
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*Author Alan Dean FosterTitle Voyage To The City of the DeadSeries A Novel of the Humanx CommonwealthSeries NoOriginal copyright year 1984Genre Science FictionDate of e-text 01/14/2001Prepared byLast RevisedRevised byVersion 1.0Comments Download both lit and txt version.Please correct any errors you find in this e-text,update the txt files version number andredistribute.\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*By Alan Dean Foster Published by Ballantine BooksThe Icenggger TrilogyICERIGGERMISSION TO MOULOKINTHE DELUGE DRIVERSThe Adventures of Flinx of the CommonwealthFOR LOVE OF MOTHERNOTTHE TARAIYM KRANGORPHAN STARTHE END OF THE MATTERFLINX IN FLUXMIDFLINXBLOODHYPETHE HOWLING STONESThe DamnedBook One A CALL TO ARMSBook Two THE FALSE MIRRORBook Three THE SPOILS OF WARTHE BLACK HOLE CACHALOTDARK STAR THE METROGNOME and Other StoriesMIDWORLD NOR CRYSTALTEARSSENTENCED TO PRISM SPLINTER OF THE MIND'S EYESTAR TREK@ LOGS ONETEN VOYAGE TO THE CITY OF THEDEADWITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE . . . ... WHO NEEDSENEMIES?MAD AMOS PARALLELITIES\*\* forthcomingBooks published by The Ballantine Publishing Group are available at quantitydiscounts on bulk purchases for premium, educational, fundraising, and specialsales use. For details, please call 15007333000.\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*Copyright 1984 by Alan Dean FosterFirst published in the USA in 1984 by Ballantine BooksThis edition published by arrangement with Ballantine Books, a Division ofRandom House, Inc.First NEL Paperback Edition 1986 Third impression 1987British Library C.I.P.Foster, Alan DeanVoyage to the city of the dead.I. Title813'.54[F] PS3556.0756ISBN 0 450 39874 9The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear norelation to any real person or actual happening.This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, byway of trade orotherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without thepublisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that inwhich it is published and without a similar condition including this conditionbeing imposed on the subsequent purchaser.No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or byany means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, recording orany information storage or retrieval system, without either the prior permissionin writing from the publisher or a licence, permitting restricted copying,issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, 7 Ridgmount Street, London WC1E 7AA.Printed and bound in Great Britain for Hodder and Stoughton Paperbacks, adivision of Hodder and Stoughton Ltd., Mill Road, Dunton Green, Sevenoaks, KentTN13 2YA. (Editorial Office 47 Bedford Square, London WC1 B 3DP) by Cox & WymanLtd., Reading\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*For, Daniel, with love,For when he gets older and starts traveling\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*Chapter OneThey didn't call in the Guard because the intruder was already half dead. Still,they were upset.Muttering angrily among themselves over the outrageous breach of protocol, themembers of the Zanur looked to their leader for direction, but NajokedemeHalmur held his peace. It was up to the intruder to explain himself, andfast. Hands still hovered close to sheathed knives, although it was becomingapparent this was no assassination attemptthe intruder was too enfeebled topresent a threat to anyone but himself. So Najoke stayed his hand as well as hislips. Seeing this, the other members of the Zanur calmed themselves.Two unkempt servants attended the intruder, and they had their hands fullkeeping him on his feet. He was completely bald, as befitted his age, but morethan age had been at work on that body recently. Pain was evident even in themovement of the eyes, and their owner was breathing as if he'd run a long ways,for all that two younger Mai supported him.Several of the more impatient members of the Zanur started toward the stranger.DemeHalmur stayed them with a wave of one slim, sixfingered hand. "Patience,my friends. Let us hear what this despoiler of etiquette has to say.Retribution can come later. We are no judges here."The leader's words sparked the withered visitor's attention. He shrugged offthe helping hands of his servants, much as he continued to push away theclutching hand of death. Though unsteady and shaking, he stood straight and byhimself. "Good members of the Zanur, I beg forgiveness for this intrusion onthe affairs of state. When one has little time left, one has no time at all forprotocol. I have much to tell you."DeYarawut rose and pointed, hairless brows drawing together. "I know you. Youreside in my district."The elderly speaker tried to bow to the side, as etiquette required, and theeffort nearly sent him sprawling. His servants rushed to help but he gesturedthem back."I am flattered by your remembrance, Zanural deYarawut. I am BrildePanltatol. A humble trader who works Upriver." The drama of the oldster'sintrusion, his unforgivable breach of tradition, was beginning to fade. And hewas known. No surprises were here.Legends sing of the wrongness of such thoughts."No excuse can be made for your interruption, dePanltatol," demeHalmur said."You know the penalties.""Your most excessive indulgence, Moyt, but as I said and as you can see, littletime is left to me."DemeHalmur had not become ruler of a great citystate without the occasionalostentatious display of compassion. "You must have bribed efficiently to obtainthis entrance, oldster. You are to be admired for that. Say what you have cometo say.""Good members of the Zanur, I have for most of my life been a trader of finewoods and metals between our great city of Po Rabi and the Upriver. Hai, even asfar as Kekkalong." Kekkalong was a very long way Upriver, and many of theZanurals had never journeyed beyond the boundaries of the city. They listened tothe rover with a little more respect."I am a good citizen and work hard for my city. So I listen well to any tale orrumor that suggests the opportunity to increase my wealth.""As do we all," Zanural deParinti commented. "Get on with it.""Among the many tales of the Upriver are those which speak of a dead place, hometo spirits and ghosts and demons beyond counting, who guard such wealth as couldnot be counted in a thousand lifetimes by all the accountants of all thecitystates that ring the Groalamasan itself.""A wonderful story, I'm sure," another Zanural called from his council seat. "Itoo have heard such stories.""It is well known," dePanltatol continued, "that the nearer one travels to thesource of such tales, the more vivid and impressive they becomeor else theyfade away entirely."This particular tale is told over and over again in a hundred towns andvillages of the North. I have listened to it for more than fifty years. Iresolved finally to pursue it to the last storyteller. Instead it drew meonward, pulling me ever farther north. Sometimes the tale smelled of truth, moreoften of village embroidery, but never did I lose track of it entirely."I went beyond maps and merchant trails, always up the Barshajagad, followingthe current of the Skar and in places abandoning it completely. I walked I,Bril dePanltatol upon the surface of the frozen Guntali itself!"Now the whispers of interest were submerged by illconcealed laughter. TheGuntali Plateau, from which arose all the great rivers of the world that drainedinto the single ocean that was the Groalamasan, was so high and cold and thin ofair that no Mai could travel upon it. Yet the wrinkled old trader was layingclaim to such a feat.Like his fellow merchants and Zanural, demeHalmur refused to countenance thepossibility, but neither did he laugh. He had not become Moyt of Po Rabi bydismissing the most elaborate absurdities without careful dissection. "Let thisone continue proving himself the fool, but let him not be convicted until he hasfinished his story.""Up past even far Hochac I went," dePanltatol was breathing harder now, "and myjourney was but beginning. I lost servants and companions until I was obliged totravel on my own, because none would go farther in my company. All believed memad, you see. I nearly perished many times. The rumors and the river led me everonward.""Onward to what?" another of the Zanural snorted derisively.The oldster glanced sideways and seemed to draw strength from his scoffers. "Tothe source of all the tales and songs. To the land of the dead. To the part ofthe world where demons and monsters make their home. To the top of the world,good Zanural."This time the laughter could not be contained. It did not appear to discouragethe old trader."I found the City of the Dead. I, Bril dePanltatol! And I came away with apiece of it." He frowned then, and wheezed painfully. "I don't remember thattime very well. My mind was numbed by all I had endured. How I stayed alive Idon't know, but I drove myself to make another boat. I made many boats, I think.It's hard to remember. I disguised what I had brought away beneath a bale ofSalp skins and brought it all the way Downriver, all the way back to my home, toPo Rabi."DemeHalmur's wide black eyes flickered. "A most interesting and entertainingstory, dePanltatol, but all such tales of demon cities are entertaining. I hopeyou are a better trader than you are a storyteller." Polite laughter rose fromthe other members of the Zanur."Is that what you broke into our conference to tell us?" snapped another Zanuralangrily. "If you can do no better than that, I promise you your age will notsave you.""There is only one thing I can add to what I have told you," the exhaustedtrader admitted. "For it I have ruined my mind and my self, so there is littlefor you to threaten me with. My triumph will be shortlived and I will not buythe seat on the Zanur that I longed for." A few insulted murmurs arose among theZanural, loudest from those whose fortunes were smallest."So I will leave my tale to you, together with that one other thing, and let youjudge, Zanural of the city, if I might have been thought equal in wealth to sitamong you." He turned and blew on a small bone whistle that hung from a cordaround his neck.A dozen laborers entered in two columns of six. Between them they held ropesattached to a low dolly. Laughter gave way to curiosity and confusion among themembers of the Zanur. The dolly had six axles and fat rubbery wheels made fromthe treated sap of the arer tree.From his place at the head of the long council table demeHalmur saw the pileof fine gray Salp pelts piled high on the dolly. They were valuable but notexceptionally so. Certainly they weren't heavy enough to require the use of asixaxle and twelve strong Mai to pull the load. He could see the way musclesstrained against something massive but concealed. He stood slightly,unconscious of the movement, to have a better view.The laborers halted and moved aside. With the aid of his servants Panltatolstaggered to the dolly, Disdaining help, he reached out and shakily pulled theskins onto the floor. They'd been sewn together and came off as one.There was something else on the dolly, as demeHalmur suspected, but the sightof it struck him speechlessa single metal bar reposed on the wooden platform.It was twisted and bent by some unknown force and was as thick as a large Mai'sbody. But that observation passed quickly. The Zanural were interested in itscomposition far more than its shape.It had not been polished and it displayed long gashes and much pitting, evidenceof exposure to powerful chemicals or energies. Its color was familiar."I did not actually enter the place of the dead." Panltatol's voice wasweakening. "I was near, very near, when weather so terrible it cannot beimagined except in dreams finally forced me to retreat. This relic I found onthe banks of the Skar, where the river had carried it. This alone I was able tobring back with me. Zanural of Po Rabi, this is my legacy."Forgetting their dignity, abjuring protocol, they left their seats to examinethe massive metal bar. Sensitive sixfingered hands caressed the smooth graysubstance. The dull silvery sheen was a property of the metal itself.It looked like sunit. It had the color of sunit. It felt like sunit. When threeof the Zanural from northern Po Rabi tried to lift it and could not, they werepositive it was sunit.DeChangrit, who on the Zanur was second in power only to demeHalmur himself,removed a small ingot from the money belt that circled his waist. It was a serl,the largest denomination coined by any of the great citystates that lined theshores of the Groalamasan Ocean, newly minted in powerful Chienba. He placed itin one of the gouges cut in the flank of the bar and tried to calculate theworth of the twisted mass in his head. He was a superb businessmai and hisestimate was very near the mark."Several million," he announced aloud. "At least." Having already made theirown calculations, several of his associates nodded by way of confirmation.DePanltatol abruptly sat down on the edge of the dolly, leaning back againstthe bar for support. He ran one hand gently across the cold metal, lovingly, asif it were a woman reclining in his hammock. There was not a Mai among the Zanurwho did not feel the same love for that bar. It represented a great and compactfortune.When the murmurs and excited conversations began to die down it was Changrit whoasked the question uppermost in all minds. "Is there more?"His tone was respectful now, no longer sarcastic or accusing. Thus vindicated,Panltatol seemed to draw strength from some unknown source. They were no longerlaughing at him."Honored sirs, I do not know. I found only this one piece, washed up on a rockyand wild shore. But the rumors that drove me to the top of the world alwaysspoke of more in the City of the Dead."Many signs were made by the Zanural, for they were as intensely superstitious asthe common folk. Daily their lives were punctuated by the performance of ritualsdesigned to ward off unfriendly deities and spirits, which all Mai knew ruledthe affairs of each individual from birth to death. At the rear of the chamber awideeyed servant hastily dumped more incense in the ritual burner, in case thespirits in attendance that day were possessed of particularly large noses. Theair of the chamber was immediately suffused with sweet fragrance."No actual City of the Dead exists," one of the Zanural ventured hesitantly. "Itis not a real place."DemeHalmur used his hands eloquently. "No such solid piece of sunit as thisexists, yet it sits there before us.""More," Panltatol mumbled. "More in the City of the Dead.""How much more?" asked Changrit with becoming avariciousness."They say ... the rumors say ... that the city itself is built of sunit." Deadsilence greeted his declaration, appropriately. "I am sorry I did not gofarther." A thin smile appeared on his withered face. His right arm lay likebrown cloth against the cold metal. "I am so tired, honored ones. I must rest awhile.""Wait!" Changrit rushed forward. With his own arms he supported the oldster, asign of the esteem in which Panltatol was suddenly held. "How do we find theCity of the Dead? How could one retrace your travels?""Why, don't you know?" Panltatol whispered. "There is no City of the Dead. Thejourney cannot be made. But I made it. I, Bril dePanltatol, went where it isimpossible to go. But you can't follow, none of you." He said it with vehemenceas he unexpectedly sat up without aid. "You can't follow because only an insaneone could make such a journey. I am mad, you see, and you are not." A suddenthought made him blink with confusion."Very tired." He leaned back against Changrit again and closed his eyes. Theywould not open again.Changrit gently lowered the thin body. "A true Mai. He sacrificed everything inhopes of improving his fortune. I honor him.""We all honor him," demeHalmur said, "as we will honor his memory.""What of the sunit?" Lust was apparent in the voice of the Zanural who voicedthe common thought. All eyes were on the bar."You know the law," demeHalmur said sternly, if a trifle reluctantly. "I covetit as much as any of you, but it goes to his family and employees." He made aprotective sign in case certain spirits were listening. "The law is clear."Zanural dePeyetmy was almost in tears. "Couldn't we bend the law just alittle?""I am sworn to uphold it, and I will do so. Those who would bend the lawultimately find themselves strangled by it." Murmurs of assent sounded fromaround the table."Of course," demeHalmur went on, "there is the matter of a death tax." A fewsmiles appeared. "Also the fact that dePanltatol undertook this journey withoutproper authorization, and we still must deal with the matter of his rudeintrusion into the Zanur Chamber." He studied the bar. "I would say that perhapshalf should go into the city treasury.""That still leaves a nice fortune." Changrit had retaken his seat ondemeHalmur's left. "No family could be disappointed to receive such aninheritance. Now that the law has been dealt with, how are we to deal with thisremarkable story?""A great journey," one of the other Zanural announced portentously. "One to beenshrined in memory and song. I myself will commission a song cycle tocommemorate it.""A thoughtful gesture," demeHalmur agreed, thankful for the Zanural's support.His proposal meant that demeHalmur would not have to pay for the requisitememorial. Other Zanural cursed themselves for not thinking to make the cleverpolitical move."Now who shall volunteer to help equip a new expedition to journey to the top ofthe world in search of this rumored City of the Dead?"Suddenly every member of the co uncil sought to shrink in his seat. One, bolderthan the rest, said sharply, "I would not venture more than a thousand legatsUpriver for all the sunit on Tslamaina.""Nor would I," demeHalmur agreed. "DePanltatol was quite right. None of us ismad. The very idea of setting foot on the Guntali Plateau is a concept only adisturbed mind could conceive. To attempt to retrace his wild path would beimpossible." He gestured toward the bar and the body lying next to it. "We mustbe satisfied with this.""Not necessarily." All eyes turned in surprise to Changrit. DemeHalmur waitedwarily for any suggestion his rival might make. Each had much respect for theother, so much so that they never employed assassins. Such methods they left tocruder Mai while they dueled with words and gestures."It is true that any journey far up the Skar is daunting, let alone one to thetop of the world. One might undertake such an expedition only to perish withinsight of one's goal. It is more likely any travelers would end up staring at theinside of a Na's belly instead of the City of the Dead." Zanurals executed signsindicating anxiety."Or else they would find themselves deceived by the Tsia. We do not have themeans for accomplishing such a journey, but there are those who do.""I don't see them here," another Zanpral called. Laughter punctuated hisobservation.Changrit gave him a withering look until the laughter had subsided. "A goodmerchant knows his responsibility to the Zanur, to his citystate. He knows alsohis own limitations. I am quite aware of mine as you must be of yours."But there is something new come recently to Tslamaina. I speak of the visitorsfrom the sky."Uncertain mutterings were silenced by demeHalmur. "I've heard much of them.What is it you propose, Changrit?""I can propose nothing unless recent information I have received from my agentscan be confirmed. Call for the ambassador to Losithi."There followed a long delay, made palatable by a regal midday meal, while RordeKelwhoang, ambassador to Losithi, was summoned from his offices in theMinistry. He arrived in due course, breathless and puzzled."For what reason have I been summoned in such haste, honored Zanural?"There was much respect among the members for the skills of the elderlyKelwhoang, just as there was in the Zanur of Losithi. Po Rabi's main rival intrade and commerce, it lay several hundred legats to the southwest andcontrolled the western end of the Skatandah Delta, the great marshland formed bythe emptying of the Skar River into the Groalamasan.Midway between the two citystates but slightly nearer Losithi lay the stationestablished by the strange visitors from the sky. Their science was muchadvanced and gain was to be made there for those who knew how to ferret it out.The visitors were carefully courted by diplomats from Losithi as well as PoRabi."Tell the Zanur," Changrit instructed the ambassador, "what you told me severalweeks ago concerning the visitors from the sky. The .new visitors.""New visitors?" DemeHalmur frowned, as did several other Zanural. "You meanthat more of the large bug creatures have arrived on Tslamaina?"Kelwhoang looked toward his sponsor Changrit uncertainly, but received agesture of openness by way of reply."All are friends here today, Kelwhoang. Speak freely."The ambassador nodded. "There came upon us a day rainy and cold, which forced meto-"DemeHalmur interrupted him. "Our time is valuable, Kelwhoang. Spare us thepoetry.""Forgive me, Moyt. I was taken aback by this sight." He indicated the monstrousbar of sunit."Understandable. Your attention to potential profit marks you well in our sight.Still, make your tale concise."Kelwhoang gestured in agreement. "Members of the Zanur. As you know, I make itmy business during the long journey between our city and Losithi to take note ofall of interest that transpires within the Delta. The visitors from the sky keepto their buildingthatwalksthewater, but I have cultivated my acquaintancewith them."Thus did I learn that five weeks ago allies from the sky arrived among them. Iwas astonished to learn that these newcomers look not like those who built theskystation, but much like us." That bit of news prompted gasps of astonishmentfrom the Zanurals."You mean," Guptinak asked, "that they are not as horrible to look upon as thelarge bugthings?""No," said Kelwhoang, gratified by the reaction his revelation had produced."They are much like Mai, only taller, taller even than a Tsla but not so largeas a Na. They have more body hair and their features are sharper and morepronounced, rougher and not as beautiful. They suffer from our climate much asdoes a Tsla, unlike their bugthing friends who are quite comfortable in theDelta. One male and one female, similar enough to us that at a distance onecould almost think them Mai."I did not meet them myself, only saw them conversing with the Moyt of thestation, the one called," and he struggled with the difficult alien name,"Porlezmozmith. Later I was able to talk with her and she remarked on thesimilarity between us and the new visitors. Truly the resemblance is strikingbetween us. These newcomers' faces have smaller eyes, larger ears that are greatcurved winged things visible even at a distance. Oh yes, they have but fivedigits on their hands and feet instead of the normal six, even as the bugthingshave but four, though they have that extra pair of arms and legs. It may be thatthese new visitors are more akin to us than the Tsla or the Na, with whom weshare our world.""All fascinating," demeHalmur said, "but how does this profit us?""Tell them what the bugthing told you his new guests have planned," Changritprompted."Ah. I was told they brought with them a wondrous magical boat which walks uponthe water more freely than the station the visitors first built. It does notdepend on wind or muscle for power but carries its own energy inside it. I wastold that it can travel at great speed Upriver, against the current of theSkar."More mutters of astonishment rose from the assembled members. "We've heard muchof the wonders brought by the visitors from the sky," demeHalmur said. "Isense your thought, Changrit, but surely they would not sell us this amazingcraft?""Never," the ambassador