He tried to remember: Old Gods had come from the sky--but that had been long ago. His father had seen them--no, no--grandfather, wasn't it? Or even further back than that? The Chieftain imagined the stars, which were bright souls in the sky, and had the Old Gods really come down from the sky at all? Maybe no one had ever seen them: maybe it was a dream, there were so many dreams. Here he was dreaming that he was old, and only yesterday his mother had whipped him for going too near the _yeama_ Zaptl had staked out over at the base of the hill. Or was it yesterday? "We must have the Old Gods' help," Neju repeated quietly. The Old Gods' help? He tried to remember. There had been something--a dance--a ritual--a chant, hadn't there? "For the killing of demons." The Chieftain was tired. It seemed that there was something important to remember. Hadn't.... What was it? "Please, Father." The old one wished the voice would go away because he was sleepy. _Wasn't that the moonlight on his face?_ "Pray," he said, dying. After a time, Neju stood up. The Chieftain was very quiet. He left the side of the dead and turned to the female waiting a short distance away. "After the moon has taken his soul tonight, prepare him for the funeral. His soul is very quiet as it waits. And there is no need to disturb him." * * * * * Pray, the old one had said. The moon came down full, splintering beams on a tangle of branches overhead. The old Chieftain was covered with the ceremonial cloak of fur and by his side the formal mourner buried her head in her hands, rocked back and forth intoning musically, "Ah, ahhhhha, ah, ah." "Old Gods," Neju said, standing in the middle of the villagers, "... Old Gods, I do not know how to talk to you the way I should." His voice was small and embarrassed. "I hope you do not mind too much. I'm trying to get it right. Old Gods, legends tell how you controlled mighty demons when you came to our world. Now there have come to our world some demons who control god-men." He wrinkled his brow, trying to state the case as dearly as possible. "These demons are very bad. They kill our people." He paused a moment. "We want you to help us kill these demons so the god-men will be free and we can live without fear." Neju waited. The ground did not tremble. The moon did not darken. The Old Gods did not answer. "Maybe we haven't any right to ask, for ourselves," Neju said. "But for the god-men, who are your brothers from the sky. Help us to free _them_, Old Gods. They want to be free, like all things want to be free." Still the Old Gods did not answer. Slowly, from mouth to mouth, a moan passed among the villagers. "Answer us, Old Gods," Neju pleaded. The moan grew louder and louder. "Answer us, Old Gods," Neju repeated. "Please answer us." And still no answer; only a vagrant breeze in the leaves; no sound, no voice, no sign that the Old Gods had heard. And the moan died helplessly.