"No." Hork still stroked his father's head, but his voice was brisk, businesslike. "I intend to stay here one day, to ensure my father's affairs are in order. During that time you may do as you please here. But then I will return to Parz, and you must return with me." He raised his face to the sky and stared around at the Crust, at the newly congealed vortex lines. "The devastation is not restricted just to this farm, or even this part of the Crust. Muub, damage was done in a broad annulus right around the Pole, in a great swathe cutting through much of Parz's best hinterland. It's all to do with the Star's modes of vibration, I'm told." He shook his head. "If it's any consolation there must have been similar bands of destruction encompassing the Star at every latitude, all the way to the North Pole. The Star rang like a Corestuff Bell, one cheerful idiot told me... Now I have to ensure that the work of relief is coordinated as well as it can be — and to start to consider the consequences of so much damage to Parz's bread-basket hinterland. And I need you with me, Muub; you have thousands of patients throughout the hinterland, not just the few dozen here. And I have another assignment in mind for you..."

"As you say."

Still Hork's eyes probed at the sky. "Xeelee," he said again.

His mind full of images of destruction, Muub tried to focus on what the Chair-elect was saying... It seemed very important to Hork. And therefore, he thought wearily, it was important to Muub.

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't understand."

"That's what they're saying."

"Who?"

"The commoners... the ordinary people, here in the ceiling-farm. The coolies and their supervisors. Even some of the medical staff, who should be educated enough to know better." Hork's face grimaced in a ghastly echo of a smile. "They all saw the beams in the sky, the ship from beyond the Crust. The reality of these visions seems unquestionable, Muub. And the commoners have only one explanation... that the Xeelee have returned to haunt us." He looked down at the devastated head of his father. "To destroy us, apparently."

Muub, disturbed, reached out and grasped Hork's fat-laden shoulder; he felt the tension in Hork's massive muscles. "Sir, this is nonsense. The commoners know nothing. You must not..."

"Rubbish, Muub." Again that wild look; but Muub, daring, kept his hand in place. "Everyone knows all about the Xeelee, it seems, even after all this time. So much for generations of suppression since the Reformation, eh? These superstitions are like weeds in my father's fields, I'm starting to think. It's the same with the damn Wheel cult — no matter how many of the bastards you Break, they keep coming back for more. Quite ineradicable. Even within the Court itself, Muub! Can you believe that?"