The Stolen Sky

"For stars' sake, stop scratching it."

Ben frowned, aware he was about to sound like a petulant child. "I can't help it. It's itchy."

"We knew the medication was likely to produce some sort of reaction." Shaarm told him. "You were lucky it was nothing worse than a rash and mild fever."

Ben continued to scowl, but ceased scratching at his neck. He had slept deeply for several turns, waking a few turns after dawn from a vague and disquieting dream. In it, a boy, barely out of childhood, had stood on the passenger deck of a ship, letting it carry him away from everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever known. He had been rejected one last time, and now his fate was ignominiousness and failure. He thought the boy was probably himself.

The crying of a Kheelian baby had woken him, and he had opened his eyes to find it full daylight outside. A number of Kheelians were still scattered around the room, sleeping, although others came in and out, conversing in low whispers. None of them had been Shaarm, Nenka, or any of the others he recognised. Ben lay for a while, feeling hot and feverish, achy and uncomfortable. Despite the IV painkillers, his chest still hurt abominably, but he could at least breathe; something he was never going to take for granted again. His chest was black and purple, and the skin that had avoided the bruising was puffy and reddened with an itchy rash that seemed to have spread at least to his arms and neck.

Shaarm had arrived after about half a turn when Ben had just decided to investigate the improvised collection of medical equipment surrounding him. If he could detach himself from it then he could probably get up and find out what was going on. As well as the IV and oxygen mask, a long tube was poking out from his ribcage. The tube at the other end was sealed with tape into the top of a plastoid water bottle, now half full of water, blood and other gunk. How unpleasant.

"Ben, what the sky are you doing?"

Oh dear. Rumbled.

"Good morning, Shaarm." He tried disarmingly cheerful. "Interesting night, wasn't it?"

Shaarm was neither impressed nor distracted. "Stop touching that," she snapped, sitting to inspect the tubing. Ben dropped the smile. She sounded as irritable as he felt. Worse, probably. He wondered if she had managed to get any sleep at all. He doubted it. She took his pulse and vitals, frowned at his temperature and hen finally agreed that the drain could come out.

"If you think you could manage to stay still," she muttered, as she pulled on a new set of gloves, "it would make my life very much easier. For once."

Ben did manage to stay still while she removed the drain. The feeling of the tubing being pulled from his chest was one of the weirdest and most unpleasant sensations he could imagine and he gritted his teeth, looking around the room as a distraction. The Kheelian mother had soothed her baby, and the two were rocking together quietly. These people had had their sense of security and peace had been shattered, probably forever. What would they do now?

As Shaarm cleaned the site of the chest drain over thoroughly, and then sealed the slit skin with an application of hot adhesive paste, Ben asked: "How bad was it?"

Shaarm glanced at his face. "It was...bad. Your lung completely collapsed, probably down to the size of a tarvaroot, and the lacerations were bleeding into the chest cavity. The tension in your chest was so severe it was starting to put pressure on your heart. How you made it here on foot, I will never know, but if you had-"

He stopped her gently. "I meant here. How bad was it here?"

"Oh," she sighed. "I see. Well we have at least fifteen wounded, although you are the most severe of those. I give thanks that it was mostly the adults. Three Kheelians...did not make it. Two were killed in the fire at Taknat's farmstead. The third bleed to death from bite wounds."

Ben grasped Shaarm's forearm, holding it tightly. "I am so sorry," he said. Shaarm accepted his sympathy quietly, and continued.

"After we left the house, Pakat, Grandmother and I headed over to the nearest farm. It was them who had lit the flares, but the few narms that had attacked seemed to have been scared off. We checked the property was secure and were trying to decide if the creatures were gone for good, when we saw a light from a fire. A group set off walking for the village while a few of us went over to the fire in the landspeeder. It was...horrible. Apparently they had tried to use burning torches to scare the narms away, and it had gone wrong. We saved everyone we could but the farmstead was gone. By then we were hearing of narms everywhere, and we were desperate to get back to the house. One of Taknat's children saw your flare – how did you do that?"

Ben shrugged with his one good shoulder.

"We took you at your word that you had escaped, and we didn't go back to the house. We started ferrying people to the village in the landspeeder. We went out and back four or five times to find missing groups and you still had not appeared. It got more and more difficult, and we were attacked on the road several times. I had to stay at Thet and treat some of the injured, but Pakat and some of the others went out one last time to look for you. About a half-turn after he left, Chana arrived at the gate, carrying the girls and bleeding everywhere, saying you were holding the narms off in the street and we had to go back for you. I am ashamed to say that few of our people were keen. You were only a Pechnar after all, and they were unarmed and on foot. Chana managed to get a few to agree to help, though he would have gone after you alone if he had to, when Pakat and Nenka arrived back in the speeder. They had found you in the road, surrounded by a circle of howling narms. You seemed fairly disorientated so I do not know how much you remember."

