This is a fan translation of The Missing Link (Недостаяющее звено) by Mikhail Akhmanov, currently only available in Russian and, because of the author's passing in 2019, unlikely to ever be published in English. This is the third book in a series called Trevelyan's Mission(Миссия Тревельяна), which is a spin-off from the author's Arrivals from the Dark (Пришедшие из мрака) six-book series.

I claim no rights to the contents herein.

Chapter 11

Memories: Osier

The Offshoot's robot and the dead Contacter were now behind him. Trevelyan was walking to the tunnel in the far wall, feeling tension leave him drop by drop. He was moving confidently and quickly in the suit with almost no physical effort, and yet he was tired. The tiredness couldn't be overcome by the medical implant under his left ribs, as it wasn't physical, not caused by overworked muscles but with the stress of the mind and emotions. Sure, there were medicines capable of temporarily suppressing it, but they also slowed one's reaction speed, dulled one's perception, which was why they weren't taken often. A human could restore their mental balance in other ways, through ancient and effective methods that included sleep and meditation. That was what Trevelyan needed. He hadn't slept much; thirteen minutes was not enough to restore his usual clarity of mind and sharpness of sensations.

At the entrance to the tunnel, Ivar paused, took a canister from the trafor's patform, and drank some water. After a moment's hesitation, he removed his helmet, splashed some cold water onto his head and neck. He couldn't rest now; somewhere in the passages and halls of the underground maze there were combat robots searching for him. Maybe the creature that had captured the Contacter sent a signal, and there was already a swarm of crushers on their way to the cave… He sighed and turned to the Brain, "Are we being pursued?"

"There is no one at the edge of my perception, Emissary."

I think we've lost them, the Advisor told him.

Ivar nodded, "All right. Let's keep moving. We'll look for the route that leads to the old city. I hope there we'll be able to hide and get some rest."

They stepped into the tunnel. Clearly the structure was as old as the levee and the road atop it; the surface of the walls and the ceiling held the traces of earthmoving machinery. Cracks and potholes gaped in the floor. Piles of small stones that had fallen were seen here and there, mixed with the remains of ancient machines. This was the domain of darkness and silence. The gravdrive-equipped trafor was silently floating in mid-air, the soft soles of the suit weren't shuffling or squeaking, so Trevelyan couldn't even hear his own footsteps. Like a ghost, he was moving after the bright spot of the trafor's light, rounding rubble and piles of trash. Someone had clearly been digging through the piles in search of valuable materials, as Ivar could only see shapeless pieces of plastic and ceramics, not a single metal part. He was also not seeing any remains of the planet's former inhabitants: no bones, no skulls, no objects reminiscent of decorations or clothes.

They were walking quickly and in total silence. The Commodore seemed to be thinking of something, but only a vague echo of his thoughts was reaching Trevelyan. Was he reflecting on their situation or thinking about the past? What pictures were appearing to his ancestor? He definitely had things to remember; in 2310, as a young ensign, he'd landed on T'har as part of a general assault and then spent seventy-plus years traveling in space, commanding ships and marines, fighting the Dromi and the Haptors, burning and freezing, while healing wounds between battles. He also hadn't failed to pay attention to the women and produced offspring worthy of a hero… Yes, definitely a lot to remember!

A dim glow appeared in front. In a hundred paces, the passage ended in a semicircular platform that seemed to be made of a bluish and dimply glowing porcelain that was covered in a thick layer of dust. Trevelyan's feet disturbed it, the material began to glow brighter, and a chain of azure footsteps stretched behind Ivar. The platform was hanging over a pit, a black chasm that went down to an unknown depth; dark round maws of tunnels were gaping in the walls of his huge well.

As soon as Trevelyan stepped onto the blue surface, a bright beam flared in the air, and a structure that looked like a wide blunt-nosed vessel with a matte dome floated up from somewhere below the platform. The pod─undoubtedly a mode of transportation─froze where at the starting point of the beam that disappeared into one of the tunnels; the upper part of the dome slid, revealing eight concave seats. He stared at them, as they were the first objects he'd seen that belonged to the extinct species and spoke of their appearance.

