readily; the Hirlaji were not animals to
be ordered about by the Earthmen. Probably the codification of their
history would prove useful to the aliens too; they had never arranged
the race memory into a very coherent order themselves.

Not that that was surprising, Rynason decided. The Hirlaji had no
written language--their telepathic abilities had made that
unnecessary--and organization of material into neatly outlined form was
a characteristic as much of the Earth languages as of Terran mentality.
Such organization was not a Hirlaji trait apparently, at least not now
in the twilight of their civilization. The huge aliens lived dimly
through these centuries, dreaming in their own way of the past ... and
their way was not the Earthmen's.

So if they cooperated with the survey team on codifying and recording
their history, who was the servant?

Well, with the direct linkage of minds the work should go faster.
Rynason looked up at Mara and nodded, and she flicked the connection on
the telepather.

Suddenly, like being overwhelmed by a breaking wave of seawater, Rynason
felt Horng's mind envelope him. A torrent of thoughts, memories,
pictures and concepts poured over him in a jumble; the sensory
sensations of the alien came to him sharply, and memories that were
strange, ideas that were incomprehensible, all in a sudden rush upon his
mind. He fought down the fear that had leapt in him, gritted his teeth
and waited for the wave to subside.

It did not subside; it settled. As the two minds, Earthman and Hirlaji,
met in direct linkage they became almost one. Gradually Rynason could
begin to see some pattern to the impressions of the alien. The picture
of himself came first: he was small and angular, sitting several feet
below Horng's--or his own--eyes; but more than that, he was not merely
light, but pallid, not merely small, but fragile. The alien's view of
reality, even through his direct sensations, was not merely visual or
tactile but interpreted automatically in his own terms.

The odor of the hall in which they sat was different, the very
temperature warmer. Rynason could see himself reeling on the stone bench
where he sat, and Mara, strangely distorted, put out a hand to steady
him. At the same time he was seeing through his own eyes, feeling her
hand on his shoulder. But the alien sensations were stronger; their very
strangeness commanded the attention of his mind.

He righted himself, physically and mentally,