rying to think of some polite
form of address. Those he knew which were appropriate to their sex on
other worlds seemed incongruous when applied to the bizarre figures now
facing him. "Wise ones," he finally chose.

Those unblinking yellow eyes conveyed no emotion; certainly his human
gaze could detect no change of expression on their nonhuman faces.

"You are a male."

"I am," he agreed, not seeing just what that fact had to do with either
diplomatic fencing or his experiences of the immediate past.

"Where then is your thoughtguider?"

Shann puzzled over that conception, guessed at its meaning.

"I am my own thoughtguider," he returned stoutly, with all the
conviction he could manage to put into that reply.

Again he met a yellow-green stare, but he sensed a change in them. Some
of their complacency had ebbed; his reply had been as a stone dropped
into a quiet pool, sending ripples out afar to disturb the customary
mirror surface of smooth serenity.

"The star-born one speaks the truth!" That came from the Warlockian who
had been his first contact.

"It would appear that he does." The agreement was measured, and Shann
knew that he was meant to "overhear" that.

"It would seem, Readers-of-the-rods"--the middle one of the triumvirate
at the table spoke now--"that all living things do not follow our
pattern of life. But that is possible. A male who thinks for himself ...
unguided, who dreams perhaps! Or who can understand the truth of
dreaming! Strange indeed must be his people. Sharers-of-my-visions, let
us consult the Old Ones concerning this." For the first time one of
those crested heads moved, the gaze shifted from Shann to the ranks of
the skulls, pausing at one.

Shann, ready for any wonder, did not betray his amazement when the ivory
inhabitant of that particular niche moved, lifted from its small
compartment, and drifted buoyantly through the air to settle at the
right-hand corner of the table. Only when it had safely grounded did the
eyes of the Warlockian move to another niche on the other side of the
curving room, this time bringing up from close to floor level a
time-darkened skull to occupy the left corner of the table.

There was a third shifting from the weird storehouse, a last skull to
place between the other two. And now the youngest native arose from her
mat to bring a bowl of green crystal. One of her seniors took it in both
hands, making a gesture of offering it to all three skulls, an