It was not quite dawn when my task force settled down on the smooth landing pad beside the life boat that had brought me to Vallon. It stood as I had left it seven earth-months before: the port open, the access ladder extended, the interior lights lit. There weren't any spooks aboard but they had kept visitors away as effectively as if there had been. Even the Greymen didn't mess with ghost-boats. Somebody had done a thorough job of indoctrination on Vallon. Itzenca scampered up the ladder and had disappeared inside the boat by the time I took the first rung. The guards gawked from below as I stepped into the softly lit lounge. The black-and-gold banded cylinder that was Foster's memory lay in the bag where I had left it, and with it was the other, plain one. Somewhere in Okk-Hamiloth must be the machine that would give these meaning. Together, Foster and I would find it. I found the .38 automatic lying where I had left it. I picked up the worn belt, strapped it around me. My Vallonian career to date suggested it would be a bright idea to bring it along. The Vallonians had never developed any personal armament to equal it. In a society of immortals knives were considered lethal enough for all ordinary purposes. "Come on, cat," I said. "There's nothing more here we need." Back on the ramp, I beckoned my platoon leaders over. "I'm going to the Sapphire Palace," I said. "Anybody that doesn't want to go can check out now. Pass the word." Torbu stood silent for a long moment, staring straight ahead. "I don't like it much, Owner," he said. "But I'll go. And so will the rest of 'em." "There'll be no backing out, once we shove off," I said. "And by the way--" I jacked a round into the chamber of the pistol, raised it, and fired the shot into the air. They all jumped. "If you ever hear that sound, come a-running." The men nodded, turned to their cars. I picked up the cat and piled into the lead vehicle next to Torbu. "It's a half-hour run," he said. "We might run into a little Greymen action on the way. We can handle 'em." We lifted, swung to the east, barrelled along at low altitude. "What do we do when we get there, boss?" said Torbu. "We play it by ear. Let's see how far we can get on pure gall before Ommodurad drops the hanky." * * * * * The palace lay below us, rearing blue towers to the twilit sky like a royal residence in the Munchkin country. Beyond it, sunset colors reflected from the silky surface of the Shallow Sea. The timeless stones and still waters looked much as they had when Foster set out to lose his identity on Earth, three thousand years before. But its magnificence was lost on these people. The hulking crew around me never paused to wonder about the marvels wrought by their immortal ancestors--themselves--; stolidly they lived their feudal lives in dismal contrast with the monuments all about them.