"They were capable of sitting," Ivar muttered. "Based on the size of the pod and the seats, shorter than us and probably of a more delicate build… Humanoids?"

Their arses aren't the same, the Commodore replied. Look, the seats are like saucers! The lower end probably required special packaging. Maybe they had tails or something.

Chuckling, Trevelyan snorted and told the trafor, "Get in! Place the cargo between the seats, then lie on top of it and take the appropriate shape. Keep the gravdrive on in case you're too heavy for this thing."

"Yes, Emissary!" The Brain, along with the luggage, dashed into the pod.

This must be a transportation node or a transfer station, the Advisor noted. This blue platform had force beams leading to all the tunnels. Now it seems that only one route still works, the one leading to the ancient city. So how long are we going to sit around there?

"Until sunrise," Ivar said. "I hope that by that point Lord Fardant deals with Lord Rotten Offshoot and sends another flying basket to get us." He squeezed himself into a seat─even though it was of an odd shape, it was comfortable─and slapped his knee, "Let's go!"

As if obeying the command, the dome closed, and the pod accelerated and dove into the tunnel. From the inside, its upper part turned out to be transparent, but there was nothing to look at, as the rapid movement was blurring the yellow-gray stone into a single line that had a sleepy effect on him. Trevelyan closed his eyes and relaxed. While submerging into sleep, he felt a barely perceptible mental pulse touching his mind, sliding carefully, not trying to penetrate into the deeper layers, but seemingly asking, "What are you going to show me this time?.. What worlds will you lead me to?.. What depths?.."

He smiled sleepily and thought, You're not going to see Earth, pal. Not Earth, not Gondwana, not Ro'on, not Baal, and not any other of our planets. But I can show you a cruiser! A heavy cruiser with a dozen annihilators! Or something scary, like the predatory trees of Sella, the craters of Bitter Berry, the tundra of Icy Hell… Things that will make your hair stand on end and a chill run down your spine, assuming you have either, of course.

The smile was fading on Ivar's lips, the thoughts were flowing lazily, like the waves of the gentle seas of Gondwana. He didn't want to either threaten or frighten anyone, and it was far too soon to provide useful information, as such an act required trust. He remembered Osier, not the traveling through the cities and the roads, through the rivers, jungles, and mountains, but that last day, when he'd met Ahhi-Sek, the Great Mentor and emissary of the Paraprims. He remembered the green island among the blue waters, the palm trees that surrounded the meadow with a hut, the bright sun and the loud, rumbling voice of the other person. Their conversation hadn't lasted long, and it seemed that they'd failed to come to an agreement… But they'd talked as specialists, two sapient beings working on the same problem and seeking a path to its resolution.

Let him watch, Ivar thought, floating into the dream. Let him! He's not going to understand anything and will be confused… climbed into someone's head but couldn't figure anything out… No need to rush and be too honest. In the words of the wise Ahhi-Sek, faster and many doesn't mean good.

The dream enveloping Trevelyan took him away to Osier. The distant roads, the secrets, the battles, the adventure, and the charming women… Even though it had all ended in failure, the mission itself was a pleasant one. Well, a lot more pleasant than the drama on Saikat.

The last estep, Heitler's plan had failed. This became clear back when Trevelyan was still in orbit studying the planetary surface. Life was moving in full swing on the eastern landmass. There were cities, connected by roads, galleys, sailboats, and cargo rafts moved along rivers, trade caravans raised dust clouds, fields, fruit groves, and pastures shone green, and there were even occasional wars, which was actually not very characteristic of the central Empire and the nations that surrounded it. But the west was quiet! No smoke over settlements, no ships in harbors, no boats on rivers, no hunters in steppes, which were filled with life… This meant that all the efforts of the Foundation for the Development of Alien Cultures had once again gone to waste. Even though the last attempt, designed to appear as teachings on the spherical nature of the world, had been considered the most large-scale and the most reliable over the two hundred and eighteen years of studying Osier.