"I certainly remember that," Ben said. "And unlikely to forget it again, I can assure you."

Shaarm had been busy while she was talking: dressing the incisions, retying Ben's tunic and coat, and strapping his left arm up in a tight sling to keep the weight off his broken shoulder.

"I suppose it is safe to assume you want to get up immediately? I want to stress first how careful you must be. Several important blood vessels seem to pass close to the broken bone in your shoulder, and the broken rib that caused the pneumothorax is still misplaced. Any undue movement on your part will probably re-puncture the lung and you will be right back where you started, except we now have no more oxygen and very little pain medication left. No running, twisting, lifting and as little standing up as possible. And certainly no sword fighting. Are you listening to me?"

Ben nodded. In this instance he had every intention of doing exactly what his doctor ordered.

"It will hurt to breathe, but you must try and take deep breaths and cough as much as you can. This will bring up any remaining fluid, and prevent your lung from getting infected. The rib will have to be repositioned surgically, but not until we can get to the Medical Centre in Tszaaf."

Shaarm lifted Ben gently up onto his feet and held him upright for a moment as his equilibrium settled. He tested his weight on his bitten left leg, but it held well. He could see it had been firmly bandaged while he slept. Shaarm held out two items to him, his walking staff and the lightsaber. Ben took them both in surprise.

"Where did you get these?"

"Ooouli wanted you to have your stick back," Shaarm explained. "And you had the lightsaber in your hand the entire time. Do you not remember?"

She moved forward, placing a hand on the back of his neck and another on his back and suddenly she was cradling him in a gentle, heartfelt embrace.

"Thank you," she said quietly in his ear.

"What for?"

"You know what for," she answered.

They left the temporary camp and headed out into the village with Ben riding on Shaarm's back. Grandmother was holding a meeting with the villagers, she said, and she wanted to hear what they had decided to do. Within a few minutes they had arrived at the meeting hall. It wasn't a grand building, formed as it was of rough panels open on two sides to the village square, with a sloping duraplast roof. It looked like it might also double as a market place. About a hundred and fifty Kheelians were crowded into the shelter. As they arrived at the back of the crowd, Ben could see Grandmother sitting on her haunches at the font. A male Kheelian was addressing her. He was short and narrow in the shoulders for his species, with bright yellow fur the colour of new butter.

"They say that they encountered a few of them near the fork in the road," he was saying. "The narms growled a little but quickly turned aside and ran off across the fields. We do not know if they were scared off, however, or if they are just gathering again somewhere else. Either way, there do not seem to be any of them around the outlying village houses. But we cannot be certain that-"

The Kheelian stopped speaking suddenly, noticing Shaarm. She had slipped around the side of the crowd to join up with Pakat and Chana, who were near the front to the right. As the yellow Kheelian went abruptly silent, staring, the other Kheelians in the crowd followed his gaze and all turned to look. Shaarm crouched onto her haunches, letting Ben slide down off her back. Chana and Pakat each touched his hair lightly in greeting, but said nothing. The eyes of the Kheelians were still fixed him, and Ben stepped slightly into Pakat's shadow, uncomfortable under their scrutiny. Shaarm gave a faint cough to draw their attention back.

"Please," she gestured towards Grandmother. "Continue."

Grandmother nodded at the Kheelian.

"Yes," said the male, still distracted. "Yes. Well, we cannot be certain that the narms are indeed gone, Grandmother. I think it highly likely that they will attack again as soon as we try to return to our homes."

"What do they even want?" cried a voice from the crowd. "We have lived in peace with them, until now. What reason should they have for attacking us?"

"I do not know," answered Grandmother, to whom this question appeared to be addressed. "You have heard from Pakat that their behaviour has been changing over the past few months. We do not know the reason."

"Perhaps there is no reason," said someone else. "They are beasts. They have no sense of right or wrong! They just attacked because savagery and violence is their nature."

"They are not just beasts," said Ben, but quietly. Only Chana heard, looking down at him, quizzically. Ben kept his peace, and focussed on trying not to scratch at his itchy neck.

"Nonsense!" Grandmother was saying "Even beasts have needs, and respond to them. The narms wanted something, and it does not seem to be that they got it. Unless their intent was to drive us away from our homes."

"They want to hurt us," said the slight yellow Kheelian. "Kill us if they can. They did not attack us before because they thought we were strong, but now they've realised how vulnerable we are...We will never be safe here again!"

