It was a simple task to lift the human-fela and rapidly make the ascent. The building became increasingly larger in the crosshairs of my left eye.

With one final bound, I set the two-legger on the stoop of the structure and she opened the door with her mind to reveal a girl-child; one of the underhill folk, and obviously her servant.

The folk-girl had prepared a thin broth from twigs and other vegetation for her mistress, which I accepted when it was offered and slipped a ration tablet into it when no one was looking.

Flidhais talked to the folk-girl in some private language that I had yet to add to my data banks. I could feel the tickle in my bio-cyber interface as the cpu in the left side of my head gathered information to develop a translation program.

Flidhais, realizing that I had been monitoring stopped and turned to me with an apologetic smile.

"I beg your pardon, Drifter I was so numb from the cold that forgot that I was not alone...I'm so used to the solitude that I spoke in **Translation: "the language" ** without introducing you," she rattled off as quickly in Everian tongue as she had in the slave language of the girl.

"Damara," she began. "This is Chance Drifter...Drifter, this is Damara...my daughter."

I dropped my bowl of broth.