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g."

'cadillac... is that a name of power?"

'Yes."

'Cadillac..." repeated Steve. 'I never heard that word before.

Interesting." He turned to the old, white-haired lumphead. 'How about

you?"

'My name is Mr Snow." ' 'Is that on account of your hair? Or is that

a name of power too?"

Mr Snow shook his head. 'I am not a warrior. My name was taken from

the words of an ancient song."

'From the Old Time,' added Cadillac proudly. 'Before the War of a

Thousand Suns."

'I guess you must be talking of what we call the Holocaust. Nearly a

thousand years ago..."

Mr Snow nodded.

'-So what are you - the doctor for these people?"

Mr Snow smiled. 'Among other things."

'Like what?"

'He is a wordsmith,' said Cadillac with a proud sweep of his hand.

'The greatest and wisest of them all."

Mr Snow shrugged modestly and motioned his pupil to be silent.

Cadillac, intent on extolling his teacher's virtues, pressed on

regardless. 'His tongue reaches back beyond the beginning of the

Plainfolk to the world that was lost in the fire-clouds. He knows of

ice-huts piled one upon the other until they touched the clouds, giant

beetles with men in their bellies, square baskets of frozen water full

of music and pictures ' 'You mean television sets ' 'And jewels!"

cried Cadillac, flaunting his newly acquired knowledge. 'All these

things and more. Much more than even your President-General!" 'I

doubt it,' countered Steve. 'Can he read? Can he type?"

Mr Snow smiled. 'You already know the answer. It is true that my eye

does not know the signs for the words I speak, and that my hand cannot

draw them in the earth. But we of the Plainfolk have other gifts. The

wisdom of the Sky Voices is greater than the all words that lie buried

in your dark cities. We pass on knowledge in other ways." He reached

out to touch Cadillac's head. 'This is the book on which I have made

my mark. It has more leaves than the greatest forest."

'It's a book that can be destroyed,' observed Steve.

'If Talisman wills it,' admitted Mr Snow. 'Man, and the works of man

pass away like flowers before the White Death. This Columbus of which

you speak and which knows so much is also the work of men. It too can

be ground to dust ' 'I doubt it,' said Steve. 'Columbus survived the

Holocaust. It was built in what you call the Old Time and it's

constantly being rebuilt - bigger and better than before.

It will last for ever."

Mr Snow shook his head. 'Nothing lasts forever. And when the day

comes for it to return to the earth, the power you draw from it will

pass through your fingers like the wind. But consider this: your iron

snake sent many of our warriors to the High Ground. It may return with

others and succeed in killing us all. Our past may perish with us, but

you will never destroy true knowledge. That is the gift of the Sky

Voices -and they are beyond the reach ofevenyour long sharp iron."

Steve felt a pang of remorse. He had been party to the killing the old

Mute spoke of. Whatever his final fate might be, these so-called

savages had not left him to burn. 'Listen, before we go any further, I

just want to say thanks for straightening out my leg and everything.

After what happened back there in the cropfields..."

'Mo-Town thirsts, Mo-Town drinks,' said Mr Snow quietly.

'Well, I guess you both know what I mean." Steve looked at each of

them in turn then dropped his head back with a resigned sigh. 'Are you