"Tell them stories. They need the truth. You must tell them true stories, and everything will be well, just tell them stories." – from The Amber Spyglass by Philip Pullman

Tidwell

I smiled at Freddie like a normal person, and tried to forget that I was pulling off a heist.

"Nice to see you too, Julian," Freddie said, pronouncing it the English way, Joo-lee-un. "Hey, Derane 792 wanted you to proofread these documents – you read Galard, right?"

"Yes." I'm good at languages, if nothing else. Part of what brought me and Illim together as true friends was the excitement of learning an alien language from him, one nothing like anything on Earth. I took the briefcase from Freddie. "I'll get it back to you next siar-rane."

"Xe'll owe you one," Freddie said. His monkey dæmon pointed finger-guns at me. I hate finger-guns. "I have to get back to changing the intake filters. See you soon, man!"

A briefcase. It was just a briefcase, which I was supposed to have. Definitely not full of the latest protocols for Pool construction and maintenance.

I can't wait until we get Illim back, Kalysico moaned.

For more reasons than one, I thought. Bachu said she had an important message for us from Aftran. It could be the story that Illim wanted to spread through the Peace Movement. Illim had tried to pass on to me his impressions from going palp-to-palp with Aftran, but it was third-hand, all fragments. I was curious about the adventure that had inspired her so much.

The atmosphere in the voluntary area of the Pool was a little more tense these days. There were surveillance cameras up, to prevent escapes like the one we arranged with the Andalites. Some people were grouchy on their Yeerks' behalf about the new crackdowns. "Eslin kept me updated every rane on the new installment The Sage in the Weeds," a woman named Xue complained to me over a coffee. "Now I'll never find out the secret identity of the Sage, or where their Pool is."

I nodded sympathetically. I didn't like Xue very much – she was one of the Empire sympathizers that made up the majority of voluntaries – but I had to agree with her on that. The Sage in the Weeds was cheesy as anything, but the whole idea of Pools having Sages was pretty interesting.

I glanced at my watch. It was time to reunite with Illim. I wheeled Kalysico's tank to the infestation pier. I always hate it there. I hate seeing the dread in the faces of the involuntary hosts with me on the pier, the violence the Hork-Bajir-Controllers use to make them comply. Most of all, I hate the way I feel nothing but relief and excitement to be with Illim again, while the involuntaries are in so much pain.

I knelt at the end of the pier, grimacing at the smell of the Pool sludge like I always do, and felt the not-pain of Illim crawling into my head. «You want to tell me why Firtips isn't in the briefcase?» I said.

«I'm not happy about it either,» Illim said grimly, walking me briskly to the stairs, tuning out the screams of the involuntaries from my awareness, the way I never could on my own. «They insisted on staying to help spread Mokad's story through the Pool. They're right, they have the greatest reach by word of mouth, as you humans would say. But they're going to get killed.»

«I guess that's their choice,» I said, hoisting Kaly's tank up by its backpack straps. «I could get killed or worse for helping you with the Peace Movement. You know I've come to live with that choice. Why can't Firtips do the same?»

«Because Firtips knows more of our oral traditions – not oral, but you know what I mean – than any other Yeerk,» Illim said, frustrated. «Some of our greatest stories may be lost forever.»

«I hope Bachu has Mokad's story, then,» I said, catching my breath at the top of the stairs. «It looks like there's a lot riding on telling it.»

I drove to Chee-bachu's house, feeling like I was getting away with something. I was, of course. Illim and I had been bucking Empire law for over a year now. But there was nothing quite like having restricted documents in a briefcase I wasn't supposed to have. It was very Cold War spy movie.

«You know, I of all people should have known you secretly wanted to be a hero from one of those ridiculous spy movies,» Illim said. «But somehow, I didn't.»

I rang the doorbell of Bachu's house and thought at Illim in a Sean Connery accent, «I've reached the drop point, Q.»

Bachu ushered me in. "Do you mind if we do this in the basement?"

I don't like dogs very much, though I try not to say so in front of the Chee. They're smelly and I hate when they jump on me and try to lick me. But she wouldn't ask if she didn't have a reason. «It's probably security,» Illim said. «It's like a fortress down there.»