There were shouts from the crowd, and somewhere Ben could hear someone sobbing. This was going to turn very ugly. Grief and fear were the pathway to so many evils, to so much darkness.

"They are not beasts," he found himself saying again, but this time they all heard. All eyes turned to him and there was silence. "This was not an act of aggression, or of war. Consider what happened. A group of pack animals left their well-established territory and tracked miles across open land only to attack a far superior force with a known impenetrable stronghold. To what purpose? The hope of possibly injuring some of them? That does not seem like aggression to me. It seems like desperation."

There was silence around the room, and then a low murmuring.

"This is Ben." Grandmother introduced him to the crowd. Ben got the sense he had transgressed somehow. Perhaps had had wait to be introduced before he could speak? Regardless, it was too late now. "He is the Pechnar you have heard about. Shaarm has accepted him to her home." She easily lifted over one of several large crates that had been stacked again the wall. "Sit," she instructed him. Ben could feel Shaarm's watchful gaze on him, and did as he was told.

"Grandmother, three Kheelians are dead!" called someone. "Many are injured. How can the Pechnar claim that is not aggression?"

"I am sorrier than I can express for your losses," Ben replied, "but from what I understand, the narms were only responsible for one death. The others were killed in the fire that the narms did not start. How many of them did we kill in return?"

"They attacked us, not the other way around," added the yellow Kheelian. "Why is the Pechnar defending them? He is not one of us."

"Grandmother, he is one of us," Chana spoke up for the first time, and it was in Ben's defence. "He saved my life, and saved our children, and was almost killed for it. He is one of us."

"I acknowledge this." Grandmother said. "Ben's status as a villager of Thet is not in question."

This seemed to put the matter to rest. A Kheelian woman near the back of the group returned to the main issue.

"What do the narms want?" she asked. "Why are they so desperate?"

The question was again directed at Grandmother, but she seemed to sense that Ben knew more of the matter than he had yet said. She looked at him, questioningly. Ben sighed.

"Because they are dying."

There was silence again.

"Ben, how can you possibly know that?"

"They told me."

The room erupted into noise. It took a few moments for Grandmother to regain quiet, during which time Ben wondered just exactly what he was doing. He could see from the stunned faces of his hosts that they were wondering the same thing.

"I think you had better explain that," Grandmother said, when peace had been regained.

"I was trapped by the gates with Chana and the children," Ben started, considering how to explain what he had experienced. "The narms were blocking the way but I held them back long enough for Chana to get the girls to safety. Once Chana had passed out of sight, they seemed to lose interest in attacking. They were barking amongst themselves, and I found once I was listening that it wasn't just sounds. I could hear words in the noise. Something had gone. At first I thought they meant the Kheelians, but it was something else. It had been stolen, or taken away. Without it, they are dying. There was such a sense of sadness..."

There were voices on all sides; questions, denials. Grandmother looked to Pakat.

"Pakat. You are our expert in this matter. Have you ever heard anything like this before?"

The Kheelian shook his head. "No, Grandmother. No-one has ever associated them with language use before. They are pack animals, with a complex hierarchy and a high level of intelligence, but animals nonetheless. Although they have only been captured for study singly and no-one has ever been able to observe a group so closely..."

Pakat crouched down at Ben's side so they were more of an even height, though he continued to look up at Grandmother.

"If Ben is saying that the narms can communicate with spoken language...that is unprecedented. Before I would have said they were creatures with only a little greater level of sentience than a caprius..."

Ben shook his head. "We are speaking not of sentience but of sapience. Of thinking, reasoning, communicating beings, with a sense of identity and rational thought. Perhaps even morality. This attack was co-ordinated and planned. They knew when and where to attack, and how to separate groups. They used decoys and ambushes, but even though they had several chances to kill us when we were attacked, they aimed to disable only. They are not beasts."

Pakat nodded, standing up, looking distracted but thoughtful. He seemed to be speaking to himself. "That would mean that Maku's social pyramid theory is correct, and if combined with the new behavioural emulation study they did last year..." He trailed off into silence, clearly reviewing the matter through the academic studies he had read.

"It was injured, though," announced the yellow Kheelian that Ben was trying hard not to intensely dislike. "The Pechnar was injured. Chana said that it nearly died. It seems such a fragile thing...How do we not know that this was all just a hallucination, a delusion, brought about by pain?"

"I know what I heard," Ben answered, a little stubbornly.

"Grandmother, Ben says that the narms used words..." A quiet voice came from the back of the crowd. Ben stood up to see the speaker, and saw Porra, Pakat's colleague, who had been driving the landspeeder last night. "But I want to know...how did Ben understand those words? If the narms have developed their own verbal language...how could Ben possibly understand it?"