Still, Trevelyan landed and, doing his duty, examined the inhabited continent from the Archipelago Principalities and the Hai-Ta Kingdom in the east to the western pirate harbors of Sho-Ing. He traveled under the guise of a singer named Ten-Urhi of the Rhapsod Brotherhood, a respected and fearsome guild, as its masters, in addition to entertaining the people, stood guard over justice and were as skilled with swords as they were with lutes and flutes. In one company of these warriors, Ivar cut down the gang of a robber baron in Etland, then headed north to Mancana, where a local prince was in rebellion, wondering if he was trying to sail across the ocean but kept from doing so by the Imperial authorities. That theory was a bust, and he was about to head west to the Imperial capital of Mad-Aeg when he was captured by slavers, chained up, taken to the wild lands of the south, and sold to the chief of a barbarian tribe. After taking care of him, Ivar spent two months getting out of the jungle, fighting animals, roaming forests, and floating on rivers until he reached the central provinces of the Empire by the inland Tresh Sea. It was there that he met Hugo Tasman.

Tasman, who also worked for the FDAC, had been left behind on Osier to support Heitler's plan. The assumption had been for him to push for an overseas expedition and, if necessary, finance or even lead it, playing the role of the local Columbus. He had indeed attempted to do that but failed, as all his efforts were being blocked, all attempts ended in ruin, finally making it clear that the Foundation had met mysterious opposition on this world. Eventually, Tasman lost all contact to the FDAC base on Osier and was thought to have died. He'd lived in the Empire for a half a century, gotten rich, started a family, collected a huge library, gotten used to a leisurely existence, and no longer wanted to go back to the bustle of human civilization. He neither wanted nor couldn't go back, as he'd been warned not to leave Osier or voice his guesses under the pain of death.

Ivar himself got such warnings. They seemed to be coming from the Rhapsod Brotherhood, from its Great Mentor and hierarch Ahhi-Sek: an oval plate the size of a hand with the image of future events. There were two possible outcomes: a favorable one and one that ended in sorrow, if he failed to do the will of the rhapsod leader. He had to admit that this Ahhi-Sek fellow was an excellent seer! He was clearly not reading tea leaves, instead using something more reliable, like a powerful forecasting computer or some other technology not yet known to Earth. In any case, he wasn't a native of Osier, representing some external power, possibly as much an envoy from the heavens as FDAC progressors.

After many adventures, after reaching the Sho-Ing Principalities and the pirate harbors, Ivar managed to find him. Ahhi-Sek's abode was an island in the Western Ocean, hidden away from curious eyes beneath a holographic veil. But not from the sensors aboard the orbital satellite that had been circling Osier for centuries. Trevelyan contacted the computer of the local FDAC base, told it to reactivate the satellite, determine the island's coordinates, and provide its description. Then he hired a ship at a Sho-Ing harbor and sailed into the ocean.

The trip, which was his final journey on Osier, met with success, and, several days later, having crossed the threshold of invisibility, he landed on the island shore. Well, that was what had happened back then… At the moment he was asleep, squeezed in the narrow seat of an ancient transport, sleeping in the catacombs of a deserted world lost in space, sleeping and watching a dream, one that was detailed, clear, restoring the reality of the past in his mind. It was so unlike the dreary Chthon with its cyborg lords! It enveloped Trevelyan in quiet music, in which the whispering of the sea was merging with the rustling of palm leaves and sand. The waves were licking at the beach with their wet tongues, the midday sun was shining, the trees were swaying in the wind, and this picture was making him feel such calm, such serenity, that even his heart was beginning to beat more quietly, as if trying to match its rhythm to the measured rumbling of the waves.

Grabbing the lute with the built-in comm device, Ivar stepped onto the shore and made the first steps. A tiny wave rushed after him, then pulled back with a hiss, filling his boot print with water. A scarlet crab ran across the sand and fell into this improved bath. The air smelled of the sea and fresh greenery. Birds circled over the palm canopies, but nothing else rose into the sky besides the trees, no streams of smoke, no masts with antennae, no other structures.

"A paradise!" Trevelyan said. "Serenity, just like on our island with the Base."

The Osieran FDAC base, mothballed for half a century, was also located on an island, but it was in the Eastern Ocean, a thousand kilometers from Ahhi-Sek's abode.