Bachu seemed to have noticed my feelings about dogs, because when we took the elevator down to her ridiculous dog park bunker, she intercepted all the excited dogs that came bounding up to us. Illim still had to suppress my flinch at all the barking, though.

"I have the plans for the Pool," I said, passing the briefcase to Bachu.

"Let me know if there're any gaps we need to fill in," Illim added.

Bachu took the briefcase and gestured to a tree stump. "Have a seat."

I sat, feeling like a character in a kids' cartoon show. I opened Kaly's tank and trailed my fingers through the water, letting my dæmon weave between them.

"I have a message from Aftran," Bachu said. "The one you've been hoping for, I think. But there's another part of the message we need to discuss first."

Bachu played back Mokad's voice the way she always did, distorted to remove any identifying features from her host's voice. I thought the paranoia was a bit much given how many hosts there are – what were the odds Illim or I would recognize her? – but Illim approved of Bachu's caution.

"Bzzzhhh's son is dead. Visser Three went after him." Even in that flat featureless voice, I could hear the grief and regret. "I should have expected him to go after hosts' children too, but somehow it never occurred to me. Bzzzhhh's daughter, Shzzzzk, is in danger. Please, find a way to protect her." The voice cut off. Silence fell.

"The children," Illim whispered, voice flat with disbelief. "Everyone in the Peace Movement we're trying to get out. Their children are in danger."

I couldn't read Illim's mind the way he could read mine, but I knew what he was thinking. Many of the Peace Movement Yeerks I knew thought of their hosts' children as their own. It was only natural. Yeerks never lived to see their own children, so they raised the children of others. And no Peace Movement Yeerk would flee to our rogue Pool if they thought it would put their adoptive children in the line of fire.

"Do you think," I said slowly, "we could put the children… wherever the Andalites took the freed hosts?" I still wished I could go there, check and see how they were doing. Bachu gave us reports, but it wasn't the same as really knowing they were safe and well.

"Maybe," Bachu said. "I'll make inquiries."

"This can't be a maybe," Illim said. "I can't in good conscience take any Yeerk whose host has children unless I can guarantee their children's safety."

"I can't make guarantees, Illim," Bachu said firmly. "It's not up to me. But I'll try."

"Okay," I said, steering the ship away from choppy waters. "Thank you, Bachu. I think we're ready to hear Mokad's story now."

Bachu paused. "Would you like me to read it for you? I can't safely lower the distortion on Aftran's voice, but this seems like the kind of thing that should have feeling in it. Inflection. I think I could do it justice. After all, I was there."

What Illim wanted was to hear the story exactly the way Aftran had told it, I could tell. Kaly told him out loud, "Illim. Mokad has her reasons."

Illim said, "All right. You read it."

Bachu dropped her hologram and projected an image of Aftran floating in the air in front of her – Aftran herself, not in a host body. Illim reached for her, then dropped my hand. Bachu made her voice come from the projection. "Out in the far reaches of the galaxy, there is a planet called Garzh. The planet is mostly polluted and barren, so the people live in towers miles high. The planet is a crossroads, a trade center, home to hundreds of species. And one of those species is called Yoort."

It was a fascinating story. It lit my mind on fire, thinking about all the ways I could live openly as a friend and partner to a Yeerk, on a planet where that was normal. I could tell my friends about Illim. I could have friends without worrying the Empire would target them. Illim could take a turn with an Isk who knew another language, pick up the language from their brain, and teach it to me from inside my head. Illim could take breaks outside my head in a Pool that actually made him happy, and I could be alone in my head for a little while without the fear and paranoia of being in the Pool.

And then there was everything about Mokad working with the Andalite bandits. I'd known already that the Andalite bandits had rescued Mokad – everyone at the Pool saw it. But that didn't really mean they were allies. On Garzh, the planet of the Iskoort, though, Mokad had helped them win against their terrible enemy, the Howlers. They'd even morphed Yoort to rescue Bachu – who she'd called Delia in the story, as if she were really human – even though Illim had always told me they saw Yeerks as the worst kind of vermin. Mokad clearly only got along well with one of the Andalites, a female bandit she considered a friend, but all of them, including Mokad, had been on the same team.

