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think,” Horn said slowly, “that it’s time we had a little talk.”
    â€œOf course,” Wu said. “Talk, talk. Anything. I’ll talk. I’m the best talker you ever heard. Only wait until I’m over there.” Sweat was streaming down his face.
    â€œI’ll get better answers if you’re there,” Horn said calmly. “Don’t move.”
    Wu had started to inch forward; the girder wobbled again. Wu gasped and stopped.
    â€œWhat shall we talk about?” Horn asked casually. “About Sunport and why old men go there? About tunnels and valleys? About rabbits that turn into birds? About snake tracks and rabbit tracks that start suddenly and end just as abruptly? About—”
    â€œAnything—” Wu gasped.
    â€œWhat are you?” Horn asked. “And what is Lil? When I saw her the first time, her one eye was on the left. Now it’s on the right.”
    â€œI’ll tell you,” Wu moaned. “Only let me cross. I can’t talk here. I’ll fall—”
    â€œDon’t move!” Horn looked down at the parrot. “Don’t you try anything either, whatever you are, or your master will—”
    But as Horn looked down, the girder twisted under his foot. Wu screamed and tottered, his arms contorting themselves grotesquely.
    Before Horn could move, the old man had toppled into the black pit.

 
    THE HISTORY
    Port of the sun. Sunport.…
    It rose from its own ashes, phoenixlike, and launched its gleaming, wingless children toward the stars. Outward they spread in a vast sphere, seeking the new worlds, the virgin worlds, carrying with them a spark of the immortal flame. Where they landed, the spark leaped and grew.
    Sunport waited, but they did not come back.
    They found all kinds of worlds: some so sweet they could not leave, some so bitter there was no time for anything but struggle.… They relaxed, or they fought. They shaped and were shaped.
    Weary, like Earth, Sunport waited. Exhausted, like the soil and the mines, Sunport waited. Still waiting, Sunport returned to ashes.
    And at last they came. They came as conquerors. But they were still the children of Earth. Changed a little, they were still men.
    Something stirred in the ashes.…
    Â 
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    4
    PHOENIX
    While Wu was still toppling, something whirred beside Horn and disappeared swiftly into the darkness. Horn glanced quickly around. They were both gone, Wu and Lil. Horn listened. The seconds passed, and there was no distant splash from the pit.
    Horn put one foot on the girder and held up the torch. The fat old man was dangling under the girder, his mouth opening and shutting in mute terror, his arms and legs pushing downward as if they could shove the blackness away.
    A wire gleamed. It circled the rusty beam. A bright metal hook went through the waistband of Wu’s baggy breeches. Where the wire joined the hook was blue brilliance, burning in the torchlight with a cold, splendid luminescence. It was faceted, like diamonds, thousands of them sparkling.…
    Kicking, gasping, Wu swung jerkily back and forth. Horn shook himself. He walked out on the beam, stooped, took hold of the unexplainable wire. It moved liquidly in his hand, and he almost dropped it and the living burden it supported. His hand tightened. Inside it was a comfortable handle.
    He backed along the girder, his chest rigid with strain, shining with sweat. Wu swung heavily below, each swing threatening to send them both into the gulf. Finally one backward-reaching foot touched solid rock. Horn strained backward. Wu swung in, rising. His hands caught the edge of rock. He clawed his way desperately over the brink, crawled meters from the edge, and collapsed, panting and trembling.
    The thing in Horn’s hand flowed again. Horn looked down. The parrot was perched on his finger, her ragged wings drooping wearily.
    â€œDisaster,” she said breathlessly, “is the crucible of human