admitted. "I have been told many times by the MoytPorlezmozmith that they can have only the briefest of contacts with us and thatthey are forbidden by their own laws to sell us any of the advanced tools andinstruments they have brought with them.""No profit in that," one of the Zanural grumbled. "Truly these visitors arealien.""These newcomers who are like us," the ambassador continued, "are scholars, notmerchants. They intend to make a study of the Barshajagad, the canyon whichcradles our river Skar.""Now that makes sense," demeHalmur commented. "There is always profit in goodscholarship." He made a sign to invoke the spirit of knowledge and insight, butfinally had to ask, "What is in your mind, Changrit?""These visitors from the sky still know little of our world. Beyond the Deltathey are ignorant, for all their knowledge. They know nothing of the ways of theSkar, or of the Hotiek or the Aurang or any of the lesser tributaries. They knownothing of the peoples who inhabit the canyon. They will need guides.""Ah!" DemeHalmur's expression was fed by enlightenment. "Friendly locals toshow them the way.""Yes, to show them the way.""And good friends that we are, it behooves us as the rulers of Po Rabi to findvolunteers to assist them?""Every chance we can find," Changrit agreed firmly."How do we know that these strange creatures have any interest in traveling upthe Skar farther than the town of Ibe?" a Zanural wondered aloud."We do not," Changrit admitted. "How does one divine the intentions of aliens?Yet if they are as similar in appearance to us as Ambassador deKelwhoang says,who is to say that their motivations are different?" He looked away from thetable. "You've no idea how far they intend to go Upriver, Kelwhoang?""No. The bugMoyt was not too clear. He did say a long journey. Certainlyfarther than Ibe.""Then our course is clear, Zanural." DemeHalmur leaned forward the better toemphasize his words and gestures. "We must do our utmost to ensure that thesevisitors make use of our good intentions and accept the aid that the people ofPo Rabi will freely extend to them.""Assuming they accept," said another member. "What if they do not travel to theregion of our hopes? What if they reach Kekkalong and decide they have journeyedfar enough?""Then perhaps," Changrit murmured quietly, "they might at that time be persuadedto loan us the use of their wondrous craft. I'm certain that the loquacious RordeKelwhoang will employ all his admirable verbal talents to ensure that theimmediate requirements of the Zanur are met.""I shall do my best, of course." The ambassador performed an elaborate gesturedesigned to invoke the spirits of all the great diplomats of the past. Heglanced sideways at the huge, gleaming mass of solid sunit."However, if I am to do my best, honored ones, it would help if you couldexplain to me the reasons behind my mission. Would I be remiss in assuming ithas something to do with the astonishing wealth that lies next to a dead Mai inthe center of this chamber?""You would not," demeHalmur said. "Seat yourself."Gesturing his thanks at the honor, deKelwhoang joined the table as Changritrelated the events of the morning.The subsequent discussion and laying out of plans lasted well into the evening.The heat of day was followed by the heat of night and still the Zanur sat inextended session. Bureaucrats and guards gossiped and wondered, but still therulers of Po Rabi remained sequestered in their chamber.It was only when they finally adjourned in the early hours of the morning thatsomeone thoughtfully directed attendants to remove the stiffened corpse of thatsoon to be memorialized merchantexplorer Bril dePanltatol. Great care hadalready been taken to ensure that a proper share of his legacy was safelytransported to the city treasury.Greater care and craft might make possible the seemingly impossible task ofsecuring for the Zanur of Po Rabi the rest of his legacy.Chapter TwoEtienne Redowl was sick of measuring current flow. He was sick of taking samplesfrom the river bottom. Recording the ebb and flow of sandbars and mudbanks nolonger interested him, nor did watching the analyzer spit out graphs listinggravel composition mineral by mineral.But there was nothing else for him to do at Steamer Station.It seemed as if they'd been waiting for permission from the native authoritiesto begin their Upriver expedition since the beginning of time. Anyone whothought the bureaucracy of Commonwealth Science and Exploration difficult topenetrate should have to cope once in his life with the byzantine machinationsof the Mai of Tslamaina. The station's location between the rival citystates ofPo Rabi and Losithi only made it tougher to obtain the necessary clearances.There was no pushing the matter, however. Where a Class FourB world wasinvolved, Commonwealth policy was strict. Porlezmozmith, the officer in chargeof Steamer Station, was sympathetic to the Redowls' plight, but not to the pointof challenging regulations. So the husbandwife team sat and sweated and waited.Etienne paused on the ladder long enough to adjust the thermosense on hisfishnet shirt and shorts. Minuscule cooling units woven into the materialstruggled to cool his skin. He checked his wrist telltale. A fairly mildafternoon, with the temperatures hovering around a hundred and twenty degreesand the humidity a mere ninety percent. He longed for the coolness of theirquarters on the station platform above.The thranx found the temperature a mite hot, but the humidity suited them justfine. That was why they'd been chosen to staff the only Commonwealth outpost.For them it was almost like home. For humans it was pure misery.Survey should have named it misery, Etienne thought. Instead it had been namedfor its geology. That geology and the unique civilization it had produced werethe reasons why Etienne and his wife Lyra had braved endless application formsand sweltering weather in order to be the first humanx scientists allowed towork beyond the boundaries of the outpost. Or such would be the case if thenative authorities ever gave them the okay to travel Upriver. Until thathappened they were stuck at the station. Months of waiting for permission toarrive, endless days spent battling the terrible heat and humidity had sappedhis initial enthusiasm. Lyra was bearing up better beneath the daytodaydisappointment, but even she was starting to wilt.He forced himself to see Tslamaina as it looked from high orbit. The refreshing,cooler image reminded him again why they'd come to the world its discoverers hadnamed Horseye. Lyra had no room for flippancy in science and preferredTslamaina, the native name, but the image certainly fitted.Eons ago the planet had collided with a meteor of truly impressive dimensions.In addition to creating the vast circular basin that was now filled by theGroalamasan Ocean, the concussion had badly cracked the planet's surface. Thatsurface, high above the single worldocean, comprised the Guntali Plateau.Water running off the Guntali for hundreds of millions of years patientlyenlarged those surface cracks, eventually resulting in the most spectacularriver canyons ever encountered. The combination of geological andclimatological factors necessary to produce such awesome scenery had not beenduplicated on any other of the explored worlds.Of all the river canyons by far the greatest was the Barshajagad, which in theMai language meant "TongueoftheWorld." More than two thousand kilometers wideat the point where it finally emptied into the ocean, it reached northward fromits delta some thirteen thousand kilometers to vanish in the cloudshroudednorth polar wastes. From the edge of the Guntali, a few hundred kilometersUpriver, to the surface of the slowly moving river Skar, the Barshajagaddropped approximately eight thousand meters in elevation. Where mountains rosefrom the plateau, the disparity was even greater.So wide was the Barshajagad at its mouth, however, that a traveler on thesurface of the river could not see where the gradually ascending slopes finallyreached the plateau to east and west.The, result was an astonishing variety of life forms organized into ecologicalregions not by latitude but by elevation, as nature made use of the differenttemperature and moisture zones that climbed the canyon walls.Three different intelligent mammalian races had appeared on Tslamaina, eachconfined to its own portion of the river canyons. The intensively competitiveand primitively capitalistic Mai ruled the ocean and the river valleys. Abovethem in the more temperate zone between three thousand and fiftyfive hundredmeters were the Tsla. Clinging to the frozen rims of the canyons and freelyroaming the Guntali were the carnivorous Na. Or so the locals claimed. None ofthem had ever seen a Na, and since Mai society was infused with a healthyrespect for and belief in thousands of spirits, demons, and ghosts, Lyra Redowl,circumspect xenologist that she was, was reluctant to give instant recognitionto the existence of this legendary third intelligent race.Temperature and pressure and not national or tribal boundaries kept the races ofTslamaina separated. That made for a sociocultural situation every bit as uniqueas the local geology, as Lyra was fond of pointing out to her husband.Their hope, the dream that had brought them across many lightyears, was to takea hydrofoil all the way up the Skar to its source, making a thorough study ofthe geology and the people of the planet as they advanced. But Tslamaina was aClass FourB world. That meant they could only proceed with the natives'permission, and that permission still was not forthcoming, despite repeatedanxious requests.So Etienne had been confined to examination of the delta soils and the geologyaround the station which was, in a word, flat. Lyra was better off, able tovisit with those fisherfolk who sometimes stopped at the station to chat and toattempt to steal anything not bolted down. Station personnel never venturedreprisals for the attempts. For one thing the attempts were always unsuccessful.For another, it was part of the local culture.Six months had passed since the shuttle had deposited the Redowls at SteamerStation and Etienne was close to calling off the expedition. Only the knowledgethat they would be the first to make an Upriver journey kept him from bookingpassage out on the next supply run.It would help if Lyra would learn to keep her frustration to herself, but no,not her. She'd declaim long and loud to anyone within earshot. The thranx weretoo polite to tell her to shut up, and Etienne had tried many times and failed.After the first month he simply gave up and tuned her out. It wasn't hard. Hehad been doing it for twenty years. Eight or nine years ago the conflict mighthave ended in divorce, but now they had too much invested in each other.Convenience and familiarity balanced out a lot of bickering, though sometimeshe wondered.Something was itching sharply on the back of his neck. Holding onto the ladderwith his right hand he reached up and back with his left, coming away withsomething soft and flexible. He eyed it with intense distaste.It was as long as his hand and thick as his thumb, completely transparentexcept for the dark maroon color spreading slowly backward from the head. As heheld it firmly it wiggled and twisted in search of the blood so recentlydiscovered and quickly vanished.The dangui was an elegant local bloodsucker related to the annelid worms butpossessed of a cartilaginous backbone which when flexed allowed it to jump atits intended host. It turned red as it filled up with blood. It looked like aglass leech and seemed to find human plasma perfectly palatable, much toEtienne's enduring disgust.Forcing down the gorge rising in his throat he flung it as \_far away as hecould, heard the faint plop when it hit the murky green water. He felt the backof his neck and his hand came away bloody. First stop inside the station wouldbe for antibiotic spray.The metal stilts on which Steamer Station rested carried a mild electric chargeto discourage infestation by such local pests though they rarely troubled thethranx because of their tough exoskeletons. Etienne dealt in smooth, hardsurfaces and clean stone and didn't care much for biology, particularly when itchose to get personal.High thin clouds blocked out some of the ultraviolet, but Etienne was stillgrateful for his naturally dark coloring, a legacy of ancient Amerindians. Alighterskinned human would quickly fry under Tslamaina's relentless sun. Thoughhe'd been outside less than ten minutes, the sweat was pouring off him. Thecooling meshwork shirt and shorts were all that kept him halfway comfortable.Even the climate might be bearable if only they'd receive permission from thenative authorities. The frustration of waiting was worse than any heat, he musedas he made his careful way up the ladder.Behind him tall fat pseudopalms thrust enormous green fronds over the lazywater. Table tree roots exploded sideways from their trunks before dipping downinto the mud. Nappers, tiny crustaceans with multihued shells, filled the airwith their doglike barking.Little relief beyond the shade it offered was available inside the station sincethe internal temperature was set to accommodate thranx and not humans. A hundredwas certainly cooler than onetwenty, but the humidity was unchanged. Onlywhen he entered the rooms reserved for less tolerant visitors did the humiditybegin to drop. By the time he reached their quarters, station machinery hadlowered the temperature fortyfive degrees and sucked out more than half thehumidity.Lyra Redowl barely glanced up at him. She sprawled in a chair studying herclipboard viewer."Anything interesting?""Glass leech bit me.""Bad?""I doubt it." He moved to a cabinet and removed a tiny spray can, dosed the backof his neck. "The Skar flows into the Groalamasan, the Groalamasan goes roundand round and it comes out here." He gestured toward the lavatory.She put her viewer aside, spoke coolly. "I don't blame you for being upset,Etienne. I'm as pissed off as you are. But there's nothing we can do exceptwait. Make an effort not to take it out on me, okay?""I'm not taking anything out on you," he said exasperatedly. "Why do you takeeverything I say so personally? Can I help it if this damn delay's got merunning around like a monkey chewing his tail?""You have to work on your selfcontrol. You'll end up with an ulcer.""I keep control of myself!" He struggled to match his tone to his assertion. "Ihaven't got time to argue with you, Lyra. ""I agree." Her eyes moved back to the viewer.He sighed, counted quietly to eight, then plopped down in one of the thinchairs. "What are you buried in now?""Varofski on multiple societal interactions.""Haven't you read that already?""Twice. This is my third time around. What do you suggest I do? Squat here andwatch thranx shadowplays on the tridee?""It would be a change, but I don't want to argue about it.""You never do. That's why I'm always amazed how regularly you end up doing so."Suddenly she looked up at him and smiled. It was a little forced, but welcomenonetheless."Listen to us, fighting like a couple of idiot children. Etienne, I'm just asfrustrated as you are. What the hell is keeping those Moyts from giving ustravel clearance?""Who knows." Rising from the chair, Etienne crossed to the kitchen area andthumbed the switch on the left side of the refrigeration unit. It dispensedfruit juice, heavily salted and sugared. The cooking facilities were nearby butrarely utilized. The Redowls preferred to take most of their meals cold;Tslamaina didn't encourage consumption of piping hot food.Glass in hand he walked over to stand behind his wife's chair, rested a hand onher shoulder as he sipped at the icy liquid."Truce, Lyra?"She reached up to pat his hand. "Truce. Can't we do something, Etienne?""Not a damn thing. You know the law. We're wholly dependent on the whims of thelocals." She nodded, returned to her reading.He never tired of looking at her. After twenty years he still found herphysically alluring. Lately she looked even better than usual, having lostweight since their arrival. Tslamaina would sweat you down to skeleton size ifyou weren't careful."I don't understand the delay," she said. "I've talked to the local fisherfolkand traders and they just give me the local variations of a bemused shrug. Fromeverything I've been able to learn both these citystates are hotbeds of newideas and rapid development. You'd think one or the other would be eager togrant us permission to travel Upriver.""I'm sure they would," Etienne agreed, "if we could promise them something solidin return. Unfortunately, the regulations protecting Class FourB worldsprohibit any commerce with natives. No introduction of advanced technologyallowed from external sources, and that's what they want to buy from us. Theusual nasty cycle. The Moyts would like to grant us clearance for Upriver travelbut they want payment in return. We can't pay them what they want becauseregulations forbid it. So here we sit, and sweat.""Too true. How's your neck?"He felt at the shallow bite. "Filthy little monsters. I don't mind dealing withsomething big and toothy, but I hate parasites.""Let me give you another shot of antibio." She put down her viewer and reachedfor the spray. A cool dampness caressed his neck a second time."There," she said with satisfaction. "This is no place to pick up an infection,no matter how interesting. We've been lucky so far. Not that we've spent allthat much time outside." She hesitated. "Etienne, I'm ready to start chewing thefurniture again. We've got to get out of hereTell you what. Why don't we checkout the boat?"He made a face. "We're going to wear it out before we get started, checking thesystems so often.""No, I mean really check it out." There was suppressed excitement in her voice."Let's take it out for a run on the open sea. It's always cooler on theGroalamasan.""Porlezmozmith will be miffed. She'll call us down for undue exposure ofadvanced technology to a presteam society.""Crap. The local fisherfolk have seen us testing it lots of times."Etienne grinned down at her. "Woman, you have a devilish sense of humor.""It helps, when you spend your life trying to make sense of other people'scultures. Come on. It'll be fun. And a change."Etienne was feeling better by the time they left their quarters. They threwtogether a cold lunch of native edibles. The consistency of the flat,crackerlike bread was unusual but the taste was delightful.From their quarters it was a short walk down to Level Three, the lowest of thestation, where the hydrofoil hung silent in its bay, a sleek deltashape builtof ultralight metals. A compact electric jet protruded from beneath the stern,looking like the mouthparts of a dragonfly nymph. The hydrofoil was anexquisite bit of engineering and despite its fragile appearance, could take aconsiderable pounding. Inside, the craft was spacious and efficient.Ignoring the occasional stare of passing thranx maintenance workers, Etienneoperated the bay controls. With a soft whirr the double doors parted, revealingthe turgid mix of fresh and salt water that lay twenty meters below.Bow and stern couplers lowered the hydrofoil toward the water. Lyra was alreadyon board, stowing their lunch and running the autoprogram through diagnosticfunctions. Disdaining the ladders, Etienne wrapped arms and legs around one ofthe coupler cables and slid down to the boat. A touch on one switch sent thecouplers upward, leaving the boat floating free on the water of the delta.A plexalloy dome enclosed the cockpit where Lyra waited in the pilot's chair.The engine came to loud life as the photovoltaic coating of the boat worked toensure that the fuel cells which supplied power were fully charged. The airconditioning greeted him with a blast of deliciously cold air.Lyra nudged the accelerator and turned the wheel. They slid from the shade ofthe station and headed south. Soon they were clear of the last platform treesand high marsh grasses and out on the open ocean.Chapter ThreeThe steady trade breeze caught them, and the humidity on deck dropped quickly toa tolerable eighty percent while the temperature plunged to oneohfive. Etiennetook advantage of the much cooler weather to move out on deck. Occasionally heturned to smile and wave to Lyra, who remained inside the transparent domehandling the instruments.Intakes mounted on the front of each foil sucked in water and fed it to theelectric jet astern. The jet forced the water through twin highpressurenozzles, sending the boat skimming over the surface at high speed. Thehydrofoil had been designed to function as a river runner but could handle openocean reasonably well as long as the waves didn't crest dangerously high.Behind them the Skatandah Delta was a long line of green marking the horizon.Lyra sent them flying southwestward, toward the great citystate of Losithi.They were careful to stand well out to sea, clear of the heavy commerce thatcrowded the waters beyond the harbor.A thousand kilometers and more to north and south, the eightthousandmeterhighcliffs of the Guntali Plateau probed the sky. From the LosithiPo Rabi area,distance and planetary curvature made them invisible, though there were placeswhere the cliffs dropped sheer to the sea, a sight unequaled on any otherinhabited world. Only where rivers like the Skar had cut their way to the oceanwere cultivation and urbanization possible.Lyra's voice sounded through the intercom membrane built into the cockpit dome."I've got something on the scanner, a few degrees to starboard. Want to runover and check it out?""Sure, I want to check it out. What Porlezmozmith doesn't know won't hurt her."He clung to the railing and watched the foils slit the surface of the sea.Lyra smiled back at him as she angled the boat slightly to starboard. The movingdot on the scanner was soon within sighta tripledecked trimaran, a bigmerchant cruiser and a fi ne example of Mai shipbuilding. Her three hulls rodelow in the water, bursting with trade goods gathered from her journey around thecircular sea. If she wasn't based in Losithi she would have just arrived fromdistant Ko Phisi and before that, Suphum. From here she would move on to Po Rabion the other side of the Skatandah, thence around to Chienba and points east.She was making good speed with the wind at her back. The trade winds movedeternally clockwise around the circumference of the Groalamasan. Only in thevicinity of the warm southern pole could a native captain test confused windsand sometimes shorten the homeward journey around the great ocean.Gesturing and chattering, sailors were already lining the upper decks andscrambling into the rigging for a look at the strange alien vessel. Moreexciting to a Mai seaman than the hydrofoil's silhouette was the fact that itmoved at impossible speed and against the wind, not to mention without sails. AsLyra raced the hydrofoil around the massive merchantman for a thorough look,Mai sailors and passengers rushed from deck to deck to keep them in view.After recording the merchantman for their journal, the Redowls passed among afleet of shallowhull fishing boats reaping the rich harvest of life thatthrived where salt water mixed with fresh.As they slowed to thread more easily between the first islets and clusters ofpseudopalms, one large craft suddenly moved toward them. Its occupantsbrandished eager expressions together with long gaffs, axes,, and pikes. TheMai would gladly have slit the throats of the two humans in order to gainpossession of the invaluable hydrofoil. Etienne experienced unscientificthoughts as Lyra nudged the accelerator and left the wouldbe pirates in theirwake."Nasty little bastards," he muttered as he stared astern."That's not being very understanding of a primitive culture, Etienne," Lyrasaid disapprovingly."All right, so they're primitive nasty little