"We're a noble species, as well. We, too, work for a greater good, but our good is for the entire universe, not just our own species."

"What is your 'good'? I know only of your computers and your scientific discoveries and your quest for knowledge," Exa said, her eyes fixed on his.

"We believe life has no mysteries, only answers waiting to be found. That's what we search for."

"That is the difference between us. We do not have to search for what we already possess."

"And that makes you better than us?" Grayfield asked. Was this another vanity, another sin? Was a crack appearing in her sanctimonious facade?

"There is no better or worse, only good and evil."

Grayfield made no response.

Exa continued, "And if you had your answers? What then?"

A rage overtook Grayfield. He wanted to bruise her milky skin, pluck her wobbling blue eyes from her head and hurl them against the marble walls.

He spoke through clenched teeth. "Why, I suppose we would start over. It is the nature of our species to conquer."

"So you wish to conquer us?"

"There are other powers at work here besides you and your people's bliss. To understand you is the will of the Areopagus. And also my will, you see."

Exa did not see, even with eight eyes. "So it is truth you seek, and all of your sins are justified under its banner? Then truth to you must be merely another possession, another form of currency."

"We suffer from greed. But you yourself are not free of sin. I've seen it."

"You've seen what you wanted to see. As I told you, we are not without bad thoughts. But there is no place among us for those who act upon them."

Grayfield looked up. He had lost his way. They were in an unfamiliar part of the city. Darkness was falling like a nylon cloak on the moonless planet. The streets were still, as if the Peacehands had been swallowed by their silent landscape.

"But don't you tire of your ceaseless perfection?" he asked.

"Perfection is an ideal, a way of life. For us, it is life. The alternative is too unpleasant."

"You mean being like us with all our human failings?"

He was incensed. He suddenly grabbed Exa around her leathery throat, pressing her just as the night was pressing down around them, as if he could squeeze her people's secrets from her. She made no move to resist, her flesh relaxing under his stranglehold. He hissed, "Tell me. You have no monetary system. How are your sins paid for?"

Something rustled in the shadowed alleys, and sharp high whispers echoed off the marble walls. Grayfield squinted into the indigo night, then looked back at Exa's pale passive face.

She spoke, gasping around her words, her circulatory system straining under Grayfield's assault. "Our twins. They also work...for the greater good."

"Whose greater good?" Grayfield said between clenched teeth.

She continued, a hoarse martyr. "They lie in wait for those who act on bad thoughts and cull them from our species. It is a mutually beneficial coexistence."

Grayfield played her words over in his mind. Had the Peacehands' eyes evolved from paranoia? Had their smiles been carved upon them as solid as marble, lest they slip the slightest bit? Did fear drive them to their immaculate behavior?

He looked at Exa, but he couldn't make out her face. He saw only the rapt gleam of her many eyes. She wasn't afraid of dying by his hand. He released his grip and peered into the darkness around him.

"Our twins also hunger for knowledge. To them, new sins are tasty delicacies. And you have brought them fresh evils, ones our people could never hope to understand," she said.

Muffled clicks on black gold streets.

"We are indeed blessed," she said.

Monstrous forms hovered over Grayfield, slithering towers of scaly spikes, red eyes, and glittering talons. More shapes emerged from the tall sleepy doors, dripping hunger from yawning jaws.

Understanding dawned on Grayfield, brighter and more piercing than the light from a hundred heavens, nirvanas, and utopias. He had finally found purity and truth, his most highly valued prizes, but he would never live to savor them.

Exa's voice whistled and clicked somewhere beside him. "You call us 'The Hands of Peace.' You may call our twins whatever you wish. It still translates as 'The Claws of Guilt.'"

The Imperius tried to run, but it was as if his boots were gold bricks that had fused with the street. As long ebony arms slashed sideways and aimed for his guts, he knew running was futile anyway. Where could he run to escape his own evil and human heart?

His last thought was that the Areopagus would never assimilate this planet. All future explorers would fall victim to themselves. For in the face of those who possessed humility, goodness, and perfection, Grayfield's people all suffered from the sin of envy.