discern no more changes, and, on a hunch, had the spore
taken up to the topmost battlements of the tower, into the di-
rect daylight.
An hour later, Lavon moved in his amber prison.
He uncurled and stretched, turned blank eyes up toward
the light. His expression was that of a man who had not yet
awakened from a ferocious nightmare. His whole body shone
with a strange pink newness.
Shar knocked gently on the walls of the spore. Lavon
turned his blind face toward the sound, life coming into his
eyes. He smiled tentatively and braced his hands and feet
against the inner wall of the shell.
The whole sphere fell abruptly to pieces with a sharp crack-
ling. The amnionic fluid dissipated around him and Shar,
carrying away with it the suggestive odor of a bitter struggle
against death.
Lavon stood among the shards and looked at Shar silently.
At last he said:
“SharI’ve been above the sky.”
“I know,” Shar said gently.
Again Lavon was silent. Shar said, “Don’t be humble,
Lavon. You’ve done an epoch-making thing. It nearly cost
you your life. You must tell me the restall of it.”
“The rest?”
“You taught me a lot while you slept. Or are you still op-
posed to ‘useless’ knowledge?”
Lavon could say nothing. He no longer could tell what he
knew from what he wanted to know. He had only one ques-
tion left, but he could not utter it. He could only look dumb-
ly into Shar’s delicate face.
“You have answered me,” Shar said, even more gently than
before. “Come, my friend; join me at my table. We will plan
our journey to the stars.”