The ghostly Advisor, whose implant was in Ivar's temple, muttered doubtfully, Maybe they also have everything buried underground, lad. A paradise on the surface, while below they've got plasma batteries, bombs, and a division of combat robots. Aliens are alien… Don't let your guard down and don't forget about the Dromi! Or about the Haptors and the Kni'lina!

I don't think they've been here, Grandpa. This isn't their style.

Trevelyan crossed the strip of the beach and, after looking around, walked along a path that had been made through the palm grove. There was moist soil under his feet, but it was loose rather than trampled, as if only one person had been walking here, and fairly rarely at that. The earth even retained his prints, although they weren't clear, so the only thing that could be understood was that this someone had walked here barefoot, and the walker's heel was round, while their toes were fairly long. Maybe they weren't toes at all, but tentacles, and in that case the alien pretending to be Ahhi-Sek wasn't even humanoid.

To calm himself, Ivar started counting his steps. He'd counted seventy-six before the seventy-seventh step brought him to a clearing, in the far end of which, under the trees, he could see something that wasn't a hut or a bungalow, but some kind of structure with latticed walls, interwoven by thick flowering vines, and topped by palm leaves. The walls seemed to be made of plastic and were leaning inward rather than standing straight; there weren't any doors or windows; instead a wide opening gaped in the front wall, covered by a mat. The roof was coming out far beyond the perimeter of the house, forming an awning that was supported by something that was either poles or thin trees with a smooth brown bark.

Trevelyan approached, trying not to breathe and step quietly. There was someone under the awning; there, next to a low table that looked like a product of Hai-Ta, stood a pair of stools and a wicker rocking chair that was moving to and fro and creaking a little. Over the chair's back he could see a hairy head, and the person sitting there probably knew about the presence of an uninvited guest but was paying no attention to him.

Squeak-squeak, squeak-squeak… And again, squeak-squeak…

Taking another dozen steps, Trevelyan swallowed and froze with wide eyes. It wasn't a human, a Haptor, a Dromi, or a Kni'lina sitting in the rocking chair. It was most definitely a pats! He'd run into patses before; these local primates lived in the Osieran forests of the temperate belt and in the southern jungle and looked like a cross between a gorilla and a chimp. They differed from terrestrial apes by their ugliness, incredible unkemptness, nasty temper, sharp fangs, and preference for carrion like hyenas. Then again, they ate everything, including their own kind and even people; a pack of patses could completely consume a person in about five minutes.

A pats! Trevelyan thought with involuntary revulsion. Although not exactly like the ones in the Osieran jungle: its fur was grayish rather than red or brown, and it was clean and combed rather than dirty and unkempt. Then Ivar noticed that the four-armed creature's forehead was fairly high, its jaw wasn't as massive, the gaze wasn't that of a mindless beast, and there was something like nails on the paws rather than claws. And there was no smell coming from it; at least Trevelyan couldn't sense any stink from two meters away.

But it was a pats! One hundred percent! Gripping the edge of the table with its lower limbs, it was rocking in the chair as if it was the most important thing in the world.

Trevelyan was staring at the pats, and the pats was staring at Trevelyan. Squeak-squeak, squeak-squeak… This went on for several minutes, then Trevelyan shrugged, turned away, deciding that he was looking at a tamed beast, Ahhi-Sek's four-armed servant. Patses were occasionally captured and trained, even though this process took patience and strong sticks.

Turning away from the beast, he stepped to the mat-covered opening, and called, "Honorable Ahhi-Sek! Great Mentor!" He waited a little, listening to the silence, then said, "Forgive my intrusion, but I think us two envoys from the heavens have something to talk about. Like the situation on Osier and, if you wish, of friendship between our star-faring races." More silence. "Well, if you don't want to talk about friendship, then we can speak about something else. I can tell you about the Pilgrim, one of our ships, and her molecular destructors. What do you say, honorable Ahhi-Sek? Does that interest you?"

"Not in the least," came a loud voice from behind him. "And there's no other Ahhi-Sek but me here, two-legged one."