bastards.""Avaricious, not vicious," she insisted. "You must try to view them in light oftheir society's laws. A typically primitive plutocratic culture where personalwealth signifies an individual's social standing. You can't let your own viewpoint affect your observations.""Like hell I can't. Porlezmozmith feels the same way about the Mai.""She's an administrator, a bureaucrat, a bytepusher who knows nothing ofxenology and cares less.""All I said was that some of their ingrained habits could stand somemodification.""Environment dictates their actions, not personal choice.""What environment?" He made a sweeping gesture toward the nearing line of hightrees. "This is a warm, lush land. How do you go from that to a highly combativesociety?""They sublimate most of a natural aggressive drive in competition for commerceand trade. Isn't that better than organized war between the citystates?""It's healthier, sure, but from the standpoint of what's civilized there'ssomething to be said for slugging it out with your neighbor toe to toe insteadof trying to steal him blind.""Their attempts at thievery are governed by a strict code of rules, Etienne,which is more than you can say for war.""Leave me to the structure of the planetary crust, not Mai society. It'scleaner.""You mean simpler, don't you? There are so few variables in geology. It makes iteasy for you, but I don't envy you. There's no personality, no joy in studyingthe daily activities of a rock.""Oh no? Let me tell you ..."It went on in that vein for another few minutes before Lyra finally ended it, asshe always did. So many of their discussions lately seemed to end that way."Well if you're going to act like that then I'm just not going to talk about itanymore." And she turned her gaze resolutely away from him, directing herattention to the scanner.He fumed silently all the way back to the station.A services officer was waiting for them in the boat bay. Etienne shinnied up acable, prepared to send down the couplers. The officer moved to stand next tohim."Excuse me." Her symbospeech was rough and unpolished, a good sign that Horseyemight be her first offworld post. She clung with tru and foothands to a nearbypillar and her four legs were spread wide. Her whole body shied away from theopen bay.That was understandable. Thranx were good floaters but poor swimmers and theirbreathing spicules were located on the Bthorax below the neck. A standingthranx could drown in shallow water while still being able to see and hearclearly. That was the only reason why Tslarnaina was not a popular duty stationamong the thranx. The climate was perfect but much of the terrain threatening.So Etienne didn't ask why the officer was clinging to the pillar for dear life,understood why nothing more was said until the hydrofoil had been drawn up intothe bay and the double doors closed beneath it."What is it?" he finally inquired as Lyra moved to join them. She adjusted herhalter top, did not look at him. Her expression was frosty."An ambassador from Po Rabi is due to arrive shortly," the officer announced."Word has come ahead via courier boat. You have been granted permission totravel Upriver through the Delta along those branches of the Skar controlled bythe Moyt of Po Rabi."Etienne let out a whoop and did a back flip, much to the interest of the thranxworking in the bay area. Such a gymnastic feat was beyond them. Lyra stood andsmiled at the officer. The argument that had accompanied them back to thestation was completely forgotten."It's about time," she murmured. "Did the courier say anything about the longdelay we've suffered, why or for what reason?""Nothing additional was mentioned," the officer said, adding a brief gesture ofnegativity coupled with thirddegree empathy."I'll bet I know what finally happened," Etienne declared. "Steamer Station'sactually situated a little closer to Losithi than it is to Po Rabi. They musthave decided that it was time to forget about hard bargaining and grantclearance before we struck some sort of deal with the Losithians.""I am sorry to dump dirt on your theory," the thranx said apologetically, "butit would appear they still insist on some kind of token payment.""But we've been through that a hundred times," Lyra pointed out. "They wantadvanced technology and we're not allowed to give it to them. Don't tell methey've decided to accept our nontech trade goods?""No. Commander Porlezmozmith has devised a method of satisfying them withoutcontravening any of the regulations governing commerce with Class FourBnatives."Many areas of high ground do not benefit from seasonal floods of the Skar andso do not receive deposits of fresh silt or yield the crops they otherwisemight. The commander has reviewed this with representatives of Po Rabi and theyunderstand the implications quite well."Salvenkovdew, who is in charge of the station's chemistry section, has agreedto rig equipment to produce highquality natural fertilizers for such highlandfields. Under current regulations this type of fertilizer does not qualify as ahightech commodity, so it can be traded to the natives, and the Po Rabians haveagreed to accept it as payment.""Good old Porlez!" Etienne exclaimed. "She's been working on our problem allalong and never breathed a word of it.""Probably didn't want to get our hopes up," Lyra said. "I hope the form ofpayment isn't to be taken as a comment on the value of our expedition.""Who cares? We're on our way at last! Thanks," he told the officer. Twinantennae dipped and bobbed by way of gracious reply. "When's this ambassadorsupposed to get here?""The courier could not be certain. Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps several days fromtomorrow. I am much gladdened for you both.""Thanks again. We've been ready to leave for months, though I suppose we canfind a few lastminute things to take care of.""If you will excuse me." The thranx officer released her iron grip on thesupport pillar and slowly backed clear of the closed bay doors. She looked muchhappier after she had moved well away from the potential gap.Deep in conversation, Etienne and Lyra returned to their quarters. Workingsmoothly they began packing a motile with personal belongings and otherlastminute items. They were going to be away from civilization for a long timeand there would be no returning for a forgotten chip or bit of clothing.At least they could consume native foods. That left a lot of room on board forother equipment, extra medical supplies, and tridee cubes.Stowed in one of the bottom compartments was their coldweather gear, untouchedsince its arrival on Tslamaina. They would need the suits when they entered thenorth polar latitudes. After the relentless heat of the lower Barshajagad, bothlooked forward to some cheerful freezing.Two days passed before the ambassador's ship appeared. His retinue was as modestin size and appearance as the vessel which bore them. Ror deKelwhoang lookeddisappointed when he was informed he could not bring any of his escort onto thestation, but accepted the determination with diplomatic grace.In its own modest way the ambassador's official craft was impressive enough.Hired rowers held their doublebladed oars at attention as the ambassadordebarked, though they were unable to keep their eyes from wandering toward thestrange alien castle that stood high above the water on massive metal legs.The meeting took place on a deck that encircled the station's lower levels.Etienne and Lyra waited in their briefs and tops. Tslamaina was no place forformal wear.The ambassador wore little m ore than the curious humans. His cache du sex wasopaque, as was the custom, and his upper garment of silver and coppercoloredthreads concealed little despite covering him from neck to ankles. It made for avery flashy nonexistent costume. As Lyra had explained, the composition of thematerial as well as the intricate weave told a knowledgeable onlooker much aboutthe wearer's status, as well as the time of year and what holiday it might be. Agood Mai tailor could make much out of little.Lyra found such details of native life fascinating. Etienne bore her enthusiasmstoically. He was interested in minerals, not millinery.The Mai ambassador spread his arms wide and turned a slow circle. The movementwas fluid but slow, reflective of his advanced age. Porlezmozmith, who had methim before, performed the formal introduction. Her Mai was competent but couldnot match that of the Redowls; that was due to the thranx larynx, not a lack oflinguistic talent."Ror deKelwhoang, our visitors who would travel your lands, Etienne and LyraRedowl.""It is our pleasure to greet you," Lyra added. "We look forward with endlessdelight to exploring your magnificent country. We are endlessly grateful for thepermission to do so granted by your Zanur on behalf of your most powerful andrespected citystate."The ambassador acknowledged the elegant tribute, which Lyra had rehearsed untoboredom, with a slight gesture signifying acceptance. His soft, perceptive eyesseemed fixed on Lyra. That was understandable. She stood eye to eye with theambassador, which made her tall for a Mai female but not a grotesque scarecrowof a giant like her husband. It was the first time the ambassador had set eyeson the new aliens and he was evidently entranced by the similarities. Etiennehad to stifle his amusement at the ambassador's unabashed preoccupation. By Maistandards Lyra's proportions were nothing short of awesome."It is with delight that I bring greetings and good wishes from NajokedemeHalmur, Moyt of Po Rabi. It has been decided after much careful discussionand agreement on a contract of exchange for certain materials to permit you freepassage throughout all the vast territories controlled by our citystate.""I'm glad everything's worked out," Etienne replied. His Mai was more colloquialthan Lyra's, but the ambassador didn't seem to mind the informality of thealien's speech."What route will you be taking?"Etienne smiled disingenuously. He and Lyra had debated the possibility oftreachery by the locals and had decided it would be better to appear a littleimpolite and conceal the exact details of their itinerary."We're not certain. Here and therewe travel where our thirst for knowledgedraws us."Experienced diplomat that he was, deKelwhoang did not react to the probableevasion. "I envy you your freedom. Alas, my work rarely allows me to vary from adesignated course. I have been told of the marvelous devices you possess whichenable you to find your way at night and in bad weather as clearly as incloudless daytime. Nevertheless, we would be remiss in our duty and it would bean offense to our honor if you were come to distress attempting to work your wayinto the main channel of the great Skar." Etienne was immediately on guard."It is also necessary that you carry more than signed documents, which can beforged, to prove that you travel under the protection of all Po Rabi. That waythe ignorant bandits and suspicious villagers you may encounter, many of whomhave not mastered the art of reading, will allow you to pass freely throughtheir lands."The ambassador turned and called over the railing toward his boat. A momentlater two Mai appeared at the top of the stairs. Their fishnet attire was plainand their attitude deferential.Etienne's first thought was that they constituted some formal part of theambassador's entourage, but such was not the case."These will be your guides as well as your guarantors of safe passage,"deKelwhoang announced. He bade each in turn step forward anti make gestures ofobeisance before the humans.The male's name was Homat, the female's Irquit. No honorific "de" prefix,Etienne noted. Both wore simple face makeup and had their long hair bound backin single braids in contrast to the ambassador's elegant but thin coiffure.After bending and turning, both extended their hands outward toward theRedowls, palms upward.After a moment's hesitation Lyra reached out and pressed her own palms to eachproffered pair, palm down. The much longer Mai fingers extended well up againsther wrist. Each of the six fingers ended in a soft fleshy pad. There were nonails, no residual claws.Then she stepped back and drew her husband and Porlezmozmith aside, spoke insymbospeech. "What's your opinion, Commander? I don't really want these twoalong, but I don't want to offend this ambassador either, especially since we'renot yet on our way.""You are the xenologist, Lyra. But it would be bad diplomacy to refuse thisoffer of aid. They come to you as official representatives of their city. Theydo not look threatening to me and may indeed prove useful on your journey. Yourmastery of Mai customs is far from complete.""If it was we wouldn't be disappearing Upriver for a few months. Etienne, what'syour opinion?""If it was up to me I'd rather not have them along, but as Porlez says, this isin the nature of an official presentation and I don't see how we can decline.I'm sure they're being sent along to learn everything they can about us fortheir Zanur, but I don't see much harm in that. They'll have to stay out on thestem deck anyway, away from any sensitive controls. The air conditioning in themain cabins would kill them in a few hours, or at least make them damnuncomfortable.""All right then, they can come along. As you point out, Porlez, they may be ofreal help. If they cause trouble we can hold the Po Rabian Zanur directlyresponsible. Instruments aside, it'll be nice to have along a couple of localswho are familiar with the territory. Maybe they know how to cook. It would benice when we enter colder climes to be able to enjoy a real hot meal instead ofwhat the exciter oven throws up at us.""I guess it's settled then," Etienne said, and couldn't resist adding, "Nice ofyou to ask for my opinion. Porlez, can you add anything?"An inflexible thranx face cannot look thoughtful, but the station commandersomehow managed to convey that feeling nonetheless."Just remember that when you pass above communicator range you're entirely onyour own. We have no aircar here and it would be hard for me to muster a rescueparty to come out after you under the best of circumstances. We do not care fortravel by boat, as you are aware.""We're aware of the dangers, as we were before we accepted this opportunity,"Lyra reminded her. "We're looking forward to our independence and we're quiteused to being on our own in difficult country.""I know, I know," Portezmozmith said. "I did not mean to sound as if I werechiding you. Once you pass out of communicator range I am no longer responsiblefor your safety, but I feel concern nonetheless."Etienne was touched. Such compassion was a widespread thranx attribute and oneof those characteristics that had deeply endeared them to humankind, but itstill had the power to surprise."All the more reason then," he replied, "to have native help with us that we cancount on. We'll have ample time to establish the reliability of our guestsbefore we've gone beyond communicator range." He nodded toward the two slightlynervous guides."It would seem you are aware of what awaits you," said the commander. "I canthink of nothing else to add." They all turned their attention back to thewaiting ambassador.For his part, Ror deKelwhoang had listened with interest to the harsh alienbabble, which contrasted sharply with the rapidfire sibilant singsong phrasesof his own tongue."We thank the Zanur," Lyra said carefully, "for its kind thoughts and acceptthis offer of assistance with open hearts." Expressions of relief appearedsimultaneously on the faces of deKelwhoang and the two guides. It would havegone hard on all if the offer had been refused.Lyra couldn't resist adding to her knowledge of Mai customs. "Etienne and I aremated in the sight of the Ocean and the Oceans of all worlds. What of you?""We are not mated," Irquit replied, instantly establishing herself as senior ofthe pair. "Neither to each other nor others. The Zanur feels," and she made adeferential gesture toward the ambassador, "that in light of the many dangersthat may lie in wait for us Upriver, it would be best if those with no familyties were honored by the opportunity to assist you.""How encouraging," Etienne said dryly."I'm curious," Lyra persisted, "did you two volunteer for this, or were you`honored' by choice of the Zanur?""Both apply." DeKelwhoang stepped in gracefully. "Not all are qualified toserve as guides on such a momentous journey. Both these two have traveled farpast the Skatandah. They have knowledge of its currents and its winds as wellas many of the peoples you will encounter. I assure you that we have gone togreat lengths to provide the most competent helpers Po Rabi has to offer."Not wanting to risk impugning the Zanur's motives, much less its methods, Lyraswitched to more mundane matters. "Irquit, we have some storage space availableon our boat. What will you need to bring with you?""Very little. Some simple kitchen utensils and a single change of clothing. Wewill eat your food or purchase our own along the way. The Zanur ha s provided uswith money. We can also cook for you, if you wish." Etienne looked pleased."Both Homat and I are accomplished foragers."Foraging was a word with many meanings in the Mai language, Lyra knew, referringto the ability to bargain sharply, scavenge efficiently, or steal withoutgetting caught."We also," Homat said, speaking for the first time, "brought no weapons with us,having been told that should we meet hostile peoples you would manage ourdefense. We did not wish to bring killing instruments with us.""Very thoughtful of you." Clearly Irquit is in charge of the little company,Lyra thought. But there was a natural shyness about Homat she found appealing."That's all settled, then. If you would like to come help us with our loading-"No thank you," Irquit said hastily. "If you do not object we would much preferto remain outside." She was staring with wide Mai eyes at the imposing alienstructure. "If we are not to depart until tomorrow we can sleep outside, here,on mats.""Are you afraid?" Etienne asked thoughtlessly.Lyra shot him an angry glance, snapped in terranglo, "Don't you have any empathyfor alien psychology? Can't you see they're trying to cover their feargracefully?""I only thought that since these two are going to spend the next several monthsexploring strange country on a strange craft, they ought to start getting usedto strangeness as soon as possible.""They are not afraid," the ambassador said. He was picking his words withunusual care, Lyra thought. "There is something else.""What something else?" Lyra asked, still upset over her husband's lack ofsensitivity.Ror deKelwhoang looked uncomfortable. "I would rather not say.""Don't worry. We're scientists, here to study and learn about your ways and yourworld. We're just as interested in what you dislike as in what you like."DeKelwhoang did not look in Porlezmozmith's direction. "It is a question ofappearances, you see. We place much value on appearance. There is truth inappearances. It is only that we have certain evil spirits cast in the form of...""There is no need for apology." Porlezmozmith knew where the ambassador'sdesperate circumlocutions were heading. "We are used to shape prejudice." Shespoke to the two guides. "Remain by yourselves outside, if it is your wish."Strange, Etienne thought. How could the Mai fear the thranx simply because oftheir shape? Lyra would have told him to read his history."We do not mean to give offense," deKelwhoang said quickly."None taken," the commander assured him. "This is something we are used todealing with. I and my assistants will withdraw. It was a delight to meet you,Ambassador. You and your fellows are welcome anytime at Steamer Station. As arethose," she couldn't help adding undiplomatically but with illconcealedenjoyment, "of great Losithi."The ambassador stiffened at the mention of Po Rabi's rival but, good tacticianthat he was, retained his composure."Thank you."Porlezmozmith and the rest of the thranx contingent departed, leaving theRedowls alone on the deck with the Mai."We wish you much delight and good fortune in your studies," deKelwhoang saidearnestly. He did not look at the two guides. "We of Po Rabi hold scholarship inhigh regard, unlike the rulers of certain other citystates. We hope you may seeyour way clear to sharing your knowledge with us after you return.""That is our intention," Lyra told him. "This is your world and we are guestsupon it, and we are thankful for your assistance." She performed a gestureindicating great appreciation.Reassured, deKelwhoang turned and walked slowly down the stairway ramp. Waitinghands helped him back into the boat. On command the oarsmen dipped their paddlesand pushed away from the support pillar where they had tied up. The Redowlswatched for a while as the boat turned eastward. Then their attention shiftedto their unexpected guests. Homat and Irquit waited patiently, their smallbundles of cooking utensils and personal effects looking humble indeed."You're sure you want to sleep out here?""Please, deLyra," said Irquit, "we would feel more comfortable and would beout of everyone's way." She ventured the Mai smile, a thin parting of the lipsthat barely revealed the small fine teeth beyond. The corners of the mouth didnot turn up."As you prefer.""When are we to leave? We have heard so much of your wondrous boat and are mostanxious to begin this great adventure with you."Homat smiled too but said nothing. Not the loquacious type, Etienne decided. Notthat it mattered. The two Mai weren't coming along to provide casualconversation."Tomorrow morning," he informed them. "We're almost ready and it'll take just afew minutes to put our boat in the water."Irquit looked puzzled. "It is not in the water now?""No. It waits suspended by," he tried to shape his thicker lips and less bulbouscheeks to form the correct expression, "you'll see tomorrow. Showing is betterthan talking.""Yes, better than talking," Irquit agreed. She looked nervously toward the darkbuilding beyond, abode of grotesque bugthings. "We will be left alone outhere?""Yes." Lyra assured her. "Though our friends are used to a life beneath theground and have a more flexible worksleep cycle than we do, they still preferto sleep during the hours of darkness. No one will disturb you out here and youwon't be in the way."Irquit smiled again. "I am much delighted that we are going with you.""And we are much delighted to have you along," Lyra replied. "We'll see youagain in the morning.""Come morning." The two females exchanged the palmtopalm caress a second time,though Lyra was convinced she'd never be able to compensate properly for thelack of a sixth digit.Chapter FourThe sun was barely aloft as the hydrofoil was lowered into the calm waterbeneath the station. The readout that indicated air temperature clungdesperately to the hundred degree mark, and there was no chance it would dropany lower. The Mai stood at the base of the loading ramp which had been droppedto the boat's stem deck, looking chilled and uncomfortable.Afire with excitement that had been lost during months of waiting, the Redowlsignored them. When the last supplies had been taken aboard and stowed, theythought to offer moral assistance to their suddenly reluctant passengers.Homat and Irquit boarded warily, eyes darting anxiously about in search of sailsand oars. When Etienne tested the engine, both dashed for the rail and clungtightly to the unyielding metal.Lyra wiped morning sweat from beneath her sun visor and tried to comfort them."It's all right, it's only our engine. The device that moves the boat. It'sloud, but harmless. The spirits within are fully contained.""There are no sails," Irquit observed cautiously."Or oarsmen," Homat added."No, there aren't. We move by taking water in at the front of our craft andpushing it out the back much faster than we take it in.""What pushes the water?" Irquit asked, slowly