"It's mostly air, a mouth, a gut and black plumes. It vibrates fibrils which create lift, and the creature flies.
It will now perch in the tree and catch insects."
The night-whisk settled delicately upon the topmost branch of the cardamom tree. Wayness pointed.
"You can see its eyes glittering, like little red lights! What an odd creature!"
"They almost became extinct, and all the biologists wondered why. Then someone discovered that the Yips were taking time off from work to climb up to the nests, kill the birds and sell the plumes to the tourists. Bureau B quickly invoked Statute Eleven of the Charter, which addresses willful destruction of indigenous species for profit. Under this law the killing of the night-whisks became a crime punish able by death, and the poaching stopped at once."
"Death?" cried Julian in consternation.
"For hunting a bird?
Isn't that extreme?"
"It doesn't seem so to me," said Glawen.
"No one stands in the slightest danger unless he breaks the law. It is transparently simple."
"I understand!" said Milo.
"I will explain to Julian. If I jump off a cliff, I will die. If I kill a night-whisk, I will die. Both acts are discretionary, both are suicide, and a person makes his own choice."
Wayness said virtuously: "I'm not afraid of the law. But then I don't intend to kill night-whisks and sell plumes."
Julian, with a sardonic chuckle, said: "Naturally you do not worry, since no matter what, the law would never be applied to you. Only to some miserable Yip."
Milo asked Wayness: "What of that? Is Julian right? Would Father sentence you to death for poaching?"
"Possibly not," said Wayness.
"I'd certainly be sent to my room."
A waiter appeared at the table. He spread a red, white and black checked cloth, brought candelabra and set the candles alight and in due course served the dinner.
The four spoke little, each occupied with his own thoughts.
The candles flickered in the faintest of airs and from the plain came sounds:
plaintive, melancholy, ominous.
They sat long at the table after dinner, drinking green tea.
Julian seemed in a pensive mood and had little to say. At last, he heaved a sigh and seemed to rouse himself.
"At times I am truly frustrated. Here we sit, four persons subscribing to a common morality, and still at odds over rather fundamental problems."
Milo agreed.
"It's an extraordinary situation. In some of our minds, the gears are not meshing."
Julian flourished his hand around the sky, encompassing thousands of light-years and stars beyond number.
"I can suggest a solution to our problems. Our common morality will be served and any reasonable person will make the necessary adjustments without rancor."
"That sounds like the plan we have been waiting for!"
exclaimed Milo.
"I endorse morality. I think Wayness is also moral; at least there's been no scandal. Glawen is a Clattuc but not necessarily immoral. In any event, speak! And we will listen."
"My plan, in its broadest terms, is simple.
"Beyond' is out yonder, behind Circe's Couch. Thousands of worlds await discovery, some as beautiful as Cadwal. I propose that a revived and dynamic Naturalist Society send out locators, to discover one of these worlds and there establish a new Conservancy, while Cadwal yields to the inevitable realities!"
"Is that the plan?" asked Milo.
"It is indeed."
Glawen spoke in puzzlement.
"Where does morality fit into your scheme? It might be that the divergence you mentioned is here. We are not agreed on the meaning of the word 'morality."" Milo said soberly: "For convenience we can define it as 'cosmos,
space, time and the Conservancy arranged to the tastes of Julian ;
Bohost."" "Come, Milo, be serious!" said Julian.
"Must you forever act the clown? Morality has nothing to do with me. Morality regulates the needs and by democratic processes guarantees the rights of all the folk, not just the caprices of a privileged few."