Trevelyan spun around. The pats was looking at him and baring its teeth. Teeth, not fangs! This being didn't seem to have any fangs.

"You're surprised, I see." The one calling himself Ahhi-Sek was speaking in the dialect of the central Imperial provinces without any accent. "Shameful, my young friend! It can be understandable for Ten-Urhi, a local rhapsod, but it's unforgivable for Ivar Trevelyan, a representative of a star-faring race and—how did you put it?—an envoy from the heavens! It proves that you two-legged ones are arrogant and far too proud. So full of hubris that you feel that you have a right show up on someone else's world and remake it the way you see fit, pretending to be like the gods from your own legends and tales. Speeding up this, pushing towards that… Faster, faster, faster yet! So that there were more of your two-legged brethren here and on other worlds, very many, billions upon billions! So that every piece of the ocean and dry land was under control, so that your machines bred like fleas in a dog's fur, so that these… hmm… molecular destructors were aimed at every living being." He stopped rocking and finished, "But faster and many doesn't mean good. As your own history proves, fast progress doesn't increase happiness."

By the middle of that monologue, Trevelyan got ahold of himself and sat down on a stool. The tension left him, his face smoothed out, his breathing became even. He was too experienced an explorer to be surprised at the alien's appearance, speech, or sudden turn of events. And he was also pleased, if not more, as he could speak with this being, which meant they could come to an agreement. The scariest thing was when they didn't try to talk, instead opening fire immediately from their destructors, plasma cannons, lasers, and other deadly machinery. But this case was clearly different. Fortunately!

After Ahhi-Sek stopped speaking, Ivar said with a gentle smile, "Judge not lest ye be judged… I think that applies both to two-legged and four-armed beings. As for the arrogance and surprise, which seem to have offended you, then you're wrong, honored sir. It's just that there are creatures living in the forests of this planet that aren't very smart but bear a semblance to your race, which shocked me, to tell you the truth. Please accept my apologies, if this has offended you, and let's get down to business."

Opening his impressive mouth, Ahhi-Sek produced a deep hooting, seem to indicate good-natured laughter.

"That's better, much better, Ivar Trevelyan! All right, to business then. Do you want to compare our positions? I have no objections. Let's start with chronology."

"Yes, technically that's the most important factor. So, how long has Osier been under your patronage?"

"For over eighteen centuries. And I should note that the last two centuries were particularly troublesome for me."

"Eighteen centuries!" Trevelyan shook his head in amazement. "And all this time you—"

"No, not just me. We're long-lived, but even that's a long time for us. I'm the fifth Keeper of this world. If you will, the fifth Ahhi-Sek, the Great Mentor and the head of the Rhapsod Brotherhood. The same brotherhood you've chosen to join."

"Created by you?"

"Let's say reformed. The organization existed before us, long ago. For the good of Osier, we expanded its functions, increased its influence, and adapted it for our goals."

"And those goals are?.."

Ahhi-Sek scratched his furry chest.

"Probably the same as yours, but differing in the concept of happiness. Your society sees it in technological progress, accumulation of material goods, power over nature, and in that power that is virtually adequate to violence. For us happiness is something else."

"Can you be more specific, Keeper?"

"The Osieran language is not very suitable for it, and I'm afraid that yours is a little poor. Not enough means of expression, insufficient terms, to say nothing of gestures and the auditory scale… But I'm an expert in two-legged beings, I know you better than my brethren and will try to explain." His facial expressions weren't fully understandable to Trevelyan; Ahhi-Sek seemed to be thinking. Then he said, "Life in harmony with the world, does that work?"

"It does. But we also strive towards that."

"You strive towards many other things too and want to get everything as fast as possible, whereas harmony is a result of slow and lengthy, very lengthy development. We, the four-armed ones, are prudent and patient, whereas you, the two-legged ones, are too fussy where you should wait, and your fussiness always turns bloody. Let's take your activities here on Osier… All these steam engines, combustible liquids, alloys with chrome and nickel additives, spyglasses, saddles, paper… all that you've been offering to the local masters, merchants, and noblemen… In order to stabilize the situation, I had to do a lot of work, sometimes I even had to be cruel, and I don't like that. We, my entire race, don't like that!"