releasing her grasp on therailing; it was undignified. Homat continued to hang on tightly."Our engine. It would take a long time to explain. Maybe once we're on our wayI'll try." She left Irquit with a reassuring smile and descended the ladder tothe upper cabin."DeLyra, I am fearful!" Irquit gave Homat a disapproving look, but Lyra pausedand eyed him pityingly."All right then, come on inside. But you won't like it."Homat followed her, Irquit tagging along because she didn't want to missanything. Once below, the truth of Lyra's words became immediately apparent. Ata cabin temperature of eighty degrees, both Mai found themselves shivering.Etienne greeted them in the transparent bubble of the cockpit, left explanationsto Lyra. Though she used simple terms and kept her science as basic as possible,it soon became clear that such concepts as electricity and lightemittingdiodes were beyond the comprehension of their guests.Before long Homat confessed, "I think I would rather be fearful than frozen,"and he led the retreat back toward the stern.Once outside he hopped around for a few minutes until his system warmed, thenbusied himself arranging personal effects on the deck. The Mai would sleep wherethey cooked, away from the terrible arctic climate their hosts appeared tofavor.Reassurances and explanations notwithstanding, it took Lyra another hour ofquiet coaxing to convince them that the boat wasn't going to devour them if theylet loose of the rail when Etienne raced the engine and sent the hydrofoilleaping forward. She showed them how the boat lifted clear of the surface on itstwin metal blades, explained how that enabled them to move Upriver at seventykilometers an hour.As time passed and the smoothness and exhilaration of the ride overcame initialfears, both Mai not only relaxed but began to enjoy the journey, though fromtime to time Homat made signs designed to keep them from striking a submergedlog or drifting helplessly toward the clouds.Villages crowded the shores of tiny treecovered islets. Astonished childrenbarely had time to shout before the hydrofoil had raced past their disbelievingelders. The boat's scanner picked out fishing craft ahead, enabling Etienne tosteer safely around them long before they came into view.Larger islands appeared as they moved farther Upriver. There the water hadreceded from the floods sufficient to permit planting of grains and otherfoodstuffs. Some villagers were engaged in crude but effective aquaculture, fromthe raising of crustaceans to the gathering of waterfowl. All looked askance atthe spirit b oat that roared past their homes and scattered birds and amphibiansin its wake.There seemed no end to the villages. According to the initial satellite surveys,the Skatandah Delta was the most densely populated section of Tslamaina, whichwas why it had been chosen as the site of the first Commonwealth outpost.As they traveled toward the equator the temperature intensified, if that waspossible, and no occasional sea breeze battled the humidity. Despite months ofacclimatization, the Redowls spent the majority of their time sequestered in theairconditioned interior of their craft. Merely to step out on deck risked ashock to the system. Homat and Irquit were right at home on the stern deck,however, and readily exchanged muted comments about the fragility of the humansystem.Homat made a game of trying to outguess the scanner, sitting on the bow andstaring at the water in search of submerged rocks or other obstacles. He alwayslost, but the acuity of his eyesight impressed both Etienne and Lyra.By analyzing the current and the debris the water carried, the hydrofoil'scomputer could make a decision on which branch to take, but it was still nice tohave Irquit confirm the choice. Without the computer or their guides they couldhave spent years wandering through the Skatandah in a futile attempt to locatethe main course of the Skar.As the days slid past in superheated study, the Redowls found themselves moreand more grateful for the presence of their two passengers. Having completelyovercome their fear of the boat, the Mai had revealed themselves as efficient,helpful, and good company. Lyra derived an added benefit from being able tostudy their reactions to new discoveries, additional information on Mai societywhich she regularly entered into her scientific log.They also turned out to be excellent cooks as well as sharp bargainers at thevillages where they stopped to purchase supplies, and except for periodic raidson the salt tablet and vitamin stores, the humans' stock of packaged foodremained nearly untouched.Irquit and Homat didn't try to hide their delight. Not only were they enjoyingthemselves, but Lyra knew they must be anticipating the honors that would cometheir way after they returned home. Their careers were made. She was pleased forboth of them.It was clear that those Mai fortunate enough to make their homes in the deltawere more content than their urbanized relations. Government control so far fromPo Rabi was lax, food was abundant, and there was little to inspire conflict.The social setup would change, Lyra suspected, once they left the lush Skatandahregion behind and emerged into the main channel of the Skar. Farming above thedelta would require more effort and extensive irrigation. Competition would betough, as it was within the citystate boundaries.The heat, the friendliness of the villagers, the lazy days passed in discussionand study produced in the Redowls a feeling of inner security. It was left toHomat to remind them that they were traveling on an alien world and not Earth'srelatively benign waters.Etienne had gone over the side and was leaning back against one of the curvingsupport struts that ran from hydrofoil to hull, trailing one leg in the coolwater and letting the spray from the foil wash over him. They were travelingfast enough to alleviate concern about glass leeches and he was completelyrelaxed beneath the refreshing spray.He gave Homat a curious glance as the Mai started to descend alongside him,carrying a metal prod. Now that he'd overcome his initial fear of the strangevessel, the shy native clambered nimbly over it while displaying an agilityEtienne could only envy.It was the prod that caught his eye. "What's that for?"Homat gestured with the metal. Etienne wiped spray from his face and lookedbehind him.Attached to the foil just beneath the glassy surface of the water and slowlycreeping toward Etienne's feet was a thin dark shape, three meters long and as.thick as his arm."Sandrush," Homat said curtly as he worked his way around the strut until he washolding on behind Etienne."Poisonous? Parasite?""No. Inhaler.""What does it inhale? Blood?""Inhale you." Etienne watched with interest as the Mai used the prod to pry openthe creature's wide round mouth. The teeth were small and curved inward. The jawdislocated itself and Homat spread the gape wide still. As they watched thesandrush began to fill helplessly with river water until it had swollen to fourtimes its normal size. The dull green membrane was evidently capable ofexpanding to hold prey larger than itself, and the meaning of Homat's wordsbecame ghoulishly clear.Eventually the pressure of the water proved too much for the powerful suckersthat lined the sandrush's ventral side. It relinquished its grip and fell awayastern. Etienne was suitably impressed."If it gets a hold of you, very bad," Homat explained unnecessarily. "It won'tlet go unless it dies and sandrush is very hard to kill. Swallow you whole." Heturned to climb back up toward the lower deck.Etienne wondered at the flexibility that would allow an animal to expand so farbeyond its normal size even as he thoughtfully removed his legs from the water.He wondered what other charming native fauna lurked just beneath the surface ofthe river, following the boat hungrily.Since there was little here for him to study he did most of the piloting,leaving Lyra free to record her impressions of village life and culture withinthe Skatandah. While the communities there differed little from those clusteredaround Steamer Station she continued to take her usual copious notes. Even thetiniest change in social structure or clothing or fishing methods was occasionfor excitement.Gradually the marshlands and islands of the delta began to fade behind them.Fewer platform trees and pseudopalmswere seen, more open water and less land. An unknowing observer might haveconcluded that the Redowls had taken a wrong turn and were heading once more outinto the open ocean.But the water they skimmed over was now almost entirely fresh. They had enteredthe main body of the Skar, a river large enough to make the Amazon or Nile orany of the other known rivers of the Commonwealth look like a meandering creek.From the center of the river it was impossible to tell you weren't traveling ona freshwater sea, because there was no sign of land to starboard or port. Beyondinvisible banks the cliffs that marked the edge of the Guntali rose unseentoward a cloudflecked sky.Etienne eased the hydrofoil to starboard until the shoreline hove into view.Thereafter they were able to cruise on autopilot, allowing Lyra to concentrateon her notetaking and leaving Etienne free to stare through the telescopemounted atop the observation mast. Numerous villages dotted the bank. Fartherinland he saw farming communities and small commercial centers. At the extremerange of the scope's resolving power he could discern the first gentle slopes,evidence that they really were traveling up a river canyon.While the temperature crept toward the hundred thirty mark in early afternoon,the humidity fell slightly. It required an effort to remain outside the boat'sairconditioned interior for longer than half an hour. Lyra spent much of hertime outside chatting with the owners of the small trading boats that pulledalongside whenever they stopped. While she dictated notes, Homat and Irquitbargained for provisions. Irquit did most of the trading while Homat attendedto the cooking, having mastered the electric oven the Redowls insisted he useinstead of the woodburning stove he had brought on board.They were then a thousand kilometers north of Steamer Station and the mouth ofthe delta, cruising the smooth back of the river Skar at a steady ninety kph.They had barely begun their journey.Everywhere the Mai citizenry was friendly and open, though more primitive thanthose of the advanced societies of the citystates that ringed the great worldocean. All was not peaceful and pastoral along the river, however. The presenceof village stockades and other fortifications hinted at sporadic conflict, andthere were those who were less than overawed by the peculiar visitors' advancedtechnology."Hon, I think you'd better have a look at this." Etienne kept his gaze on thescanner as he took the boat off autopilot."What is it?" Lyra's voice sounded over the intercom in the cockpit."Ships ahead, lots of 'em. Fishing boats by the computer image."".What's notable about that? I'm busy, Etienne.""Lyra, there are at least a hundred boats. That's not usual, is it?""No, it's not." The intercom went quiet for a moment and when she spoke againher tone was thoughtful instead of impatient. "Are you sure?""I'm quite capable of following the readouts," he said sarcastically. "It isn'tnormal, is it, for a fishing fleet to attain that size?""Not from what we've seen thus far, no, but maybe it's normal up here.""Why don't you ask Irquit?"A sigh whispered at him from the grid as she put her beloved work aside. "Isuppose I'd better."Irquit sat on the open rear deck of the hydrofoil, cleaning vegetables for thenext meal. Purple and maroon predominated, but that didn't detract from thetastiness, Lyra knew. Homat peeled tubers by hand."Irquit, my husband says that there are at least a hundred fishing boats in theriver ahead of us." Neither of the Mai expressed surprise at this calmrevelation, having already become familiar with much of the hydrofoil'sinstrumentation. They called the cockpit scanner the iron eye.Irquit looked uncertain. "That is more t han I have ever heard of fishing theriver. There are never so many grouped together down by Po Rabi. Is deEtiennecertain they are just fishermen?""We can't tell that through the iron eye. What could they be doing exceptfishing?""It could be a war fleet," Homat suggested tentatively."Out to attack one of the villages? This doesn't seem to be a poor area.""it is sometimes simpler," said Homat with innocent wisdom, "to take ratherthan to work, no matter how easy the work may be."She could have argued the point but it was not the time to engage in idlesociological speculation. "Tell that to my husband, Homat."He made a sign of acknowledgment and worked his way around the boat until he wasstanding outside the transparent dome of the cockpit. He could see Etienneclearly. Condensation was banished from the clear acrylic by the silent effortsof special air circulators. He leaned toward the speaking membrane."DeEtienne, I fear the many vessels you say lie ahead of us.""Is there any way you can tell what they're up to by looking at them?""Yes. If they have their gill nets out I think they're just fishing and notready for war. Gill nets cost too much to risk in a fight."Etienne considered. "Better tell Lyra to come forward, then. The iron eye can'tdistinguish something as wispy as nets. We'll need somebody to make visualconfirmation.""I'm already here, Etienne." The membrane picked up his wife's voice before shestepped into view. Irquit was with her. "You don't have to tell me my job.""I wasn't telling you your job," he snapped, "I just-never mind. We'll be ontop of them in a minute." He examined the crowded screen. "I'll have to slowdown or we're liable to run over somebody.""We've never run into more than four or five boats fishing together before. Toomuch competition," Lyra murmured. "It doesn't fit the established pattern."Masted wooden shapes were appearing on the horizon ahead.The roar of the electric jet dropped to a rumble and the hydrofoil's speeddropped radically until the hull once more broke water. As they began to passamong the component vessels, the fishing fleet was even more impressive up closethan it had appeared on the scanner.The craft that plied the warm waters of the Skatandah Delta rarely required themuscles of more than three or four fishermen. these great bargelike vessels eachboasted two dozen crew or more. They lay across the Skar in three rows, blockinga decent part of the river's considerable breadth, and were roped together.To Etienne's relief they clearly saw the huge gill nets strung between theships. Since they didn't drift with the current they must utilize heavy anchorsto hold them in place. Women and children manned the nets and lines alongsidethe men.Every tenth barge was a vast floating platform nearly as big as some of theoceangoing trimarans they'd encountered out in the Groalamasan. The reason fortheir extraordinary size, as well as for the number of fishing craft, soonbecame apparent. It had to do with the size of the catch.Some twenty vessels were swinging close together, bumping sides and full oforganized confusion as their crews strained at nets and lines. The water betweenbegan to froth and bubble, was finally broken by the emergence of an immenserainbowhued head. More glowing color breached the surface and the fisherfolkredoubled their efforts to haul in their whalesized catch."Arwawl!" Homat exclaimed excitedly. "I've tasted its dried flesh but never seenone before. They run only in the main river and come nowhere near Po Rabi'sshallows."The chanting of the fishermen was a steady, triumphant chorus now as they hauledin the huge interlocked nets. As they did so ten ships passed to port of theimmense barge, ten to starboard. The barge crew lent its muscle to the task andlong gaffs, attached to winches, were brought into use. Slowly the arwawl washauled onto the deck, bending the stern beneath the surface of the river forlong moments before the silvery tonnage could be better distributed.The single catch was enough to feed many villages, Etienne mused, but the fleetapparently wasn't satisfied. Still other nets were out, trailing from the lessfortunate boats. He admired the fisherfolk's persistence.It was left to Irquit, less mesmerized by the efficiency of the fleet, to sounda warning. She moved closer to Lyra, who was intent on recording the fishingwith her instruments.Irquit performed a diminutive half bow. "Forgive me for troubling you, deLyra,but I think we are in danger.""What?" Lyra strained to refocus her attention. "What's that, Irquit?"The Mai stepped to the railing and pointed over the bow. "I have been watchingthose four ships." Lyra raised her gaze, saw nothing unusual about the quartetof fishing craft dead ahead."What about them? They are fishing, like their companions.""Not like their companions," Irquit argued. "They are moving toward us. Theyshould be anchored in place, holding their nets against the flow of the Skar.They are drifting downstream.""Maybe they're trying to reposition themselves in a better spot. Fishermen moveall the time.""I'm sure they are moving to a better spot, but not to catch fish, I think."Lyra frowned. "What makes you think so?""Two drift to our left, two to the right. Their nets lie between. If we continueon this course they will soon ensnare us.""I'm sure it's not intentional," Lyra replied, but inwardly she wasn't so sure.The boats were very close now and the big gill nets lay concealed by the rollingwater. "We'll warn them clear.""The nets of the Upriver fisherfolk are wondrous strong, deLyra," Irquit saidanxiously. "I don't know that even your spirit boat could escape from them.There is something more. See how busy the crews are?"Lyra squinted, peered through her recorder's telephoto for a closer look. "Isee. Isn't that normal?""I am no fisherwoman, but I have visited this part of the Skar before. To traveldownstream is simple. One simply raises the anchors and drifts with the current.Never have I seen so much activity surrounding so easy a task. When one worksthat hard at something that simple, one usually has something to hide."Lyra thought a moment, leaned over to call toward the cockpit. "Irquit thinksthe four fishing boats coming Downriver toward us might be trying to ensnare usin their nets."Etienne wished the hydrofoil's scanner could provide more detail. "What's youropinion, Lyra?""I don't know what to think, but I don't want to take any unnecessary chances.I'd like to find out so that we'll have a better idea what to expect in case thesame situation reoccurs in the future. Let's do our guesswork now."He nodded. "We'll let them play all their cards, then. Tell Irquit not to worry.I can handle it.""Handle?" Irquit was trying to divide her attention between the stocky humanfemale and the suspiciously active fishing boats dead ahead. "What doesdeEtienne mean `handle?"' The boats were near enough now for the otolk woodfloats to stand out clearly against the water."He means he's ready to deal with. any hostile moves.""But you must move away, move to avoid them while there is still time! I knowthat the spirit boat can move quickly to the side, and...""Have a calming, Irquit. Etienne knows what he's doing. Everything's undercontrol."A gentle shudder ran through the hydrofoil's hull as the bow made contact withthe heavy nets and two of the oblong floats. As they continued Upriver, pushingthe net with their bow, the four fishing boats were drawn toward each other ...and the hydrofoil was caught between them.Explosive roars of triumph sounded from all four Mai vessels and ail pretensevanished. It was suddenly clear that they were interested in tougher quarry thanfish. Gaffs gave way to long pikes and spears, and the chanting thataccompanied the appearance of these weapons was very different from that whichhad provided a quaint backdrop to the landing of the arwawl.Homat began to moan and rock from side to side. "Doomed we are. These riverprimitives will show us no mercy!"Irquit merely looked resigned. "I warned you, deLyra.""And you were right," the xenologist replied calmly as she turned again towardthe cockpit bubble. "We've established their real intentions, Etienne. I'vemade my recordings." She paused as something whizzed past overhead. "Let's nothang around. They have bows.""Don't you want to observe native weaponry in action?"She ducked as a woodandbone shaft splintered against the deck. "Don't getfunny, honey. If you want to linger, we can switch places first.""Never mind." He grinned at her as he gunned the engine. The jet nozzle pivoteda hundred and eighty degrees until it was facing toward the bow."Hold tight," Lyra warned the two morose Mai. They barely had time to reach forhandholds before the hydrofoil shot backward in full reverse. Suddenly nothingkept the four fishing boats apart. The nets fell limp into the river.The chanting subsided as the wouldbe pirates watched their quarry vanish asternat sixty kph. Then crews rushed to the oars as all four crews realized there wasnothing to stop their momentum. Frantic yells and curses replaced the warlikechanting of a moment earlier.Etienne slowed and reversed direction once more, watching with interest as thefour fishing boats, still linked together by their nets and lines, slewedinexorably toward each other. Loud snapping sounds filled the air as hastilymanned oars were splintered against colliding hulls. Curses were drowned byshouts of confusion and conflicting orders as nets became tangled with ru ddersand broken oars.Keeping well beyond arrow range, he edged the hydrofoil easily around theirwouldbe captors, toward the center of the river. A few of the unhappyfisherfolk, unable to attack with their short bows, settled for bombarding thespirit boat with ferocious insults. Homat stifled his laughter at their plightlong enough to translate those couched in the local dialect or too complex forLyra to understand. She patiently entered them all into her journal under asubheading drolly labeled MAI INVECTIVELOCAL VARIANTS AND DIALECTS. All gristfor the xenological mill.Etienne halfexpected some of the other fisherfolk to aid their brethren in theattack, but he was pleasantly disappointed. Instead of joining in, the Maiwho'd stood to the side to watch were lining the sides of their own vessels andcheering the spirit boat's escape."That's not the reaction I expected," he shouted toward the speaker membrane."Irquit, what's going on? They don't seem angry at our escape.""Why should they be? They chose not to participate in the attack on us. So theydo not share in its failure. They admire the successful, no matter where theycome from. So they applaud our escape." Irquit leaned over the railing to peerastern. The four badly entangled fishing boats continued their steady driftDownriver."By the time they get themselves separated, deEtienne, they will have a longhard row Upriver to return to their homes. That will give them time to thinkanew about trying to capture a spirit boat. I hope not many were hurt. There ismuch confusion.""And I hope half fall overboard and drown." Homat spat over the side. "Let theriver eat them. May they stew in their own urine! We meant them no harm andstill they would have slain us!"Lyra paused in her notetaking. "It's difficult for poor people to turn down thechance to acquire great wealth, Homat. I'm not defending their actions,understand, but I can empathize with their feelings." She had to use fourconnected nouns to make the idea of empathy comprehensible to the Mai guide."Do you think we'll be subject to more such attacks?"Irquit made a gesture of uncertainty. "Who can predict? As you say, deLyra,your spirit boat represents power and wealth to all who set eyes upon it. Yourproperty will be coveted from the Skatandah to the region of ice." Another thinsmile. "Clearly any who try will have much