The building was a five-sided one-story structure of pinkish stone that had the sleekness of metal, or perhaps it was of a metal that had the texture of fine stone. A single triangular window was cut into each of its five faces, and these were covered over by awnings that had the texture of fine gauze but the solidity of wood. Koshmar pushed gently against one. It would not give. She went to another, pushing with more force. It yielded just a crack, enough to let a shaft of yellow light escape. She held her breath and opened it a bit wider, and leaned forward to look inside.

She saw one large room, set deep so that its floor was well below the level of the plaza. The sooty light of animal-fat lamps provided the only illumination. In the center of the room stood a statue carved from white stone, the figure of a tall long-limbed figure, angular and slim, with a high-domed head and no sensing-organ at all: a statue of Ryyig Dream-Dreamer, from the looks of it. About the statue were arranged the leafy boughs of trees, heaps of fruit, a few small animals in wicker cages. Five of the People were crouched beside these offerings, heads bowed, whispering softly. By the dim light Koshmar could make out Haniman, Kreun, Cheysz, and Delim. And that one, with his back to her — was that Preyne? No, Jalmud, she decided. Jalmud, yes.

Koshmar watched the ceremony in mounting dismay that began to grow into shock and horror. It was impossible for her to hear what they were saying, so low were their tones, but they seemed to be muttering some sort of prayers. Now and then one of them would push a bundle of twigs or a clump of fruit closer to the statue of the Dream-Dreamer. Cheysz had her head pressed right against the room’s unpaved floor; Kreun too was bowed far down, while Haniman bobbed back and forth in a rocking movement that had an almost hypnotic rhythm. He seemed to be the leader; he spoke and the others repeated.

When she was able to pull herself away, Koshmar turned and ran toward the temple. Heart beating furiously, she hurried to Hresh’s chambers and hammered on the door.

“Hresh! Hresh, wake up! It’s Koshmar!”

He peered out. “I’m working with the chronicles.”

“That can wait. Come with me. There’s something that you have to see.”

Together they hurried back across the plaza. Barnak, having finally become aware of Koshmar’s movements, appeared from somewhere and made a gesture of inquiry, but she waved him fiercely away. The fewer of the People that saw this, the better. Leading Hresh to the five-sided building, she signaled him to silence and pulled him up against the window that she had pushed ajar. He stared in; after a moment his hands gripped the sill with sudden excitement; he drew himself up, thrust his head nearly inside the window frame. When he stepped down again a little while later his eyes were wide with surprise and his breath was coming in tense gusts.

“Well? What do you think they’re doing in there?”

“A religious rite is what it looks like to me.”

Koshmar nodded vigorously. “Exactly! Exactly! But which god are they worshipping, do you think?”

“No god at all,” said Hresh. “That’s a statue of a human — of a Dream-Dreamer—”

“A Dream-Dreamer, yes. They’re worshipping a Dream-Dreamer, Hresh! What is this? What new kind of worship has sprung up here?”

As though in a daze, Hresh said, “They think the humans are gods — they’re praying to the humans—”

“To the Dream-Dreamers. We are the humans, Hresh.”

Hresh shrugged. “Whatever you say. But those five have a different idea, I think.”

“Yes,” said Koshmar. “They’re willing to turn themselves into monkeys, just as you seem to be. And to kneel down and pray to that ancient chunk of stone.” Koshmar turned away suddenly and sat, cradling her head in her arms in despair. “Ah, Hresh, Hresh, how wrong I was not to listen to you! We are losing our humanity in Vengiboneeza. Our very selves, Hresh. We are becoming mere animals. I have no doubt now that you were correct. We have to leave this place at once.”

“Koshmar—”

“At once! I’ll make the proclamation in the morning. We pack and we go, in two weeks or less. Before this poison spreads any further among us.” She rose unsteadily. In the strongest tone she could summon she added, “And say nothing of what you’ve seen to anyone!”

It was what Hresh had wanted, and his soul should have surged with joy at Koshmar’s decision. For the awakening world in all its brightness and wonder lay before him, and he was eager to go forth into it and penetrate its infinite mysteries.

But at the same time he was struck with a powerful sense of loss and sadness. He had not finished his work in Vengiboneeza. Koshmar’s decision fell now like a blade across his soul, cutting him off from all in this city that he was yet to unearth and recover. Whatever relics of the Great World they left behind, he knew, would ultimately fall into the hands of the Bengs.

The settlement stirred with frantic bustle. The livestock had to be gathered and made ready for the march; crops must be harvested; all the possessions of the tribe had to be packed. There was scarcely any time for rest, with the departure date only a matter of days away. Now and then Bengs came to call at the settlement, and looked on in perplexity at what was taking place. Koshmar rushed from task to task, so harried and depleted that her condition was a matter of common discussion. Torlyri was rarely seen in this time, and those in need of comfort and calming ways turned instead to Boldirinthe, who offered herself in Torlyri’s place. When Torlyri did appear, she, too, had an unaccustomed dark and tense look to her.

Hresh heard people wagering that the departure could not possibly be achieved by Koshmar’s deadline, that it would be postponed a week, a month, a season. Yet the frantic work went on and no postponements were announced.

To Taniane he said, “This is our last chance. We have to get the Seekers together and search out as much as we can find and carry away.”

“But Koshmar wants us to drop everything else so we can get ready for the march.”

Hresh scowled. “Koshmar doesn’t understand. Half the time she’s still living back in the cocoon, I think.”

Though uneasy at the thought of defying Koshmar, Taniane yielded in the end to Hresh’s urgency. But reassembling the old team of Seekers proved difficult. Konya had departed with Harruel; Shatalgit and Praheurt, burdened with one child and shortly expecting another, had no time for extra work; cautious Sinistine cited Koshmar’s orders to halt all present projects to concentrate on the departure, and she could not be shaken from that.

That left only Orbin and Haniman. Haniman brusquely told them that he had no interest in exploring with them, and would not stay for further discussion. Orbin, like Sinistine, said he meant to abide by Koshmar’s decree.

“But we need you,” Hresh said. “There are places where the walls have fallen in, where heavy slabs block our way. The best artifacts may be in those difficult places. Your strength will be useful to us, Orbin.”

Orbin said, shrugging, “The settlement has to be dismantled. My strength will be useful in that, too. And Koshmar says—”

“Yes, I know. But this is more important.”

“To you.”

“I beg you, Orbin. We were friends once.”

“Were we?” said Orbin impassively.

The thrust was a painful one. Childhood playmates, yes, they had been that; but that was years ago, and what had Orbin been to him, or he to Orbin, since that time? They were strangers now, Hresh the wily wise man of the tribe, Orbin simply a warrior, useful perhaps for his muscles but not otherwise. Hresh gave up the attempt. He and Taniane would have to do the final exploring alone.

Once more they slipped off under cover of darkness. The place where he had found the repair artificials at work was Hresh’s goal once again; and this time he carried the Barak Dayir with him.