"Observe please, Jarl," Adler said. "The crime in this first successful case was ideological. That was the crucial turn in the criminal policy of these people. A spirit of revolt is not quite enough, but couple it with brains and--_ecce homo_!"
Honath's head was swimming. "But what does all this mean?" he said. "Are we--not condemned to Hell any more?"
"No, you're still condemned, if you still want to call it that," Jarl Eleven said soberly. "You've learned how to live down there, and you've found out something even more valuable: how to stay alive while cutting down your enemies. Do you know that you killed three demons with your bare hands, you and Mathild and Alaskon?"
"Killed--"
"Certainly," Jarl Eleven said. "You ate three eggs. That is the classical way, and indeed the only way, to wipe out monsters like the dinosaurs. You can't kill the adults with anything short of an anti-tank gun, but they're helpless in embryo--and the adults haven't the sense to guard their nests."
Honath heard, but only distantly. Even his awareness of Mathild's warmth next to him did not seem to help much.
"Then we have to go back down there," he said dully. "And this time forever."
"Yes," Jarl Eleven said, his voice gentle. "But you wont be alone, Honath. Beginning tomorrow, you'll have all your people with you."
"_All_ our people? But you're going to drive them out?"
"All of them. Oh, we won't prohibit the use of the vine-webs too, but from now on your race will have to fight it out on the surface as well.
You and Mathild have proven that it can be done. It's high time the rest of you learned, too."
"Jarl, you think too little of these young people themselves," Adler said. "Tell them what is in store for them. They are frightened."
"Of course, of course. It's obvious. Honath, you and Mathild are the only living individuals of your race who know how to survive down there on the surface. And we're not going to tell your people how to do that.
We aren't even going to drop them so much as a hint. That part of it is up to you."
Honath's jaw dropped.
"It's up to you," Jarl Eleven repeated firmly. "We'll return you to your tribe tomorrow, and we'll tell your people that you two know the rules for successful life on the ground--and that everyone else has to go down and live there too. We'll tell them nothing else but that. What do you think they'll do then?"
"I don't know," Honath said dazedly. "Anything could happen. They might even make us Spokesman and Spokeswoman--except that we're just common criminals."
"Uncommon pioneers, Honath. The man and the woman to lead the humanity of Tellura out of the attic, into the wide world." Jarl Eleven got to his feet, the great light playing over him. Looking up after him, Honath saw that there were at least a dozen other Giants standing just outside the oval of light, listening intently to every word.
"But there's a little time to be passed before we begin," Jarl Eleven said. "Perhaps you two would like to look over our ship."
Humbly, but with a soundless emotion much like music inside him, Honath took Mathild's hand. Together they walked away from the chimney to Hell, following the footsteps of the Giants.