Starvation A.D. 2179' on a tombstone? Or will Malovel let you erect tombstones?"

"He hasn't objected yet."

"Why don't you do something about this?"

"There are two reasons. One is our own bargain, our own agreement. The other is the esse. Malovel has the esse."

"What's the esse?"

"It's a weapon," Sanderson said, uncomfortably. "We don't talk much about it."

"Which means you're scared and don't knew what you're afraid of. I still think—EEK!" A gust of sharp, protesting sound exploded from her lips. A hand came up. With her index finger, she made little jabbing motions toward the chair where Early had been sitting.

"What—what is that?" Her voice was suddenly shrill.

A doll, or an old dwarf, or a worn-out elf was sitting in the chair. Miss Tweedham pointed at this. The doll was relaxed and at ease. Its head had fallen forward across its chest. The doll was remarkably life-like. Every hair was visible on the head, each skin wrinkle was clear on the back of the neck. The clothing was ragged, holes showed in the bottoms of the shoes.

"What—what is that?" the woman repeated.

"That's Ed Early," Sanderson said.

"Uh—uh—"

"The esse." L'Sor breathed. "Malovel used the esse."

"Early's dead," Sanderson said. "Quite dead." He stepped forward in time to catch Miss Tweedham before she fell.

In trying to be calm, Sanderson found he needed all of his years of training to grasp even a semblance of what he sought. Behind him, in the bedroom, he could hear Big Marie moving again. The moaning in there had stopped. He tried to distract himself by looking through the window but the sight of the withered crops trying to grow added nothing to the calm he was seeking. He thought how precarious was the hold of this little group of humans on Mars—and on life itself.

Two men carrying a 

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