But Illim's reaction to the story was devastation. At first I wasn't sure why. He'd gotten the facts already, though in a fragmented sort of way. And Mokad's story was exciting, a vision of hope. Not just a world where Yeerks could be something more than slavers, but one where they could cooperate with other species as equals, even with Andalites. Then Mokad herself talked about everything the Yeerks could have one day, could have had already if they had chosen a different path, and I understood her and Illim's disillusionment and regret. The Empire had promised to lift Yeerks to glory, to the place and power in the galaxy that was their birthright—promised that spacefaring Yeerks would be a shining light, an inspiration to those still in their dingy pools on the homeworld. But instead it had replaced their culture and their pride with brutality, and stolen away everything that could have truly made them great.

Illim was devastated, and inside my head, he had none of his usual ways to show it. So even though he wasn't controlling my body at the moment, just using my ears to listen, I cried for him. I opened myself to his pain and let the tears fall.

Toby

The first order of business for the day's circle was the message from the homeworld.

"Our friends have arrived at the homeworld with Quafijinivon and Chee-koril," I told the eager circle of my people. "The Yeerks were suspicious when they first approached the planet, but Chee-koril did an excellent impression of a Yeerk pilot and got them through. Our friends are now in the Deep with Quafijinivon. Koril will continue to send us messages through their Chee friends Luis and Lourdes, who we have come to know well."

The circle stomped feet in approval. The father of Maka, one of the Hork-Bajir who had gone on the expedition, said, "Maka and others are well?"

"Yes," I said. "Apparently Maka didn't like the dried bark rations on the ship, but she finds Father Deep not as frightening as she'd thought he'd be."

The circle stomped again. Maka's father pressed his forehead blades to his dhalashi's, and his dhalashi closed his eyes in relief. I took more questions from the loved ones of the Hork-Bajir who'd gone. Finally I said, "Are we ready for the humans to join us?"

I watched the hrala orbit the circle as my people thumped tails to take the count. Everyone was on the same beat.

I gestured to Tak Shipa, who went to fetch the humans. The one named Julie looked serene, her colorful snake dæmon looped loosely around her neck. She was the new-frees' envoy – the new-frees who had been allied with the Yeerks, anyway. Melissa had a notebook, her butterfly dæmon resting on its spine; she was to be the secretary for the meeting. Ruby was there too, her beetle dæmon shining in her hair, the only human living in Kref Magh who wasn't a new-free.

"We invited you here to discuss two matters that concern both our people," I said. "One of them you already know. The other is new, a message passed to me through the Chee. We will listen and consider what you have to say on both of these matters. I only ask that you speak so that my people can understand you: slow, clear, and simple. Few of my people are fluent in English. Do you agree?"

The humans nodded.

"That won't work," I said. "My people don't nod to show we agree or approve. We stomp our feet to approve, and when we vote, we thump our tails in rhythm. Everyone on the beat agrees, anyone who thumps off-beat does not."

Julie nodded slowly, then started clapping her hands in a steady beat. Ruby and Melissa looked at her. Ruby started clapping on the beat, and Melissa tapped her pen against the spine of her notebook.

I smiled. "Now you get it." I turned to the circle. "First, we need to talk about Tom Berenson. Melissa, would you like to tell the circle what happened?"

Melissa bit her lip. "Tom attacked Jamal. He hurt him. Meret had to step in to make him stop."

Silence fell across the circle. My people had come to Kref Magh to escape violence. Violence done to us. Blood on our blades, our natural gifts to husband the trees, twisted for violence by the Yeerks who enslaved us. Hearing that violence had come to Kref Magh was not an easy thing for anyone.

"We have managed to have peace in Kref Magh since the beginning," I said. "That has changed. We need to decide what to do to stop any more fighting from happening here."

Fal Tagut stepped into the circle. "No fighting before humans. No humans in Kref Magh, no fighting."

The people set to muttering. Their tails drummed in a total chaos that meant disagreement was rife. Julie raised her voice above the din, not a scream, but low and ringing like a thunderclap. "We have nowhere else to go!" That cut through the noise enough to quiet it down. Julie repeated, "We have nowhere else to go. And anyway, Tom isn't well. Haven't any of your new-frees been unwell? I know they have. I've talked to Dref Fakash."

