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three on each foot. He smiled wryly to himself. A small claim to superiority somewhat mitigated by the fact that the newcomers could each boast of four longish tails to the Hyfft’s short, stubby one.
    The Hyfftian delegation and the new arrivals faced one another uncomfortably across the narrow stretch of flat pavement. One of the few armored invaders who was not carrying one of the ominous-looking long instruments stepped forward. After surveying the half-paralyzed, half-fascinated delegation, each of whom had mentally and emotionally prepared to have his or her life extinguished at any moment, the visitor removed a small, oblong device from its waist and raised it to mouth level. Proceeding to speak into it, visitor and machine delivered a rising and falling stream of incomprehensible gabble to the bewildered crowd.
    Without a doubt it was an attempt at communication. It was also a failure, as none of the specialists in the crowd of onlookers recognized so much as a single word. Even the speech patterns were unfamiliar, the cadences jagged and unfathomable.
    As the futile effort continued, Ussakk moved to stand close to Yoracc the Historian and dared to essay a whisper. “Tell me, venerable one: Do you have any idea what the creature is saying?”
    The historian replied without hesitation. “Not only do I have no idea what the creature is saying, I must confess that I have no idea what the creature
is.
”
    To show his confusion, Ussakk blinked speedily several times in succession. He would have accompanied the rapid-fire eye gesture with a sharp chirp-bark of uncertainty, except that it would not be appreciated by those near him and might also be misconstrued by the visitors.
    â€œI’m afraid I don’t understand. Do you mean you are unsure if it is a male or female Iollth?”
    â€œI mean,” replied the historian testily and a bit too loud, “that I don’t know if it’s an Iollth. In fact, I am fairly certain it is not.”
    Ussakk eyed the towering, menacing armed and armored figures arrayed before them. “That makes no sense, honored elder.”
    â€œI quite agree, querulous youth. In their weapons and bearing they have the general aspect of Iollth, but I am not senile. I remember quite well the imagery that survives from their previous visits, and while there may be some superficial similarities of size and shape, there is much else that does not conform. To begin with, these are tall and slender, while images of the Iollth show them to be shorter and much more thickly built through the lower portion of their bodies, their legs, and especially their feet.”
    Ussakk’s thoughts were crackling like
betimp
leaves in cooking oil. “Then if they are not Iollth, what can they be?”
    â€œThe possibilities are as wide ranging as they are worrying, my young star-gazing friend.” The dour historian scratched under his chin, where the hairs had turned as white as his long whiskers. “My first thought, I am afraid, is that they may be something worse than the Iollth.”
    The astronomer swallowed hard and tried to keep from trembling. “How could that be?”
    The older scientist was unrelenting in his speculation. “It could ‘be’ in many forms. For example, these intimidating visitors could be friends of the Iollth, sent to prepare the way for a later arrival of the Iollth themselves. Or perhaps,” he continued morbidly, “the Iollth have informed allies of theirs of the gentle nature of Hyff, have told them what a rich world awaits and how defenseless are its inhabitants.”
    Accustomed to being surrounded by friends and family, Ussakk found himself being dragged down into the mire of despair by his knowledgeable yet pessimistic companion. Hyfft were by nature buoyant and cheerful. Yoracc was an exception, and not a pleasant one: a grim, brooding, almost bitter store of remembrance. He was also, unfortunately, a