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bathed in the gentle warmth of early autumn. He always summoned the same image. It occurred to him then that there are times when true beauty whispers past the conscious mind, invisible as a breeze. The day in the park had been pleasant.
    No more than that. He had smiled as his three children played. He had kissed Tanya's hand. But his mind had been working on a mathematical problem, and he was anxious to return to his office and continue with it. If only there had been a moment of prescience. If only he could have guessed that for seventy years - lonely, isolated years - he would summon that ancient image like a man bringing forth his greatest treasure.
    He had told Tanya of the mathematical problem. 'You will solve it,' she said with utter certainty. That certainty had invigorated him. It was one of the reasons he loved her so dearly.
    Now he faced an even greater problem, and she was no longer here to feed him with her faith.
    When at last he opened his tear-filled eyes he was calmer.
    Wiping away the tears he returned to the problem. The White Pyramid, buried below the ice, could not be moving. This was a certain fact, beyond argument. . What then could explain the phenomenon? Moving to the window he rubbed the frost from the glass then stared out over the white mountains. His men were returning now, and a second team waited, shivering on the decks above. Soon he would have to join them. Questor Ro was not a fool. He sensed they could spend endless days seeking Communion. And he had promised Talaban results.
    He tugged at his forked beard. The answer was there - if only he could find it.
    Wrapping his cloak around him he left the cabin, climbed the spiral stairs and emerged onto the central deck.
    His second twelve-man team were huddled together, watching the return of the silver longboat. As he stood with them there came a sound like distant thunder and a huge section of ice toppled from a nearby glacier, striking the calm water of the bay and sending a large wave that lifted the longboat.
    In that moment Questor Ro had his answer. Ordering the men to await his instruction he stood silently until the longboat was secured and his exhausted team were aboard, then summoned his assistant Onquer to his cabin.
    The Vagar was hollow-eyed, his lips blue. Questor Ro allowed the man to stand for a while before the small brazier of hot coals.
    'It is not the power source that is moving,' said Questor Ro. 'It is the ice covering the land.'
    Onquer rubbed his thin hands together before the heat. 'Ice moving, lord?' he said dumbly.
    'Pour yourself a drink,' ordered Questor Ro. With trembling hands Onquer lifted a blue glass decanter and poured spirit into a crystal goblet. Lifting it to his lips he sipped the fiery liquid. He shivered with pleasure.
    'Yes, it is the ice,' said Questor Ro. 'It is brittle, and it moves. The pyramid is sixty miles away. Between there and here there are probably thousands of small shifts in the ice. We are like this ship, bobbing upon the bay. Constantly moving while staying in the same place. You understand?'
    Onquer drained the drink. 'Yes, I see, lord. But what can we do?'
    'We need one mobile receiver linked to the others. Thus we can adjust our movement to match the shifts in the ice.'
    'This will take time, lord. More time than we have allowed.'
    'No, it will not. I will go below to the store rooms and begin to assemble the equipment. You return to the ice with the fresh team, and re-site the receivers. Place them closer together, each no more than ten units apart. Hold to the emanations as best you can. This time do not seek Communion, merely try to read the ebb and flow. How much movement is there, and between which points. You follow?'
    'Yes, lord.'
    Then do not delay,' said Questor Ro, waving his hand towards the door. The exhausted Vagar bowed, then left the room. Questor Ro had all but forgotten him even before the door closed.

    Karesh Var had been asked many times what made him a great