"I'm not sure," Ben admitted. He had been wondering the same thing himself. "Pakat told me once that the narms and Kheelians may share common biological ancestry. Perhaps there is some basis to the language that is also from the same root? That is my guess." Privately, he wondered if his ability to understand their dialect might not be more to do with his powers, but he had no intention of sharing that detail with an already on-edge and borderline unfriendly audience.

As if thinking the same thing, Shaarm said; "Grandmother, if I may… You know that Ben has a lot of talents. He is very good with animals, and with languages. You can see how fluently he speaks our tongue, even though most Pechnar cannot manage it after many years. He is very special."

There was some murmuring, and then a Kheelian woman who hadn't yet spoken said; "But I do not understand...why did they go after the children?"

Ben turned to look at her in astonishment. He had not observed it at the time, but now it suddenly seemed clear. How the narms had trapped him and Chana in the house and gone after the girls; how the narm with the scarred face had dragged Tiki away from them all into the night. They had indeed been targeting the children.

"Honestly, I have no idea," Ben said, sitting down, wearily. "And I would not even want to guess."

"If all this is true," said Grandmother. "And the narms are not the savage unthinking beasts we thought them to be, how do we proceed from here? We want to go back to our lives, to have our children feel safe. How do we achieve this?"

There was silence for a long time, and then it was Shaarm that spoke next, trying to summarise. "Grandmother, the narms have not attacked us before, not since the bad days in the War when everyone was starving."

"That would suggest they are not inimical by nature," Ben added. "Something has changed. Something was 'stolen', and they think that it was the Kheelians that are somehow responsible. If we can find out what that thing is and return it, then perhaps this will all be over."

There was some nodding in the room now, particularly from Grandmother.

Ben looked around. "Can anyone think of anything that might have changed in recent weeks? Have there been any constructions on the moor or building of fences in land that was former narm territory? No changes to the landscape that they might object to, such as quarrying, or moving large stones that might be landmarks?"

There was a general shaking of heads across the room. Grandmother looked at Pakat.

"Your researchers have disturbed nothing?" she asked.

Pakat shook his head. "The only major change was Ben's shipwreck. We removed as much of the debris as we could, although I do not see how they could claim it was stolen from them. If anything they might complain about the wreckage that still remains."

Ben frowned. "And the behaviour of the narms started to change weeks before my arrival. No, I do not think that is the problem. But it is something to bear in mind."

"Even if we work out what it is that we are supposed to have stolen," the yellow Kheelian said. "I still do not see how this helps us. If we return it, the narms will just think that they can demand whatever they want and we will just surrender it. What if what they want is our children, for some savage purpose of their own? We must resist them, not give in to them! We must fight!"

"No, we must not." said Ben sternly. He scrambled awkwardly up onto the crate so they could all see him, and addressed the room. "Listen to me! You have just been attacked, injured, displaced from your homes. You are frightened and vulnerable, but you must not react in fear. Yes, you have been reminded that the creatures with whom you share this valley can be dangerous. But you have also learned that there might be reason to think they are something infinitely more complex and fascinating than any of us previously believed. If we can learn to communicate with them – just imagine what you could learn from them and them from you. But this is your one chance to make that happen. This is the only war that we should be fighting; the war against ignorance, fear, division, and separation. How do the words of the tea ritual go? We thank our parents for the gift of our present…This is that present right now, this chance is our gift. We have an obligation to strive for peace wherever we can. Let us not turn aside now."

Ben stopped speaking, out of breath. There was a silence so profound he thought he could hear his lung straining. The Kheelians stared at him as if frozen, and no-one said a word. And then, quietly from the back of the room, he heard a quiet voice say;

"Stand."

Ben looked through the crowd to see who had spoken. "Stand," Porra repeated, a little louder. Another voice, this time from the other side of the shelter, spoke up.

"Stand."

Then two more;

"Stand! Stand!"

Soon twenty, then forty, voices were all shouting Stand! Stand! Concerned, Ben glanced to Shaarm, but she was smiling and nodding, encouragingly. Pakat stepped over and whispered in his ear.

"It means they agree. They stand with your opinion."

By now, most of the room had added their voices, though Ben couldn't help but notice Shaarm and her husbands remained silent. Grandmother raised her hands and the room went quiet again. Ben awkwardly sat down on the crate.

"Very well," Grandmother said. "Does anyone else wish to speak? Boki?"

The yellow Kheelian, Boki, shook his head, glowering, but said nothing.

"Then it seems that there is a consensus. We will try and communicate with the narms, and make peace with their grievance if they will allow it. I appoint Ben the Pechnar as my voice during the negotiations. Pakat and Porra shall be my advisors. Taknat shall represent the Kheelians whose lives were lost. Now go, and be with your families. Take rest and food. Mourn our dead. Soon we may return to our homes."

