fs。 True verdance is absent。 Both walking trees and scrub plants have leaves a dusty grey…green； in which green exists mainly by acclamation。 The menhirs； living and dead； are a stark grey…brown unlike any stone native to the Plain。
A bloated shadow drifted across the wild scree skirting the cliffs。 It covered many acres； was too dark to be the shadow of a cloud。 〃Windwhale？〃
Silent nodded。
It cruised the upper air between us and the sun； but I could not spot it。 I had not seen one in years。 Last time Elmo and I were crossing the Plain with Whisper； on the Lady's behalf 。 。 。 That long ago？ Time does flee； and with little fun in it。 〃Strange waters under the bridge； my friend。 Strange waters under。〃
He nodded； but he did not speak。 He is Silent。
He has not spoken in all the years I have known him。 Nor in the years he has been with the pany。 Yet both One…Eye and my predecessor as Annalist say he is quite capable of speech。 From hints accumulated over the years； it has bee my firm conviction that in his youth； before he signed on； he swore a great oath never to speak。 It being the iron law of the pany not to pry into a man's life before he enlisted； I have been unable to learn anything about the circumstances。
I have seen him e close to speaking； when he was angry enough； or amused enough； but always he caught himself at the last instant。 For a long time men made a game of baiting him； trying to get him to break his vow； but most abandoned the effort quickly。 Silent had a hundred little ways of discouraging a man； like filling his bedroll with ticks。
Shadows lengthened。 Stains of darkness spread。 At last Silent rose； stepped over me； returned to the Hole； a darkly clad shadow moving through darkness。 A strange man； Silent。 Not only does he not talk； he does not gossip。 How can you get a handle on a guy like that？
Yet he is one of my oldest and closest friends。 Go explain that。
〃Well； Croaker。〃 The voice was as hollow as a ghost's。 I started。 Malicious laughter rattled through the coral reef。 A menhir had slipped up on me。 I turned slightly。 It stood square on the path Silent had taken； twelve feet tall and ugly。 A runt of its kind。
〃Hello； rock。〃
Having amused itself at my expense； it now ignored me。 Stayed as silent as a stone。 Ha…ha。
The menhirs are our principal allies upon the Plain。 They interlocute for the other sentient species。 They let us know what is happening only when it suits them； however。
〃What's happening with Elmo？〃 I asked。
Nothing。
Are they magic？ I guess not。 Otherwise they would not survive inside the nullity Darling radiates。 But what are they？ Mysteries。 Like most of the bizarre creatures out here。
〃There are strangers on the Plain。〃
〃I know。 I know。〃
Night creatures came out。 Dots of luminescence fluttered and swooped above。 The windwhale whose shadow I saw came far enough eastward to show me its glimmering underbelly。 It would descend soon； trailing tendrils to trap whatever came its way。 A breeze rose。
Sagey scents trickled across my nostrils。 Air chuckled and whispered and murmured and whistled in the coral。 From farther away came the wind…chimes tinkle of Old Father Tree。
He is unique。 First or last of his kind； I do not know。 There he stands； twenty feet tall and ten thick； brooding beside the creek； radiating something akin to dread； his roots planted on the geographical center of the Plain。 Silent； Goblin； and One…Eye have all tried to unravel his significance。 They have gotten nowhere。 The scarce wild human tribesmen of the Plain worship him。 They say he has been here since the dawn。 He does have that timeless feel。
The moon rose。 While it lay torpid and pregnant on the horizon I thought I saw something cross it。 Taken？ Or one of the Plain creatures？
A racket rose round the mouth of the Hole。 I groaned。 I did not need this。 Goblin and One…Eye。 For half a minute； uncharitably； I wished they had not e back。 〃Knock it off。 I don't want to hear that crap。〃
Goblin scooted up outside the coral； grinned； dared me to do something。 He looked rested； recuperated。 One…Eye asked； 〃Feeling cranky； Croaker？〃
