have only weeks, maybe days, before they're here. We have no time to
plan, no time to prepare for them. What can we do?"

The room was silent. Finally the aged leader stood up, wearily, some
fraction of his six hundred years of life showing in his face for the
first time in centuries. "We can do once again what we always have done
before when the Hunters came," he said sadly. "We can run away."

* * * * *

The bright street below the oval window was empty and quiet. Not a
breath of air stirred in the city. Ravdin stared out in bitter silence.
"Yes, we can run away. Just as we always have before. After we have
worked so hard, accomplished so much here, we must burn the city and
flee again." His voice trailed off to silence. He stared at Nehmon,
seeking in the old man's face some answer, some reassurance. But he
found no answer there, only sadness. "Think of the concerts. It's taken
so long, but at last we've come so close to the ultimate goal." He
gestured toward the thought-sensitive sounding boards lining the walls,
the panels which had made the dancer-illusion possible. "Think of the
beauty and peace we've found here."

"I know. How well I know."

"Yet now the Hunters come again, and again we must run away." Ravdin
stared at the old man, his eyes suddenly bright. "Nehmon, when I saw
those ships I began thinking."

"I've spent many years thinking, my son."

"Not what I've been thinking." Ravdin sat down, clasping his hands in
excitement. "The Hunters come and we run away, Nehmon. Think about that
for a moment. We run, and we run, and we run. From what? We run from the
Hunters. They're hunting _us_, these Hunters. They've never quite found
us, because we've always already run. We're clever, we're fortunate, and
we have a way of life that they do not, so whenever they have come close
to finding us, we have run."

Nehmon nodded slowly. "For thousands of years."

Ravdin's eyes were bright. "Yes, we flee, we cringe, we hide under
stones, we break up our lives and uproot our families, running like
frightened animals in the shadows of night and secrecy." He gulped a
breath, and his eyes sought Nehmon's angrily. "_Why do we run, my
lord?_"

Nehmon's eyes widened. "Because we have no choice," he said. "We must
run or be killed. You know that. You've seen the records, you've been
taught."

"Oh, yes, I know what I've been taught. I've been taught that eons ago
our remote ancestors fo