CLARION 109

himself to look at the creature. Something like a vest covered the creature's upper body; a gray breechclout hung below its waist. The bulbous head came around in short, jerky movements, and the glittering eyes fastened on the cabinet. Paul had time for a panicky thought: It knows we're in here\

He pressed his knuckles against the rough wood of the cabinet wall and tried to keep reality from slipping away. He was aware of Dorland's shallow breathing behind him, and of the hand that still gripped his shoulder. The creature was motionless above the chauka now, and its eyes were still turned toward the cabinet. From its mouth came the strange sounds.

It knows we're in here! It'll come—

Easy, came a soothing voice inside him.

Brill spoke to the creature, and Paul expected at any moment that the deacons would rush to the cabinet and drag out him and Dorland. But the minutes wore on and nothing like that happened. The creature still looked from time to time toward the cabinet, and each time Paul felt the pressure building inside his head. But the creature showed no inclination to leave the chauka.

Then he felt something else stirring in his mind. Shari was only six years old. She was a gentle child who would not think of hurting anyone. What did she do to deserve such a bloody death7

Rage and nausea boiled up, and the sour taste of terror. The terror was primitive, from that deep, reptile part of his brain that was untouched by higher logic centers that fought to control it. Daddy, Daddy...

Paul opened his eyes again and saw the creature's head sway toward him, the black eyes gleaming. He felt it again in his mind, and a new wave of panic crept over him. The walls of the cabinet were too close. He felt Dorland's hand on his shoulder. Steady.

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v

He pushed against the alien presence and felt Dorland pushing with him. The creature above the chauka continued to stare at the cabinet while Brill and the elders chanted. The presence inside Paul grew. It was alien, unlike anything he had ever felt. The only thing familiar about it was the hatred, and that emotion was stronger than Paul would have believed possible. It was a focus of his existence. Together he and Dorland created a fragile barrier. A young girl appeared in his mind—golden curls framing an angel face. Shari . . .

He felt a silent prayer emerge from the darkness: Shari, give me the courage and wisdom to fight this horror.

Sudden warmth washed through him, bringing a sensation of strength and confidence. He felt small, strong arms around him, comforting.

The people of Clarion may have their god, but I have mine as well. The strength of the child. A soft hue took shape inside him, and a sound built up like a two-toned hum. Its meaning was vague and unreachable, but he grasped the comfort it offered and pulled it close. He turned his head. Was that a soft strain of music he heard? He listened, brought it back and moved it around and into the glow of color. He felt Dorland with him and knew that nothing could touch them with that shield in place. He felt the power of Shari, her youth—a godlike quality . . .

Then something Selmer had said came back to him:

The young were special to the Tal Tahir.