"Quiet," Greaves said mildly. "He was telling me something." "That I was," Vigil said angrily, while his daughter's look at Greaves was the least sure it had ever been, "and for all the need you have of it, I might as well not. But if I may say it once and get it said, I can then go to my meal and the two of you will be free to amuse yourselves. Mayron discovered the Shadows, when his machines touched some continuum beyond this one, and the Shadows ate him. But like the fox that lost his tail in the trap and then cozened other foxes with the lie that it was better so and fashionable besides, Mayron made a virtue of his slavery. Those who give themselves up to the Shadows never rest and never hunger. They know no barrier. And no love. No true joy. No noble sorrow. An untailed fox is safe from catching by the tail. A Shadow has no spirit, no humanity, no--soul. But there are always dunderheads. Mayron has them, and down in that city of his down there--" the old man waved a hand at the horizon, but all Greaves could see from where he stood were the glowing tops of what he took to be three fitfully active volcanoes--"he has a city full of dunderheaded shadows who go to some temple he has built and enter the Shadow chamber to be changed. The admission is easily gained; the price of freedom from human care is humanity." "And up here," Greaves said, "other dunderheads come to gain what in exchange for what?" "Gain at least some sort of affirmation at the cost of remaining men!" the old man growled. "If they are simple, at least they are human! And even an intelligent man can see the value in what is embodied here." "As witness yourself. Yes." "_I_ didn't want to wake you! We know enough so you could have been awakened centuries ago. But to what purpose? To turn another hooligan loose to upset civilization, and lose the symbol of that precious thing? When Man himself can rescue himself? But, no, _this_ one, this superstition-ridden tramp I wish I'd strangled in her cradle--_she_ stirred the worshippers up, she arranged the combat between yourself and Mayron, she--" "When and where?" "What?" "This fight Mayron and you have both spoken of." "Tomorrow at noon. In the city. But there's no need for it. Tomorrow Mayron dies, and the other Shadows die. You can watch or not--as long as you stay out of the way." Greaves looked at Adelie. "Your daughter, Vigil, does not look much impressed." "Impressed! Impressed!" The old man was very nearly dancing with rage. "I'll _show_ you! Come with me." Vigil turned without looking back and pattered rapidly down the steps of the dais, his calloused feet slapping indignantly on the time-buffed stones. Greaves frowned after him. Then he jerked his head to Adelie. "Come on," he said and they, too, walked quickly down the length of the court of the conquered monsters. And for the first time since their creation the pillared gargoyles did not have to bear the sight of Man.