of interstellar traffic ... those backwater areas where contact with the
parent civilization was so slight that an entirely local culture had
developed, almost as different from that of the mainstream Terran
colonies as was this last vestige of the Hirlaji civilization. And in
some of those areas interest in Earth was so slight that the offworlders
were ignored, as the Earthmen were here ... but he had never felt the
total lack of attention that was here. It was not as though the Hirlaji
had seen the Earthmen and grown used to them; Rynason had the feeling
that to the Hirlaji the Earthmen were no more important than the winds
or the dust beneath their feet.

As they passed through the settled portion of the ruins Rynason had to
step around a Hirlaji who crossed his path. He walked silently past, his
eyes not even flickering toward the Earthlings. Crazy grey hidepiles,
Rynason thought, and he and Mara hurried out across the Flat toward the
nearby Earth town.

On the outskirts of the town, where the packed-dirt streets faded into
loose dust and garbage was already piled several feet high, they were
met by Rene Malhomme. He sat long-legged with his back leaning against a
weathered stone outcropping. He seemed old already, though he was not
yet fifty; his windblown hair was almost the color of the surrounding
grey dust and rock--perhaps because it was filled with that dust,
Rynason thought. He stopped and looked down at the worn, tired man whose
eyes belied that weariness.

"And have you communicated with God, Lee Rynason?" Malhomme asked with
his rumbling, sardonic voice.

Rynason met his gaze, wondering what he wanted. He lowered the