My father stepped into the circle. "Jara's friend Jotoo Tashir attack Jara before he die."

I turned and stared at my father. "I didn't know about this."

He ducked his head. "Jara not want to make Toby angry. Jotoo was sick. Sick in head because of Yeerk. Hurt bad. Did not know what he did."

I knew what happened to Jotoo. Before we freed him, he was like any Hork-Bajir-Controller, suffering under the horrible broken knot of Yeerk-hrala in his head, like a ball of barbed wire entangled in his own hrala. After we freed him, he was badly damaged enough in mind and body that we couldn't save him. It didn't happen as often as it might have, because of Hork-Bajir regenerative abilities, but he had been neither the first nor the last. What I hadn't known – what none of us had known, I gathered – was that he'd lashed out at my father in his suffering.

My father looked at Fal. "Not humans. Not Hork-Bajir. Hurt come from hurt. Jotoo attack Jara because of pain from Yeerk. Tom attack Jamal because of pain from Yeerk."

Elgat stepped into the circle. "Jara right. Tom need help, like all new-frees need help. We keep Tom away from other new-frees until Tom feel better."

I looked to the humans. "What do you think?"

Julie said, "I love Jamal. I won't lie, I hate that Tom hurt him. But he's stuck here, like the rest of us. And I'm a social worker. A mind-healer, like Elgat Kar. I've had patients like Tom, boys who lash out at people without really meaning to. He needs help, and that's what he's getting from the Chee, as far as I can tell. If the Hork-Bajir promise to keep him away from the rest of us until he's ready, then I feel safe enough."

Melissa nodded, then remembered that wasn't enough to show agreement. "Me too."

"I still want to see him," Ruby said. "He's never been mean to me, just… strange. But I guess I'm not a new-free."

I raised my voice. "Do the people consent?"

The people drummed agreement with their tails, Julie and Melissa and Ruby by clapping. The people watched them clap in fascination. The scales on our hands mute the impact; we can make nothing but a dull thud by clapping our hands together.

"We will move Tom to the northern end of Kref Magh, away from the other new-frees, tomorrow," I announced. "He is to stay at the northern end until we decide otherwise. If you see him go south of here, the meeting place, turn him back."

Melissa scratched notes quickly with her pen, then looked up at me and waited. This was the new part, what no one else in the valley had heard yet. "I have a message from the Yeerk Peace Movement," I said. "The ones who sent the new-frees to us. They have thirty more humans who they are trying to move out. Kref Magh is the only place they can go. We must decide whether to take more new-frees into the valley."

Everyone started talking heatedly. Except for the humans, who seemed shocked to silence. I tried to bring about some order. "Talk among yourselves. I want to hear all the circle-stories. Another thing, though, before you begin. The message said that some of the refugees are not new-frees, but their children. These children are in danger because their parents' Yeerks are in the Peace Movement. If they don't come here, they may die, or be enslaved."

Julie turned to me and said, "What's a circle-story?"

"We Hork-Bajir like to say that every circle has stories to tell," I explained. "Not just the stories of people in the circle, but the circle itself. When the people come together, the stories are different than if all of us were separate. Sometimes for a circle to come to a decision, we have to hear its stories. What my people are doing now is talking to each other and choosing those of us who can tell the stories of what this circle believes and how it wishes to act. When they're done, representatives will come forward and tell those stories. Then we will decide."

"Can we tell a circle-story?" Julie asked.

"Certainly," I said. "If you can find one among yourselves."

My mother drew me into a group of people discussing their fears about the new-frees who loved their Yeerks, and what it would mean for us if more humans like them came to the valley. Many of them looked at me as they spoke, but I added nothing, mindful of the weight of my words. I might have been the Seer, but that didn't mean my opinions were more important than theirs. I wanted them to feel free to say what they thought without worrying whether I disagreed.

The talking went long enough that there was a shift change, some people coming in from gathering bark or tending the creches and others leaving to tend to those essentials. People gathered around their chosen storytellers. Even the humans had attached themselves to a Hork-Bajir storyteller, which pleased me. I saw that one of the storytellers was Elgat Kar, which didn't surprise me. I gestured her into the circle.

