〃You know that the time of pilgrimage is almost at hand？〃
〃I was just writing a letter。 I'll don my robe and join our group at the Wheel Stone in a midura。〃
Partly because Ling requested Lark's presence； the。 Sages had granted the heretical faction two sixes among the twelve twelves selected to make the first climb； setting forth to greet the rousing Egg。 Since hearing the news； Lark had felt a familiar heat ing from the knob of stone that hung by a thong around his neck。 His reminder and penance。 No pilgrimage was ever easy wearing that amulet。
〃Very well； then；〃 Harullen replied。 〃At the Wheel Stone we shall consider the zealots' latest entreaty before proceeding to join。。。〃
The heretic's voice trailed off； muffling as he crouched down； drawing all five legs into his carapace； bringing his sensitive tongue into contact with the ground。 This time； Lark's rewq conveyed a vivid image of emotions…a halo depicting distaste mixed liberally with disapproval。
Harullen resumed。 〃There is another on the trail。 One whose stone…hard lineage is belied by disorderly foot…haste。〃
One whose what is what？ Lark puzzled。 Sometimes the way other races used Anglic left him confused。 Maybe it wasn't such a good thing the chaotic human language had bee so popular on Jijo。
Soon he also felt ground…tremors； tickling the soles of his feet。 A five…beat vibration even more familiar than Harullen's earlier footsteps。 Similar to that rhythmic beat； yet simpler； less aristocratic； a pace too hurried and eager to waste time on etiquette or show。
Another armored form burst into view； trailing twigs and leaves。
Like Harullen； Uthen the Taxonomist was dressed for pilgrimage…in a carelessly draped； once…white rag that flapped behind him like somebody's old bedsheet。 His carapace was a slightly deeper shade of slate than his disdainful cousin's。 Like Harullen； Uthen wore a new rewq； which might explain his stumbling progress； twice veering off the path as if distracted by swarms of buzzing insects。 Lark peeled his own reluctant symbiont back from his eyes。 He needed no help reading his colleague's excitement。
〃Lark…ark； Harullen…en；〃 Uthen stammered out several vents； in unmatched timbres。 Harullen scornfully turned his cupola while the newer caught his breath。
〃e quickly； both of you。 They've e out！〃
〃Who's e…？〃 Lark began； before realizing that Uthen could mean but one thing。
He nodded。 〃Just give me a dura。〃
Lark ducked back under the tent flap； fumbled for his own pilgrimage robe； then paused by the writing desk。 He snatched the unfinished letter from under the folio and slid it into a sleeve； along with a sharpened pencil。 Ink was more elegant and wouldn't smudge。 Still； Sara wouldn't give a damn； so long as the letter got there and contained the latest news。
〃e on！〃 Uthen urged； impatiently； when Lark reemerged。 〃Hop aboard and let's hoof it！〃 The gray qheuen scientist dipped one end of his shell to the ground。 This time； Harullen groaned annoyance。 Sure； kids did it all the time； but it wasn't dignified for an adult gray…especially one with ancestry like Uthen's…to go around carrying a human on his back。 Still； they would move faster now； toward the Meadow of Concealed Aliens； hurrying to see the wonder that had emerged。
If anything； Ling understated when she called them beautiful。
Lark had never envisioned anything quite like them。 Not when leafing through ancient picture books； or reading pre…Contact works of space fiction。 Not even in his dreams。
In the vernacular of Jijo's exiled tribes； it was mon to call all Galactics 〃star…gods。〃 Yet here； strolling a forest clearing； were beings that seemed all but literally worthy of the name； so exquisite were they to behold。 Lark could stand it only for moments at a stretch； then had to look away lest his eyes fill with tears and his chest begin to ache。
Ling and the other forayer humans formed a guard of honor around their noble patrons； while vigilant robots hovered。 Occasionally； one of the tall stoop…shouldered Rothen crooked a finger； beckoning Rann or Besh to lean upward and explain something； like children called on to recite； gesturing at a nearby tree； one of the tent…pavilions； a herd of spline beasts； or a shy infant g'Kek。
Crowds gathered。 Proctors of Gathering； armed with red…dyed sticks； kept people from pressing too close； but there seemed small likelihood of a shameful outburst。 Hardly anyone even whispered； so thick was the atmosphere of awe。
The effect seemed greatest on the humans present； most of whom stared with hushed wonderment and bewildered familiarity。 Rothen were humanoid to an uncanny degree； with high noble foreheads； wide sympathetic eyes； eloquent noses； and droopy； soft…fringed eyebrows that seemed to purse with sincere； attentive interest in anyone or everything they encountered。 Nor were these parallels coincidental； Lark supposed。 Physical and emotional affinities would have been cultivated during the long process of uplift； tens of thousands of years ago； when Rothen experts tinkered and modified a tribe of graceless but promising apes back on Pliocene Earth； altering them gradually into beings almost ready for the stars。
That assumed these creatures really were humanity's long…hidden patrons； as Ling claimed。 Lark tried to retain an attitude of cautious neutrality but found it hard in the face of such evidence。 How could this race be any other than humankind's lost patrons？
When the two august visitors were introduced to the assembled High Sages； Lark drew fort from the serene expressions of Vubben； Phwhoon…dau； and the others； none of whom wore rewq for the occasion。 Even Lester Cambel remained posed…at least on the outside…when presented to Ro…kenn and Ro…pol； whose names Rann proclaimed for all to hear。
By human standards； Ro…kenn appeared to be male。 And though Lark tried not to be overly influenced by analogies； the more delicate…featured Ro…pol struck him as possibly female。 The crowd murmured when the two smiled…revealing small white teeth…conveying apparent pleasure at the meeting。 Ro…pol's grin creased in ways that might even be called dimples。 The word merry tempted Lark； as a way to describe the slighter Rothen's cheerful mien。 It wouldn't be hard to like a face like that； so warm； open； and filled with understanding。
It makes sense； Lark thought。 If the Rothen really are our patrons； wouldn't they have ingrained us with similar esteem patterns？
Nor were Earthlings alone affected。 After all； the Six Races had a lot of experience with each other。 You didn't have to be a qheuen to sense the charisma of a stately queen； so why shouldn't an urs； or hoon； or g'Kek sense this potent humanoid magnetism？ Even without rewq； most of the nonhumans present seemed caught up in the prevailing mood…hope。
Lark recalled Ling's assurance that the forayer mission would succeed without incident； and Jijo's mons needn't be changed in any but positive ways。 〃It will all work out；〃 she had said。
Ling had also told him the Rothen were special beings； even among high Galactic clans。 Operating in deliberate obscurity； they had quietly arranged for Old Earth to lie fallow； off the colonization lists； for half a billion years； an acplishment with implications Lark found hard to imagine。 Needing no fleets or weapons； the Rothen were influential； mystical； mysterious…in many ways godlike even pared with those beings whose vast armadas thundered across the Five Galaxies。 No wonder Ling and her peers thought themselves above so…called 〃laws〃 of migration and uplift； as they sifted Jijo's biosphere for some worthy species to adopt。 No wonder she seemed fearless over the possibility of being caught。
The newly cave…fledged rewq also appeared dazzled； ever since the tall pair emerged from the buried research station。 The one on Lark's brow trembled； casting splashy aurae around the two Rothen till he finally had to peel it back。
Lark tried to wrest control over his thoughts； reclaiming a thread of skepticism。
It may be that all advanced races learn to do what the Rothen are doing now…impressing those beneath them on the ladder of status。 Perhaps we'r