to do, of course, but--"

"Wait a minute," Dave suggested. "I don't remember being told any such
thing."

Ser Perth looked at Nema, who nodded. "He distinctly said you were to
repair the sky. I've got it down in my notes if you want to see them."
She extended the woven cords.

"Never mind," Ser Perth said. He twiddled with his mustache. "I'll recap
a little. Dave Hanson, as you have seen, the sky is falling and must be
repaired. You are our best hope. We know that from a prophecy, and it
is confirmed by the fact that the fanatics of the Egg have tried several
times to kill you. They failed, though one effort was close enough, but
their attempts would not have been made at all if they had not been
convinced through their arts that you can succeed with the sky."

Dave shook his head. "It's nice to know you trust me!"

"Knowing that you _can_ succeed," the other went on smoothly, "we know
that you will. It is my unpleasant duty to point out to you the things
that will happen if you fail. I say nothing of the fact that you owe us
your life; that may be a small enough gift, and one quickly withdrawn. I
say only that you have no escape from us. We have your name, and the
true symbol is the thing, as you should know. We also have cuttings from
your hair and your beard; we have the parings of your nails, five cubic
centimeters of your spinal fluid and a scraping from your liver. We have
your body through those, nor can you take it out of our reach. Your name
gives us your soul." He looked at Hanson piercingly. "Shall I tell you
what it would be like for your soul to live in the muck of a swamp in a