The Kheelians all bowed low to Grandmother. Ben slipped off the crate he was sitting on, and did the same. Grandmother bowed back. And just like that, it seemed the meeting was over. Grandmother led the way to the rear of the shelter, and then the Kheelians dispersed out into the sunlight in twos or threes, talking intently. There was more than one glance thrown back towards Ben and his family.

Ben stayed standing until all of the Kheelians had departed, and only Shaarm, Pakat and Chana were left. Ben turned to them, suddenly feeling awkward. Had he spoken out of turn? Chana crossed the space between them in a single bound and engulfed Ben in his giant arms.

"You are well! You are well, oh, I give thanks..."

The light behind him eclipsed as someone wrapped themselves around his back, and then there was the sound of another thud followed by pressure. Shaarm and Pakat had also thrown themselves into the hug. Ben patted an arm, too muffled to do more, and just revelled in the comfort of their affection for a moment. Then his sling was jostled as someone shifted, and a little sound of distress was dragged from him before he could stop it. The group instantly broke apart, and Ben found himself being lifted onto the crate again as carefully as a china doll. He clamped his hand onto his collarbone, where the flare of pain refused to die back to a dull ache. Ben craned his head around, trying to see Chana.

"What about you? You were bleeding badly..."

Chana pushed up his sleeve to show Ben his right arm; clean and securely bandaged. "It is nothing," he said. "See? In a few days, the arm will nearly have healed, and this one," he tapped his belly where narm claws had sliced at him. "This will be gone in a week. You should worry more about yourself, and what Shaarm will do to you if you injure yourself again!"

"Ben, we were so afraid," said Pakat, sitting at his side and checking him over carefully. "When we found you in the street, I really thought...well..." He stroked Ben's hair. Chana, hovering at his other side, was rubbing a hand on his back.

"Not this time," said Shaarm, stretching her front legs out before her, and then lying down like a sphinx. She looked exhausted, but pleased.

"I am fine, I assure you," Ben tried to say, but Shaarm cut him off.

"No, you are not. You will be. But you are not yet."

She was right of course. The strain of his small expenditures of energy this morning has already used up what little strength he had, and he was feeling the full affects of the fever combined with lack of pain relief, food and sleep. Perhaps all of that was what had caused him to talk so much in a forum he was not familiar with.

"That was quite the speech, Ben," said Chana, gesturing to the room.

"Yes, I feel that I need to ask what just happened. I get the impression that I may have acted inappropriately in some way..."

"No, not… inappropriate, as such. There were some traditions, protocols of speaking at the meeting that...well; we did not tell you so of course there was no way you could have known..."

Ben groaned. He had made an idiot of himself, he knew it.

"I am sorry..."

"Please, do not apologise. Just so that you know; traditionally, all questions or statements are made to the Grandmother or Grandfather, as the elected official. Then another voice may offer Grandmother the answer, if they know it, but citizens should not speak directly to each other. It is meant to improve her ability to manage the dialogue in disputes."

Ben nodded, numbly. He had been rude. Uncivilised.

"I must find her and apologise..."

"There is no need." Grandmother herself had appeared from behind Chana. She joined the group, lying down beside Shaarm. "You cannot be held accountable for not following a rule that you did not know of. Besides, being a Pechnar gives you great liberties where the other Kheelians are concerned. Pechnar brains are so tiny that they cannot be expected to know any better after all! And it meant we got to hear some of your refreshing honesty...Many things perhaps others of us would have liked to say but cannot."

Shaarm and the others were nodding. "Decorum prevents anyone from calling 'stand' with another family member's views," said Pakat, "but we were cheering you on."

"And everyone was cheering you on for showing that slop-eating trzk Boki what for."

"Chana!" Shaarm scolded.

"What? Everyone was thinking it. You showed him what we all think of his fear-mongering."

"If these negotiations are to succeed," Grandmother drew the conversation back. "Then I want to know everything that you know about the narms, Ben. You understood their language using your magic, is that right?"

Ben assured her that there was little more to tell than he had already recounted. He had controlled the narms somehow using some force- whether it was to tame them, compel them, or even just physically hold them back, he wasn't sure. It had been instinct, like catching Ooouli as she fell. After the spell had worn off, he had heard them speak the words he had already described, and they had seemed sad, melancholy. There were two narms that he would recognise again; one was possibly the leader. He did not know if they understood him, but it seemed possible.

Grandmother nodded slowly at all of this.