difficulty in taking it.""We can take care of ourselves," Lyra assured her."That is proven. I will not dance with worry next time. None can threaten thespirit boat.""Oh, we're not omnipotent," Lyra corrected her, "but we're far from defenseless.If necessary we can do more than just dodge gill nets.""Yes. I have seen the weapons that rest in the holders alongside the roundtiller deEtienne steers the spirit boat with.""Those are only for use in dire emergency," Lyra said firmly. "We carry them todefend us against dangerous animals, not intelligent peoples. My Zanur would bevery upset with us if we used them against your people.""My people are the people of Po Rabi," Irquit replied, indicating with gentlebloodthirstiness that it wouldn't bother her in the least if it became necessaryto shoot a few riverfolk. Lyra sighed inwardly. Once upon a time, back in thetribal days, her ancestors had felt similarly. A few throwbacks still did.The kilometers slid beneath the hydrofoil's keel by the hundreds, the Skar stillrunning wide and slow, the distant walls of the Barshajagad still renderedinvisible by haze and distance. Lyra began to enjoy the bargaining for suppliesthat took place whenever they pulled in to shore."You can learn a lot by watching Homat and Irquit," she told Etienne on morethan one occasion.He would nod politely, but the methodology of native batter didn't intrigue him.Instead, he spent the trading time sequestered atop the observation mast withone eye glued to the telescope, studying the nearing lower slopes of the canyonwith their irrigated fields and elaborate terraces.As a precaution, they spent each night well out in the middle of the Skar. Thehydrofoil's autoalarms would alert them to the presence of any potential danger.Occasionally, Etienne would vary the routine by climbing the mast to turn thetelescope skyward, quizzing himself by trying to identify the strangeconstellations overhead. On this particular early morning there was no rain andfew clouds. The humidity was lower than usual and the temperature had plungedinto the nineties. He was very surprised to see Homat's wideeyed hairless faceappear outside the transparent scope enclosure. The guide looked nervous, andnot from the height.Etienne unfastened the plastic to admit the edgy Mai."Something wrong, Homat?" he inquired solicitously."II must talk with you, deEtienne.""Must be important to bring you up here from beneath a warm blanket.""It is, very important.""Just a second." Etienne swung the telescope aside on its gimbaled mount to makemore room, thoughtfully shut off the blower that was pouring refrigerated airinto the enclosure.As soon as the temperature had warmed, Homat entered and sealed the entrancebehind him. In the cramped space atop the mast Etienne was more conscious thanever of his bulk compared to that of the diminutive native."What is it?" Beyond Homat he could see two of Tslamaina's four moons gleamingon the river. The other two would appear within the hour, he knew."For a long time I have meant to do this, but I did not know how to do it andhave not had a chance to do it.""Do what?""Warn you, deEtienne. You and deLyra are in great danger."Etienne leaned back in the narrow swivel chair and smiled at the native'sconcern. He swung one leg idly back and forth."We're in constant danger, yes. The fisherfolk we just ran into Downriverdemonstrated that.""No, no!" Homat whispered intently. "Not that. The danger of which I speak isnearer and more insidious."Etienne studied the guide's face closely. "Homat, what is it you're sofrightened of?""I am not bold by nature," he explained anxiously. "I have traveled as widely asI have not because I desired to but because I was ordered to do so by those whoemployed me."Now I have found that I cannot go on without telling what I know, deEtienne.Something within pushes me to make confession. All my life I have been a smallperson, one who scrapes and nods and follows the orders of others. You anddeLyra have treated me most fair, better than I have ever been treated by anyother employers. I have come to like you very much. For the first time in mylife, someone makes me feel important. It is a feeling I want to keep.""Why shouldn't you?" Etienne found himself taken aback by the unexpectedlyemotional confession."Because of Irquit.""Irquit? What can she do to you?"Homat's wide eyes darted nervously around the plastic enclosure. "Are you sureno one can hear what we say?""Of course I'm sure. The intercom's not on and we're high above the rest of theboat. Homat, explain yourself. Why are you so afraid of Irquit all of a sudden?I hadn't noticed that she's been treating you badly. She's been very helpful.""That is her task. To be helpful until..." he hesitated. "MaiwithHair,remember that what I am about to tell you is worth my lifeIrquit is the directrepresentative of the Zanur of Po Rabi."Etienne was beginning to lose patience with his visitor. His viewing time wasslipping away and he wanted to get in some sleep before sunrise."We already know that, Homat. You are, too.""No! I am a hired guide. She is responsible only to the Zanur itself. Tell me,deEtienne, have you not remarked on her intense interest in your spirit boatand its functions?""Naturally. Do you think we're only attuned to technology? My wife isparticularly sensitive to the actions of," he almost said primitive peoples, butquickly changed it to "other individuals. Irquit's interest is only natural.Lyra ought to know. She's studied guests on other worlds beyond this one.""I know what that means, deEtienne," Homat replied somberly. "Tell me on thoseother worlds did she ever encounter any assassins?"Chapter FiveEtienne's smile vanished and he sat up straighter in his chair. His impatiencewas replaced by sudden interest."Would you mind explaining what you mean, Homat?"The guide shifted nervously. "Your wonderful craft makes use of manyimpossibletounderstand spirits, deEtienne, but it seems to me not sodifficult to command them.""Operation is highly simplified for users not technically oriented, yes.""Simple enough for Irquit to operate?""Maybe, if she were to stick to basic gostop type directions. What about it?"Homat gestured forward, past the moonlit bow. "Tomorrow we are to stop at thevillage of Changrit to restock our larder. Changrit has an alliance with PoRabi.""I didn't think Po Rabi's influence extended this far north," Etienne told him."Changrit is independent. It is a trade alliance only, but that is enough whenmuch is at stake. Long before Ambassador deKelwhoang delivered us to you toserve as your guides, river riders were sent racing north to Changrit. Anunderstanding was achieved with the Moyt of Changrit." He brushed absently atthe single knot of long hair that trailed from the top of his head."The ambush is to take place at night, while you are anchored out in the Skarand less on guard. Your spirit boat is to be taken so that its secrets andtreasures may be shared by Changrit and Po Rabi." He hesitated only for amoment. "You and your mate, of course, will not survive.""I see," Etienne said quietly. "Suppose Irquit proves unable, despite herstudies, to operate the boat?""All is planned for. In that event it is to be loaded upon a barge and shippedDownriver.""I don't see any problem, Homat. We just won't stop near Changrit for supplies.Even if they're lying in wait for us out in the river we can simply run pastthem.""It may not be so easy, deEtienne. Even now word is relayed along the riverbankmarking our progress. The fighters of Changrit will be ready to challenge youno matter when you try to pass their city.""I'm curious. How did the Zanur plan to explain our disappearance, in the eventour friends back at Steamer Station learned of it?""You have been watched and studied. Not all who sought to talk with your matewhile you waited to travel were simple fisherfolk. Changrit was chosen becauseit is the northernmost city with which Po Rabi has an alliance and it wasbelieved to lie beyond range of your talkthroughair spirits.""That's right enough.""There is no reason why your friends should connect your disappearance to PoRabi or any other city. For all they will know you perished when your boat sankin the Skar, as many boats do.""And what if our friends come looking for us and find our boat in the possessionof the Zanur, or the Moyt of Changrit?""Then it is to be said that you were swamped by an arwawl, that this was seenfrom shore, and that your boat was towed to safety but not in time to save itscrew. I am not privy to all the details, as Irquit is.""But they had to tell you this much so that you could help at the criticalmoment.""Yes." Homat dropped his gaze, unwilling to meet his benefactor's eyes. "Myancestors are ashamed.""All right, you've told me about the proposed attack. That doesn't make Irquitan assassin.""She will become one only if it proves necessary," Homat explained. "She isthere to make certain the attack does not fail. When it comes she will pretendsurprise and will appear to aid you, but if it looks like the attack may fail,she is to choose a moment when you are not on guard to push you overboard or puta knife in your back. Have you not noticed her skill on things bigger thanvegetables." He looked away."I just thought she was a deft cook," he muttered."Deft indeed, deEtienne. I have seen her demonstrate her skill on things biggerthan vegetables." He looked away. "I was to help in all this, of course.""Of course," Etienne said dryly. He reached out and pushed a button. A tiredmoan came from the grid."What is it? I was just getting into a really decent dream.""Would you come up here a minute, hon? I'm observing something I think you'dfind intriguing.""Come on, Etienne. Maybe tomorrow night.""It may be less visible tomorrow night. I wish you'd come up now. Our positiontomorrow will be radically different.""All right, all right," she snapped back at him. "This better be good."He waited in the enclosure with the nervous Homat until a sleepyeyed Lyra hadascended the mast to join them. There was very little room to move around withthree of them atop the platform."What now?" She was still blinking sleep from her eyes, but her expressionturned to one of confusion when. she noticed Homat."Where's Irquit?" Etienne asked her."Irquit? What's she got to do with? ... On the stern deck, I would imagine,blissful in the arms of the local representative of Morpheus. What the hell'sgoing on up here?""Homat has something to tell you."Lyra listened quietly as the guide repeated the tale he had told Etienne. Sheconsidered quietly for several long moments once he'd finished."We could turn back. We're scientists, not soldiersoffortune and nothardcontact explorers. We're not prepared to deal with largescale localantagonism. If this town is linked by treaty and duplicity to Po Rabi, we canapply for clearance and protection with the Zanur of Losithi."Etienne looked doubtful. "Wouldn't work. Word will reach Po Rabi and they'llknow we found them out. That could put them into open conflict with Losithi. Wedon't want to be responsible for starting a major local war. Besides whichthere's no guarantee we'd fare any better with the Zanur of Losithi than wealready have with Po Rabi. Better the devil you know, et cetera.""They are as envious of your technology as is the Zanur of Po Rabi," Homatagreed."Then there's the distance we've already come. Returning and retracing our stepswould take at least a month, even if we were lucky enough to obtain immediatepermission from Losithi. We've passed the equator and we're above the worst ofthe climate. Not that this oven has suddenly become comfortable, but it's boundto improve."I've no desire to retrace our steps, restudy what we've already thoroughlyrecorded, and I'm sure you don't either, Lyra. And there's always the chancethat Losithi could arrange a similar kind of ambush when we resumed ourjourney, and they'd be better prepared for us than these Changritites arelikely to be. The geology's finally starting to get interesting, Lyra. I don'twant to go back to taking mud samples for an additional two months. DespiteHomat's fears I don't imagine we'll have any trouble passing through whateverbarrier of nets and ropes the locals can erect.""I know that," Lyra agreed. "It's not that. I just don't want to harm anynatives. You know what a resident commissioner would have to say about that.""There's no resident commissioner on Tslamaina. Not advanced enough yet. Noone's going to know anything, and even if we were found out we'd just tell themthat we had to defend ourselves, which is likely to be the truth."Lyra turned her attention to Homat. "What happens once we're safely pastChangrit? What about the next town? Could it be in alliance with Po Rabi too?"Homat spoke with conviction. "No. Changrit is the only far north city alliedwith Po Rabi. Beyond Changrit much is unknown and all are independent of thecitystates that line the Groalamasan. And Changrit was chosen because it alonecan muster enough strength for such an attack.""Everything you've told us makes sense," she murmured. "It's what you haven'ttold us that worries me.""I do not understand your words, deLyra.""Why are you so eager to betray your own city?""I have told you that I have come to like you, and that you have given me asense of selfimportance and true worth that I have never felt before.""That's not good enough." For emphasis she added a powerful Mai gesture ofdisbelief. "You could have kept silent and fulfilled the dictates of yourmasters. If we had succumbed to this trap you would have enjoyed much honor inPo Rabi, and if we had escaped you would still be safe. Why risk the one bythrowing in so openly with us when you'd have been safe both ways by keepingquiet? I'm glad that you `like' us, but I've studied Mai society for too manymonths now to believe that you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart."Homat looked uncertain, turned lo Etienne for guidance."You'd better tell us the truth, Homat.""Don't you believe me, deEtienne?""Yes, I do, but my wife's a born skeptic. Unlike intelligent beings, rocks andminerals aren't intentionally deceptive. You're going to have to convince her toconvince me."Homat nodded. When he spoke again much of the nervousness and all of the softdeference had vanished from his voice."I told the truth about coming to like you, and about not wishing to be a partyto such a vile deception. But deLyra suspects me rightly. I have another reasonfor confessing this now."It is true I would risk nothing by keeping my silence, but also would I gain.nothing. Po Rabi is my home, but I have traveled widely and have come to thinkof the world as my home. There are many great citystates where one may make afine life In Po Rabi I have little chance to rise above my station. True, if theattack on your spirit boat were to succeed I would return home to a fine reward,but in you offwonders I see the chance to do much better. With the knowledge Ican gain from you I can make myself valuable beyond mere `rewards.' Thus faronly Losithi and Po Rabi have dealt with your hardshelled friends. Suphum wouldwelcome my knowledge and make me a member of their Zanur, as would Tolm and manyothers. I could not hope to rise so high in Po Rabi on the results of my laborsas an assassin."I have provided you with information which may save your lives as well as yourexpedition. In return for this information and for my loyalty, I expect suitablerecompense."Lyra looked satisfied. "!Vow I believe you, Homat." She added to Etienne interranglo. "Typical powerwealth decision. Very Mai. The fact that we're not ofhis race doesn't enter into the equation. Business takes precedence over vaguefeelings of loyalty to home and kind." She switched back to her very fluent Mai."You are a more complex person than you've led us to believe, Homat. You're avery effective deceiver." This last was, in Mai, a compliment, and Homat lookedquite pleased with himself."All of us carry deceptions. They are worth little. Truth is all that can besold. I am only a simple one seeking to lift himself from the depths in which hewas born.""Having deceived us this long, how can we be certain you won't try to strikeyour own bargain with some village Moyt?""If you do not return safely to your Steamer Station, I gain nothing fromhelping you now. I do not wish to take the spirit boat. I believe I have more togain by helping you.""A straightforward enough commercial decision, Etiennedevoid of sentimentality.I'd rather rely on that than on his fondness for us. Having made his confessionand his choice, it's now in his best interests to see to our continued healthand safety.""Delightful so," Homat agreed. "Then you believe me about Irquit and theattack?""We'll find out for certain tomorrow," Etienne told him. He turned his attentionto the telescope. "Now if you don't mind, Homat, I still have some observationsof the sky I want to make and Lyra needs her beauty sleep."Homat gaped at him. "But you are to be attacked! You must make preparations todefend yourselves.""Maybe we won't have to fight, Homat.""We'd better not," Lyra murmured uneasily. "Self defense or no, if word evergot back to our sponsors that we'd engaged in a running battle with Class FourBnatives we'd never get another grant in our lives.""Don't be so damned concerned for the welfare of the charming, consideratelocals. What are you worried about? Is Homat going to appear before the ResearchAdvisory Board to announce that we knew about the attack in advance?" Aftermonths of fighting with his wife, Etienne was more than ready to light somethingelse, and to hell with the regulations.Besides, Po Rabi's deception grated on him. He remembered the ambassador'spoliteness, the warm feelings of contentment and achievement they'd felt justbefore setting out Upriver. If Homat's confession proved true, that meant allthose kind words of help and assistance and talk of mutual sharing of knowledgewas so much dung.Maybe Changrit was the last city in league with Po Rabi, and maybe it wasn't. Itwouldn't hurt to send a lesson not only to the Zanur of Po Rabi but to any otherMai who coveted the spirit boat, that the peaceful human visitors weren't to betrifled with. Yes, they all but owed it to the Mai to show what scholars coulddo when aroused. In so doing they might quickly discourage all future suchassaults, thereby saving lives."It still bothers me to have to fight," Lyra said softly."I understand." He was quite willing to be understanding now that he'd matte uphis mind how to handle the Changritites. "But if it comes to that, it'sselfdefense. Anyway, by fighting we're only adhering to local custom. Rememberhow the rest of the fishing fleet cheered us on our way? Maybe some timorousboard member would disapprove, but not the rest of the Mai."She spoke in terranglo again while Homat looked on blankly, desperately wishinghe could comprehend the alien babble."We could just use repellers.""Dangerous if they managed to get a net or two on us. You know how unstable theboat is on repellers. That's a last resort. Besides, if we don't invite somekind of reaction, we'll only have Homat's word about Irquit. What if she's noassassin, merely a guide? What if their orders are only to stand aside and letthe Changritites do all the dirty work? Maybe he's just trying to shut her outof the bit of business he's working with us. By watching her reactions we'llhave final proof of his words. If she doesn't make any threatening moves, oncepast Changrit we'll have a new problem to deal with."Lyra sighed, shook her head sadly. "This is going to complicate the hell out ofmy notes.""If that's ail we have to worry about as we pass Changrit," he countered, "we'llbe well off. Besides, think of the potential opportunities for studying thebehavior of the Mai in battle."She responded with a rude noise which even Homat could understand.The following night on the Skar was equally cloudless and clear. As the sunbegan to shrink behind the distant ramparts of the canyon wall, Etienne peeredthrough the cockpit bubble at an anxious Irquit. He nodded to himself as hestudied her expression. Point one to Homat.The guide was talking to Lyra, who stood watching the western shore."We are almost all out of meat, deLyra. I thought we were to stop here atChangrit." She gestured with a six fingered hand toward the dots of light whichmarked the riverbank. "We will soon be past the harbor.""We're not stopping tonight, Irquit," Lyra replied. "We have ample supplies ofour own foodstuffs down in the hold. Maybe we'll stop in a couple of days. It'ssuch a beautiful night, Etienne thinks we should enjoy the weather. I agree.""But Changrit is such a wonderful place!" Irquit protested. "There is so muchto see, so much for you to put into your records, deLyra.""Oh, that's okay. I'm sure we'll find other places to stop that are just asinteresting. We can stop and study there.""None are so grand on this part of the Skar as is Changrit." Irquit wasglancing nervously past Lyra, apparently studying the river ahead."Something wrong?" Lyra asked innocently."No, no. I only wanted so much for you to see so powerful and beautiful a city.I felt that..."Etienne tuned the pleading voice out and concentrated on the scanner by hisright hand. He knew what Irquit was looking for, out there atop the dark water.The green screen was filled with bright shapes of many sizes strung out in threeparallel lines across the Skar. It must have taken the Changritites weeks togather the enormous flotilla.He lost speed as he studied the scanner, looking for the place where the boatswere spread thinnest.There were more boats ahead than he'd expected, and the danger was greater. Someof his initial enthusiasm for a fight evaporated. The capture was no game to thelocal Mai, and despite superior technology there was something still to be saidfor commanding overwhelming numbers. He made certain the repellers werefunctioning, just in case they had to employ them.Pick your way through, he suddenly decided, and take care not to get entangledin those damn nets and heavy wooden floats. Above all, don't let any of thelocals on board. Surely they wouldn't have any real difficulty breaking through.Irquit was failing at not looking Upriver. She knew about the ambush. That muchof Homat's story was obviously accurate."Please, deLyra, it would be so much better to make port at Changrit tonight. Ican shop very cheaply at first light and we can-""Go astern, Irquit," Lyra ordered her sharply. "We're not tired or hungry, wedon't need to stop for supplies, and we're going on tonight."The guide started to object again, then thought better of it and followed therail sternward. Etienne wondered what she'd tell Homat, whom she still thoughtof as a partner in deception, and how well Homat would hide his true feelings.Then he made out a dim irregular shape off to port, through the transparency ofthe cockpit bubble, and he no longer could spare the time to worry about the Maialready on board. None of the four moons were aloft yet and the river ran clearand unslivered beneath the hydrofoil's keel.A half dozen tiny objects appeared suddenly on the scanner, heading for thehydrofoil. "Spears, Lyra!"She dropped to her belly on the foredeck, behind the metal dome over theheavyduty fishing equipment. A couple of sharp points whanged off the bubbleand he flinched involuntarily. They did no damage to the tough plastalloy.Large shapes hove into view, lying where the scanner had. predicted theirpresence. Etienne turned off the sensitive audio pickups. They weren'tnecessary. He could hear the shouting and excited hailing of the boat's crewsquite clearly in the still night air.Arrows and warcries followed the first volley of spears, then something long andheavy flew over the bow and clung there as Etienne turned sharply to port toavoid a small fishing barge filled with gesticulating, wideeyed bowmen. Arrowssplintered