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distant from Robot City, though in the same arm of the galaxy. If I
have not received the message you received, and if those coordinates
represent the actual source of the call, then I can see two possibilities:
first, that Or. Avery himself has established a new Robot City
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somewhere, perhaps by using the Keys of Perihelion to jump to
another world. Or, secondly, that the distress call is from a Robot City
that is an offshoot of the original. We know that some of the Avery
robots were sent out by the central computer to start new sites on
other planets. Can you communicate with the computer yourself!
Derec concentrated, but the wispy tendrils of the repeating call were
gone as if they had never been there. No, he said. There s nothing
now.
There s a third, even more likely, possibility you ve both missed,
Ariel said, hands on hips. It was your imagination. You ve done
nothing but worry about Robot City since we left.
It wasn t my imagination, Derec insisted. It was real. I know the
difference, Ariel.
You said it was faint.
It came through the chemfets. I can guarantee that.
All right, Ariel sighed. All right. I m tired of arguing. It s gone now,
so let s forget it. Mandelbrot, you can go back to the niche.
As Mandelbrot turned obediently, Derec shook his head. No. I can t
just forget it, Ariel. It s not that simple. You don t seem to realize
that, to a large extent, I am Robot City now. I m part of it; I m
responsible.
Ariel whirled around at that, her face angry. Her finger dug into his
chest, prodding.
No. No, you re not, Derec. Your father s responsible. Avery. Without
his poisoning you with the chemfets, without his interference and his
insane schemes, none of this would have happened to any of us.
You re not responsible, Derec, any more than I am or Mandelbrot is
or Wolruf is. You can t blame yourself for any of it, and there s
nothing you can do about it.
There s trouble, Derec insisted. I can feel it. I have to go see.
Mandelbrot, I want you to see that our ship is provisioned and ready
to go by noon.
Mandelbrot hesitated, caught for a second between the conflicting
orders, but Derec was his primary master. His orders took
precedence over Ariel s. The robot nodded and moved to the
computer terminal on the wall. Mandelbrot activated the screen and
opened a line to the Aurora Port computer.
Ariel shook her head, dark hair swaying with savage motion. She
jabbed at Derec s chest again with the forefinger. You re not doing it,
Derec. No. If this phantom city in your mind has problems, then let it
deal with them on its own. That s what the central computer is for.
And if it s Avery again, if he s used his Keys to jump from Robot City to
some other place he s set up, it ll be a trap just like the other. I m not
at all interested in stepping into his deadly little webs again.
I don t want you to. I wasn t intending to have you go along. I thought
just Mandelbrot and myself...
The words didn t come out quite as he d intended. Because I don t
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want you to get hurt again. he should have added. Because I care too
much about you. But her face was already clouded, and somehow the
words wouldn t come now.
Ariel nodded, muscles bunched as she set her jaw. Fine, she said,
her words clipped and short. Just fine. I m sorry I m such a burden.
Ariel...
But she was no longer listening. She went to her closet, snatched a
loose smock from a hook, and tugged it on. She brushed her fingers
through her hair and gave Derec one last smouldering gaze.
Then she stalked from the house.
Mandelbrot, Derec said after the reverberations of her exit had
stopped echoing through the house. You should be glad that you
don t have to deal with emotions.
It has been my observation that human feelings are much like fruit.
Hmm? I m not sure I understand.
If handled roughly, both feelings and fruit are easily bruised.
To that, Derec didn t have a reply.
CHAPTER 9
THE HILL OF STARS
SilverSide knew the normal pack routine with a kill.
The hunters would first tear open the abdomen and feed themselves
on the warm, pulsing blood-rich meat. Afterward, their own appetites
sated, they would use their crude flint-knapped knives and flay the
carcass, cutting it into manageable chunks to be put on the carriers.
Now the kin circled uneasily around the dead WalkingStone. LifeCrier
reached out and tapped at the thing s stomach with a claw. It s stone,
SilverSide, the old wolf-creature said. A magical creature from the
FirstBeast. There s nothing for us to eat. It s a mockery.
SilverSide came up to the body, the other kin moving aside for her.
KeenEye, she asked, have any of the WalkingStones been killed
before?
KeenEye seemed grateful for the attention, as SilverSide had
expected. No, she said. These are the Hunters of the
WalkingStones; there are other kinds near the Hill of Stars, but they
never leave that place. Every time before, we ran from the Hunters
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