He felt a breath of air against the side of his face and turned to see Gll-borgiv step up beside him. The other was staring at the main monitor, his expression uneasy. "Take a look at that ring-shaped cliff, will you, Searcher Nzz-oonaz?" he asked. "Tell me if those black spots are what I think they are."

Nzz-oonaz looked back at the display, the taste of annoyance bubbling under his tongue. He hated this kind of guessing game. Still, Gll-borgiv was right: there were dark pockmarks scattered all across the ring cliffs.

Scattered rather uniformly, now that he was actually looking at them. Almost in straight lines... "Ship Commander?"

"Yes, Searcher?"

Nzz-oonaz pointed at the display. "A laser-scan probe of those dark spots on the cliffs. See if they're indented from the rock around them."

"I've already checked," the ship commander said, his voice smug. "They appear to be windows."

Nzz-oonaz glared at him. "And you didn't think that worth mentioning?"

"I assumed a searcher of your distinction had already noticed them," Sps-kudah said blandly. "Or else had deduced from the lack of any other obvious habitation nearby that the ring cliffs were most likely our destination."

Nzz-oonaz flicked his tongue in annoyance. Here in the middle of potentially hostile territory, and Ship Commander Sps-kudah was still playing games. "And I presume you likewise deduced the possibility that they aren't windows at all?" he countered. "That perhaps they're Mrachani weapons emplacements?"

A flicker of something crossed Sps-kudah's face. "A certain amount of caution on their part wouldn't be unreasonable," he said. "After all, they don't really know anything about us."

"Just as we don't really know anything about them," Nzz-oonaz countered. "Such as whether or not they're actually secret allies of the Human-Conquerors."

"I thought that theory had been invalidated," Gll-borgiv put in. "The Human-Conqueror explosives attack aimed at the Mrachani diplomats on Dorcas, remember?"

"Yes, I remember," Nzz-oonaz said patiently. "I also remember that at last report Commander Thrr-mezaz still didn't know how the attack had been carried out." He fixed Gll-borgiv with a hard look. "How do you think it was done?"

Gll-borgiv shrugged. "Some unknown Human-Conqueror weapon, obviously."

"Fine." Nzz-oonaz flicked his tongue toward the ring cliffs. "Then doesn't it also seem likely that a few properly placed shots from those openings with this same unknown weapon might do severe damage to this ship?"

Gll-borgiv didn't answer. "Ship Commander?" Nzz-oonaz invited, shifting his glare back to Sps-kudah.

"We're watching for signs of trouble," Sps-kudah said curtly. "You don't have to concern yourself with the warrior part of this mission."

"I'm the speaker," Nzz-oonaz reminded him. "All parts of the mission are my concern."

The ship commander seemed to stiffen. Possibly with respect, most likely not. "Understood," he said. "Speaker."

"Good." Nzz-oonaz turned back to the monitor, silently willing his spinning tail to slow down. Very good, the Overclan Prime had said at the Closed Mouth's departure, when Nzz-oonaz had had to similarly affirm his speakership against Ship Commander Sps-kudah's subtle attempt to usurp it for himself. Remember to show the same authority in front of the Mrachanis, and all should be well.

The Mrachanis were waiting below. Nzz-oonaz hoped the Overclan Prime had been right.

Nzz-oonaz's guess about the waiting vehicles had been correct. No sooner had the Closed Mouth come to a stop than they were lumbering across the uneven ground toward the beaks of its three leading hexagons, heavy cables and grippers prominently in evidence. By the time Nzz-oonaz started down the ramp, the haulers were in position, with a dozen Mrachanis scurrying around finding places to make the attachments.

At the bottom of the ramp stood a single Mrachani, dressed in colorful, multilayered robes of intricate weave. "Welcome!" he called in the Human-Conqueror language as the Zhirrzh neared the ground. "Standing in the stead of the rulers of the Mrachanis, I welcome our brothers the Zhirrzh to Mra. Can you understand me?"

The translator-link in Nzz-oonaz's ear slits whispered the interpreter's version of the alien words, confirming Nzz-oonaz's own translation. "Yes," he told the other in the same language.

"Ah—you speak the language of our common enemy," the alien said. "Excellent—it will make our talk much easier. I am Valloittaja, ambassador of the rulers of the Mrachanis."

"I am Searcher Nzz-oonaz; Flii'rr," Nzz-oonaz identified himself. "Speaker of this expedition."

"I greet you, Searcher Nzz-oonaz; Flii'rr." Valloittaja's eyes flicked over his shoulder. "But surely you have not come alone?"

"My associates are busy preparing our equipment," Nzz-oonaz assured him. "They will be joining us shortly."

"I will leave guides for them," Valloittaja said, gesturing Nzz-oonaz toward a group of four small open-topped vehicles. "It is imperative that we begin our discussions as quickly as possible."

"Of course," Nzz-oonaz said as they walked toward the vehicles. "Before we begin, though, I must first inform you that I bring sad news. Your first ambassadors—the two who encountered the Zhirrzh ship at the uninhabited system thirty-five light-cyclics from here?"

"I know who you mean," Valloittaja said. "We call that planet Mra-kahie."

"I see," Nzz-oonaz nodded. "I must tell you that those two ambassadors have both died."

"What?" Valloittaja stopped abruptly, turning to face Nzz-oonaz. Suddenly it was as if there were a chill in the air. "How did they die?"

"We don't know the cause of death," Nzz-oonaz said, a sudden desire to apologize welling up beneath his tongue. "I can tell you that their encounter with the Zhirrzh ship involved the firing of weapons. It's possible they received injuries at that time."

"And you didn't try to save their lives?" Valloittaja demanded.

"Of course we tried," Nzz-oonaz protested, again fighting against the urge to apologize. The Mrachani spacecraft had fired first, after all, and with Elderdeath weapons. "But we didn't know enough about Mrachani physical construction and body chemistry."

For a pair of beats Valloittaja simply looked at him. Nzz-oonaz kept his mouth firmly closed, wishing Sps-kudah or even Gll-borgiv would hurry up and get down here. But they wouldn't, he knew, not unless he summoned them. The plan called for him to face the Mrachanis alone for at least a few hunbeats to see how the aliens dealt with a single, unprotected Zhirrzh.

"What is done is done," Valloittaja said at last. His voice was no longer bright with anger, but dark with a deep sadness that made Nzz-oonaz feel even worse. "Their empty bodies—may we have them for the ceremonies?"

"Of course," Nzz-oonaz hastened to assure him. "We have them with us. Preserved to the best of our abilities."

"Yes," Valloittaja murmured. For another beat he gazed at the Closed Mouth; then, with obvious effort, he seemed to put the matter aside. "But the mourning of the lost must wait," he said, resuming walking. "There is much to do, and much to speak about. And if the Conquerors Without Reason discover your ship, all our hopes will be for nothing. As our workers prepare to hide it, I will escort you to a place of resting."

They reached the open-topped vehicles, and Valloittaja gestured Nzz-oonaz to one of them. Considering the terrain, Nzz-oonaz decided it would probably be a floater, and as Valloittaja started it up, his guess was proved correct. "What is this place?" he asked as they headed toward the ring cliffs.

"It's called the Puvkit Tru Kai," Valloittaja told him. "In the language of our common enemies, the Garden Of The Mad Stonewright. Throughout Mrach history it has been much as you see it now, though the more exotic varieties of plant life were added by a past owner. It has been in turn an unwanted wasteland, a trading center, the private estate of a noble king, a public parkland"—his eyes flicked to Nzz-oonaz—"and now a place of interstellar alliance."