or glanced off the clear cockpit bubble, but the larger affrontremained. It was a heavy fishing net attached to huge bolts which had evidentlybeen fired by several catapults or large crossbows operating in unison. Severalsuch nets, flung one atop the other, could seriously obscure his vision. Hecould still run on instruments, but not if the thick mesh was entangled in theengine nozzle.Putting the hydrofoil on autopilot and entering 'evasive orders, he took hispistol from its charging socket near the pilot wheel and headed for the stern.Lyra met him halfway through the cabin."Who's driving?" she asked curtly."Multiple K.""Not good enough. Too many boats." She eyed the weapon in his right hand. "Icame down so I wouldn't have to do that.""It's to burn that net, not Irquit.""What net?""You'll see when you take over." He pushed past her, slipping the safety off theasynaptic pistol.He was halfway to the foredeck when something buzzed him like an apoplecticwasp. The fastmoving, elegantly agile hydrofoil made it difficult for the Maimarksmen to aim but occasionally an arrow or spear would spang against the hullor whistle past overhead. Despite their inaccuracy, the sheer volume ofprimitive projectiles made moving around out on deck dangerous.Dropping flat and utilizing the slight inward curve of the metal gunwale forprotection, he crawled toward the bow. Once alongside the cockpit bubble he roseand carefully began burning away the net that covered the plastalloy.The bow section was aerodynamic so there were few projections for the nets tocatch onto, and he had half of the net cleared away before a sudden burning madehim glance down at his left arm. A small stream of blood dripped from where apassing arrow had dug. Etienne made a mental note to ask Homat if the Upriverinhabitants ever used poisoned barbs in their fishing. He turned back to thework at hand.Lyra appeared to be fully occupied with the task of steering them through theirassailants while causing as little damage as possible. She was darting rapidlyfrom side to side, w orking with unexpected animation. He frowned, leaned closeto the bubble. Yes, she was very active, and so was the second figure she wasgrappling with.The hydrofoil lurched abruptly to starboard and nearly threw him overboard. Onlyhis grasp on the remaining Mai net kept him from a fatal dunking. As hestruggled to his feet he identified the second figure in the cockpit Irquit.But that was impossible. Because of Homat's warning they made doubly sure tolock the cabin door every time either of them entered or left. Irquit shouldhave been stuck outside, on the stem deck where she slept with Homat.Lyra was heavier than the Mai and probably a good deal stronger, but if Homatwas to be believed Irquit was a trained killer. Lyra's experience ran to moregenteel pursuits. From what he could see, his wife was having a hard timefending off a wickedlooking blade. He shouted at her, aware as he did so howuseless his words were.Without Lyra at the instruments and with the autopilot turned off, the hydrofoilwas beginning to slow. That was a safety override, designed to keep a boat witha disabled crew from running into the shore. As the whine of the jet faded,Etienne saw shapes begin to close in on them. They'd run past most of theChangrit armada, but were still near enough to be overtaken by determinedoarsmen. He could hear them chanting in the dark as they strained to overhaulthe spirit boat.If they were allowed on board, asynapts wouldn't be enough to cope with thesheer weight of numbers. Ibis first thought was to get back inside. He couldlock any boarders out, and with their primitive weapons they couldn't break in,but they could certainly disable the engine or clog the water scoops.Bowmen were close now and suddenly found themselves presented with a relativelystable target. They kept him pinned down by the fishing dome, unable to movethrough the shower of arrows.Suddenly he saw a third shape inside the cockpit. For a moment he despaired. IfHomat had lied to them, if he'd been a willing ally of Irquit's and of the Zanurall along-he screamed Lyra's name.But if that were the case, then why the trembling expiation last night up on thetelescope platform? As Etienne watched he saw Homat edge carefully around thepinwheeling combatants, climb up into the pilot's seat, put both sixfingeredhands on the wheel and nudge the accelerator.Again he found himself thrown to the deck, only this time it was due to thehydrofoil's sudden leap forward. Shouts of dismay and anger reached him from thetwo fishing boats that were almost within boarding range. Two Mai actually madethe jump and landed aboard.The asynapt flashed twice in the darkness. There was a brief bright blue flashwhere each charge struck flesh, the smell of ozone in the air, and a singlesplash as the first victim tumbled overboard. The second fell near Etienne'ssweaty face, curved knife locked in a stilled grip.Etienne scrambled erect and ran to the nearest entryway. When Irquit saw theother human enter the cabin she broke free and rushed astern, trailing curses inher wake. He just missed her in the main corridor, collided with Lyra instead.It was a timely collision, since his impact knocked her aside and clear of theknife that whistled past them.He fired wildly and seared a section of ceiling, as a funny, high moan soundedfrom the direction of the cockpit. Homat fell away from the wheel as Lyra movedto help him.Another pair of fishing nets clung to the boat, and Etienne pushed a few tanglesaside as he cautiously emerged on deck. Irquit was unarmed, however, except forher mouth. She snarled something that Etienne translated crudely as "Death tothe Faceless One!" Whether the curse was aimed at Homat or himself he had no wayof knowing and likely never would know, because their former guide and cookthrew herself over the side and instantly vanished astern. No doubt herChangritite allies would fish her out of the river and send her on her wayDownriver toward Po Rabi.Etienne was gratified that they'd put their trust in Homat. Certainly he hadburned his bridges behind him. There was no way the Mai could ever show his facein Po Rabi again.If he didn't live, though, it wouldn't make any difference. Etienne rememberedthat surprised moan as Irquit's knife sailed past his ear. With the Changritflotilla rapidly falling astern, he turned and hurried back into the coolinterior of the hydrofoil.The pilot's seat was unoccupied and he slid behind the wheel, made a fast checkof the instruments. The scanner showed only a few small logs floating tostarboard, in contrast to the thick cluster of shiplike shapes behind them. Ina minute or two those distant threats would slip off the screen altogether.Homat was lying on the floor moaning. Lyra had pulled the knife out and wasworking to stanch the bleeding. The weapon lay near her right leg, a very largeblade to have struck so small a humanoid. A couple of centimeters to the left,and they'd have found themselves continuing their journey without either oftheir guides. Lyra had removed her halter and bound it over the hole. Thehalter's airconditioning system was still operating full blast, and he thoughtto ask why when it occurred to him that the cold would promote coagulation. Onrare occasions it struck him that he'd married a woman of more than averageintelligence.With the flow of blood slowed she disappeared astern, to return a moment laterwith a handful of vials and spray cans."I don't know how well this is going to work on you, Homat. It wasn't designedto be used on a Mai, but it's all we have and I don't know what else to try. Canyou understand me?"He nodded slowly, his small sharp teeth grinding together in pain."You're fully mammalian and from what I've been able to learn your physiology'sclose enough to ours so that""Screw the biology lecture, Lyra!" her husband snapped.She glanced sharply up at him, but this time only nodded. Her unvoiced admissionof his rightness gave him no pleasure. He was too women about Homai.The freeze spray on top of the effect produced by her halter's cooler stoppedthe rest of bleeding. Homat gasped at the chill and tried not to look at theintimidating alien machines they were using on his body. Then she took a smallcurved device that cupped the curve of her palm, adjusted it carefully, and heldIt over the wound as she removed the bloodied halter. As she passed the deviceover his shoulder and upper chest it hissed softly. A faint bright yellow lightpoured from its underside.Homat writhed in pain, but when she pulled her hand away and snapped off thesurgiseal he could see that the cut had been closed completely, and sterilizedin the bargain. There would be a permanent scar, but Lyra was no surgeon andthere hadn't been time to consult the computer."Any poison?"No, deLyra," Homat whispered at her, staring at his chest in amazement. "Aclean knife for a clean death." Etienne received this information with relief.His arm had ceased bleeding and now he could stop worrying about his own wound."You'll be all right now," Lyra assured their guide. "Just take it easy for afew days and try not to use that arm too much." He was shivering steadily and itoccurred to her it wasn't from shock."He'll freeze in here, Etienne." The cabin thermometer registered a temperatureof eighty degrees. "We've got to get him back out on deck.""Go ahead, we're well clear now. I'll help you." He allowed the autopilot toresume control of the boat and moved to lift Homat in his arms. The slim Mai wasa light burden and once he had been placed on his sleeping mat, Etienne turnedback to the stern gangway. It didn't take long to discover how Irquit had madeher way inside to attack Lyra. A small wad of sikreg gum, a local product Irquitemployed to help thicken her stews and soups, had been jammed between thecenter seal and the door, preventing the lock from functioning.Thoughtful of Irquit, to have made such a study of how the doorways operated.Undoubtedly she'd been studying hard ever since they'd departed Steamer Station.It was their own damned fault, Etienne told himself. They were going to have tocease thinking of the Mai as ignorant primitives.The thought made him frown as he turned to stare at Homate Their remaining guidewas sitting up now, propped against the low bar of the railing that ran aroundthe top of the gunwale. The Mai had operated their boat!"That was very quick thinking of you, Homat. Taking control of the boat whileLyra was fighting with Irquit. Another couple of minutes and the Changrititesmight have overwhelmed us.""Yes, I was standing here watching them close on us, de Etienne, and I thoughtto wonder what was wrong. I saw the door there by your hand swinging open, andwith heart in hand crept inside despite the cold to see what was the matter, forI knew we should not be slowing."I have watched for a long time now, through the round glass, as you and deLyraran the spirit boat. While I still have no idea what controls the spirits thatmake it go, it is not hard to see how you control those spirits. I told you thatIrquit thought she could do it, so I saw no reason why I also could not do so."You turn the wheel to change direction and push the little button to increasethe speed."Etienne relaxed a little. "Put that way it doesn't sound terribly complex, doesit? How are you feeling?""Your wondrous tools have delighted my side. Much better, all thanks from myancestors and me to you."Etienne nodded. "Did you hear what your former companion said as she took herleave of us?""No." He gave a shaky Mai smile. "I can im agine it was not very polite.""Not very. Enough to insure that you'd better never go within a dozen legats ofPo Rabi again.""I had already committed myself to that. Did you not believe me?"Etienne looked uncomfortable. "It is hard on a strange world to know what tobelieve and what not to believe, Homat. Forgive me if I seem insensitive.""Do not feel so, deEtienne. They say that the people of Suphum do not pause formidday rest but work straight through 'til sundown. That is also hard tobelieve. Truly is the Everything filled with wonders. I do not regret mydecision, though I might have had I died under Irquit's knife, may her fleshrot in the river. I do not need a home, now that I have you and deLyra as myfriends and protectors.""Don't worry, Homat. You'll have your reward when we get back to SteamerStation." Lyra was adjusting a clean halter top. "I don't care what theregulations say. We'll slip you something that should make you wealthy forlife."In true Mai fashion Homat instantly pointed to the interior of the boat. "Thatmachine you used to heal me. Could I have one of those?"Lyra laughed. She hadn't laughed like that in a long time, Etienne thought,surprised at how sharply it pierced him."The surgiseal would wear out before very long and you wouldn't be able to haveit fixed, Homat. There's nothing worse than a magician whose magic unexpectedlydeserts him. Don't worry, we'll find you something suitable that will last.""I am not worried," Homat replied calmly. He moved his arm gingerly. "Truly adelightful instrument, though.""Hadn't you better check the autopilot, Etienne?""We're okay. We're back out in the middle of the river and the scanner willsound if there's anything ahead it can't deal with. Maybe we ought to startthinking about replenishing our stores. Irquit was right about our being low."He looked down at Homat. "You're positive Po Rabi's influence doesn't extend anyfarther Upriver than Changrit?"Homat sighed. Sometimes you had to tell this peculiar folk the same thingseveral times before they believed you."The next major trading town beyond Changrit is Kekkalong, deEtienne. I havenever been there but I know it thrives independent of any oceancity's rule. Itlies some three thousand legats north of Changrit."Lyra did some fast mental calculating. "Five hundred kilometers. We can holdoff that long. Since it's a major port, maybe we can tie up there for a coupleof days, take a rest. I can do some intensive research. I'm certainly not goingto have the chance to do any work in Changrit.""A most delightful major port," Homat agreed. "Not as big as Po Rabi or Losithi,but nearly as large as Changrit. Beyond Kekkalong all is unknown country,unknown to me and to any living trader of Po Rabi. None have journeyed so farUpriver from the Groalamasan.""Then you'll be the first," Etienne said. He turned apologetically to his wife."Two of them got on board. I had to use the asynapt on them. There was no timeto shoot to incapacitate, Lyra."To his surprise she didn't bawl him out. Perhaps Irquit's assault had made her atad less protective of the people she had come to study."Only two? That's not bad. Probably not enough to start a blood feud with theChangritites.""That's good, because when we return we might have to deal with the samesituation all over again.""Our return's a long ways away yet, Etienne. We'll worry about it months fromnow. By that time the Changritites may have grown bored with watching the riverand sent Irquit on her way. At least we won't have to watch for any onboardthreats." She glanced down at Homat, who was rubbing his miraculously healedshoulder."I apologize for doubting your story, Homat.""No, no, no reason to apologize, deLyra. I would have doubted you if in yourplace. Doubt is healthy."She stared out into the damp night. Occasionally a light from a house on shorewould flash dimly in the distance, like a star. All was calm and quiet."I'm beginning to think that it is," she murmured softly.Chapter SixKekkalong turned out to be all that Homat had promised. A natural harbor hadbeen scooped from the shore of the Skar by powerful currents. As they entered,small fishing boats and pleasure craft clustered like whirligig beetles in thehydrofoil's wake.As was the style in the great oceanic cities, half the buildings wereconstructed below the surface, the other half above. There was the expectedprofusion of tall, thin towers. Unlike the structures of ancient human cities,which they superficially resembled, these narrow cylinders reached deep intothe earth. Some served to convey cool water to the surface while others allowedhot air to rise from the town's subterranean levels. The Mai flourished in abrutally hot climate, but they enjoyed a cool breeze as much as a human, even iftheir idea of a cool breeze was a gust of damp air at ninety degrees.The townsfolk were friendly and did their best to restrain their curiosity abouttheir tall, hairy visitors. As Kekkalong was ruled not by a single Moyt but by acoalition of merchants, there was something of a respite from the overpoweringurge to compete that drove the inhabitants of the southern cities. Lyre tooknotes as fast as she could address her recorder.With the loss of Irquit, Homat's bargaining abilities were brought to the fore,and he proved himself an adequate replacement. As soon as he overcame hisingrained shyness he proved quite adroit at dickering for supplies in themarketplace.They were walking through the central market, buying samples of the localcarvings for their stock of primitive specimens, when Lyra called to herhusband. As usual he'd left the trading to her and Homat, being more interestedin the stones chat had been used to pave the street."What is it? Lyra, did you know that some of this might have been quarried outof a pegmatite dike?""Sure I did," she replied sardonically, "but I'll try to forges it for now. Comeover and listen to something."She stood before a very old Mai. Trying to muster some interest, Etienneobserved that the wrinkles on the Mai face formed whorls wish age instead oflines."Only two hundred legats up the Skar," the oldster declaimed, "lies the placewhere it is joined by the great Aurang.""He says," Lyra told him, usurping the old one's tale, "that the Tsla have amajor town not far up the Aurang."Etienne eyed her uncertainly. "How far is not far?" She gave him a figure inlegats and he converted the native measurement in his head. "Between eight andnine hundred kilometers. That's a hell of a `not far.' Our itinerary calls forus to follow the Skar to its origin, mapping and taking notes along the way.Nothing was said about making any major detours.""It would give us the chance to study a wholly new race, Etienne, examine anentirely different culture. We have to make contact with the Tsla sooner orlater.""I thought the plan was 'later."'"But it's such a wonderful opportunity! I'm told the Tsla build very few centersand that this Turput is one of the main ones.""It would stall mean a radical change in our plans," he argued. "Lyre, not aday's gone by since we set down on this world that you haven't been able towallow in your work, whereas I'm still waiting to reach the point where theBarshajagad narrows enough for me to do some serious research and studies in myspecialty.""If we go to this Turput, you'll have that chance, Etienne. They can't live inthe river valley." She exchanged some rapidfire chatter with the oldster. "Hisdescription of Turput's location fits what we've learned about their ecologicalniche. Turput's at least three thousand meters above the Skar. Apparently theAurang hasn't cut nearly as deep a canyon. You should be able to dive into yourstudies sooner if we visit Turput than if we avoid it."He considered carefully. "I know that we're supposed to make detailed studies ofthe Tsla as well as the Mai, but the plan was to do that during our returnjourney, after we'd attained the other major objectives.""Etienne, my primary interest in coming here is to see how several entirelydifferent cultures coexist side by side in separate habitation zones. To do thisI need to observe how the Tsla live and react to the Mai.""Can't it wait until we're on our way back?""We owe ourselves the detour. At three thousand meters above sea level thetemperature will drop at least forty degrees from what it is here on the Skar,with a corresponding fall in humidity. For the first time since touchdown we canslip into real clothes and dispense with air conditioning. Doesn't that interestyou?"He had to admit that it did, but there were other factors she hadn't mentioned,possibly by design."From what this old one said, Lyra, Turput lies only eight hundred kilometersupstream from where the Aurang enters the Skar, right?" She nodded. "Okay. Thatmeans climbing three thousand meters up the canyonside over a short distance.Too steep a slope for the boat to navigate and too far to run on repellers."Lyra pointed to the old trader. "Ossanj says there's a decentsize town at theconfluence of the two rivers, called Aib. He says we might hire them to watchthe hydrofoil as well as find porters to ferry supplies up to Turput.""Really? Does he happen to have any relatives in Changrit ?""Etienne!" She sighed with exasperation. "We're far beyond Changrit'sinfluence. You know that.""Maybe so. Pardon me if I seem excessively cautious. It's just that we haven'tdone so well where local help's been involved.""Come on! You know we can take enough precautions to insure the safety of theboat. ""Granted that we can, I'm still not sure I'm ready for a threethousandmeterhike. That's going to make hash of our itinerary.""Our itinerary's not graven in stone, Etienne. If the weather's bad when we comeback down the river we might not be able to make the climb at all. We can't passon the chance. The weather's favorable now. Surely we can hire some kind oflocal transport so we don't have to make the entire climb on foot." She turnedback to the trader. "Tell him about Turput, Ossanj.""A most delighted wondrous place," declared the oldster. "Mysterious are theworkings of the Tsla." He made a gesture to protect himself from any interestedspirits. "Their fields climb the sides of mountains. They grow there delightedfruits and vegetables that wither here by the river.""How do you know all this, Ossanj? I thought the lands of the Tsla too cold foryour people to tolerate.""With much clothing to keep warm, we can visit there for short times.""And we'll be comfortable, Etienne," Lyra added encouragingly. "Doesn't thatsound inviting?""Not as inviting as continuing Upriver.""But that's just my point. Here's a chance for you to see some real topography.""Lyra, I'm sick of river valley, you know that. But we ought to stick to ouritinerary."She drew away from him. "I see," she said coldly. "Fine. You continue Upriverwith Homat. I'll take enough. of the trade goods to tide me over until youreturn and I'll go up to Turput myself. Meet you on the way back."He sighed. "Lyra, you know that's no good. What about the cultures Upriver fromhere? Am I supposed to do your fieldwork as well as my own?"She shrugged. "Okay, then take a month or two and go where you wish, study whatyou want, and come back for me. But I'm going to Turput tomorrow, Etienne, whileI have the opportunity and while the weather's good.""Damn you," he said quietly. "You know the dangers in splitting up. You get yourway, as usual. I'll come with you. But I won't like it and you'll have to listento me bitch about it all the way up the canyon.""I'll suffer it." She smiled triumphantly at him. "Consider it serendipityinstead of an enforced detour. Many important discoveries are made because ofserendipity.""Bullshit. You've just decided that you want to go now."That prompted a glare that chilled the air in the marketplace. She didn't speakto him for the rest of the afternoon.Homat would have voted for staying on the river. Though he had eaten the producethe Tsla traded with the river dwellers and had heard much of their marvelousaccomplishments, he'd never seen one and didn't care if he ever did. He thoughtthat deEtienne should have argued more powerfully with his mate, and if thathad failed, given her orders. But it would seem that malefemale relationshipsamong the offworlders were very different from those among the Mai. He spent awhole morning making