The body between coyote and vulture stirs, struggling to speak. The man is dead, has been long dead, yet he sits up and talks to me. I see that it is my uncle, the Revered Counselor Naltecona.

The coyote, hungry, plucks at an arm of the corpse. It is always hungry. The buzzard pecks at a cheek. My uncle helps them; he pulls pieces of his body away and feeds the scavengers, an arm to the coyote, an ear and an eye to the buzzard.

Then the body of my uncle changes.

Poshtli blinked at the short, bald figure that squatted before him. Slowly the Eagle Knight looked around from the stone bed where he lay, seeing that he was in a cave of some kind. Yellow sandstone walls reflected in golden hues the light of a small fire.

"You speak with the gods. Feathered Man," said the fellow sitting beside him. "Will you speak with me now?"

Poshtli studied the strange speaker, for he had never seen anyone like him. Short and powerful, with bowed legs and broad shoulders, he was a misshapen man. His head was bald, but his face was covered with a whiskered profusion of hair that descended across his belly. The fellow's skin was sun-bronzed, dried like old leather but not as dark as Poshtli's. The stranger stood, and the Eagle Knight saw that he was perhaps four feet tail.

"Who are you?" asked Poshtli, discovering that his tongue felt like an old sandal.

"Eh? I'm Luskag, chief of Sunhome. Funny you should ask that. I've been wondering the same thing about you."

Poshtli's mind cleared. He remembered tales, dismissed as fantastic legend, of the Hairy Men of the Desert, dwarflike people who lived far from any human settlement, past a supposedly uncrossable waste of desert.

"I am Poshtli, of Nexal," he explained, sitting up with difficulty. "I owe you my life."

Luskag nodded. "You came farther than any man I've seen, but no one can live for long in the House of Tezca. Though that's not why I saved you." The dwarf handed Poshtli a flask of water, and the warrior sipped a few drops as Luskag continued.

"Sometimes humans come into the desert and die there. Other times, we desert dwarves save those humans and bring them here, to Sunhome. When we save someone, we must have a reason.

"I saved you because of my dream. I dreamed of a great buzzard, and he circled you, alone in the House of Tezca. And I came to you, gave you water and life, and the buzzard was pleased.

"I don't know why I should want to please a buzzard, but this was somehow important to me." The dwarf looked at Poshtli as if he hoped the lord would have an explanation.

"I dreamed of a buzzard, too… just now, before I woke up," explained the Eagle Knight. "But I don't know what it means."

"Why did you come into the desert?" asked Luskag.

"I seek a vision of the future, some way to bring meaning to the events of the True World. Strangers, powerful men, have flown to our shores. Naltecona, the Revered Counselor of Nexal, has been beset by omens and visions. One night, I had a dream. The Plumed One, Qotal himself, spoke to me, telling me that I might find the truth my uncle seeks. But I could never find it in Nexal.

"The vision showed me an image of heat, sand, and sun, that I took to be the House of Tezca. And within that desert, I must find a great silver wheel. This is why I came here, seeking this knowledge." Luskag sighed, shaking his head in resignation. "It is as I feared."

"What did you fear? Please explain!"

"There is a place near here. One may go there for knowledge or truth, but often at terrible cost – perhaps even a man's life, or his sanity. But this is why men venture into the House of Tezca, and why, sometimes, we bring them here."

Luskag fixed Poshtli with a cold stare. "And that is where your answer lies. I must take you to the Sunstone."

Erix recovered her senses slowly, first realizing that her nostrils ached from a gagging, putrid odor. Next she felt an ache in her abdomen, and finally she sensed motion – but not the gentle rocking motion of the canoe. Abruptly she understood, and the knowledge filled her with profound fear.

She lay across the back of the monster!

The pain came from a protruding shell on the beast's back, for she lay straddled across it, behind the monstrous head but in front of the human torso. She did not look, but felt certain the man was Halloran.

Looking down, she saw that they moved quickly over sand. The nearby sound of waves told her they raced along the beach.

Abruptly she twisted around and sprang away from the creature. She heard Halloran shout as she landed on the sand and sprawled full length. The pounding of the creature's heavy feet ceased instantly, and before she could scramble to her feet, the huge stranger had broken free of the beast and stood on his own feet before her.

"Why did you do that?" he asked. "I won't hurt you!"

"What – what are you?" she cried. "What kind of beings are you that kills with such abandon, such joy? And what are these monsters that…" She gestured angrily at the beast that now stood placidly on the shore. As if sensing her interest, the monster raised its head and made a soft nickering sound. Suddenly the nature of the horses became clear to her. They were animals, great creatures to be sure, but mere animals that carried these men about and were subject to their will.

She saw with her penetrating eyes that her words caused Halloran pain, and she remembered that he had fought against those of his people who would have killed her. The memory brought her anger back afresh.

"Why did you not let me die?" she demanded.

Now anger flashed in Hal's eyes. "Why? Because it was wrong, what they were doing. It was wrong for you to die there!"

"You are strange, even for a stranger, Halloran. You come here on a great journey with these people, and then when they fight, you turn against them."

Once again she caused him pain, she saw, and this time she regretted the hurt. "My people have turned against me," he explained. "They would have killed me, and so I fled." And they blamed me for the death of Martine, he added silently. He suddenly wanted to accuse her with this fact, but he held his tongue.

"When I saw you on the battlefield, there was but one thing I could do. I did it. We rode away from the field, and ever since we have been following the coast to the west."

"Am I your captive?" she asked boldly.

"What? No! Of course not! I wanted to right a wrong done before my eyes, to help you. That's all! And I thought you would be safer here with me than on the field with the legion."

"Then I am free to go?"

Suddenly Halloran felt a terrible fear, an unreasoning sense of loneliness that threatened to dwarf his earlier feelings of despair. He did not want this girl to leave him. She offered his only hope of communication, his only knowledge of this land. But he could not, would not hold her against her will.

"Yes, you can leave. You can go anywhere you want. But I hope you'll stay with me and help me. I'm alone here. I can't go back to my people." The sight and sound and smell of him filled Erixitl with amazement. But she was already growing accustomed to his bizarre appearance. He had proven himself a man of bravery and honor. She knew his companionship would be interesting. As for the smell…

"Very well. But first," she said to him pointedly, "you must take a hath."

He looked at her in puzzlement and saw that she was serious. "Then," she added, "well have to find shelter. It will be night soon."

"The treasure must be counted and assembled quickly!" Kardann urged Cordell. The captain-general noted wryly that the assessor had disappeared before the battle, presumably by returning to the fleet. Now that victory had been secured, however, he showed up with quill and parchment in hand. Nevertheless, he proposed a course of action exactly in line with Cordell's own wishes.