Ha! There was Scriber Jaqueramaphan, three hundred yards further up. Most of him was hunkered down in holes and hollows,
复件 (66) air max, but he had a couple of members looking toward where the star had fallen. Peregrine squinted. Scriber was such a buffoon most of the time. But sometimes it just seemed a cover; if he really was a fool,
复件 (97) air max2, he was one with a streak of genius. More than once, Wicky had seen him at a distance, working in pairs with some strange tool.... As now: the other was holding something long and pointed to his eye. Wickwrackrum crept out of the forest, keeping close together and making as little noise as possible. He climbed carefully around the rocks, slipping from hummock to heather hummock, till he was just short of the valley crest and some fifty yards from Jaqueramaphan. He could hear the other thinking to himself. Any closer, and Scriber would hear him, even bunched up and quiet as he was. "Ssst!" said Wickwrackrum. The buzzing and muttering stopped in an instant of shocked surprise. Jaqueramaphan stuffed the mysterious seeing tool into a backpack and pulled himself together, thinking very quietly. They stared at each other for a moment, then Scriber made silly squirling gestures at his shoulder tympana. Listen up. "Can you talk like this?" His voice came very high-pitched, up where some people can't make voluntary conversation, where low-sound ears are deaf. Hightalk could be confusing, but it was very directional and faded quickly with distance; no one else would hear them. Peregrine nodded,
复件 (94) air max, "Hightalk is no problem." The trick was to use tones pure enough not to confuse. "Take a look over the hill crest,
复件 (22) air max1, friend pilgrim. There is something new under the sun." Peregrine moved up another thirty yards,
复件 (2) air max2, keeping a lookout in all directions. He could see the straits now, gleaming rough silver in the afternoon sunlight. Behind him, the north side of the valley was lost in shadow. He sent one member ahead, skittering between the hummocks to look down on the plain where the star had landed. God's Choir, he thought to himself (but quietly). He brought up another member to get a parallax view. The thing looked like a huge adobe hut mounted on stilts.... But this was the fallen star: the ground beneath it glowed dull red. Curtains of mist rose from the moist heather all around. The torn earth had been thrown in long lines that radiated from a spot beneath it. He nodded at Jaqueramaphan. "Where is Tyrathect?" Scriber shrugged. "A couple of miles back, I'll bet. I'm keeping an eye out for her.... Do you see the others though, the troopers from Flenser's Castle?" "No!" Peregrine looked west from the landing site. There. They were almost a mile away, in camouflage jackets, belly crawling across the hummocky terrain. He could see at least three troopers. They were big guys, six each. "How could they get here so fast?" He glanced at the sun. "It can't be more than half an hour since all this started." "Their good luck." Jaqueramaphan returned to the crest and looked over. "I'll bet they were already on the mainland when the star came down. This is all Flenser territory; they must have patrols." He hunkered down so just two pairs of eyes would be visible to those below. "That's an ambush formation, you know." "You don't seem very happy to see them. These are your friends,
Mbt moja blue, remember? The people you've come to see." Scriber cocked his heads sarcastically. "Yeah, yeah. Don't rub it in. I think you've known from the beginning that I'm not all for Flenser." "I guessed." "Well, the game is over now.