signs and attempting to propitiate the proper spiritsbefore they set off Upriver once again.It wasn't long before the hydrofoil's instrumentation warned them of theapproaching confluence of the Skar and the Aurang. Ahead, the Skar executed asharp bend westward while the Aurang flowed into the main river from out of thenorth. Given the Aurang's immense flow and orientation, anyone not knowingwhich was which would have proceeded up the tributary, thinking it the Skar.Making landfall on the eastern shore of the river just above the town of Aib,they dispatched Homat to inquire about the availability of transportation andporters. Despite the high rate of pay offered, engaging help turned out to bedifficult."They are reluctant to leave their homes to travel to the land of the Tsla,"Homat explained."Why is that?" Lyra inquired. "I thought that trade went on daily between Tslaand Mai, and has since ancient times.""That is truth," Homat agreed. Behind them, fisherfolk and farmers gatheredcuriously around the anchored hydrofoil, engaging in the usual futile hunt forsails and oars. "But that does not mean that the Mai are anxious to go upthere." He held up something oval that resembled a cross between a grapefruitand a sick lime."This is a gououn. It cannot grow below the level of Turput." He bit into theshinyskinned fruit with gusto and spit out several purple seeds. "This and muchelse can be grown by the Tsla alone. This makes many Mai fearful of them. Andthere are other things." He made hasty protective signs."The Tsla trade with the Mai, but they also trade with the Na of the Guntali.""Then they're not rumors," said Lyra with excitement."Oh no, very real, deLyra. Too real." He shuddered. "Skins of strange creaturesthey bring down from the Guntali, and much serash." Etienne knew serash to bethe word for the local equivalent of ivory."We Mai never see the Na, for we would freeze in moments in their lands. Theirair is difficult to breathe and we would grow dizzy with fear."But some will come for hire. There are always some who will come, if the pay issufficient," he said with assurance. "I wish muchly though, my des, that you didnot have to leave the spirit boat behind." He looked at the curious to make surethey weren't being overheard."Alb is little better than a large village. The Oyts of such towns have fewmorals. Better to have left it behind in Kekkalong."Etienne made the Mai movement for negation, glanced sourly at his wife. "We'realready taking too much time out of our schedule for this side trip, Homat.Leaving the boat at Kekkalong would've cost us several weeks of overland travel.Don't worry though. The spirit boat will be quite safe until we return."Homat looked doubtful, still watching the crowd. "I cannot dissuade you,friends from across the ocean of night, but I do not think this a wise decision.Even the porters I have hired have come down to us from Upriver and not fromAib. I fear treachery.""Relax. We'll have our weapons with us. No one's going to bother the boat in ourabsence. You'll see." He indicated the fishing dock where they'd tied up. "Hasnot the Oyt of Aib promised us that he'll, keep the dock sealed off and all thecurious away? None will be permitted to come near and he's said he'll utilizehis personal guard to insure that. We're paying him a handsome amount to see toit that any locals stay clear.""The sum is not so handsome as the spirit boat itself," Homat grumbled. "As forthe guard he will post here, would that it had come from Kekkalong. Still, ifyou are satisfied, Homat is satisfied." There was no satisfaction in his tone,however. He found it a struggle to understand these peculiar creatures. In manyways they were unimaginably sophisticated and in others, childishly naive."We know what we're doing, Homat.""Could you not at least take it a safe distance up the Aurang?""And dock it in the middle of the river, exposed to unknown currents and highwinds?" Lyra asked. "It's safer here. Besides, anyone who wanted to find itcould do so just as easily a few dozen legats up the Aurang. We'll worry aboutour property, Homat, and you worry about the cooking and the guiding.""As you say, deLyra."In truth, he greatly enjoyed giving orders to the half dozen porters. It was thefirst time in his life he'd been able to exercise any power over his fellow Mai.Power gave rise to wealth, to new knowledge and capabilities. Power was themeasure of an adult. He enjoyed himself so much he managed to forget his fearsabout the safety of the spirit boat.The Oyt of Aib, a bucolic youth named Gwattwe who fancied himself something of adandy, personally saw them safely on their way. He had his own spirit doctorcast a spell for their healthy return.From Aib they would ride on lowagons northward until they encountered theAurang's southerly flow, then turn northeast following the trading trail intothe highlands."May you return in delighted safety," Gwattwe told them. "As one who has tradedoften with the Tsla, I would go with you myself to serve as guide andinterpreter, but a village Oyt must watch over his people.""We understand," Lyra assured him. "We know that you'll take good care of ourproperty.""Have I not sworn the oath?" Gwattwe looked injured. "Have I not given promiseupon my mate and children and most of all, my fortune? Not to mention that I donot receive the second half of payment until you return."I trust that, Etienne thought as he listened to the Mai's speech, more than anyother assurance. Among the Mai, money was as blood.As they turned to enter the waiting lowagons a bored looking chorus of smallchildren launched into an irritatingly atonal chant of farewell. They kept it upuntil the little line of porterdriven lowagons had moved beyond the first bendin the road, then scattered before the blows their chorus master dispensedimpartially.Gwattwe watched the strange visitors depart, then turned glittering eyes to thedock where the hydrofoil bobbed lazily at anchor, tethered to the landing by twowondrously strong metal cables."What do you think on all this, wise Enaromeka?"The spirit doctor eyed the alien craft thoughtfully. "Give them six days beforetaking possession, Gwattwe.""My purse itches feverishly. I don't know that I can wait six days.""Better caution than confrontation. I do not think they suspect, but it would beawkward if they were to double back along the road to see what we were doing.Patience. We shall be masters of all the Skar. Even the oceanic states will dous homage ... if we can make the spirit boat obey us.""Even if we cannot," Gwattwe said, "we can make the hairy ones pay a huge ransomfor its safe return. If they refuse, surely there are many item s of great valuewithin the craft that can be removed and sold. These are no wizards, no godscome among us, Enaromeka. Lightning does not fly from their fingers, no matterwhat the Downriver rumormongers would have us believe, and the rocks do notshake beneath their tread. They are like unto the Mai, save for their size andhairiness, and they have fewer fingers and toes to drive them through life. Ifcut, I am sure they would bleed, and if they bleed, they will die. I understandthem, and I think with care we can come to understand their spirit boat."Besides," he added with a smile, "they will be gone long to the city of theTsla and long returning. We will have ample time to study and experiment withtheir vessel.""It shall be a legendary triumph for you, Gwattwe," the spirit doctor declaimedwith becoming unctuousness."And for you also, my good friend and advisor, for to you falls the honor ofextracting the secrets of the spirit boat. "Enaromeka suddenly felt ill. "What? To me?""Are you not the smartest of the Aib?""The cleverest, but you, great Oyt, are the smartest.""Your flattery is unnecessary. I know when I am beyond my depth."Enaromeka looked resigned. "It will truly be a delightful great honor. I willenlist the aid of my most precocious students. In time, we will learn all thatcan be learned."They observed and measured, discussed and debated for six long days. By thattime Gwattwe was trembling with impatience to step aboard and claim possessionof the spirit boat for Aib and his family line. Word filtered through the townthat the day of Taking had arrived and many of the villagers put aside theirdaily chores to gather on shore above the dock. All wished to partake of theircommunity's triumph, for all would benefit by the successful "repossession," asthe town adjudicator had described it in a moment of florid rationalization.The power and wealth that accrued to Aib would be shared by all, and the name ofAib known all along the river.Enaromeka made certain everyone heard him clearly. "I claim the honor of beingthe first aboard." Gwattwe responded with a gesture of deference. This was asrehearsed and part payment to the spirit doctor for his services.The gunwale was bumping gently against the wooden dock as he stepped gingerlyover the side onto the exposed rear deck. Nothing happened. Enaromeka turned aslow circle, looking quite pleased with himself until a voice rumbled in perfectif slightly stiff' Mai"Visitor, you do not belong on this boat. No permission for visitation has beengranted. You have twenty anats in which to vacate this boat or you will sufferdire consequences. You have been warned."Enaromeka stood as if paralyzed, while Gwattwe blinked and tried to see throughthe transparent bubble enclosing the cockpit. The warriors arranged nearbyforgot their positions as they searched the windows for the invisible speaker.So did Enaromeka's assistants.There was no sign of life within the boat. Nothing moved beyond thetransparencies and the boat itself continued to bob on the breath of thecurrent.Enaromeka overcame his initial panic and moved cautiously to where he couldlook down into the boat. "I see no one.""Nor do I," Gwattwe said from the dock."I will go inside and look." Enaromeka reached for the door handle and \_pulled."I can't move it.""That is to be expected," said Gwattwe. "It is not to be anticipated that theywould trust us enough to leave their vessel unlocked. Would a long knife help?"Enaromeka put his face to the window that comprised the upper half of thedoorway. "It is strong. Little lights inside are blinking on and off, like thefires of hunting parties up the side of the canyon. Perhaps the lights havesomething to do with the lock. Fire spirits. Give me a zhaloo."From within the ranks of warriors a heavy spiked club was passed forward. One ofthe spirit doctor's students handed it across to Enaromeka."Five anats," the voice announced dangerously. "Leave this boat now.""I know what it is," Enaromeka declared suddenly, unwilling to abandon hismoment of glory to an unseen specter. "A spirit voice locked within the boat,left here to frighten us." He spoke boldly. "I, Enaromeka, am not frightened byspirits. I will learn the secrets of this craft despite all the voices thatshout at me. I am not afraid of voices!"Taking careful aim with the club, he brought it down over the transparencycovering the blinking lights. A brilliant explosion of light momentarily blindedthe watching crowd and there was much screaming. Women and children fled for thesafety of boulders and sun shelters. Several of the warriors lined up in statelyprocession along the dock broke formation to sample the cool waters of the Skar.Gwattwe had enough presence of mind to note their names and former rank.When his sight had recovered somewhat from the effects of the unexpected flash,he turned back to the spirit boat. It still rode easily on its lines. Curled upon the rear deck was the object that an instant earlier had been his spiritdoctor. Smoke rose from the skull and sides of the fetal shape while the leathersandals burned ferociously.One of Enaromeka's students jumped onto the boat. Gwattwe held his breath butnothing happened to the scholar as he beat at the fire consuming hisinstructor's feet. With great presence of mind, the student yelled instructions.There was movement among the onlookers. A bucket was located, filled with river,and carefully handed over.As the student dumped the water on Enaromeka's corpse, a solemn voice intoned,"Visitor, you do not belong on this boat. No permission for visitation has beengranted. You have twenty anats in which to vacate this boat or you will sufferdire consequences. You have been warned.""I'm not leavings" the student announced, making a sign to ward off the mostdangerous of unknown spirits. Reaching down, he picked up the ineffectualzhaloo, hefted it angrily as he moved toward the doorway that had defeated hisinstructor.Gwattwe was not as surprised by the light this time. The student was barefoot,and the water in which he stood did not protect him from the fire spirits. Hisdeparture from existence was much more spectacular than Enaromeka's. Swallowedby the burst of energy, he gave a tremendous convulsive twitch and leaped or wasthrown over the side of the craft.Two warriors reluctantly doffed their armor and dove into the river to pull himashore. Gwattwe examined the student's body with much interest. It was brokenand distorted, though differently from Enaromeka's. The soles of his feet hadbeen carbonized and black streaks ran up both legs. The smell of burnt flesh wasstrong in the morning air.But there had been no fire, only a burst of light and a loud crackling sound.Pungiram, one of the elders of Aib, had come down onto the dock."It would appear, my Oyt Gwattwe, that the hairy strangers are not so dumb asthey frst seemed.""So it would appear." Gwattwe showed no distress at having been abruptlydeprived of the services of his spirit doctor. He eyed the boat with moreinterest than ever. "In this first test of trust and friendship, they have comeout ahead. But I am persistent, old one. There must be some way to drive theprotecting spirit out of this boat so that we can take possession of it."Pungiram decided to speak up. "You will not find many ready to do battle withunknown spirits, especially spirits that slay as efficiently as do thoseguarding this boat.""I am not afraid of spirits," Gwattwe said as he hastened to shield himself witha couple of quickly executed signs, "that are of this world, but it is a newthing to try to deal with a spirit that comes from beyond. However, I am not sosure that we are dealing with a spirit here. This boat is a thing of metal andother strange substances. It is nova proper spirit house.""Do we have any idea what other spirits consider a proper abode?""Perhaps we may learn. I will not give up and walk back to my house." His gazerose, turned to the trade road which had swallowed up the tall hairy ones. "Along way to Turput, a long way back. We have much time left to us."The surviving students had clustered around the Oyt. He frowned at them. "Whatails you?""We must do something about the Teacher." The speaker gestured towardEnaromeka's blackened body. "He must be given a proper burial.""He must have his wood and his journey to the sea," another insisted."I agree," Gwattwe said "Which of you will honor him by being the first to steponto the spirit boat to remove the body?"Rapid glances were passed among the scholars. They decided it would be best todiscuss the matter in depth before making any firm decisions. They drifted awaytoward the town, arguing vociferously among themselves.His peace and quiet restored, Gwattwe again considered the object of his dreams.He had never been to any of the wondrous citystates that traders told of, hadtraveled only a short distance Downriver. But he'd visited Kekkalong and hadadmired its wealth. The spirit boat was no more than another new thing to bestudied and understood, as he had come to understand power and wealth. He wouldmake a massive effort to be patient. He would have to be or he would quickly runout of advisors.He would make a speech praising brave Enaromeka. Then everyone would go back towork. Tomorrow he would consider the problem anew. That was all that wasrequired; careful thought and sufficient tomorrows.But he would have to cajole as well as order his advisors. The odor of acolleague's burning flesh was a powerful deterrent to curiosity.Chapter Seven"DeEtienne, deEtienne, we must stop and rest!"Etienne halted, staring ahead to where the trading road climbed still another ofthe endless vertical walls in a series of laboriously cut switchbacks. The roarof the Aurang cataract was a constant buzz in his ears, even though it was outof sight far off to their left."We're nearly there, Homat. I don't want to spend another night on the road.Tell them no.""It does not matter, deEtienne." Homat gestured at the line of heavily ladenporters behind them. "They say they will go not a step farther until they aregiven time to put on their warmest clothing."Etienne made a face as he checked his wrist instrumentation. The airtemperature was eightyfour and holding. Despite that, several of the portersmade no attempt to hide their discomfort, and two were shivering. For his part,Homat was manfully trying to hide the chills that wracked his own body."Very well, but tell them to be quick about it. I want to reach Turput beforedark.""We should, we should, deEtienne," Homat said gratefully. He turned andrelayed the information to the porters. They responded with a babble of thanks,dropping their packs with fine disregard for the contents in their rush to helpone another on with heavy coats and hats.Lyra watched with interest. It was strange to see a Mai clad in longsleeved andlonglegged attire. The coldclimate gear was made of double layered cotton likefiber stuffed with some puffy plant material."In the land of the blind the oneeyed man is king," Lyra murmured."I don't see how that relates to our present situation," Etienne commented."In the land of the bald, the hirsute man is king.""That's a lousy analogy.""You never did have much of a sense of humor." She turned away from him.The distant Skar was now only a faint silver thread lying against the westernhorizon. A considerable walk indeed. The fact that the air at three thousandmeters was almost Earthnormal was a great comfort. Down on the Skar, they'dbeen forced to breathe mud. Or so their lungs had persistently told them.The thinner air did not seem to have troubled the porters, but the drop intemperature had been affecting their performance for several days. Bundled up intheir heavy clothing, they looked much more comfortable.Etienne had to admit that he was enjoying himself. The multicolored strata theypassed as they made the ascent were an unending source of wonderment. Tslamainawas an ancient world, and its entire history lay exposed within the canyonwalls. He wished only that he could see across the canyon, but at the confluenceof the Aurang and the Skar it was still well over a thousand kilometers wide.At least the road had been wide and clear, with no rough places, and they'dencountered few of the vertical walls with their legstraining switchbacks. Windand water had turned the steep walls here to a manageable slope.For the first time he could see the edge of the Guntali Plateau, revealed in thedistance from time to time when the high clouds cleared. The uneven rocky rimrose another three thousand meters higher than Turput, sharply defining theoriginal surface of the planet.At this altitude the strepanong, dorril, and malming became more than distantcircling dots, their enormous soaring shapes resolving into living creatureswith five to eightmeter wingspans. The great scavengers rode the superheatedair that rose from the floor of the Barshajagad and rarely scoured below thetwothousandmeter line. This according to the porters, who were nonethelessterrified of them.They'd climbed past the last Mai village days ago and since then had seen onlyan occasional solitary hunting party swathed in heavy clothing. Etienne wasenjoying the comparative silence."Billions of years," he murmured. "That's how long it took the rivers to cutthose canyons."Lyra turned from her study of the porter's cold weather gear to grin knowinglyat him. "Then you're glad we made the detour?"He was still unwilling to grant her the small triumph. "Certainly it's moreinteresting than the section of the Barshajagad we left, but I'd still preferthat we'd kept to our original itinerary.""Can't give in gracefully, can you? You can't ever let me win. Why can't youadmit when you're wrong?""I will, when I am wrong.""Sure. You're the stubbornest man I've ever met, Etienne.""Then why did you marry me?""Always the same question. Always testing, never content. One of these days I'mgoing to..." she turned and walked away, mumbling to herself. She always stoppedbefore finishing that sentence, for which he was grateful. Or at least, it usedto be that he was grateful. Ten years now she'd put off finishing that sentence.Homat hurried up alongside him as they resumed their climb. "The porters pass ontheir gratefulness. They are still cold but it leaves their bones.""Should be warm enough," Etienne snapped, unaware of the sharpness of his tone."Took them damn near an hour to change clothes.""They are not used to such cold, deEtienne." Homat tugged at the rim of his ownhood, trying to cover as much of his bald pate as possible. "Nor am I. Theydressed as rapidly as they could." He tried to see into Etienne's eyes. "Truly,you and deLyra are not cold?"The geologist wore modified lederhosen and a heavier shirt over his mesh briefs."Not only that, Homat, I'm still on the warm side."Homat considered this. "Our bodies do not appear so very different, deEtienne,and while you and deLyra have more fur, much of you still is bare skin, as areour bodies. I would not think that you would still be warm here.""Different environments induce difference adaptations, Homat.""Truly," Homat confessed."If you're through lording it over the natives," Lyra said in terranglo from herposition farther up the road, "maybe we can make a little progress beforenightfall?""I wasn't `lording it.,"' he shot back angrily, "I was just explaining to Homatthat" but she'd already turned away from him to resume her climb. When shedid that it made him mad enough to spit wood. Short of grabbing her and forcingher to listen to him, however, there was little he could do, and he didn't wantto engage in a shouting match in front of the porters. So he swallowed hisanger, convinced it would go straight to the ulcer he was building in his gut,the painful cavity that had his wife's name written all over it.It was early evening when they finally crested the last ridge overlookingTurput. Neither of them knew what to expect. A smaller version of Kekkalong,perhaps. They were pleasantly surprised.Neat narrow streets paved with gray flagstone ran down to the fast moving Aurangand continued on the far shore. Both banks were lined with wooden water wheelsthat turned steadily in the swift current. Instead of the blocky Maiarchitecture they'd come to associate with civilization on Tslamaina, they sawbuildings designed with flowerlike domes and elegant arches. Graceful windingwalls connected the main structures, and fluted slate tiles drained rainwaterfrom the roofs. Small observation towers bloomed amid the larger edifices.Excepting the towers, nothing rose higher than three floors.Above the town the Aurang split into a series of gentle cataracts where dimfigures worked with long fish sweeps. Terraces heavy with fruit bushes steppedtoward heaven. At the far end of the formation Etienne identified as a hangingvalley, a wide waterfall crashed into the riverbed.Most magical of all were the sounds made by the profusion of bells and windchimes that inhabited every house and shop, dangled from windows and rafters andprojecting beams. The tinkling and clanging and bonging were audible even abovethe rush of the Aurang. There were bells of metal and ceramic, of glass and clayand wood, bone bells and stone chimes."Isn't it magnificent, Etienne?" Behind Lyra Homat made