"I don't see what's so dangerous about paper and saddles," Ivar grunted, frowning.

"You start with paper and end with gunpowder, you start with saddles and end with battle cavalry!"

"Such consequences have been calculated, Keeper. We would have remained in control of the situation. We have plenty of experience on other worlds."

Ahhi-Sek reached one of his front paws, which turned out to be incredibly long, across the table and touched the human's shoulder.

"Yes, Ivar Trevelyan, you do have plenty of experience, but you did not discover this world, and it is not under your control. So leave and don't interfere. Dismantle your base in the Eastern Ocean, remove your satellites… Let everything here move gradually, step by step, and happen in its own time."

"The word of a pioneer is sacred," Ivar agreed with a sigh. "I respect your opinion and will make sure it reaches my superiors, who will, in turn, bring it to the leaders of my planet. But there will likely be a need for more than one exchange of information since you know so much about us and we know little about you. Besides, let's not forget that Osier is inhabited by our two-legged brethren. In other words, by humanoids, not…"

He broke off, and the Keeper, baring his teeth cheerfully, finished, "…not patses or monkeys, right? All right, you may keep an eye on our work by staying here as private individuals. Humanoids have a right to live with other humanoids, no one objects to that. So live on Osier, enjoy its beauty, hunt in its forests, sail its seas, drink its wines, love its women… But live the way the people of this world live, don't try to remake it, live the way your friend Hugo Tasman lives."

"Whom you've sentenced to imprisonment! Not a very diplomatic act, I should say! With great consequence for our pure and warm friendship!"

"Can one really feel oneself imprisoned if one has been given an entire world? And if your friend really, truly wanted to leave Osier, he probably would have done it."

"Despite your prophecies and threats?" Trevelyan said insinuatingly, suddenly realizing that their talks were nearing the main issue. And that issue—which of them was stronger—was as yet unclear. After all, destructors, annihilators, plasma throwers, and combat robots were child's play compared to predicting the future.

"Prophecies sometimes come true because people want to believe in them," Ahhi-Sek noted.

"I'm prepared to agree with that." A sly smile appeared on Trevelyan's lips. "I also got prophecies from you but didn't believe either of them. And here I am, sitting in front of you!"

"You didn't believe them…" his furry interlocutor drawled with obvious mockery. "As I said, sometimes people believe, and the prophecy comes true. But other times people don't believe, and it still comes true. You can't avoid fate, my friend! Recall what I predicted for you!"

Trevelyan's smile became triumphant.

"There were two options: either I leave the planet immediately, or I will end my life in a dungeon. But I didn't leave, and here I am, on your base… Neither of those things happened!"

"Are you sure about that? Are you not planning on leaving on your ship several days from now? And was that not one of the offered options?" Ahhi-Sek's grin was much wider than Trevelyan's faded smile. "You see, my dear rhapsod, 'leave immediately' is your interpretation. In fact, had you tried to leave immediately, you would have found yourself spending the rest of your life in that same dungeon. The other, far more acceptable option for events to develop is thus: you overcome certain difficulties and find me, we speak, and then you leave. Which is what's going to happen in the near future."

He got out of that one nicely! came the Commodore's silent voice. Bravo! He's a cunning devil, that one!

"Sophistry," Trevelyan said, "basic sophistry! Tricks, nonsense, bullshit! An attempt to turn the situation on its head! We two-legged ones call it putting up a good front. Does the expression make sense to you?"

"It does." Ahi-Sek was no longer grinning, and his tiny eyes under the bulging brow ridges were looking piercingly. "You two-legged ones are skilled in your craft, and we four-armed ones are skilled in ours… From this island I can sent a psychic signal to any of my assistants on the continent. Send it without any effort, right from here." He touched his forehead. "The signal will be perceived as either a worded message or a prophetic dream, and that's one side of my skill. There's another… You, Ivar Trevelyan, will leave Osier, but your life will go on, right? Would you like to see how it will end?"