"Kref Magh is healing place," Elgat said. "We make hrala here. New-frees come to Kref Magh, hurt by Yeerks, heal with Hork-Bajir, get better. Some new-frees still in Yeerk Pool, inside. Forget they are free, they not need Yeerk, not owe Yeerk." She gestured toward Melissa and Julie. "Yeerk friends bad for Hork-Bajir new-frees. Bad for human new-frees, like Tom. Yeerk friends love Yeerk. Bad for new-frees who hate Yeerk. Bad for new-frees still in Yeerk Pool, here." She thumped her chest. Next to her, I saw two people who I recognized as having been among the new-frees who had been confused when they first came here, who'd had Stockholm syndrome, as humans would call it.

I saw that Elgat's words had made Melissa and Julie uneasy, their dæmons hiding under their hair. It should. Elgat was not wrong. Their presence here was a provocation to some new-frees, and a setback to the recovery of others.

I stomped my foot. "Thank you for telling the circle-story, Elgat Kar." The rest of the circle stomped and thanked her too. I gave the humans a hard stare until they joined in, stomping and thanking Elgat.

Rej Hullan, the oldest Hork-Bajir in Kref Magh, stepped into the circle next. "Kref Magh is place most like home," she said. "In Yeerk Pool, we live wrong. Slaves. Far from trees. Fighting." She held up her wrist blades, notched from battle, for the circle to see. "Hork-Bajir must go home. Home with no Yeerk. Live as Hork-Bajir. Kref Magh not home, but like home. Trees, hrala, elders, Seer. Many humans, many Yeerk friends, Kref Magh become like Yeerk Pool. Not like home."

I stomped. "Thank you for telling the circle-story, Rej Hullan." It took only a brief significant look to the humans this time to get them to join in. Then they looked to the storyteller they'd attached themselves to: none other than Bek Mashar, the one the Animorphs had helped rescue as a child, now just grown into his adult height. I had to admit I was surprised to see the humans finding their circle-story in this Hork-Bajir, who had suffered badly at the hands of humans.

I gestured Bek into the circle. "Kref Magh on Earth," he said. "Human place. Now Hork-Bajir place too. Humans mean. Bad. Take Bek to bad place. But Hork-Bajir need human friends. Need to teach humans. Need human teachers. Only way to know human place, live in human place."

And with that, I understood why the humans stood with him. He was young, and could see a different path forward for my people. I stomped my foot. "Thank you for telling the circle-story, Bek Mashar."

The largest group was gathered around Ghat Hefrin and Dref Fakash. I gestured them into the circle. Only Ghat spoke, of course, but the tip of her tail twined with Dref's as he traced hrala currents through the air with his fingers. "Ghat and Dref have kawatnoj, back in Pool. Still slave of Yeerks. Many Hork-Bajir have kawatnoj back in Pool." All around her, Hork-Bajir stomped their feet in agreement. "All must be free. Hork-Bajir, human. But we – " She gestured around at the circle. "We in Pool too, never kawatnoj. Always slave to Yeerk. We remember. We know kawatnoj – human, Hork-Bajir – need freedom most." Ghat glanced at me. "Toby say that humans have kawatnoj. With no Kref Magh, they become slave. Like Hork-Bajir kawatnoj. Yeerk friend or no Yeerk friend, humans have kawatnoj. Free, like Toby. Stay free, here in Kref Magh."

The people spontaneously started thumping their tails. More and more joined on the beat. I did, too. Some Hork-Bajir still thumped off the beat, all of them standing with Elgat and Rej. I thought I might be able to address their concerns.

I stepped into the circle. "Here is my story. More human new-frees come to Kref Magh with kawatnoj. The humans stay at the southern end of the valley, as they have done. They do not cross north of here, the meeting rock. Any Hork-Bajir who wish to keep clear of the human new-frees simply keep their activities north of the meeting rock. Hork-Bajir new-frees are kept away from the human new-frees until they are well enough to speak with them without becoming confused or upset – Elgat and her healing circle will decide when that is. Kawatnoj, human and Hork-Bajir, are allowed to go wherever they like. They are free. Human and Hork-Bajir stay apart when they need their own kind most, but they also learn to live together."

