A troop of Holot in scarred Imperial body armor advanced against the flank of the hive-bleeders. All the able-bodied Gifters were in the air, diving at the hive-bleeders, harassing them and occasionally killing one. But they were losing against the voracious predators who could swipe one of the winged creatures out of the air, crush it, and eat it before other Gifters could rally to its defense.

As the Oliat watched, the armored Holot opened fire with flamers—probably the last of the weapons still functional. The stench of scorched hive-bleeder flesh rose to mingle with the wood smoke from the Dushau compound, and the thready screams of the hive-bleeders came to the Oliat's ears.

Fatigued, the Oliat only shuddered, recoiling from the scene, too weary for the suffering to penetrate. But the Native hive-mind, aware through its dying members up on the plain, glowed with satisfaction, feeling safer by the moment—not because .hive-bleeders were dying, but because their new neighbors could vanquish such a deadly threat and were willing to do so for neighboring hives.

Only let one colonist's hand be lifted against the Natives, the Oliat knew, and the hive would lash out with their final weapon. The ex-Imperials would go mad.

Jindigar groped for his Outreach, needing to tell the colony how precarious the truce was.

Krinata's eyes showed him the outer court of the compound and the Outrider barracks. In the yard they'd set up a rough field hospital consisting of upended crates for tables and blankets spread on the ground for beds.

On one pallet a Dushau lay with his forearm across his chest, bleeding darkly where rough bone ends jutted through the flesh. Storm was stripping a crate down to make splints while two other Dushau prepared a litter. Beyond them, a Cassrian was bandaging a human's ankle. Two Lehiroh women were tending each other's burned hands while a Holot Jindigar recognized as the new herbalist was laying a fire on the stone hearth that formed the center of the yard, preparing to brew up some remedies in quantity.

Krinata sat cross-legged on one of the blankets near Storm. Cyrus blotted a cut over her eye. She stared into the distance, oblivious to his ministrations. The moment the link opened, she gazed around, amazed. Cyrus sat back on his heels, a look of exquisite relief on his face.

//Krinata, are you all right?// asked Jindigar, having no idea how much of the pain the Oliat had suffered had gotten through to her, or what such pain might to do a human mind.

//Jindigar?//

//Yes, of course. Can you speak for us?//

She blinked, and the scene before her penetrated, the Oliat's global awareness carrying a sense of urgency. //I—I guess so. Jindigar—I hit him, but I lost it.//

//What?// he asked, not following her thought.

//The whule.//

He felt tears sting her eyes and trace dirty streaks down her

face. She caught back her breath and stifled the reaction. Jin-

digar remembered seeing her take off after the warrior. Krinata

\hit that warrior? The Oliat hadn't even felt it through all the

test. If they had– //Krinata, you mustn't ever do anything like that again.// If she was ever Dushau, there's certainly little trace of it left! Those warriors are at least three times her size!

//I won't. I promise. It was awful. And he got Lelwatha's whule!//

// No time for that now. We must report.//

She took a deep breath and placed herself at his disposal, "//Cy, we have a message for Terab.//"

"Storm!" called Cyrus. "The Oliat! It's not Dissolved! She's not in Dissolution shock after all!"

"What? Krinata? I mean, Jindigar?' Storm handed the splints to one of the Dushau building the litter and came to kneel beside Krinata. "You're alive? From the way Krinata was—"

"//Please listen.//" Jindigar drew on all his officers to describe the Native hive's condition and stance. He tried to make it a crisp, professional report despite the fatigue overtaking them all. Llistyien was unable to stand, and Dar was leaning against her Outrider, one hand over the bloody lump on the side of her head.

"//Have you got all that?//" finished Jindigar.

The human and Lehiroh nodded simultaneously, then Storm commanded cryptically, "Cy, go get him. Jindigar, I think there's more to this hive turning up here than just the hive-bleeders chasing them."

Prompted by the Oliat's weariness, Krinata raised one hand to forestall Storm's enthusiasm. Jindigar noted, as the hand came into her field of vision, that the fingers were shaking. Storm noted it, too, and apologized. "I wouldn't hold you here except that it's very important."

Just then a door clattered. Krinata's hearing picked up softly padding bare feet on wooden stairs. With supreme effort Krinata turned and saw one of the stark-white, incredibly tall humanoid Natives coming toward them. The scarred ears on top of his skull seemed peculiarly familiar. His crossed harnesses—the only clothing he wore—marked him as a Herald. One arm was in a sling, but he carried a hivebinder on his other shoulder—something the Oliat knew was very unusual.

As he came out of the shadow of the wall, Krinata and the Oliat recognized him at the same time. "//Chinchee!//"

This was the Herald they had found wounded and dying in a Native hive smashed by the Imperial troops who were searching for them. Nursed back to health, he had refused to leave them. When more Imperial troops had been closing in on Jindigar's party, Chinchee had led them to refuge inside another Native hive. The Imperials had located them, anyway, and had attacked the hive. In the ensuing action many had died, and the hive, sorely wounded, had expelled Jindigar's party and two other offworld prisoners, Darllanyu and Cyrus.

Later Chinchee and his stray hivebinder had been taken prisoner by Imperial troops, who also attacked the colony and captured Jindigar, Krinata, and many other settlers. When all the hives of the plain had attacked the troopers, Chinchee had helped the colonists form the psychic union that created the image of the hive-dome over the settlement and convinced the massed hives of Phanphihy that the settlement—and the Imperials—were just another hive.

Now the Herald had brought them some new neighbors. Dangerous neighbors.

At last recognizing Krinata, Chinchee loosed a barrage of Cassrian whistles and clicks. Through the Native's accent and Krinata's human hearing Jindigar barely distinguished the morphemes for friend and welcome.

But the Cassrian female medic set aside her bandages and came toward them excitedly. "Was he only parroting like an animal, or did he really expect us to believe that was a peaceful and friendly approach?"

Her voice was well schooled to the single-toned interspecies language, so Jindigar had no trouble understanding her, but there was no time to explain the Herald's talent and function. //Llistyien—//

//I'll try,// replied his Emulator.

/ft was unreasonable to ask such precision work of her after —""all she'd been through. //I'll help,// Jindigar offered, and worked with her to establish Emulation of Herald, Cassrian, and human, while at the same time calling the Receptor to focus. Jindigar's own work was sloppy. Zannesu's shock was wearing off, the pain and horror of his loss sinking in. Darllanyu was in a daze. Even Venlagar could barely manage to grip the linkages as Jindigar set them. But gradually the meaning of what Krinata was witnessing came through.

"Friend!" piped Chinchee repeatedly. "Scared. Need help." And each time he repeated it he added several whistled versions of Jindigar's name.

While he went on ever more urgently the others argued the meaning of his message, occasionally pleading with Krinata to say something.

Finally Jindigar opened to his Outreach and, hampered by inflexible human articulation, sang out in the Native's language, "//Jindigar can hear you. Remember Oliat?//"