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“Monster,” I said dubiously.

Razka’s voice started taking on a singsong quality, and he set aside his own bowl of vixpril. “The monster comes after those who would dare to try to tame Sarindar. All those who have come have been slain by the great beast, who claims the heads of the invaders as its prize.”

“You’re kidding, right?” I said as I washed down the vixpril with some mineral water.

Shrugging, Razka said, “That is the story, anyhow. It is why there have been so few expeditions to this world.”

“I thought it was because of the chimerium and the suns.”

Again Razka shrugged. “Well, they complicated things—it makes the world hard to function in. The natural beauty attracted many, but they stayed away because of the stories of the monster shii.”

“That’s crazy.”

Razka grinned. “Of course it’s crazy. If it wasn’t, you would not be here, Sañuul.”

Groaning, I said, “Please don’t call me that.”

“But it’s true. There may not be any monster shii, but this place was cursed until you arrived.”

“It’s nothing any competent engineer couldn’t have done. I’m much more interested in getting the antimatter reactor on-line.”

“A task for tomorrow, to be sure. Unless,” he said with a mischievous smile, “the monster shii attacks us in our sleep.”

“Ri-ight.”

“Oh, come now, don’t humans tell fanciful stories before going to sleep?”

“Actually, we do. Particularly around campfires. Or the equivalent,” I added, pointing at the stove.

“My father often told me stories like that. I sometimes tell them to my children—including ones about the monster shii.”

“How many children do you have?”

“Seventeen.”

I almost dropped my spoon. He didn’t seem to be old enough to have sired that many kids, and I said so.

“Well, it’s much easier when you have five wives.”

“Five.”

“Yes.”

“O-o-o-okay.”

For some reason, the Nalori tradition of polygamy didn’t come up in the cultural database I was given.

“It must be terrible for you to be so far away from them for so long,” I said.

“Not really. In fact, it’s something of a relief. I never really considered myself the marrying type.”

“Then why’d you do it five times?”

“Oh, it has to do with one’s status. The more important you are, the more wives you have—except, of course, it doesn’t really work like that. You just accumulate wives to make yourself look more important. And besides, we have to propagate the species. Much easier to do that this way.”

I put down my vixpril unfinished. “If you say so.”

“I say so.”

Zilder came over and joined us. “Commander, don’t you like your vixpril?”

“I’m just not that hungry.”

He smiled. “That’s because your spirit is empty. You need to fill it with the love of Ho’nig.”

Razka good-naturedly let loose with a couple of epithets in the Nalori language. Zilder just laughed it off. “You are impure, my friend, and that is a shame.” He held up a small book with a cracked leather binding. The pages were dog-eared. “This is a copy of the Se’rbeg. There’s a passage in particular I’d like to read to you, if I may.” He opened up the book and flipped to a particular page.

I yawned and said, “Zilder, my religious beliefs are just that—mine, and none of your business. And while I’m sure the Se’rbeg is a fascinating read, I’m about ready for bed.”

Undaunted, Zilder turned to Razka. “And what of you, my good friend?”

He yawned. “I also say that it is time for sleep. Good night, Sañuul.”

I wished him a good night, and he went off to the tent he shared with several other workers.

Zilder put his book away and scratched the ridge that bisected his face. “You wait, Commander. I’ll save your soul before this project is done, and Razka’s as well, I promise you that.”

“Good luck,” I said with a laugh, wondering what Ho’nig’s views on polygamy were. Given that the Damiani have three genders and tend toward trios rather than couples, I suspect that they might be lenient. Pity—it’d be an easy out for Razka.

In any case, after wishing Zilder good night, I climbed into my tent and started this personal log. Tomorrow, we’ll tackle