Now almost all of my people were thumping on the beat, Rej's followers whispering to each other and changing their votes. The humans clapped in time, their eyes wet. A strange human reaction, but I knew what it meant. We had voted as a people to save their people's children. Which was more than any species had ever done for us.

I looked around the circle of consensus among my people, and wondered if we would come to regret our decision one day. So few of our encounters with other species had gone well for us. But even with all the pain and suffering he went through at Andalite hands, my ancestor Dak Hamee did not regret welcoming Aldrea-Iskillion-Falan into his life. My mentor Tobias was profoundly grateful for the presence of Ax, an Andalite, in his family.

I looked up from the circle where we all clapped in time. Hrala swirled up from the circle in a mighty vortex, stronger than anything I'd seen from a meeting of Hork-Bajir alone. Elgat and I had noticed it at her new-free circles, too. One of the stories we'd managed to salvage from the homeworld told about this. Hork-Bajir from different clans coming together to tell stories produced more hrala than any clan alone, so long as the encounter ended in peace. People on different paths, intersecting for a time, without war. Maybe the stories were true. Maybe we could make it happen, too.

Illim

I didn't have much time in the Pool, and I had a long story to tell. I went to Firtips first. Better to tell it palp to palp, the way our ancestors did, than through the terminals.

When I was done, feeling proud and hollowed out all at once, Firtips said, "This is what inspired you to become a leader in the Peace Movement."

"Yes."

"It's why Mokad was able to work with the Andalite bandits to make her escape."

"Yes."

"Your storytelling technique is terrible."

"Thanks," I said dryly.

"Well, I can hardly blame you, when storytelling isn't a skill they teach to grubs anymore," Firtips said. "The story is important to you. It makes you feel something. It changed your life. That's what really matters. I'll just take that spark of power you gave it, and tell it better."

The second Yeerk I sought out was Derane 971, who was undecided about the tenets of the Peace Movement, but could be trusted to keep quiet out of loyalty to the four siblings of their spawning who were dedicated members of the movement – one of them had already died so his host could go free, and 971 didn't want to lose any more. They resented the Peace Movement for putting their siblings in danger, but they would never do anything to make their situation more precarious. I wanted to know what someone who didn't agree with me yet would think.

When I was done, they said, "Yeerks choosing to – to genetically neuter themselves! That can't possibly have really happened."

I had expected this answer. I was ready. "It is true. But whether it is or not – it's getting a reaction out of you, isn't it?"

"Reaction is right," Derane muttered. "Wait until we get the reaction from the Vissers. This is the most heretical story I've ever heard. If they find out you started this…"

"I didn't start it," I replied. "Mokad did. Tell that to anyone who asks." I swam on.

I wasn't sure who I should talk to next, so I just rode the current until I was greeted by a grub from the recent Mielan spawn. I felt guilty for getting such a young Yeerk involved in a dangerous subversive movement, but the Mielan grub had been very insistent.

"What's new, Illim?" they said, wriggling to stay stable in the current.

"I've been going around telling a story," I said.

"Oooh! Getting around the new bans, huh? That's so cool! Can I hear it?" they said. And how could I resist a child who was excited to hear a story in a Pool where they were barely allowed to hear them anymore?

By the time I finished, Mielan was trembling with excitement. "Wow! Buying someone else's memories, can you imagine? Art made out of electricity! Yeerks who can be masters of commerce! Illim, this is the most amazing thing I've ever heard!"

Hope. Excitement. I tried to remember when I'd ever felt those things as a child. Mostly it had been about the first time I'd get to infest a host. The thought made me sick now. Mielan's excitement was pure. Innocent. It didn't demand the suffering of others to thrive.

I've told a lot of people about Mokad's journey to the planet of the Iskoort. The Mielan child was the most important of them all. If the human hosts' children could be saved, then couldn't our children be saved too? Couldn't they grow up in a place where they could become masters of commerce and painters of electric art instead of slavers and torturers?

«They could,» Julian told me later, when I was back in his head. «If we can get the Andalites to help. But will they care about Yeerk children the same way they do human ones?»

I replied, «Maybe Mokad would say they can. But I don't know, Julian. I just don't know.»