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ability? Or was the performance really as casual as it had seemed? In either case, the capacity itself remained unexplained.

    Wheel Anselm moved closer to him on the Bench of Honor and slapped his back. "That Drake's plenty good, don't you think?"

    Jared had to agree, although there were several Lower Level Survivors who could hit more than three out of nine arrow targets.

    He concentrated on the reflected _clacks_ of the central caster and listened to Drake draw another arrow. An anxious silence fell over the gallery and Jared tried unsuccessfully to pick out Della's breathing and heartbeat.
    Drake's
    bowstring
    _twanged_
    and the arrow whistled across the
    range. But the muffled _thud_ of its impact revealed that it had missed the target and dug into earth.

    After a moment the Official Scorer called out, "Two hand widths to the right. Score: three out of ten."

    There was a burst of applause.

    "Good, isn't he?" Anselm boasted.

    Jared became more aware of Lorenz's breathing as the Adviser turned toward him and said, "I should think you'd be eager to get in on these contests."

    Still smarting from Della's insinuation that he was conceited, Jared said noncommittally, "I'm prepared for anything."

    The Wheel overheard and exclaimed, "That's fine, my boy!" He rose and announced, "Our visitor's going to lead off the spear-throwing competition!"

    More applause. Jared wondered, though, whether he had detected a feminine breath escaping in contempt.

    Lorenz brought him over to the spear rack and he spent some time selecting his lances.

    "What's the target?" he asked.

    "Woven husk discs--two hand spans wide--at fifty paces." The Adviser caught his arm and pointed it. "They're against that bank."

    "I can hear them," Jared assured. "But I want my targets thrown up in the air."

    Lorenz drew back. "You must want to hear how big a fool you can make of yourself."

    "It's my party." Jared gathered up his spears. "You just toss the discs."

    So Della was certain he had an exaggerated opinion of himself, was she? Riled, he broke out his clickstones and retreated to the fringe of the hot-springs area. Then he began a steady, brisk beat with the pebbles in his left hand. The familiar, refined tones supplemented those of the echo caster. And now he could clearly hear the things about him--the ledge on his right, the hollowness of the passageway behind him, Lorenz standing ready to cast the discs.

    "Target up!" he shouted at the Adviser.

    The first manna husk disc _swished_ through the air and he let a spear fly. Wicker crunched under the impact of pointed shaft, then disc and lance clattered to the ground together.

    Momentarily, he sensed something was out of place. But he couldn't decide what it was. "Target up!"

    Another direct hit. And then another.

    Exclamations from the gallery distracted him and he missed his fourth shot. He waited for silence before ordering more discs into he air.
    The next five shots found their mark. Then he paused and listened intensely around him. Somehow he couldn't ignore the vague suspicion that something wasn't as it should be.

    "That was the last target," the Adviser shouted.

    "Get another," Jared called back, letting his remaining spear lie on the ground.

    An awed silence hung over the gallery. Then Anseim laughed and bellowed, "By Light! Eight out of nine!"

    "With _that_ kind of ability," Lorenz added from the distance, "he _must_ be a Zivver."

    Jared spun around. That was it--_Zivvers!_ He realized that for heartbeats now he had been catching their scent!

    Just then someone shouted, "Zivvers! Up on the ledge!"

    Disorder swept the world. Women screamed and scrambled for their children while Survivors bolted for the weapons rack.

    Jared heard a spear _zip_ down from the height and clatter against the Bench of Honor. The Wheel swore apprehensively.

    "Everybody stay where you are!" boomed a voice Jared had not forgotten from previous raids-that of Mogan, the Zivver leader. "Or the Wheel