He spread his furry fingers over the table, lifted the hand, and something metal, circular, and small glinted under it. An oval plate! A medallion with a prophetic image! It was lying face down, so he couldn't see the image. Trevelyan could have sworn that the table had been empty a moment earlier.

"Turn it over if you'd like to learn your fate," the Keeper offered. "Will you die in your own bed, as your people say, or will you be killed on some alien world, buried under an avalanche or in the depths of an ocean, burned at the stake or in the fire of a volcano, crucified like one of your prophets, impaled with a spear, beheaded, mauled by a wild animal?.. You have a dangerous profession, Ivar Trevelyan, and none of these possibilities are out of the question. Where and how will you meet your death? Neither of us knows that. Yet! But as soon as I turn this over…"

That furry scarecrow is trying to scare you! the Commodore grunted, but Trevelyan knew, sensed that it wasn't the case. He wasn't being frightened, he was being warned! He suddenly realized that he wasn't facing a liar, a sly creature skilled in sophistry, but a being with the gift of foresight, which could either be normal for the four-armed race or as unique and rare as telepathy among the humans. In either case, Ahhi-Sek wasn't toying with him; he simply wanted to be believed and that, in the future, humans didn't forget that his race wasn't helpless. After all, in the end, the victor wasn't the one whose guns were bigger, but the one who knew where the shells would fall and explode.

Trevelyan glanced at the medallion and said, "We're not going to turn it. The knowledge you're offering me is far too heavy and bitter and will not bring pleasure to either of us. Let's agree that I believe you and wish to take my words back, the ones about sophistry and trickery. It's entirely possible that everything is happening exactly the way your predicted it."

Ahhi-Sek's huge lips quivered, and a cheerful glint appeared in his eyes.

"You're pleasant to deal with, Ivar Trevelyan. For a two-legged one, you're surprisingly tolerant."

"It's in my job description," Trevelyan noted modestly, bending over the strings of his lute. "Computer! The mission is over, you can come get me." He lifted his head and explained, "An aircraft is going to come here and land on the shore. It's time for me to leave, Keeper. I'm pleased by our meeting and regret that it didn't happen earlier. You and I, and the experts from our Base have spent a lot of effort and time. It was all wasted!"

Ahhi-Sek moved his hand over the table, and the medallion vanished. He shook his head in a very human way.

"Nothing is wasted, my young friend. Time passes, efforts are spent, and the hazy becomes clearer and more defined. You used to be strangers to us, and I doubt that a premature contact would have been useful. I also wanted to study you, watch you, think… You humanoids are so different!"

"Watch," Trevelyan picked up on the word, remembering that there were a few details still left unclear. "I know you were watching me. But how?"

"There are many ways. I collect information from the entire inhabited continent, and not only from sapient beings but also other living things. Sometimes I perceive information straight from the brain of the person I'm psychically linked to, but not always… If we're talking about you, then I didn't know what you were thinking about, what you were feeling, only where you were. Only approximately, as a psychic signal can't be localized precisely at great distances. I…"

He was speaking, and Trevelyan, while watching him, felt himself being taken in by the magic of the smooth resounding voice. The Keeper's face no longer looked like a frightening animal snout, the short thick fur looked like clothing, under which powerful muscles were bulging, the huge paws had become hands, and the eyes, oh, the eyes were so expressive, so calm and wise! It wasn't the Great Mentor sitting before him, not the hierarch of the Rhapsod Brotherhood, not the secret overlord of Osier, but an envoy from the stars like him. And there wasn't anything for them to divvy up and nothing to argue about.

Trevelyan rose, proffered his hand, and felt a firm friendly handshake. Ahhi-Sek's hand felt hot, so his body temperature was probably higher than that of a human.

"I know this human custom of yours," he said. "An open hand means that there's no weapon in it… Right?"

"Right," Trevelyan confirmed and handed him his lute. "Here, take this. There's a transmitter inside, if you like, you can contact the Base computer, send a signal, and request any information. Also…" He touched the strings, and the lute replied with a quiet chord. "Also it holds songs, all the songs of Osier and Earth. Too bad I'm in a hurry, or I'd sing them to you myself."

