It was mid-afternoon when the flitter took to the air once again, scattering the hovering globes. There was no alteration in the ranks of the blue watchers waiting—for the barrier to go down, or someone in the camp to step beyond that protection?
"They're stupid," Vye said.
"Not stupid, just geared to one set of actions," Hume returned.
"Which could mean that what sends them here can't change its orders."
"Good guess. I'd say that they were governed by something akin to our tapes. No provision made for any innovations."
"So the guiding intelligence could be long gone."
"I think it has been." Hume then changed the subject sharply.
"How did you get into service at the Starfall?"
It was hard now to think back to Nahuatl—as if the Vye Lansor who had been swamper in that den of the port town was a different person altogether. In that patch of memories into which Rynch Brodie still intruded he hunted for the proper answer.
"I couldn't hold the state jobs. And once you get the habit of eating, you don't starve willingly."