"Do you believe in the race soul too?" West gasped.
"Belief is too weak a word. I know it exists."
Nedra sighed in West's arms and opened her eyes. Seeing who was holding her, she lay back in the arms of the craggy man, more than ever like a tired child. "What was it?" she whispered. "What's wrong? I—I took a little nap."
West set her on her feet and pointed at the opening. She clutched at the stone wall as she saw what was happening inside.
Running, the bronze girl who had danced to the slow music the night before, came fleeing from a room. One of Cuso's soldiers was pursuing her. She fled like a deer before some great hound that was interested in pulling her down but she did not flee fast enough. The soldier caught her and dragged her back into a room.
"West, how many of these kids did you have here?" Zen asked.
"About fifty," the craggy man answered. "I don't know how many are left nor can I guess how many will choose to stay alive if they are conquered before their training is completed."
"And no weapons?"
"None."
"What about my gun that was taken from me while I slept?"