No one spoke. The men, in loose white shirts, baggy black breeches and black boots, stood back, uncertain whether to flee or attack. The women, in loose patterned gowns, wailed and showed the whites of their eyes.

"Who is the chief? " bawled Ifness. "Can he not hear? Can he not walk forward?"

A hulking, black-browed man with black mustaches came slowly forward. "I am Rastipol, chief of the Ripchiks. What do you want of me?"

"Why are you here and not fighting the Roguskhoi?"

"'Roguskhoi?' " Rastipol blinked. "Who are they? We fight no one at this moment "

"The Roguskhoi are red demon-warriors. They are only half human, though they show enthusiasm for human women."

"I have heard of them. They fight the Sorukh; it is none of our affair. We are not Sorukh; we are out of the Melch race."

"And if they destroy the Sorukh, what next?"

Rastipol scratched his chin. "I have not considered the matter."

"Exactly where has the fighting occurred?"

"Somewhere to the south, out on the Plain of Blue Flowers, or so I suppose."

"How far is this?"

"Four days to the south is Shillinsk Town, at the edge of the Plain. Can you not learn this by magic?"

Ifness raised a finger toward Etzwane. 'Transform Rastipol into a sick ahulph."

"No, no," cried Rastipol. "You have misjudged me. I meant no harm."

Ifness gave a distant nod. "Guard your tongue; you allow it a dangerous freedom. " He signaled Etzwane. "Sail on."

Etzwane worked the tiller and waved his hand toward the sail, while Ifness moved his dials. The boat lifted into the night sky, showing its keel to the firelight. The Ripchiks watched silently from below.

During the night the boat drifted slowly south. Etzwane slept on one of the narrow berths; he was not aware whether or not Ifness did the same. In the morning, cold and cramped, he went out into the cockpit to find Ifness looking out over the gunwale. A mist concealed the land below, the boat floated alone between "gray mist and lavender sky.

For an hour the two sat in dour silence, drinking tea. At last the three suns rolled high and the mist began to dissipate, swirling and drifting, revealing irregular districts of land and river. Below them, the Keba made a mighty swing to the west, where it was joined from the east by a tributary, the Shill. On the west bank three docks thrust out into the Keba, marking a settlement of fifty or sixty huts and a half-dozen larger structures. Ifness exclaimed in satisfaction. "Shillinsk at last! It exists in spite of Kreposkin! " He lowered the boat to the face of the water. Etzwane stepped the mast and hoisted the sail; the boat proceeded across the water to the docks. Ifness brought the boat up the water-steps; Etzwane jumped ashore with a line; Ifness followed more deliberately. Etzwane payed out the line; the boat drifted downstream and took a place among a dozen fishing smacks, not notably different from itself. Ifness and Etzwane turned toward Shillinsk Town,

The cabins and sheds of Shillinsk were built from gray stone quarried from a nearby ledge and rough-laid between balks of driftwood. Directly behind the docks stood the Shillinsk Inn, a relatively imposing structure of three stories. Lavender suns' light glared on gray stone and black timber; the shadows, by some ocular accommodation, appeared green, the color of old water in a barrel.

Shillinsk Town seemed quiet, only half alive. No sound could be heard except the lap of waves along the shore. Two women walked slowly along the riverside trail; they wore baggy black breeches, blouses of dark purple, head-kerchiefs of rich rust-orange. Three barges lay alongside the docks, one empty and two partially laden. Several barge-tenders were bound for the tavern; Ifness and Etzwane followed a few paces to the rear.

The barge-tenders pushed through the driftwood doors, with Ifness and Etzwane behind them, into a common room considerably more comfortable than the rude exterior suggested. A fire of sea-coal blazed in a huge fireplace; the walls had been plastered, whitewashed, and decorated with festoons and rosettes of carved wood. A group of barge-tenders sat before the fire eating a stew of fish and reed root. To the side, half in the shadows, two men of the district sat hunched over their wooden mugs. Firelight molded their slab-sided faces; they spoke little and peered distrustfully sidewise, watching the barge-tenders. One displayed a black mustache bushy as a dust brush, the other wore both a chin beard and a two-inch copper nose ring. With fascination Etzwane saw him knock up the ring with the rim of his mug and drink. They wore the Sorukh costume: black breeches, loose shirts embroidered with fetish signs, and from their waists hung scimitars of the white metal ghisim, an alloy of silver, platinum, tin, and copper, forged and hardened by a secret process.

Ifness and Etzwane settled at a table near the fire. The innkeeper, a man bald and flat-faced, with a deformed leg and a hard stare, hobbled over to learn their wants. Ifness spoke for lodging and the best meal available. The innkeeper announced that he could serve clam soup, herbs, and sweet beetles; grilled meat with water-greens, bread, blue-flower marmalade, and vervain tea: a meal which Ifness had not expected and which he pronounced satisfactory.

"I must discuss my recompense," said the innkeeper. "What do you have to trade?"

Ifness brought forth one of his glass jewels. "This."

The innkeeper drew back and showed the palm of his hand in disdain. "What do you take me for? This is no more than coarse glass, a bauble for children."

Indeed then," said Ifness. "What is its color?"

"It is the color of old grass, verging toward river water."

"Look. " Ifness closed the gem in his hand, then opened it. "What color now? ".

"A clear crimson! "

"And now? " Ifness exposed the gem to the warmth of the fire and it glinted green as an emerald. "Now- take it into the dark and tell me what you see."

The innkeeper went off to a closet, and presently returned. "It shines blue and sends off rays of several colors."

'The object is a starstone," said Ifness. "Such are occasionally taken from the center of meteorites. It is in fact too valuable to exchange for mere food and lodging, but we have nothing else."

"It will suffice, or so I suppose," stated the landlord in a pompous voice. "How long does your barge remain at Shillinsk?"

"Several days, until we conclude our business. We deal in exotic goods, and at this moment we require the neck bones of dead Roguskhoi, which have a medicinal efficacy."

" 'Roguskhoi? What are they?"

"You call them differently. I refer to the red, half-human warriors which have pillaged the Plain of Blue Flowers."

"Ah! We call them the Tied Devils.' They are of value after all?"

"I make no such assertions; I merely traffic in bones. Who would be the local dealer in such merchandise?"

The innkeeper uttered a coarse bark of laughter, which he quickly stifled, and turned a look toward the two Sorukh, who had been attending the conversation.

"In these parts," said the innkeeper, "bones are so common as to be worthless, and a man's life is at little greater price. Observe this leg, which my mother maimed to protect me from the slave-takers. They were then the Esche from the Murd Mountains across the Shill. Now the Esche are gone and Hulkas have come, and all is as before, or worse. Never turn your back to a Hulka, or you'll find a chain around your neck. Four from Shillinsk have been taken during this last year. Hulka or Red Devil-which is worse? Take your choice."

The mustached Sorukh suddenly joined the talk. "The Red Devils are extinct, except for their bones, which as you know belong to us."