"The Ancients knew them, though. They tried to educate them--like Rome colonizing savage races. That's probably why the Zarno are supposed to speak the Ancient Tongue." "They do." "And then the Ancients died out--somehow. The Zarno were left. They became barbarous again. I wish I knew what they were like. Natives who've seen them don't seem able to describe the creatures. They wear shining armor, don't they?" * * * * * Garth closed his eyes, trying to remember. A vague, dim picture was growing in his mind--man-like figures that glowed, faces that were craggy, hideous creatures.... "I've seen them," he said, "but I've forgotten. The Noctoli poison--it wrecked my memory." "You don't recall anything?" "I--" Garth rubbed his forehead. "Not human--no. Creatures like living statues, shining and moving.... I don't know." "Silicate life?" Paula theorized thoughtfully. "It's possible. And it might evolve on a planet where conditions are so tough for survival. Such creatures wouldn't be affected by the Noctoli pollen, either, would they?" "No. Or they've built up resistance. The virus is active only in daylight, when the flowers are open. I don't know why. Before we go too far into the Black Forest I'll have to give everyone antitoxin shots--everyone but me. The pollen doesn't work on me any more." They were silent, resting. It seemed only a moment before Brown appeared, announcing that the raft was ready. "It's a makeshift job, but it's strong," he said. "Listen, Garth, what about the planes spotting us on the river? We'll be an easy target." "They wouldn't fire on us?" "No. But they'd use sleep-gas, and nab us when we drifted ashore. We don't want that." Garth rose, his muscles aching. "It's a chance. Most of the time there'll be fog on the river. That'll help." He found his medical kit and shouldered it. "I'm ready." The men were already on the raft, a big platform of light, tough _lata_-logs bound together by vines. Garth took his place near the pile of equipment in the center. "Keep to midstream," he cautioned. "Watch for bubbles breaking ahead. Swing wide of those. Waterspouts." The raft slid out from the bank, long poles guiding it. Water washed aboard and slipped away as the platform found its balance. Presently they were drifting downstream in the dimly-lighted fog, the black river murmuring quietly beneath them. Garth kept his gaze ahead. It was hard to see in the faint, filtered light of the moons, but a ray-lamp would have been betraying to any planes that might be searching above. "Swing left. Hard," he called. The men obeyed. Oily bubbles were breaking the surface. As the raft moved toward the bank, a sudden geyser burst up from the river, a spouting torrent that tipped the platform dangerously and showered its occupants with icy spray. Garth met Brown's eyes. "See what I mean?" he remarked. "Yeah. Still, if that's all--"