From the distance there was the great beat of demon wings on the air.
Neju went to the old one. He frowned at the woman who had been assigned to care for him. She stood, bowed, and withdrew.
Neju sat down beside the Father.
"Father," he said softly. "Father, can you hear me?"
The Chieftain moved his head wearily; his lips opened slowly. "Yes," he whispered.
"We must destroy great demons. We must have the help of the Old Gods. What must we do, Father? You could not remember when Zoee asked you. Can you remember now?"
The Chieftain lay silent for a long time. A tiny insect crawled unnoticed over one wrinkled arm. He had heard the question but somehow the sense had gone out of the words. The Old Gods—did he believe in Old Gods? Was that the question?
He tried to remember: Old Gods had come from the sky—but that had been long ago. His father had seen them—no, no—grandfather, wasn't it? Or even further back than that? The Chieftain imagined the stars, which were bright souls in the sky, and had the Old Gods really come down from the sky at all? Maybe no one had ever seen them: maybe it was a dream, there were so many dreams. Here he was dreaming that he was old, and only yesterday his mother had whipped him for going too near the yeama Zaptl had staked out over at the base of the hill. Or was it yesterday?
"We must have the Old Gods' help," Neju repeated quietly.