The little high-aptitude Pritulatan immediately starts crying and begging for everyone to come into the magic house; it’s okay that father said not to come in, we’ll just come in for a moment, get that toy truck over there, and start waiting for the good people to come. Iyadrudan tries to stop him, first verbally, then, when it fails, by twisting his ear, and crying becomes inarticulate. The translator matter-of-factly pours out a large bag of “rat-eared snakes”; Vanderhuse’s control room is agitated, demanding calming and consolation; then suddenly everyone, including the high-aptitude Pritulatan, gets quiet.
From around the nearest corner, appears our recently seen acquaintance, the local with a rifle. Softly and noiselessly moving over the spots of blue light, his hands on top of th
