"Doctor-Cavan-a?"

Melinda jerked as if she'd touched a hot electrode, sheer momentum keeping her feet moving. Nothing was visible in the sunlight; but it had been Prr't-zevisti's voice.

Except that the configuration chamber had been sealed behind them...

"They have brought me another cutting," the Elder hissed. "It is resting on the box with other items. The box is metal—I cannot return to my fsss from there. Can you move it?"

Melinda bit at the inside of her cheek. The Zhirrzh had finished emptying his pouch now and had taken a few steps back toward the aircar. His collection of artifacts was sitting in plain sight on the crate almost directly ahead of her, being ignored by the Peacekeeper squad. It would be easy enough to reach over as she passed and pick it up.

Except that Prr't-zevisti had been listening in the configuration chamber when Holloway was discussing his planned attack on the Zhirrzh base. For that matter, there was an even chance he'd also heard Holloway talking about the Elderdeath weapon he was planting on her. If she helped him get to where he could talk with other Zhirrzh...

"I will not tell what I have heard, Doctor-Cavan-a," Prr't-zevisti said. "I give you my promise of honor."

"Why not?" Melinda murmured back, trying to keep her lips from moving. "Your people's lives are at stake."

"Not their lives," Prr't-zevisti corrected her. "They would only be raised to Eldership."

"And that's not important to you?"

"It is very important," Prr't-zevisti said. "But it is more important that the war be ended quickly."

Melinda swallowed. "I would be trusting you with my life, Prr't-zevisti. Do you understand that?"

"With my promise of honor, Doctor-Cavan-a. I will not tell what I have heard."

And so there it was. Fifteen minutes ago she'd been willing to gamble with the lives of everyone up here in the mountains on the words and promise of an alien ghost. Was she equally willing to gamble her own life, right here and now, on those same words and promise? "All right," she said. "Where's the cutting?"

"In the small tube at the end," Prr't-zevisti said. Even with his alien intonations the relief in his voice was unmistakable. "Do you see it?"

"Yes," Melinda said. It was about the same diameter as a marking stylus, and about half its length. Small enough to palm, if she could get to it without anyone noticing. Here was her chance, she thought wryly, to see whether she could make it as a thief if her surgical career ever fell through. A shame Prr't-zevisti couldn't create a diversion—jump out at the Peacekeepers and say boo or something—

And then, just as she reached the line of artifacts, there was a sudden mechanical-sounding screech from the aircar, and a flood of warm air washed over her. The Oberons twitched warningly; but the aircar merely lifted a few centimeters off the ground and then settled back down again.

But for those few seconds all eyes were on the aircar. With the help of the aircar's pilot, Prr't-zevisti had indeed arranged a diversion.

She had the cylinder in her hand before the aircar had completely settled down again, forcing herself to keep her pace steady as she stepped up to the waiting Zhirrzh. "I greet you," she said to him. "I am Melinda Cavanagh. A healer."

"I greet you, Melinda Cavanagh," the alien said in remarkably good English. "I am Thrr-gilag; Kee'rr. I will take you to your brother."

Melinda glanced back at Holloway, standing impassively beside Takara as two Peacekeepers headed toward the aircar with the supplies. "Thank you," she murmured.

Two minutes later they were airborne; and as they lifted over the first line of low peaks, Prr't-zevisti's ghostly form appeared beside Thrr-gilag. They conversed for a few minutes in the Zhirrzh language, and then Thrr-gilag turned to face Melinda. "You do not know me, Melinda Cavanagh," he said, "but I am acquainted with your brother Pheylan Cavanagh. I was the speaker for the alien-studies group who examined him following his capture."

Melinda felt her stomach tighten. "Are you angry with him for escaping?" she asked.

The alien's deadly tongue slashed briefly into the air. "No. I seek merely to understand the roots of Human aggression toward the Zhirrzh."

"We have no aggression toward the Zhirrzh," Melinda said. "Or at least we didn't have until you attacked the Jutland."

"Nor did we have any aggression toward Humans until the Jutland attacked our ships," Thrr-gilag countered. His tongue jabbed again, this time curving around to point at Prr't-zevisti hovering beside him. "Perhaps at last we both now understand."

"Perhaps," Melinda said. "The challenge will be to get anyone else to listen to us."

"Do not fear, Melinda Cavanagh," Thrr-gilag assured her. "When we return to the encampment, we will open a pathway to the Overclan Prime. He is wise and honorable, and he will listen."

"I hope so," Melinda said, frowning. There was something wrong here. "But can't Prr't-zevisti do that himself? I thought he'd be able to go directly to his main fsss organ once he was out of the configuration chamber and away from all our metal."

Prr't-zevisti murmured something and turned away, fading until he was barely visible. "He has tried," Thrr-gilag said. "But the anchorpoint-sense no longer exists. It appears that his fsss has been destroyed."

Melinda looked at Prr't-zevisti, feeling a prickling sensation on her skin. "What will happen to him now? Will he die?"

"I do not know," Thrr-gilag admitted. "I think he will continue to live but will be confined to the small region around this new cutting."

"And the cutting back at the Peacekeeper base," Melinda said. "We'll get it back to you, Prr't-zevisti, after all this is over."

Prr't-zevisti stirred, his image returning to its earlier brightness. "I am shamed by my sadness," he said. "You have risked your honor for me, Doctor-Cavan-a. I am alive, and I am free. What more shall I wish would be selfish."

They were over the last row of foothills now, with the colony in distant sight. Melinda found herself studying the village as they approached, wondering what changes the Zhirrzh had made in the area. She spotted the warehouse where she'd stored the supplies for Pheylan's rescue mission; it seemed incredible that that had been only three and a half weeks ago. The last transmission they'd had before the Peacekeepers had seemingly abandoned them had reported that Pheylan and Aric and the others had all returned safely to Edo and had included a summary of their debriefing.

Yet here Pheylan was, back in Zhirrzh hands. How in the world had that happened?

Abruptly, Thrr-gilag leaned forward, reaching over to touch the pilot on the shoulder. He jabbed his tongue toward the village and said something that sounded agitated. Prr't-zevisti moved into the space between them, and for a minute the three of them conversed in rapid-fire Zhirrzh. "What's wrong?" Melinda asked.

"I do not know," Thrr-gilag said, jabbing his tongue again. "There is a new arrival in the encampment since we departed to seek your assistance. It is a flash-ship bearing the markings of the Speaker for Dhaa'rr."

Melinda squinted out at the white ship parked off to one side of the landing area. "Is that bad?"

"The Speaker for Dhaa'rr is not a friend of the Thrr family," Thrr-gilag said. "I do not believe he will be pleased to find Prr't-zevisti still alive."

Melinda frowned at the ghost. "But I thought Prr't-zevisti was a member of the Dhaa'rr clan."

"He is," Thrr-gilag said. "It is too complicated to explain now, Melinda Cavanagh. We must not reveal that Prr't-zevisti is here until we know the reason for this visit."

"That's going to be a tall order," Melinda said. "Won't the other Elders recognize him?"