The soldiers seemed to catch a glimmering of it; they made way for the messenger, and it might be there was less suspicion in them, more curiosity. Sears-Danik, Tejron's dreamy eldest boy, whispered to Paul, "I am trying to remember him. Not much hair on his head--it was brown. I was only seven when he flew us to Adelphi. His voice--heavy." "Yes. His hair may be gray now, Danny, as mine is. His face will look older--it never had a young look. His body will not have changed much." Dunin asked, "He is older than you?" "No, dear, a little younger." But Spearman seemed older by far, appearing abruptly in the doorway, arms spread against its frame, face thrust intently forward and eyes squinting as if they troubled him. He wore a black loincloth of bark fabric, nothing else. His sparse hair was wholly gray with streaks of white at the temples, his cheeks, leathery, deeply grooved, and flushed. "I didn't believe her," he said. Seeing him, the guards held their spears as if they were Earth-born soldiers presenting arms, then grounded the butts; they remained rigidly at attention when Spearman paid them no heed. "I didn't suppose...." Spearman hiccuped; he rubbed both hands across his face. Seeing tormented uncertainty in Christopher Wright, Paul stepped forward. "Sears died, long ago. Doc and I got through, with--some of our friends." He paused, short of the guards, and held out his hand, and Spearman stared at it, communing somehow with himself, approaching at last, clumsily, to take hold of it in the old Earth gesture. There was alcohol on his breath; his bloodshot eyes fought an open struggle with bewilderment; his handclasp was damp, unsteady, quickly withdrawn. "Sorry," he said, "not well. Hard to get it through my head. Well--Christ, I'm a bit drunk. Not strange, is it...? Mijok." His glance traveled over Pakriaa and Nisana without recognition; it lingered at Arek, but he did not speak her name. There was the beginning of a stiff smile, unreadable, as his eyes fixed on Christopher Wright. "Ann--reached us," Wright said, hardly audible. "She--" "Why don't you speak up, man?" "She came along the coast," Wright said, not much more clearly. "The baby died--a little while before she reached us." Spearman blinked, glanced at his hands, let them drop. He noticed the tight soldiers; in the antique military manner of Earth he said, "At ease...." The spearwomen relaxed part way, eyes front. "Maybe," Spearman said, "maybe you came too soon." "What do you mean?" Paul asked. "We had to come as soon as we knew you were alive.... Are your other children well, Ed? Are they here?" "Oh...? Yes, I see.... You came too soon. I still have a little town of seven or eight thousand and some very loyal followers." Wright struck his fist into his palm. "We are not your enemies. We never were. There was a place for you at Adelphi. There is now." "Oh...? I can imagine it. So--Ann--"