The looters arrived at the First Colony ruins around midnight. Under the twin moons of Orontis, the stone altars and tables gleamed black with flecks of starlight.

Zagger squinted at the nearest plinth. "You sure this will sell? I've got a bunch of rocks in my yard that look just like this."

"Look at the other side, you nitwit." Hoorin brought the mule cart around and pointed with his whip. "THAT is our fortune."

Carved into the plinth from foot to base were symbols and pictograms. Traces of gold and sapphire paint gleamed in the deeply carved grooves.

"What does it say?"

From the shadows behind the altar, the Hlífir crept closer.

It would not show itself until the looters actually tried to remove a plinth. That was only fair. Also, if it ate every human with bad intentions, it would lose its sleek monsterly figure. Bikini season was coming.

But fairness aside, the Hlífir wanted to know what the symbols said, too. The First Colony had supposedly made the Hlífir to protect the planet before they disappeared. It had learned this from his victims, who sometimes yelled every Old Orontii word they knew in case it helped. (As these words were usually "cheese" and "gesundheit," it generally did not.)

What had the Hlífir's makers intended? Was it doing okay? And why did they leave it all alone?

The Hlífir had long searched these ruins in hopes of answers. Finally, the looters had come.

Now Hoorin smacked Zagger with the handle of his mule whip. "Listen, boy. These symbols are worth six million smeeks apiece." He pointed to each.

"Fire. Water. Earth. Air."

He paused for effect.

Zagger blinked. "What are those?"

"What you need to live, you dumbass! And this planet has them all--no importing or terraforming required. Orontis is the only place since old Earth to be so rich."

He stroked the fire symbol with one finger. The Hlífir made a low growling noise in the back of its throat.

Zagger glanced back nervously. "Something's here."

"Just thunderbugs. Here, wrap this around that end."

The looters trussed up the stone in rope and covered it in sackcloth.

Zagger moved to the next plinth, but Hoorin shook his head. "This one's enough. Let's roll."

"But--" Zagger turned longingly to the rest of the ruins. Other stones had sculptures of love parrots or radiantfish; some were elaborately chiseled so that the wind whistled through them. The looters' chosen rock was woefully plain.

"Trust me." Hoorin lowered his voice. "There's a theory that the First Colony mastered the creation of the elements. If we decode this stone, humans could have unlimited resources. Every planet--every star system--could be ours for the harvesting. All creatures would be ours to command, as animals were on Earth!"

Hoorin embraced the stone, kissed the carvings, then struggled to lift it.

At that moment, a musical chuckle came from behind them. From the shadows stepped a shapely woman with long dark hair and an ever-shifting dress of scarlet and indigo butterflies. The men stilled, bewitched by the motions of their wings. It seemed that any moment they might part, revealing a glimpse of delicious flesh.

The looters' mule flattened its ears and nickered nervously. Then it bolted, the cart careening wildly behind it.

The Hlífir, now in female form, glided toward the men in a cloud of pheromones and night-blooming jasmine. Their pupils dilated and their pulses quickened. Their breath came in short, hot pants, a liquid heat building between their legs. Zagger, rather prematurely, dropped his trousers.

The Hlífir, ignoring this, approached Hoorin. Stroking his stubbled cheek, she said, "On behalf of the First Colony, I bring you the four elements."

"This is fire."

She leaned close and brushed her soft, poisonous lips with his. Hoorin moaned and reached for her. Grabbing his wrist in an iron grip, she beckoned to Zagger.

"This is water."

Raising Zagger's hand to her lips, she took his fingertips in her mouth one by one. As she teased each with her tongue, Zagger's eyes rolled back in bliss. Hoorin whined like a dog.

Abruptly, the Hlífir turned and knocked Hoorin to the ground. He sprawled out breathless on the dirt as she straddled him. Raising him up, she smothered his face in her luscious breasts. "This is earth."

Hoorin wriggled eagerly, but Zagger had already come to yank his head away.

"Want."

Well, this one was still capable of speech. She'd have to do something about that.

A great wind rose and tore screaming through the ruins. Trees bent double, showing the pale undersides of leaves. Hoorin's lantern fell from a boulder and smashed to the ground, fire licking the earth.

Blind to the chaos, the looters watched the Hlífir, flushed and expectant. One by one the butterflies flew off, revealing the form they had so fetchingly disguised.

Only the Hlífir saw the moment their rapture turned to terror.

As the winds howled, the men were beyond hearing. She spoke nevertheless: "This is wind."

Then, hesitantly, to the ruins: "Is this what you wanted from me? Have I done well?"

From the uncaring stones, no answer came.

* * *

Zagger and Hoorin, now simpletons, became potters at the Second Colony. Their work used the four elements; the shapes filled their viewers with desire and unease. Of these mysteries--or anything else--they spoke not a word.

Their mule returned after the storm ended, gently nosing the Hlífir's hand. Surprised, the Hlífir scratched it behind the ears and fed it an apple. It was company, and that filled the Hlífir with warmth.

Leaning against the sleeping mule, the Hlífir embroidered the symbols for the elements on a new pair of hotpants. Was the plinth truly the secret to making the elements? Or was it only a recipe for the perfect pizza?

The First Colony had kept all its secrets that night but one. Humans had made the Hlífir to protect not just Orontis but the worlds beyond. It protected them from themselves.