"The fool! Doesn't he know there are deadly snakes in the desert? They hide in shaded clefts like that during the day."

"There were a dozen snakes in there, the kind that make dancing music with their tails-"

"Deadly!"

"But they were as harmless as earthworms," said Ilihiak. "That's how my men knew that the Keeper really meant them to get these. And now here they are. The Elemaki would melt them down in a moment and make them into ornaments. But I was hoping that Mo-tiak... ."

Monush nodded. "Motiak has the Index." He looked Ilihiak in the eye. "That, too, is a secret. Not that people don't suppose that he has it. But it's better if people are unsure, so they don't bother trying to find it and see it or, worse, steal it. The Index knows all languages. Motiak can translate these records if any man on Earth can do it."

"Then I'll give them to him," said Ilihiak, already rewrapping the leaves of gold. "I didn't dare ask you if the Index was still had among the kings of the Nafari."

"It is," said Monush. "And while the Index sat silent for many generations, it awoke in the days of Motiak's grandfather, Motiab, and told him to get down to Darakemba."

"Yes," said Ilihiak. "And my grandfather rejected that decision."

"It's never good to argue with the Index," said Monush.

"All messengers of the Keeper are sacred," said Ilihiak, and shuddered.

"The blood of Binaro is not on your head," said Monush.

"It's on the heads of my people, and therefore it is on my head. You weren't here, Monush. The mob gave full approval and cheered when Binadi cried out in agony. Those who hated what we did- they're with Akmaro wherever he is."

"Then it's time, isn't it, for us to teach them what the covenant will mean and let them decide whether they want to go to Darakemba."

Ilihiak pulled his bed back over the hidden trove. "Though how we're going to win our freedom from the place without bloody war I have no idea."

Monush helped him arrange the bed just as it had been. "When they've agreed to take the covenant, Ilihiak, then the Keeper will show us how to escape."

Ilihiak smiled. "Just so I don't have to think of a way, I'm content."

Monush looked at him intently. Did he mean that?

"I never wanted to be king," said Ilihiak. "I'll gladly give up all thrones and privileges, when I can set aside the burdens of office as well."

"A man who wouid willingly set aside the throne? I've never heard of such a thing," said Monush.

"If you knew all the pain that reigning here had brought me," said Ilihiak, "you'd call me a fool for staying in the job so long."

"Ilihiak, sir," said Monush, "I would never call you a fool, or permit another man to call you that in my presence."

Ilihiak smiled. "Then may I hope, Monush, that when I am no longer king, I might still have the honor of being your friend?"

Monush took Ilihiak's hands and placed them flat on his own cheeks. "My life is between your hands forever, my friend," said Monush.

Ilihiak took Monush's hands and repeated the gesture. "My life was worthless until the Keeper brought you to me. You were the awakening of all my hope. I know you came here only to do your duty to your king. But a man may see the worth of another man, regardless of rank or mission. My life is between your hands forever."

They embraced and touched lips in a kiss of friendship. Then, smiling, tears shamelessly on his cheeks, Ilihiak unbarred the door and returned to the tiny world where he was friend of no man, because he had to be king of all.

When Mon missed his target for the third time, Husu flew to him and stopped him. Others-most of them young angels in the earliest stages of training for Husu's flying army of spies-continued their practicing, filling their mouths with darts, the points protruding, then rapidly firing them one-handed through their blowtubes, trying to get them somewhere near the targets. Someday they would learn to shoot accurately while they beat their wings in flight, one foot holding the blowtube, the other foot holding a burden. For now, though, they practiced while standing on one foot. Mon was usually furious with himself when he missed-after all, he could hold the tube with two hands, could aim while standing on two feet. But today he could hardly bring himself to care.

"Mon, my young friend, you're tired, I think," said Husu.

Mon shrugged. "Haven't slept well?"

Mon shook his head. He hated having to explain himself. He was usually a better shot than this, he took pride in it.

"You're a better shot than this," said Husu. "If you had wings, I would already have promoted you."

Husu could not have said words more likely to sting, but of course he couldn't know that. "I knew the shot wasn't right when I blew," said Mon.

"And yet you blew."

Mon shrugged again.

"Children shrug," said Husu. "Soldiers analyze."

"I blew the dart because I didn't care," said Mon.

"Ah," said Husu. "If the target had been an Elemaki soldier, intent on cutting the throats of young angels standing in their roost, would you have cared?"

"I wake up in the night, again and again," said Mon. "Something's wrong."

"Such precision," said Husu. "And when you aim your darts, do you aim them at ‘something'? Why, then, you're sure to hit your target every time. Because you'll always hit ‘something.' "

"Something with Monush's expedition."

Husu looked concerned at once. "Have they been harmed?" he asked.

"I don't know. I don't think that's it. I don't get this feeling when bad things happen or I'd never sleep at all, would I, because something bad is happening all the time. It only happens from bad choices. Mistakes. Monush has made a mistake."

Husu chuckled. "And you don't get that feeling all the time?"

"A mistake about something that matters to me."

"I should think, then, that all mistakes that harm your father's kingdom would keep you awake, and believe me, there are plenty of those."

Mon turned to Husu and looked him in the eye. "I knew my explanation wouldn't please you, sir, but you wouldn't accept my shrug."

Husu stopped chuckling. "No, I want the truth."

"If I were heir to the king, then the whole kingdom would matter to me. As it stands, what matters to me is a very small thing indeed. Monush's expedition matters to me because. ..."

"Because you sent them."

"Father sent them."

"They went because of your word."

"They've made a mistake," said Mon.

Husu nodded. "But you can't do anything about it, can you? They aren't within your reach, are they? No one can fly into Elemaki territory-they hunt down angels and shoot them out of the sky, and at those elevations the air is too thin for us to fly long distances, or very high, either. So-all you could possibly do about this feeling you have is tell your superior officer."

"I suppose you're right," said Mon. oc

"And now I've been told," said Husu. "So-back to training. I'll let you take a nap when you hit the target in the heart three times in a row."

Which Mon did with his next three shots.

"Apparently you feel better," said Husu. "Now go and take a nap."

"You'll tell my father?"

"I'll tell your father that Monush has made a mistake. We'll have to wait and see what that mistake might be."

Monush sat in council with Ilihiak and several of his military advisers. Ilihiak's wife, Wissedwa, sat behind him. This was quite unusual, but Monush said nothing about having a woman present in a council of war. The Zenifi had their own customs, their own reasons for doing things. Monush knew enough-had learned well enough from Mo-tiak-that you don't take offense at the strange customs of other nations, you seek to learn from them. Still, was he wrong to think that some of the men studiously avoided looking at Wissedwa?