"Very well. All of you, take my advice. Go now and rest; none of you have slept enough. Rescue poor Nenka from the girls and find some food. Ben, I am going to need to call on you again if we are going to speak with the narms, so you must be well rested. Listen to Shaarm's instructions, and do try not to get hurt again."

Ben smiled. "I will do my utmost."

As they left the hall, Ben riding on Shaarm's back, he wondered again just what he had signed himself up for. What did he know about negotiating the end of a war between alien species? The thought of it was beyond terrifying.

They found Nenka, Ooouli and Tiki curled up together in a patch of sun by the wall of the village store. Nenka was reading out loud to the children from one the books Ben had packed for them; Ooouli had managed to keep hold of her backpack despite everything that had happened. The girls were curled up on their older cousin, seeming to be almost asleep. Nenka glanced up as they approached, smiled tiredly at his aunt and uncles, and then saw Ben climb down from Shaarm's back.

"Ben! You are all right!"

Ooouli and Tiki scrambled to their feet. Shaarm just had time to warn them to be careful before Ben was wrapped in Ooouli's arms. Tiki stumbled up a moment later and Ben was dismayed to see a cast on her right foreleg. He remembered vividly the narm with the scarred face dragging Tiki along by her arm and, just for a moment, anger surged up inside him; hot and sudden and overwhelming. He heard Shaarm's calm, quiet voice at a great distance explaining that it was only a greenstick fracture, and would heal completely within three tendays. Ben forced the rage from him, exhaling the emotion out on his shallow breaths, and focused on the moment, on the children alive and laughing in his arms.

They returned to the area in the camp where Chana and the girls had snatched a few turns of restless sleep the previous night. Tiredness and lack of food was sapping all of their strengths, so Pakat doled out blankets to the injured Ben and Chana, and to the children, while Shaarm and Nenka raided the stores for some food that wasn't entirely processed sucrosa. They came back triumphant with packets and boxes, just as the tea Pakat was preparing on a small solar-powered stove lent by one of the villagers began to steam. Ben's fever was making him shiver under the blankets, and the hot drink was very welcome. Even more welcome was the vacuum-pack of green mush Nenka had found for him. He had no idea what it was but it did not contain tarvaroot that Ben found so unpalatable. And even more welcome than the food and warmth was the little glass bottle containing a few painkilling tablets that Shaarm had found. She crushed one into small pieces and stirred it into the packet of green mush. Ben wolfed it all down, not even noticing the taste. The others finished their meal in record time, too tired to talk, and too comforted by the food and warmth and safety.

Shaarm disappeared for a while to check on the other injured Kheelians, while Pakat arranged the sleeping area. Ben could barely keep his eyes open, and soon found himself tucked gently into the crook of Chana's elbow as the Kheelian dozed. The children were already asleep at Ben's back by the time Shaarm returned. She leaned over the sleeping children and gently checked Ben's vital signs. Finally satisfied that no-one was about to die that very moment, she smoothed out his blankets and flopped down by his head. Pakat was the last to join the pile, wriggling in beside the children, before relaxing with a deep sigh.

Just like wookiee pups, Ben thought, faintly amused, and then fell deeply asleep.

The family slept soundly through the afternoon, finally catching up after the drama of the previous night. The pain medication Shaarm had given Ben knocked him out cold for a while, although it was not strong and it eventually began to wear off. He awoke after about three turns of dreamless sleep in a cocoon of warmth and contentment with his Kheelians curled around on all sides. He lay quietly so as not to disturb the others, trying to ignore the pain in his chest and hip, and attempted to find that state of relaxed almost-meditation he had felt that afternoon in the garden. It remained elusively out of his reach, but he felt better for the attempt. After about a turn, a girl about Nenka's age approached, and shook Pakat's shoulder gingerly. Could he please wake up his Pechnar, she said, because Grandmother needed to see them both at the Fence.

Pakat mumbled something and rose, shaking himself a little. He glanced over and saw Ben was already awake. Ben nodded at him to show he had heard the instruction. Sliding out from under Ooouli's arm, Ben picked his way carefully over the sleeping pile and joined Pakat and their guide at the doorway. Dusk was drawing on as they made their way down the village road to the gate. The evenings fell quickly at this time of year, Ben had been told, and he had already noticed the increasing shortness of the days against the long, cold nights. The first pale moon had risen, hanging low and bulbous in the sky. Grandmother was waiting for them by the gate, with four or five other Kheelians standing around. Ben stayed where his was on Pakat's back, appreciating the visual advantage the extra height afforded him. He looked out through the metal struts of the Fence, and it was only a moment or two before he saw movement in the long grass beyond the empty houses.

"How many are there?" he asked.

"Only two or three at the moment," Grandmother answered. "But they have been watching the gate. More will come now the sun has set. If you are going to try and communicate with them, Ben, I think this will be your best chance."

