“When one sees them,” I said, shuddering, “one understands that they are not of this world.”

“Not of this world?”

Even in the darkness I could sense the quizzical jut towards me of his long cleft chin, the nearly impatient amusement of his eyes.

“Their spores of life drifted from another planet.”

He threw back his head and laughed in the jungle darkness.

My hands clenched on Umsarunza’s reins. “You find me contemptible, my lord?” I thought with almost cordial venom.

“Where are we going?” I asked presently, since the silence between us had been broken.

“To the Hall of our friend there, he’s invited me to a feast to let his council and people hear my assurances as to my peaceful intentions. Your new bird, is he restive?”

“My hand clenched involuntarily a moment ago on his rein. The darkness is intense, it frightens me a little. I knew you were going somewhere special, or you would not be wearing mirrors.”

He looked aside at me. I think he was smiling. “You’re a more wholesome child than you’d care to believe. Mirrors are a dandyish ornament, true, and the fops brought them in to see if their hair were always clear of tangles and lice. But while I’m combing my hair—which is only courteous to my host—I can see what happens behind me. Or, if leapt on unexpectedly, I can always flash the light with my mirror and blind my enemy a moment. Disdain no kind of help, floss-hair.”

“Your life you lead is very strange, sir. We do not need to think of every means of hurting our companions.”

He ignored me for a space now and I wondered if I had gone too far. But I think I see now that he cannot be bothered always with what he thinks my vehement nationalism, and he cannot often be bothering even to be amused. He spoke with the Chieftain, and I could not hear what they said but it does not matter, it sounded only casual conversation.

Later he said to me, “You haven’t thanked me for your magnificent black bird.”

I was grateful for his renewed attention. I thanked him profusely for the new brute, told him of my disposal of Sheg and several other details. I ended girlishly, “The others are so jealous.”

“The other hostages? They’re lucky they’re all still with us.”

“Why should they be glad of that? They hate you Northerners and their position with you.”

“You mean they’d have preferred being with our friends the Foresters?”

“What—but why? No, of course not, but it doesn’t have any connection—”