"May your journey be an easy one, Ivar Trevelyan. You two-legged ones are always in a hurry," the Keeper said, stretching out his huge mouth. It seemed to indicate a good-natured grin.

The skimmer landed by the bay and again lifted off with Trevelyan. Obeying an order, the aircraft circled up above, and the island could be clearly seen on its screens: yellow sand, green palms, and a dark figure under the trees with its head thrown back and inhumanly long arms. One of them rose, drew a circle in the air, then touched his chest. It seemed that Ahhi-Sek's heart was also on his left side.

"Goodbye, Keeper," Trevelyan said quietly, then called the Base computer.

"I'm listening, Observer Trevelyan."

"There's another human on this planet. Are you aware of that?"

"Affirmative. Hugo Tasman, Foundation employee, linguist and doctor of experimental history. But he hasn't made contact. Not a single call in approximately fifty local years."

"Try to reach him anyway. Tell him Ivar wants to talk."

A minute passed, another, and another… The skimmer was gaining altitude over the island in a spiral. When the sky darkened and the stars appeared in it, Trevelyan heard, "Ivar, is that you? It's Hugo. Are there any news?"

"Oh yeah. My work is over, and I'm returning to the Base, and the Pilgrim will arrive in a few days." After a pause, he added, "Well, what do you think about that, Hugo?"

There was silence. Piercing through the atmosphere, the skimmer was following a large arc that hovered over half of the planet, from the Western Ocean to the Eastern.

Tasman coughed.

"No, Ivar, no. You go alone. I… You see, you can't live for half a century without any attachments, obligations, friends, loved ones… I can't leave them, and I don't want to." He sighed. "I think I'm more Osieran now than human, Ivar. Someday I'm going to die, and they will sing funeral hymns over me, burn my body in a pyre, and throw the ashes into a river so that they reach the Rim of the World… It's how it has to be. I'm staying."

"Long life to you, Hugo. I hope you don't go to the Rim any time soon."

"I wish you the same. Maybe we'll see each other again."

"Maybe."

Tasman cut the connection.

"The Keeper was right," Trevelyan said. "If he really wanted to leave Osier, he would have done that. But it's so calm here, and our world is so fussy!"

A bright star was glowing over the skimmer, its emerald rays were stinging the eyes. Trevelyan squinted, peering into the darkness, filled with bright colorful sparks, as if expecting the Pilgrim to appear among them, surfacing from the timelessness of Limbo like a silver fish. But that couldn't happen, of course; the universe had its own laws, and the movement of star liners, even those for whom any road was short, had to conform to them. He'd have to wait, spend a few days at the Base… But that was fine, it would give him time to write his report! It wouldn't be a simple document… no one in the Foundation, or even on all of Earth, could have expected the mission to turn out this way… Humans hadn't previously encountered any sapient four-armed primates among the forty-two races known to humans. Especially ones so wise and patient…

The skimmer was speeding over the enormous continent, and somewhere below cities and countries were passing at an incredible rate, mountains, river, forests, and fields were blinking past. Udzeni, Sho-Ing, Tilim, Sotara, the Ringed Ridge and the Seven Provinces by the Tresh Sea, Etland, the Archipelago Principalities… Trevelyan's eyes closed. What is real and what is a dream? he though. I'm sleeping and flying in a vehicle of some kind… But where and in which vehicle? In a skimmer soaring over Osier or in an alien transport under the surface of Chthon? Maybe that is where I'll stay. Maybe my flesh will rot here, and my bones will mix with sand and rocks. Only Ahhi-Sek, Paraprim and Great Mentor, is aware of that… If he turned the plate with the prediction, I'd know too… I'd know where and how my life will end… Should I go back to him? It's so tempting to know… to know for certain…

The vehicle shook, and he woke up. Dim light was hitting his eyes, stale air was filling his lungs, clouds of dust were circling over the blue surface of a platform. The dark maw of the tunnel gaped behind him, but the guiding beam had already disappeared.

We've arrived. It's silent as the grave here, the Commodore noted. After a pause, he added, You were scanned again, lad. Did you see something interesting?

"Depends to whom," Trevelyan said and began climbing out.