you know them? No, of course not. But I do. And there’s wisdom in them, let me tell you. They’ve plenty to teach us all on the subject of bowing to the will of the gods. Have you ever considered, good Thihaliminion, why it was that the sapphire-eyes took it so easily, when the gods threw death-stars down to destroy their world? Everyone knows the sapphire-eyes could have hurled the death-stars back, if they’d cared to, but—”

“Nakhaba! What can the sapphire-eyes possibly have to do with the lunacy that’s running rampant in our city? Will you tell me that, Dumanka?”

“Pass the wine, and I’ll explain. And then you may want to listen to Zechtior Lukin, and even to read a little book that he’s written, eh, Thihaliminion? Because there may be comfort in it for you, if you’re as troubled by the difficulties in Dawinno as you seem to be.” Dumanka nods toward the meat-cutter, a short thick-bodied man with a look of great strength and force about him. “The thing that Zechtior Lukin has taught me in our conversations,” he says, “is the same thing that I’ve practiced all my life without having a name to put to it, which is that I acknowledge the absolute greatness of the gods and the role they play in our fates. They decide everything, and we must obey cheerfully, because the only other choices we have are to obey sadly, or to obey angrily, and those simply get us to the same place, but not as merrily. So we have to accept whatever comes, be it death-stars or hjjks, be it strange new religions or bloodshed in the streets, be it anything at all. What Zechtior Lukin and his Acknowledgers believe, good friend — and these two here are Acknowledgers too, Lisspar Moen and Gheppilin, and so am I, so have I always been, though I’ve only just discovered it — is a creed that brings peace to the soul and calmness to the mind, and has made me a better man, Thihaliminion, no doubt of it, absolutely a better man. And when I return to Dawinno, let me tell you, I’ll will be bringing Zechtior Lukin’s little book with me, and spreading the truth it contains to everyone who’ll listen.”

“Just what we need,” Thihaliminion says, staring broodingly into his wine-cup. “One more new religion.”

Thu-Kimnibol knocked and entered. Salaman, half dozing over a nearly empty bottle of wine, came instantly awake.

“You wanted to see me, cousin?”

“I did. You’ve had a chance to catch up on the news from your city, have you?” Salaman asked. “Taniane’s daughter going mad? And Taniane herself so upset over it that she couldn’t be bothered to govern her city for a time?”

Thu-Kimnibol’s fur flared, his eyes grew bright. Tightly he said, “Yes. So I’ve heard.”

“And have you heard also of the new hjjk-loving religion which has sprung up down there? It was the murder of the envoy Kundalimon that got it going, I’m told. My agents tell me that they’re speaking of him in Dawinno as a holy prophet, who died for love of the People.”

“Your agents are very efficient, cousin.”

“They’re paid to be. What they inform me is that the Kundalimon-worshipers are in favor of signing the Queen’s treaty. Is it true that they want to invite hjjk missionaries to Dawinno to teach them the mysteries of hjjk wisdom?”

“Cousin, why are you asking me these questions?”

Crisply Salaman said, “Because you promised me that your people would fight, when the time comes. Instead this is what they do. This foolishness. This idiocy.”

“Ah,” Thu-Kimnibol said. “So that’s it.”

“It is idiocy, cousin.”

“But useful idiocy, I think.”

The king looked up, wonderstruck. “Useful?”

Thu-Kimnibol smiled. “Of course. The peace faction’s playing right into our hands. They’re carrying things to the extreme that will destroy them. Can you imagine what it would be like, cousin, with Dawinno full of hjjk preachers, clicking and hissing on every streetcorner, and everyone down there walking around with talk of Nest-bond and Queen-love and such on his lips, and the hjjks marching up and down the coast in droves, free as you please, going to visit their new colony in the south?”

“A nightmare,” Salaman said.

“A nightmare indeed. But one that can be put to good use, provided there are still a few in Dawinno who haven’t yet lost their minds, and I think there are.” Thu-Kimnibol leaned close. “What I need to do is make them see the picture I’ve just sketched for you. Show them how the hjjks are trying to subvert us from within. Don’t you realize, I’ll say, that the new religion’s designed to deliver us all into the clutches of the bugs? The Queen’s love is a worse thing than the Queen’s hatred, I’ll tell them. At least we know where we stand with hatred. And in fact Queen-love and Queen-hate are the same thing wearing different masks. Friends, I’ll say, this is a deadly threat. Accepting the treaty means opening our arms to our enemies. Do you want hjjks overrunning Dawinno the way they did in Vengiboneeza? And so on and so forth, until this new cult is driven underground, or put out of business altogether.”

“And then?”

“And then we begin to sing the praises of war,” said Thu-Kimnibol. “The virtues of carrying the attack to our foe, making the world safe for the People. War against the hjjks! Our only salvation! A war which you and I, cousin, must plan very carefully before I leave here. And then I’ll go back to Dawinno and tell them that Salaman’s our loyal ally, that he’s waiting for us to join him in this holy endeavor, that our two cities must stand together against the bugs. After that, we simply need to arrange to start the war. Almost any sort of small incident ought to do it. What do you think, cousin? Isn’t this new religion of hjjk-worship precisely the thing we’ve been waiting for?”

Salaman nodded. Then he began to laugh.

The boy Tikharein Tourb touched the shining Nest-guardian talisman that hung around his neck and said, “If only it would show us the Queen, Chhia Kreun! Maybe we could see Her with it, eh? If we used the talisman and our second sight at the same time, let’s say.”

“She’s too far away,” the girl said. “Second sight won’t reach that far.”

“Well, we could try twining, then.”

Chhia Kreun stifled a giggle. “What do you know about twining, Tikharein Tourb?”

“Enough. I’m nine, you know.”

“Thirteen’s the twining-age.”

“You’re only eleven. But you act as though you know it all.”

She groomed herself elaborately, plucking and smoothing. “I know more than you, at any rate.”

“About twining, maybe. But not Nest-truth. Anyway, this isn’t getting us anywhere. Look, what if I were to hold the Nest-guardian in my sensing-organ, and you and I were to twine, right here in front of the altar—”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am! I am!”

“It’s forbidden to twine until we’re old enough. Besides, we don’t know how. We may think we do, but until the offering-woman shows us, we—”

“Do you want to see the Queen or don’t you?” Tikharein Tourb asked scornfully.

“Of course I do.”

“Then what do you care about what’s forbidden, or what the offering-woman is supposed to show us? The offering-woman doesn’t mean anything to us. That’s the old way. Nest-truth is everything. And this thing on my chest is the repository of Nest-truth.” He ran his hand over the bit of hjjk-shell as if caressing it. “Kundalimon said so himself. If I hold it, and we twine — and maybe everyone else stands by us, chanting the chants at the same time — maybe then the Queen will appear to us, or we’ll appear to the Queen—”

“Do you think so, really?”

“It’s worth trying, isn’t it?”