Etienne nodded, commending Tyl’s good sense. He picked his way back down the ramp.
The fleeing Na carried huge bales of some kind of dried meat from a storehouse they’d broken into, while others hauled off unknown booty in huge leathery sacks. The Tsla pursued them only as far as the ruined gate.
Etienne saw only one other Na corpse. Perhaps word of the two deaths he’d had a hand in had been enough to frighten the rest of the Na into giving up the assault. Or perhaps they’d gained what they’d come for. He could speculate on motivation later. Right now he was exhausted and more than glad to see them go.
Another folk might have pursued in an attempt to recover their stolen stores, but not the Tsla. There was no room in their philosophy for active military pursuit. And out on the open plain they would be at a disadvantage against their opponents, whose size and maneuverability would not be restricted by stone walls and narrow streets.
He slowed as he approached the shattered gate, to stare after the retreating Na. A group of curious locals began to gather around him. Smiling and making Tsla gestures of friendship, he forced his way through them to find Tyl deep in conversation with a silver-furred elder.
The guide introduced him. “This is Ruu-an, First Scholar of Jakaie. Ruu-an, make greeting to the Learned Etienne, a scholar from a world other than ours. He comes here to learn about us … and as thee have observed, sometimes to help.”
“I am gladdened by thy presence,” the elder said. His accent differed from that of Tyl and the other Tsla of Turput, but the words remained comprehensible. “Also that thee saw fit to put aside thy studies long enough to aid us in a most desperate time. I have been informed that thee helped to bring down two of the Na and thereby to hasten their flight.”
Etienne holstered his pistol. “Does this happen often? From what I saw of the fight I don’t see how you could survive repeated attacks.”
“The Na assail us infrequently, and usually with less loss of life. Many times we will simply fall back against the mountain and let them take what they will. They are not indiscriminate thieves and never take more than they can carry. But it has not been a good time for us and it was decided this time to resist. I do not think the choice wise.”
“They come to steal your food?”
“When the time is hard on us, it may also be hard on them. Nor do they know how to grow food of their own. Despite their appearance, they have a hunger for the fruit of the soil. When it is scarce on the Guntali they will sometimes come down among us. I suppose they cannot be blamed. The life offered by the Guntali must be very hard.”
“You sound like you’re ready to forgive them,” Etienne said, eyeing the bodies scattered both in front of and behind the ruined gate.
“We always do,” the First Scholar told him. “Have they not souls just as we? They are more to be pitied than hated for their ignorance and weaknesses.”
“I didn’t see many weaknesses, but I’ve already learned that you Tsla are more forgiving than we humans.” Already the townsfolk were busy removing the dead. That sparked an unpleasant memory.
“After the … funeral ceremonies … are concluded, what do you do with the bodies of your deceased?” He could not look at Tyl as he said this. Sensing his discomfort, the guide discreetly allowed the First Scholar to answer.
“Here we cremate the bodies and then scatter the ashes upon our fields, so that as tillers of the soil those who pass on may help the next generation to grow better crops.”
“So they can be stolen again by the Na. You ought to put a stop to it.”
“That would be a fine thing,” the elder said, “but alas, a thing not possible. We cannot chase the Na up to the Guntali. It is too cold for us and the air too thin for us to fight in. Up there, they are the masters.
“Similarly, they cannot fight long down here. The thick hair which protects them from the Guntali’s cold soon causes them to grow too hot to exert their great bodies, and they must retreat.”
“I’m glad I don’t have to depend on the weather for my defense,” Etienne replied. Not that it was within his province to criticize the way these Tsla managed their lives.
“Actually,” the elder continued, surprising his human audience, “there are times when we trade peacefully with the Na.”
“I’d been told the Tsla served as a conduit between Mai and Na, but for some reason it just slipped my memory.”
“You must not judge them only by this unusual attack,” Ruu-an advised him. “There are many times when the Mai also prefer to fight instead of to trade.”
Etienne was glad Homat was still back at the boat. “Listen, I’m standing here taking in all this information and it isn’t even my department. Lyra’s the one who should be making a record of your ways.” He looked past them, making a perfunctory survey of the battlefield. “Where is she, anyway? I haven’t seen her since we split up to try and flank the two Na we first encountered.”
“Ah, Learned Teacher Lyra,” Tyl murmured.
“Yes. Didn’t she stick with you, Tyl?” Suddenly he was very cold, the kind of coldness that comes from inside the body and makes the muscles of one’s arms and legs start to cramp.
“No. We became separated during the fight. I have not seen her since. Perhaps we ought to return to the place where we began the combat.” He sounded concerned.
There was no sign of Lyra. Not where Etienne and the farmers had slain the two Na, not in the streets nearby, not before the gate. The word was passed among the townsfolk. Surely they’d know her whereabouts. An alien fighting among them would stand out immediately.
When the word came it was devastating in its finality.
XIII 
The expedition’s aims, his hopes for a personal rapprochement, the papers they planned to present to various scientific societies, the acclaim and acknowledgment and honors, all suddenly meant nothing beside the hollowness in his heart. Ten years of hard work had been shattered like that gate which had so ineffectively protected Jakaie.
Several of the townsfolk had seen the alien female disappear into a Na sack. They were positive she was alive at the time. Two or three Tsla had been stuffed in the sack with her.
Etienne and Tyl, accompanied by the First Scholar, rushed to the narrow street near the gate, following the lead of two young Tsla. A quick search turned up several raggedy fragments of Lyra’s shirt—and something more significant. Battered but still functional, her pistol lay dark against the paving stones where she’d dropped it.
Asking without wanting to ask, he looked despairingly at Ruu-an. “Why would they take her alive?”
The elder glanced at Tyl, who knew the strange creature better than he, but no enlightenment was forthcoming. So he answered.
“I told thee, Learned Etienne, that when times on the Guntali are difficult the Na come here to find food. They are not selective in their diet. Meat is meat to them, whether recently killed on the Guntali or traded to them by some merchant … or the merchant himself. They take live captives to prolong their supply of fresh food, as we do with our domestic animals.”
The sudden irony of it made Etienne want to laugh, but he couldn’t, any more than he could cry. All he could do was stare silently through the broken gate toward the rampart marking the rim of the Guntali, more than a thousand meters higher than Jakaie.
Lyra was up there somewhere, no doubt occupying her thoughts with the unprecedented opportunity granted her to study the culture of the Na at close range. Probably she was bouncing around in her sack with her fellow captives and cursing the lack of a recorder. She’d be doing exactly the same thing when they slipped her on the spit. Her last notes would detail the eating habits of the Na. He was sure it would be a paragon of scientific explication and his wife’s final thought would be regret over the fact no one else would be able to read them.
“Damn them,” he muttered. “Damn her!” He let all his anger and hate and frustration flow out over the stones and an occasional curious onlooker and when he finally concluded the tirade he was ashamed of himself, because there still were no tears.
As he turned back to the patient Tyl he discovered he could speak with extraordinary calmness. It was the peace of the resigned.
