Faraerth’s outburst apparently brought Loford up short. She sputtered, obviously nonplussed that Faraerth, being a longtime member of the military—and one who had fought the Devils at close quarters—had not reflexively agreed with her.

“Hear, hear,” Jerdahn said, his eyes alight.

Gran Drech’tor Zafir raised a hand for silence, and the conversation ceased. Faraerth worried for a moment that he may have fatally overreached himself, then decided he’d been on borrowed time ever since the glowing Devil webs had torn Slicerto pieces.

If the monarch was surprised by Faraerth’s comments, she revealed no sign of it. “I summoned you here, Drech’tor Faraerth, because you have looked into the enemy’s eyes and lived to tell of it,” she said.

Faraerth bowed respectfully. I survived in disgrace, you mean,he thought, feeling a bloom of shame spreading slowly across the tough skin of his face. Had I returned alive from an engagement with a lesser foe, your underlings surely would have executed me immediately on charges of cowardice.

Then his embarrassment subsided as he reached the [301] sobering realization that the whole world was changing all around him. One way or another, for good or for ill, the Devils were forcing Neyel society to adapt itself to the vicissitudes of the current moment. The Gran Drech’tor needs me alive more than she needs to hew to tired traditions, and she knows it.

The thought prompted him to wonder if the danger posed by the Devils might not be even more dire than he knew.

Uncomfortably aware that everyone’s eyes were upon him, Faraerth gathered his thoughts and spoke. “I fear that discounting the wiles of the Devils is to minimize the damage they can do us, Gran Drech’tor. How can creatures lacking minds as we understand them so thoroughly destroy a vessel as mighty as Slicer?”

“Solar flares are destructive as well,” said Loford. “But I do not conclude from this that the stars have the intellectual wherewithal to draw clever plans against us. Such dangers can be outrun, and thus survived, as your presence in this chamber today so graphically demonstrates.”

Faraerth grit his teeth, nettled. Loford had as much as accused him of cowardice. His left hand twitched, moving slightly toward his sidearm until he stopped it with a supreme act of will. He hoped no one noticed.

Ignoring Loford, Faraerth continued speaking directly to the monarch, who seemed anxious to hear what he had to say. “It is true enough that the Devils failed to kill me, Gran Drech’tor. But not because they are stupid, pliant beasts like the grazers who held sway on this world before Drech’tor Wafiyy claimed it.”

Gran Drech’tor Zafir’s eyes twinkled. “Then it must have been your own personal bravery in combat that secured your life.”

Faraerth wondered briefly if she, too, was trying to shame him, then decided that it didn’t really matter; his fate would [302] be in her hands in any event. Shaking his head, he said, “No, Gran Drech’tor. I survived only because my crew was prepared to fight to the last man to defend their ship and their drech’tor. They did this because they are Neyel.”

Zafir smiled approvingly.

“So despite your belief in the entirely undemonstrated intelligence of these unlettered Devils,” Loford said, “you don’t seem to consider it particularly relevant to the fate of Slicer.”

Faraerth paused for a thoughtful moment, then said, “When the Devils attacked Slicer,we had time only to protect ourselves and wage war as best we could, taking care not to underestimate the adversary. Neither I nor my crew had time to debate philosophy.” He wanted to tell Loford that he’d had time in abundance to consider such things during his oghencycle-long convalescence afterward. But he decided it would be a pointless exercise.

Loford turned toward the monarch, bowing deeply before addressing her. “Gran Drech’tor, as you have already seen, the massed forces of the Neyel Hegemony stand ready to bear any burden to destroy this enemy. Whether or not we agree on their lack of sentience, they will not cease their attacks and incursions until they overrun Oghen and seize Holy Vangar itself—unless we carry the war directly to the Devils now,and end forever their ability to make war. And the surest way to do that is to destroy them utterly, like the infestation they are.”

Zafir stood in silence, considering Loford’s words for nearly a full mennet before she resumed her pacing. To Faraerth’s eye, she did not appear entirely sanguine about exterminating another race, even one as alien and implacably hostile as the Devils.

The monarch halted and addressed Jerdahn. “Is your institute still attempting to communicate with the Devils, Visor?”

The scholar looked embarrassed. Coughing nervously, he said, “Yes, we are, Gran Drech’tor.”

“And has any progress been made lately?”

[303] “The newest studies remain inconclusive,” Jerdahn admitted. “We have never been able to develop reliable exotranslation algorithms suitable to even begin the task. And we’re not even sure what sounds the Devils use to communicate. It’s even possible that they employ some speech modality other than audible sound.”

“Ridiculous,” said Loford, sniffing. “They’re clearly beasts operating on instinct, creatures who have come to possess high technology through some opportunistic happenstance.”

“We invented neither the Efti’el drive nor the antigravity devices which make the Neyel Hegemony possible,” Jerdahn pointed out, his tone eminently reasonable. “What is our acquisition of such things if not opportunistic?”

Gran Drech’tor Zafir held her hand up again, forcing Loford to fume in silence. Faraerth could only wonder how the military visor might have refuted the academic’s excellent point. Might we not at times seem like Devils to some of the subject races?

Then the monarch lifted her eyes and stared off into the distance for a seeming eternity before shattering the quiet that had descended over the vast chamber.

“I have come to a decision. Regardless of the right or wrong of it, total war is now upon us. Whether or not the enemy reasons as we do, the Devils have left but one course of action open to us.”

Turning her back on Jerdahn, she faced Loford and Faraerth, her obsidian eyes sad, her back bowed by an unimaginable burden of responsibility. “Assemble the entire War Council. Our race cannot survive and prosper while theirs does. They cannot be dissuaded from attacking, so they must die. Allof them.”

Loford looked triumphant. Jerdahn seemed to deflate, as if suddenly realizing that he had just wagered his career and lost. Perhaps he had.

Faraerth bowed before the Gran Drech’tor, then began [304] slowly moving toward the chamber’s exit to do as he’d been bid. Loford walked beside him, but would not meet his eyes. He wanted to ask her if she was pleased to have finally gotten her wish, but decided against it.

Faraerth searched his soul. Whatever misgivings he had developed lately about total war, he could find no fault with Gran Drech’tor Zafir’s decision. We must cling to life any way we can. Even if the cost is the doing of unpalatable things.

Such had always been the price of Neyel survival. And Faraerth knew that he would never hesitate to pay that price in defense of his people, their Coreworld, Holy Vangar—and the distant, nigh-legendary planet Aerth.

Faraerth stepped into the gentle breeze of an Oghen afternoon and walked toward the squat buildings of the War Complex. He paused on the skystone steps, ignoring the busy crush of minor functionaries and office workers who stepped briskly past and around him.

He looked up into the deep blue-and-ocher sky toward where he knew the Riftmouth—and distant Aerth—lay. A faint but definitely visible aurora sparkled and shimmered in the distance. Such things had been occurring with increasing frequency of late, but no one knew for certain why. This particular display might have been a simple interaction between Oghen’s energetic star and the planet’s necessarily powerful magnetic field.