"Then—the oil—"
"They do not like it; that is all. It doesn't harm them."
"Oh."
"Already, our villages are emptying. By tomorrow the whole of the free Baemae will be crowded close along the border. The day after—who knows?"
Craig frowned. "Tumek thought he had an answer."
Bukal's face didn't change. "Tumek lies in his grave, and Vydys holds his crystal." His bitterness ate like acid.
Craig had no words. Silently, he stared away, off across the rolling southern grasslands.
Was there no solution anywhere to this monstrous scheme of Zenaor's? Would other planets go down before it like the Baemae? And his own life ... must he resign himself to defeat and death? Was that to be his destiny, the end of his assignment here on Lysor?
Bleakly, he wondered.
Then, afar off, a moving speck appeared, racing through the sky. Craig stiffened. "Bukal...."