〃Damned straight。 What're you doing out here？〃
〃Needed some fresh air。〃 He cocked his head； stared at the line of cliffs。 So。 Worried about Elmo。 〃He'll be all right；〃 I said。
〃I know。〃 One…Eye added； 〃I lied。 Darling sent us。 She felt something stir at the west edge of the null。〃
〃Ah？〃
〃I don't know what it was； Croaker。〃 Suddenly he was defensive。 Pained。 He would have known but for Darling。 He stands where I would were I stripped of my medical gear。 Helpless to do what he has trained at all his life。
〃What're you going to do？〃
〃Build a fire。〃
〃What？〃
That fire roared。 One…Eye got so ambitious he dragged in enough deadwood to serve half a legion。 The flames beat back the darkness till I could see fifty yards beyond the creek。 The last walking trees had departed。 Probably smelled One…Eye ing。
He and Goblin dragged in a fallen tree of the ordinary sort。 We leave the walkers alone； except to right clumsies that trip on their own roots。 Not that that happens often。 They do not travel much。
They were bickering about who was dogging his share of work。 They dropped the tree。 〃Fade；〃 Goblin said； and in a moment there was no sign of them。 Baffled； I surveyed the darkness。 I saw nothing； heard nothing。
I found myself having trouble remaining awake。 I broke up the dead tree for something to do。 Then I felt the oddness。
I stopped in midbreak。 How long had the menhirs been gathering？ I counted fourteen on the verges of the light。 They cast long； deep shadows。 〃What's up？〃 I asked； my nerves a bit frayed。
〃There are strangers on the Plain。〃
Hell of a tune they played。 I settled near the fire； back to it； tossed wood over my shoulder； building the flames。 The light spread。 I counted another ten menhirs。 After a time I said； 〃That's not exactly news。〃
〃One es。〃
That was new。 And spoken with passion； something I had not witnessed before。 Once； twice； I thought I caught a flicker of motion； but I could not be sure。 Firelight is tricky。 I piled on more wood。
Movement for sure。 Beyond the creek。 Manshape ing toward me； slowly。 Wearily。 I settled in pretended boredom。 He came nearer。 Across his right shoulder he carried a saddle and blanket held with his left hand。 In his right he carried a long wooden case； its polish gleaming in the firelight。 It was seven feet long and four inches by eight。 Curious。
I noticed the dog as they crossed the creek。 A mongrel； ragged； mangy； mostly a dirty white but with a black circle around one eye and a few daubs of black on its flanks。 It limped； carrying one forepaw off the ground。 The fire caught its eyes。 They burned bright red。
The man was over six feet； maybe thirty。 He moved lithely even in his weariness。 He had muscles on muscles。 His tattered shirt revealed arms and chest crisscrossed with scars。 His face was empty of emotion。 He met my gaze as he approached the fire； neither smiling nor betraying unfriendly intent。
Chill touched me； lightly。 He looked tough； but not tough enough to negotiate the Plain of Fear alone。
First order of business would be to stall。 Otto was due out to relieve me soon。 The fire would alert him。 He would see the stranger； then duck down and rouse the Hole。 〃Hello；〃 I said。
He halted； exchanged glances with his mongrel。 The dog came forward slowly； sniffing the air； searching the surrounding night。 It stopped a few feet away； shook as though wet； settled on its belly。
The stranger came forward just that far。 〃Take a load off；〃 I invited。
He swung his saddle down； lowered his case； sat。 He was stiff。 He had trouble crossing his legs。 〃Lose your horse？〃
He nodded。 〃Broke a leg。 West of here； five； six miles。 I lost the trail。〃
There are trails through the Plain。 Some of them the Plain honors as safe。 Sometimes。 According to a formula known only to its denizens。 Only someone desperate or stupid hazards them alone； though。 This fellow did not look like an idiot。
The dog made a whuffling sound。 The man scratched its ears。
〃Where you headed？〃
〃Place called the Fa