Lord Vingole! All hail Lord Vingole!'"

"Stop it, Yarmuz."

"You've been off in the forest with your dhiims and your manculains. I've had to watch what's been happening here. I feel very tired, Vingole. I've seen too much."

"Lord Thallimon! Imagine!"

"Lord this, Lord that, Lord whoever—a plague of Coronals all month, and a couple of Pontifexes too.

They don't last long. But let's hope Thallimon does. At least he's likely to protect the park," said Khitain.

"Against what?"

"Mob attack. There are hungry people down there, and up here we continue to feed the animals. They tell me that agitators in the city are stirring people up to break into the park and butcher everything for meat."

"Are you serious?"

"Apparently they are."

"But these animals are priceless—irreplaceable—!"

"Tell that to a starving man, Vingole," said Khitain quietly.

Nayila stared at him. "And do you really think this Lord Thallimon is going to hold back the mob, if they decide to attack the park?"

"He worked here once. He knows the importance of what we have here. He must have had some love for the animals, don't you think?"

"He swept out the cages, Yarmuz."

"Even so—"

"He may be hungry himself, Yarmuz."

"The situation is bad, but not that desperate. Not yet. And in any case what can be gained by eating a few scrawny sigimoins and dimilions and zampidoons? One meal, for a few hundred people, at such a cost to science?"

"Mobs aren't rational," Nayila said. "And you overestimate your dung-sweeper Coronal, I suspect. He may have hated this place—hated his job, hated you, hated the animals. Also he may decide that there are political points to be made by leading his supporters up the hill for dinner. He knows how to get through the gates, doesn't he?"

"Why—I suppose—"

"The whole staff does. Where the key-boxes are, how to neutralize the field so that you can pass through—"

"He wouldn't!"

"He may, Yarmuz. Take measures. Arm your people."

"Arm them? With what? Do you think I keep weapons here?"

"This place is unique. Once the animals perish, they'll never be restored. You have a responsibility, Yarmuz."

From the distance—but not, Khitain thought, so distant as before—came the cry: "Thallimon! Lord Thallimon!"

Nayila said, "Are they coming, do you think?"

"He wouldn't. He wouldn't."

"Thallimon! Lord Thallimon!"

"It sounds closer," Nayila said.

There was a commotion down at the far end of the room. One of the groundkeepers had come running in, breathless, wild-eyed, calling Khitain's name. "Hundreds of people!" he cried. "Thousands! Heading toward Gimbeluc!"

Khitain felt panic rising. He looked about at the members of his staff. "Check the gates. Make absolutely sure everything's shut tight. Then start closing the inner gates— whatever animals are out in the field should be pushed as far to the northern end of the park as possible. They'll have a better chance to hide in the woods back there. And—"

"This is not the way," Vingole Nayila said.