Ben nodded. She was right, of course. He and Pakat found a sheltered spot out of the chill wind where they could see the Fence, and they waited. After half a turn, Shaarm joined them, and she had brought with her some blankets, a few packets of food, and a cup containing more bits of a broken-up pain tablet. Ben accepted the items gratefully. The tablets were only mild, but he needed something to take the edge off the pain if he was going to be able to think straight.

The evening drew on and the sky passed through shades of orange, apricot, and grey before finally fading to black. The second moon had risen now, a mere whisker of silver to its crescent, and the two cast eerie mismatched shadows across the faces of the watchers. The glow from the few electric lights of the village passed through the bars of the Fence drawing a semi-circle of sharp striated light on the ground before the gate. Every few minutes, the shadows flickered weirdly as shapes darted across the space. Ben could hear them moving with a rustle of grass like a breath of wind. He could feel them gathering around the village. But nothing happened. The narms did not attack. The Kheelians sat safe in the village peering out at the shades of night, while the narms waited out there in the dark and watched the Fence.

Ben knew that he could be a very patient man when it was required. But in this instance, he was fairly confident that the situation was not going to be improved by further inaction. He stood up, decisively, and pulled the blanket off his shoulders. He laid down his walking staff, straightened his sling, and removed the 'saber from his belt so it hung lose and deactivated in his hand. He had taken four good steps towards the gate before Shaarm and Pakat realised what he was doing. Ben was gratified to find that his patience was even better than he had supposed as he waited calmly for their stream of objections to run their course.

"We are in a stalemate," he explained, when they had both finished telling him what a terrible idea this was. "Someone needs to make the first move, and it seems only right that it should be me. Perhaps it is why I am here."

He bowed briefly, but respectfully, to Grandmother, nodded to the Kheelian at the gate to open it, and slipped out of the narrow gap before there was time for any further discussion.

The gate shut with a reassuring thud behind him. Ignoring Shaarm's half-whispered but furious curses behind him, Ben stepped out into the ring of light. He walked, slowly and steadily, about twenty paces from the gate. Ahead, the orangey artificial light blended with the pale silver of the moons in a liminal blur across the grass. Ben could see scattered pairs of yellow eyes reflected in the darkness. He stopped walking and stood still, folding his arms into his sleeves, letting the cloth fall over the lightsaber. He was ready to fight if he had to, but there was no reason why he should have cold hands in the meantime.

Ben did not have to wait long. The opening of the gate had caused a flurry of movement at the edge of the pool of light and it wasn't long before three narms slunk forward out of the dark. They circled him slowly, two of them passing to his right and left, and out of his sight. Cutting off his escape.

Easy now, he told himself. No need to panic just yet.

Ben was not at all surprised to note that the narm in front of him bore a long lightsaber scar down its muzzle. The creature was crouched to the ground, growling low and deep in its throat, hackles raised. Ben reached into that flowing river of force that was his constant companion and tried to gather a sense of the narms in front and behind him. Alertness, and curiosity were there. Wariness. Fear. But no imminent intent to cause harm.

"I am here to listen," he said, slowly and clearly. "Tell me what was stolen."

Scarface growled and then jumped up, barking. Ben felt movement behind him as one of the narms leapt at his back, a rush of air as jaws snapped shut inches from his skin. He didn't flinch, sensing no immediate danger. For now they were just trying to intimidate him, testing his resolve.

"I'm here to listen," he repeated. The narms barked and howled wildly in response, voices echoing around them from the dark and away into the distance. The scarred narm darted forwards again, pushing its muzzle up to Ben's coat, sniffing. He stood still while Scarface and the other two narms sniffed him all over, occasionally pausing to growl and snap at each other. An exchange of barks and howls followed, and then Scarface let out a low yelp which sounded to Ben just like the word egg.

For a moment he was thoroughly confused. What the blazes...? Then he suddenly remembered Ooouli's excited voice, exclaiming it looks like an egg!, and he remembered the crashed space craft. The narms had recognised his scent from the ship.

"Yes!" He said, trying not to sound too excited himself. "That's right. The egg. Egg." He tried to pronounce it as the narms had, copying their short yipping sounds. The narm on his left leapt up at him briefly and then spun away, barking. Scarface barked back and then glanced sideways at Ben. It barked the word egg again, and Ben repeated it, grinning. He tried not to feel too foolish that his first attempts at negotiating resulted in four grown creatures standing in the dark happily shouting the word egg at each other.

"Very well," Ben continued, trying to watch the narms' body language carefully, all the while keeping a firm mental touch on the flow of power in his mind, alert for any sense of danger. "Very well, you know I came from the egg...the ship. Is that what was stolen? You want the ship back?"

