dredging the strange word as he dredged them all from some
Bottom in his skull which none of the rest of them could
reach, and even Shar could not explain.
Lavon arose quickly. “We need Shar,” he said. “Where is
his spore?”
“On a plant frond, far up near the sky.”
Idiot! The old man would never think of safety. To sleep
near the sky, where he might be snatched up and borne off by
any Eater to chance by when he emerged, sluggish with win-
ter’s long sleep! How could a wise man be so foolish?
“We’ll have to hurry. Show me the way.”
“Soon; wait,” one of the Paras said. “You cannot see. Noc
is foraging nearby.” There was a small stir in the texture of
the ‘darkness as the swift cylinder shot away.
“Why do we need Shar?” the other Para said.
“For his brains, Para. He is a thinker.”
“But his thoughts are water. Since he taught the Protos
man’s language, he has forgotten to think of the Eaters. He
thinks forever of the mystery of how man came here. It is a
mysteryeven the Eaters are not like maa. But understand-
ing it will not help us to live.”
Lavon turned blindly toward the creature. “Para, tell me
something. Why do the Protos side with us? With man, I
mean? Why do you need us? The Eaters fear you.”
There was a short silence. When the Para spoke again, the
vibrations of its voice were more blurred than before, more
even, more devoid of any understandable feeling.
“We live in this world,” the Para said. “We are of it. We
rule it. We came to that state long before the coming of men,
in long warfare with the Eaters. But we think as the Eaters