He was nearing the crater, now certain he would die. If only by his death he could achieve for Shannon, and for the other..... He forced a foreclaw to shackle the edge of the crater, looking down. Determined. The dry heat of that place was unbearable; and still distance defied him. A silver-white core, cruel mockery of the Carrier stone, glowed at the center of the broken-rock pit. From within came the voices, the fever, the Heat. Yet this was his only quest. He must. . .TOUCH it..... Must. He could not walk; his legs would no longer carry him. With a weak spasm of his hind and a pathetic flutter of wings, he pushed himself over the edge and slid, rolled across stones, folding his wings just in time, to tumble down a steep slope then land, legs folded beneath him gripping hot stones, perhaps a hundred yards from all his desire. He welcomed now its death, if only he could move. If only he could go that distance farther, against the barrage. Of distance. But he was afraid. Afraid to die. To die! At last he had met the greatest human fear: the wakened animal, knowing it would live no more. Oh, it was too much. He steeled the fire in his heart and went on, but would have screamed if he could. Fifty yards. Forty. It was too much. Too much. The stones beneath him rasped and hissed, speaking Death's name. Downward, into the final hole of death, the murderer of all his passions. It was too much. What kind of God would ask..... Too much. His death reached out. He touched the stone. * He touched the stone. Slowly the feverish weakness left him, as if a violent storm fading at the last. The human flesh, the human trial, had left him. There was only Simin, and he was one. The Stone, which had appeared to burn white-hot, was cool, and he experienced a sense of tranquility such as he had never known. He had done it. The spirit of Shannon was at peace. His mind was calm, his own. He remained, outstretched foreclaws touching this new life, where death had been certain. His inner being was like the quiet surface of a pool. A tiny pebble fell into it, and as the ripples smoothed outward and the settled stone touched bottom, he understood. "It is a strange truth that the path to beauty and meaning often lies through fear and ugliness." After a time another part of his being added this. "God may exist; at times I feel him. Yet we must walk dark paths alone, and endure." He remained there in silent thought for some time, until at length he turned and made his way back toward the tunnels, knowing now with certainty what he must do. His mind possessed new powers, because it was one with the Unnamable. His armor was many times stronger. He knew what he must do. IV