Ben couldn't tell how much of what he said the narms understood, but the lack of interest in Scarface's expression was not difficult to interpret. Not the ship then.

"What is gone? What was stolen?" He tried again. The narms were circling around him again, and he could tell from their barks and growls that they had understood the question and were no longer happy. One of them howled something he couldn't interpret, and then he heard a clear word.

"Sky."

Ben frowned. "Sky? You are saying the Kheelians stole the sky?"

"Sky! Sky!" The narms barked, and dashed around him. "Stole!" There was a chorus of barks from the night around, loud and angry. Ben tried to think. What could that mean? It wasn't as if the sky over this planet was teaming with aircraft or satellites, or even blocked by an atmospheric forcefield that the narms could take objection too. Ben glanced up to look at the clear night sky with its two moons and faint scatter of distant stars. The vista no doubt appeared the same as it had for five hundred years or more.

The narms continued to howl out their anger around him. There was movement behind Ben again, but now he got a sharp sense of warning from the force; this time one of the narms was going to attack. Ben drew the 'saber out from his sleeve and stepped aside sharply as jaws snapped shut on the air beside his ear. Ben held the 'saber out, unlit but ready, and, using his firmest and most authoritative voice, said;

"No! You will not do that again."

The narm dropped back down to the floor, snarling, snapping its teeth. Ben kept eye contact until the narm stepped back, its gaze going instead at the lightsaber hilt. There was a flurry of growls and yaps.

"Storm light." said Scarface, suddenly quite clearly.

Storm light must be lightning. That would be the only parallel the creatures might have for something like the plasma of the 'saber blade.

"Yes. Storm light. You know what this is then. You recognise this." Ben said, in the same tone, holding out the 'saber. "I am here to talk, but I will use it if I must. Don't attack me again."

"You steal," Scarface snarled. "Kill you all."

Ben ignored the words. It seemed to be a show of a bravado rather than a genuine threat. "I know many of you are dead," said Ben. "Some of us too. We don't want to kill any more. We want to give back what was taken."

That caused some confusion. The narms whined and growled to each other in low voices but made no intelligible reply. Ben tried a different tack.

"Where is the head of your pack?" He asked, but the narms did not understand. "The alpha? Your...leader? He has a stripe on his back, here...Where is he?"

Ben didn't understand the answer, but the end result was the same. Not here.

"What is his name?"

Scarface answered in a complicated series of descriptive images that took Ben a moment or two to translate into words. "He Watches The Dark. Is that his name?"

Scarface barked.

"That is our leader," Ben said. "Grandmother." He pointed back towards to Fence where the Kheelians waited. "She wants to meet He Watches The Dark, to talk. To give back the, uh, sky."

There was much howling and yelping to accompany this statement. Ben waited patiently for it to come to an end. He thought he was probably close to losing their attention. It was time to wrap this up.

"Where? When?" This would be a real test of the narm's intellect and world view. Did they possess a sense of time and space that could be articulated?

The narm to Ben's right barked, and then lowered its head to the ground. It dragged its muzzle through the dirt, marking a faint pattern. Ben moved over to look. The creature drew two rough circles, side by side. Then, it made sure Ben was watching, and wiped the second circle away with its paw. Ben was both astonished and impressed. The circles were perhaps meant to be the moons. So the narm was showing the time when the moon went away. Dawn? But the narms were nocturnal.

While Ben had been watching, Scarface too had been drawing. His picture was more difficult to interpret. It had two perpendicular lines, and next to one, the narm had wedged a stick into the earth. Ben didn't know what he was looking at until two white pebbles were added, and then he suddenly recognised a map of the moor. The stick was marking the huge treestump of Grandfather Kender, that seemed to function as everyone's landmark. Ben nodded.

"I know the place. We will come."

"Back sky!" demanded Scarface.

"Yes, we will bring back the sky," said Ben, trying not to consider how the blazes he was going to do that. "In the meantime you must do something for us. We will meet you, but you must go now. Back to the moor and leave the valley. Only then will we come to meet He Watches The Dark."

Again, he had to endure a chorus of howls of defiance and growls and yelps, before the narms slowly fell silent. To his surprise, Ben saw movement away in the dark at either side of the road. The narms were slipping away. The shapes were moving northward, back towards the moor.

Soon, Scarface was the last one left. He growled, and snapped a little at Ben, just to show he was still the one in charge.

"Thank you," said Ben.

Scarface hissed, and slunk away into the dark.

Ben waited until the night around was dark and still, and his senses told him that the danger had passed. He turned back to the gate, and the waiting Kheelians.

They certainly had a lot to think about.