Rynason grinned wryly.  He was beginning to get used to such things from Horng, whose mind often seemed to run in non sequiturs.  It was as though the alien’s perceptions of the present were as jumbled as the welter of memories he held.  Crazy old mound of leather.

But he was not crazy, of course; his mind simply ran in a way that was alien to the Earthmen.  Rynason was beginning to learn to respect that alien way, if not to understand it.

“Are there memories of Tebron’s conversation with Kor?” Rynason asked again.

Tebron communicated with Kor immediately after ousting the priests.  It occurred in the temple.

“Are there memories of what was said?”

Horng sat silently, perhaps in thought.  His reply didn’t come for several minutes.

The memories are buried deeply.

“Can you remember the actual communication?”

Horng’s head tilted to one side in a peculiarly strained fashion; Rynason could see a muscle jumping where the alien’s neck blended with his torso.  The memories are buried so deeply.  I cannot reach them.

Rynason gazed pensively at the interpreter as these words were recorded.  What could have happened during that conversation that would have caused its memory to be so deeply buried?

“Can you find among any of the rest of Tebron’s memories any thoughts about Kor?”

Yes.  Tebron had memories that he had communicated with Kor, but these are Fleeting.  There is nothing clear.

The Hirlaji was shaking, his entire body trembling with some sort of tension which even communicated itself through the interpreter, causing the stylus to quaver and jump forward, dragging a jagged line across the paper.  Rynason stared up at the alien, feeling a chill down his back which seemed to penetrate through to his chest and lungs.  This massive creature was shaking like the rumbling warnings of an earthquake, his eyes cast downward from the deep shadows of their sockets; Rynason could almost feel the weight of their gaze like a heavy, dark blanket.  He lifted the interpreter’s mike slowly.

“Your race does not forget,” he said softly.  “Why can’t you remember this conversation?”

Horng’s four-digited hands clasped tightly and the powerful tendons stood out starkly on the heavy wrists as Horng drew in long breaths of air, the sound of his breathing loud in the great space under the dome.

There is nothing clear.  There is nothing clear.

TWO