an impolite noise whileEtienne elected to reserve judgment. Alien beauty could be deceptive."Very aesthetic appearance," he grudgingly admitted. But he found it hard toresist the multicolored town after the bland whites and yellows of Maicommunities. It seemed as if every building in Turput was painted a differentcolor. The town, like the air above it, was alive with rainbows.They started down the ridge. As they neared the town they saw one could enterfrom any direction without encountering an obstruction. There was a single smallgate, an afterthought of wooden logs and planks. One could walk around it aseasily as through it. It also offered them their first Tsla.Lyra and Etienne were not familiar with Tsla characteristics and so could nottell how old he was, but both scientists received an impression of age. Inheight he stood midway between Etienne's and Lyra's. The resemblance betweenTsla and human, and for that matter between Tsla and Mai, ended there.His togaandcape attire could not conceal the fact that he was coveredeverywhere save on the forearms and forelegs with a short, soft brown fur. Thehead rested on a neck that was curved forward, giving a false impression of age.Ears were short round stubs set atop the head. The six fingers were shorter andstubbier than those of Mai or human while the eyes displayed a dewy luster.Most prominent of all the facial features was the quarter meter long flexiblesnout like that of the terran tapir. It bobbed and dipped with an independentlife of its own, no doubt conveying subtleties of expression discernible only toanother Tsla. Twin nostrils were visible through the fur at the tip.It strained Etienne's laboriously memorized Tsla to translate the Tsla'sg reeting. "I am Sau, Keeper of the Gate of Hospitality." To Etienne's relief theTsla switched to fluent Mai. "Word of thy coming has preceded thee. You are thevisitors said to come from another world."Lyra nodded sagely. Her affinity for languages reached far beyond Etienne's, andshe wasn't hesitant about trying the local dialect. "We are they, Keeper. Yourgate must be of hospitality, for it protects nothing but air.""A conceit." The Tsla spread both hands to the air, showing bare skin up to theelbow. "Most visitors seem to expect a gate, so one was made. Higher towns thanTurput have need of real gates. We do not."The language of the Tsla was slow and languorous, a startling contrast to thefastpaced singsong of the Mai. Etienne found himself impatient for the Keeperto continue."Thee are welcome here. We hope that thy visit will honor us."Polite, open, with none of the double meanings the Mai attached to such phrasesof greeting. Despite his initial reservations Etienne found himself developing afondness for the Tsla. There was a graciousness about this creature no Mai haddisplayed, not even the obsequious Ambassador Ror deKelwhoang of Po Rabi."Follow me and I will take you to a place of rest. Thy friends," he added with abarely perceptible hint of distaste as he indicated the porters, "are alsowelcome.""Most generous of thee," Lyra replied properly as the Tsla turned to lead theminto the town.Their escort kept up a fair pace, moving with deliberation so as not to tire thevisitors. Instead of lifting each foot and then setting it ahead and down, theTsla moved with a gait more shuffle and slide. The cape covering the creature'sbroad back was dark brown split by a single yellow stripe running down themiddle. This simple motif was present on the toga as well. Etienne found himselfunexpectedly pleased by the sight of another intelligent creature with hair.Baldness was the norm not only among the Mai but the thranx as well.After they entered the town, each Tsla they encountered marked their passage byduplicating the Keeper's raising of hands, as if they were caressing the air.The Mai muttered among themselves and packed into a tight knot behind thehumans. Etienne wondered at their paranoia, which was typically Mai. There wasno suggestion of treachery here.Clusters of Tsla children followed a polite distance behind, wiggling curiousstubs of snouts as they took the scent of the peculiar strangers. Before toolong the Keeper halted outside a long barnlike building with a gently curvingroof. It resembled a broken olla set on its side against the earth."This is the Trade Place," one of the porters said. "I was here once before,though I did not stay long."The Keeper beckoned them to enter. Inside it was dark and cool. Off to the rightthey found a row of interconnected chambers with skylights set into the curvingceiling. The glass was wellfashioned, with few bubbles. It was a good twentydegrees warmer in the room than it had been out in the hallway."For thy friends," the Keeper announced, "and for thee as well if you sodesire.""No, thanks." Etienne watched the Mai pile joyfully into the big room and standwith their faces turned up to the sunlight. They divested themselves of theirburdens without being told. "I think we'd prefer the type of room you useyourselves.""As thee wish." The Keeper took them back out into the hall and led them fartherinto the building to a smaller room full of the aroma of fresh incense."If this suits thee, I must leave now.""It suits," Etienne said.Lyra was running a hand over the near wall. "Look at this, Etienne. The entireinside wall is glazed, like a big pot!"He let his fingers touch the slick surface. "Watertight and cool in summer,reflects the heat of a fire in winter." The single skylight did not trap theheat as did those in the porters' room. A window at eyelevel allowed a viewoutside to the paved street.After a time a second Tsla joined them. He was taller than the Keeper and stooda little straighter while still displaying the curved upper spine. He wore asimilar toga and cape arrangement, but this one was black with two gold stripesdividing it."I am Tyl. I have the honor to be thy host and guide during thy visit toTurput." He made no secret of his own curiosity regarding the strangers."Anything thee wish thee have but to ask and if it can be provided it will.""We can't stay long," Etienne replied, chosing to ignore his wife's radiantexpression. She was in xenosociological heaven. "We left our boat down on theSkar and we have to return there soon.""Never mind that now. Tyl, we want to see everything we can. It's true we havelittle time, but I want to learn as much as possible about thy people and theircustoms, their way of life. That is my job.""Worthy scholarship," said Tyl. He had an unexpectedly deep voice that camerolling out in breathy, rounded syllables from beneath the flexible snout. "Ifthy time is constrained thee must listen close as well as look. Tomorrow, ifarrangements can be made, I will take thee to the temple of Moraung Motau.""Maybe we'd like to see something else first.""Etienne! Don't be impolite. You've been too long among the Mai. I swear, you'restarting to act like a riverfront merchant."He was too tired to bicker with her, simply turned away and examined the wallwhile she continued to converse with Tyl."If thee prefer," their host said, "there is a little time left to the day. Wecould begin now.""Not on your thylife." Etienne headed for a padded bench that obviously wasdesigned to serve as a couch or bed or both. "I'm worn out.""Well I'm not," Lyra snapped. "You may show me around if thee wish, Tyl.""My greatest honor."Etienne thought of a suitably sarcastic rejoinder but found it hard to find areason for spiting the Tsla's courtesy. He said nothing as they departed. Thesound of chimes and bells was like a sedative and the couchbed surprisinglycomfortable. Before he knew it he was sound asleep.Light from a candle set in a glass dish on a high shelf awakened him. No doubtit had been lit carefully while he slept by some conscientious servitor."Wake up, I said."He rolled over, found himself staring up at his wife's excited face. He rubbedtiredly at his heavy eyes. "What is it?""Etienne, Tyl took me through half the town, by torchlight. The system ofgovernment these people have developed is unique to sentients in thistechnological classification! These Tsla are a xenological wonder. Do you knowthat the spiritual administratorsand they're not priests, more the equivalentof primitive psychoanalystsactually hold half the seats of government?""That's interesting." He began to roll over but she put a hand out to restrainhim. He looked irritatedly back over his shoulder."Etienne, listen to me! This social structure is unprecedented. This is apresteam civilization, yet the people are socially advanced enough to payextraordinary attention to something as sophisticated as mental health. Theydon't define it quite like that, of course, but it comes out the same. They maybe the stablest primitive alien society yet encountered, and they do thiswithout holding any unwarranted illusions about themselves."No wonder the Mai fear and suspect them! The Tsla are so much better balanced.The Tsla have come to terms with the health of their minds earlier than mostpeoples do with the condition of their bodies. Even Martinson's work on Alaspinis proof of it. This discovery, Etienne, it's worth all the trouble of makingthe expedition." She stood and began to pace the room."The Tsla are special, unique. There's more than a chip monograph here, there'san entire volume.""I'm thrilled for you." He let out a helpless yawn. "Do keep in mind that wehave half a river left to explore."She started to comment, changed her mind in midthought."You're exhausted, Etienne. We'll discuss this in the morning.""You should be exhausted too.""I know, but I can't hold back the enthusiasm. I'm running on adrenalin,Etienne, and I have to share this with someone. Who else if not you?" Shehesitated and added in an odd tone of voice, "Tyl would be interested.""Tyl strikes me as a good listener." Etienne pulled the light blanket up aroundhis neck."He is, and a good talker as well. From all I was able to discern he's regardedvery well by his fellow Tsla. I watched him perform his evening prann. Beneathall those robes and cloaks they wear, some of these people are very impressivephysical specimens, Etienne. Much more impressive than the Mai.""Makes sense. The climate up here's less benign and working steep terracesrequires more strength than tending to a floodplain.""Yes. Much more in the way of physical strength," she murmured.I'll in glad you had such a profitable evening. Now if you don't mind, I reallywas enjoying my sleep.""Sorry. Inconsiderate of me." She tiptoed backward from the room. "I'll leaveyou now, Etienne, and I'll try not to wake you when I return. I have to findTyl.""Sure," he mumbled, already halfconscious again, "go find Tyl."He felt much refreshed the next morning. The sun was shining brightly throughthe skylight and window and a basin of clear cold water was waiting for him bythe foot of his bed. It was the best night's sleep he'd had since leavingSteamer Station.He splashed water off his face, dried himself with his shirt, and looked around."Lyra?" The other couchbed was empty. He raised his voice a little. "Lyra!"She entered through the arched doorway a moment later, already fully dressed andwide awake. He frowned at her."Didn't you get any sleep?""Sure did. Slept like Lazarus, got up at dawn. This is such a wonderful place,Etienne. I know it's an unprofessional thing to say, but there's no comparingthese people to the Mai, Homat being an exception. From what Tyl tells methere's next to no crime among the Tsla. We can leave our possessions anywherein town without fear they'll be stolen. That's another byproduct of theirconcern for mental health. They've learned to cope with their baser instinctsnot only better than the Mai, but better than many people I know.""That's quite a judgment to make on the basis of half a night's conversationwith one native, Isn't it an unwritten rule that all primitive cultures havetheir hidden eccentricities? I'm sure the Tsla's will appear in due course." Hehunted for his lederhosen."Maybe so, but I haven't seen any evidence of it yet and I've been looking.Hurry up. Tyl's waiting for us.""Waiting for us? Why?"She didn't try to mute her exasperation. "To guide us to the temple of MoraungMotau, remember?""Sorry. Still full of sleep. What about something to eat?""That's waiting too. I've already sampled the local cooking. It's blander thanthe Mai's but perfectly palatable. Don't worry about Homat and the others.They've already eaten and they're stretched out under their skylights, soakingup the ultraviolet."The meal that was brought to their room was simple but ample. Tyl joined them,watching while they ate and sharing their enjoyment if not their table.Etienne muttered a terse thank you, asked, "How far is it to this temple?""A day's journey. We will spend the night near there."Etienne searched his memory, was unable to conjure up the sight of any largestructures at the far end of the valley and told Tyl so."You did not miss seeing it, friend Etienne. I perhaps should have said it liesa day's ride from Turput. We will not use our own feet.""Lowagons?" Etienne inquired, thankful for his feet."No. Those are tools of the Mai. We will ride lekkas. When thee are ready, Iwill take thee."In the stable area behind the hospitality building they encountered their firstlekka, a furry thinlegged creature with an incongruously rotund body and adouble tail that switched nervously from side to side. Blunt fury faces turnedto glance curiously at the bearers of strange new smells. They waited withplacid expressions and chewed their cuds as Tsla handlers attached reins to thebase of high, forward curving ears. The forelegs were longer than the hind, anunusual arrangement for an animal built to run. Etienne thought of hyenas andgiraffes, though the lekka was bulkier than either.In consequence, there was no pommel on the woven cloth saddles. Instead, eachboasted a high backrest designed to keep the rider from sliding backward downthe sloping spine. It was heavily padded. There were no stirrups. The handlersbrought stepstools to assist in mounting.The reins were simple and straightforward and both Redowls were mounted inminutes. Tyl turned his own steed, spoke comfortingly."One thing to be careful of. The lekka stands quietly, but they love to run. Sobe prepared." A stable yard gate was swung open ahead and he swung his lekkaaround.As their guide shouted an indecipherable Tsla word, Etienne's mount made asudden rush for the gap, reaching out with those long forelegs and nearlythrowing its rider feet over head despite the saddle's solid backbrace. As itwas he almost kicked himself in the mouth. Lyra's deep, vibrant laugh didn'tmake him feel any better. He threw her a murderous look which she ignored asshe smoothly followed Tyl out the gate.Etienne brought up the rear, furious at his own clumsiness and determined tomaster his animal. Before too long his hips adjusted to the odd reaching gallopand he was speeding up the wide dirt road as comfortably as Lyra.The track ran parallel to the river. The Aurang here was some six kilometerswide, a mighty torrent but only a trickle compared to the Skar. At the far endof the hanging valley the river fell to earth in a broad waterfall, sparklingand most impressive. It was a good hundred meters high and reminded him of thegreat waterfalls trideed on the tropical thranx worlds that they some day hopedto visit.He nudged his mount nearer Lyra and Tyl, called across to their guide."It is called the Visautik," Tyl informed him. "We will reach it by midday."Etienne was studying the sheer wall that seemed to mark the end of the valley."Then what?""There is a trail not visible from here, a trading road that climbs a rockfallon this side of the Visautik. It rises to the next valley. Many legats beyondlies the temple of Moraung Motau. And the Cuparaggai.""What's that?" Lyra asked, simultaneously noting that the Tsla used the sameunit to measure distance as did the Mai.There was no way of telling if their guide smiled, since his mouth was hidden bythe weaving proboscis, but Tyl nonetheless managed to convey a feeling ofanticipation as well as delighted amusement as he said, "Thee will see."Chapter EightThey heard the Cuparaggai long before they saw it, and felt it before they heardit. It announced itself as a buzzing in the ears, a vibration in the bones. Itsroar drowned out the rush of Visautik Falls before they crested the canyon wall.The temple valley was not as large as the one in which Turput lay, and itappeared narrower and smaller still because of the height of the walls thatenclosed it. Jewellike fields filled the valley, nourished by the Aurang's flow.At the far end of the valley lay the still unseen source of steady thunder,marked only by sunlit mist.They paused atop the ridge and had an interesting lunch that consisted of somekind of local rolled meat and thick, sweet breadsticks. Then they remounted androde on. Several hours later Tyl paused and extracted a handful of small roundcottony pads.Lyra examined the pair he handed to her. "What are these for?"Tyl pointed to the small shapes atop his head, then pushed one of the padsinside."Oh!" Lyra hadn't noticed that they now had to shout in order to be heard overthe nearing roar, but she was made aware of it as soon as she inserted the padsand silence returned.Despite these precautions they were quite unprepared for the sight that greetedthem when they turned a sharp bend in the canyon.Several kilometers ahead, sheer rock walls met to form a vertical defile no morethan four kilometers wide. For the first time since they'd left the Skar,Etienne forgot his irritation with Lyra. He was enveloped by wonder."How high?" she shouted at him, leaning close so that he could hear her throughhis earplugs. He'd already taken a sighting with the instrumentation on hiswrist."Twentyfive hundred meters!" Only the fact that the spray did not rise half ashigh as the falls themselves enabled them to see the cliff where the AurangRiver flowed over the edge of the Guntali Plateau. It was a frightening,magnificent drop and the result was a cascade of unmatched proportions,fittingly located on a world of geological superlatives.It seemed impossible that the stone at the base of that torrent could withstandthe impact of so much water falling from such a height without turning topowder. Just as it seemed impossible for the ancient multistorey edifice thatclung to the cliff face just to the right of the waterfall to remain in placewithout having been shaken to pieces hundreds of years ago.Tyl pointed. "Moraung Motau.""How old?" Lyra shouted as they raced toward it."A thousand years, two thousand, who can say?" Tyl spurred his lekka on.Hundreds of windows threw back the sun from the rambling, rockclimbingstructure, which appeared more than large enough to shelter the whole populationof Turput. Huge basreliefs covered the facade with writhing figures anddecorative motifs. Only the fact that the building had been hewn from the rawstone of the cliff face enabled it to withstand the steady vibration produced bythe immense waterfall nearby.Several thousand years, Tyl had said, and Etienne had no reason to doubt theTsla's veracity. He had shown himself to be truthful in everything else.As they drew near he saw that the thick green lines that covered the lower partof the cliff on both sides of the Cuparaggai were not sculpted and painteddecorations but enormous vines, unlike anything they had observed growing onTslamaina before. Tsla toiled among them, tending to roots and leaves. They worelonger capes of some shiny material which kept them from being soaked by theomnipresent spray.Tyl reined in his lekka and the two humans slowed accordingly."Aren't we going any farther?" Lyra asked, shouting to make herself heard overthe Cuparaggai's thunder. "Aren't we going inside the temple?"Tyl gestured negatively and looked apologetic. "I am sorry, but it is notpermitted. Thee are not initiates. Nor could thee stand it for very long. Themonks who live and work at Moraung Motau are attuned to the old books andancient ways. They are also quite deaf. It has always been so."He led them through the gate of a nearby farm. Etienne could not tell if thestop had been prearranged, but the farmer and his two mates were as cordial andrelaxed as if they'd known their guests for years.There they stayed and spent the remainder of the day talking, or rather,everyone listened politely and attempted to answer Lyra's unending questions.She inquired about division of labor in the valley, family structure, monkishritual, about trading procedure and education and what the Tsla expected of anafterlife until the poor farmer and his mates were exhausted. Eventually Tylintervened."Much of what thee request of this family they can not provide for reasons ofignorance, inhibition, custom, or uncertainty. Nor can I. There is one who mightsate thy endless curiosity.""Then that's who I want to meet.""Miian is Chief Consoler and First Scholar of Turput. His time he gives of butsparingly, for he is old and tired. But I believe he will consent to sharehimself with thee.""That would be wonderful." Lyra put a hand on her husband's arm. "Wouldn't thatbe wonderful, Etienne?""Wonderful. You won't mind if I don't tag along?"She looked shocked. "Etienne, this is a special opportunity. How can you?..."She caught herself, coughed. "You'd rather look at the rocks, wouldn't you?""That's right. I'd rather look at the rocks. You go ahead and sit at the feet ofthis Consoler." He glanced past her, to Tyl. "Provided it's no imposition.""Friend Etienne, the sharing of knowledge is never an imposition, just like thesharing of self. It gives pleasure."On their way back down to Turput, Etienne let his lekka fall behind Tyl's sothat he could talk to his wife without shouting."Lyra, don't you think you're starting to view these people with something lessthan scientific detachment? Of all people, you ought to know better than toidealize a primitive race, no matter how superficially attractive theirphilosophy may seem.""It's not superficial. You put too high a premium on technology, Etienne. Thereare other definitions of advancement, other kinds of higher knowledge."He found himself growing angry. "Come on now, Lyra. The Tsla are nice enough,and they seem content within themselves, but that's hardly reason enough to gooverboard about them. I never thought I'd see you romanticizing a bunch ofelephantnosed aborigines.""I would not use the word `aborigine' to describe them," she replied coldly."They have advanced far beyond that stage. As for `romanticizing' them, I don'tconsider you qualified to use the word."Her whole attitude struck him as so absurd that the putdown missed its intendedeffect. "This is supposed to be a scientific expedition," he told her, "andwe've been more than a little occupied with business. I'm sorry if I haven'tfound much time for romance, but I'm not used to strumming guitars beneath fourmoons, let alone one. Besides which it's a twoway street. A littleencouragement on a second party's part might be in order."She bridled at that. "I've given you ample opportunity.""You don't say? How exactly do you define ample opportunity, and how does thathave anything to do with encouragement? They're two different things, you know.""If you don't know," she snapped, "I certainly can't tell you." She spurred herlekka forward until she was cantering alongside their guide.Etienne watched as the pair of them began an animated discussion of some obscureaspect of Tsla behavior. Infatuated, he told himself. A good scientist likeLyra, infatuated with a bunch of furry primitives. It was hard to believe.Well, she'd get over it soon enough. Everything about Tsla culture was new toher, each bit of information a surprise and contrast to what they'd learnedabout the Mai. As soon as she worked it out of her system they'd head back downinto the Barshajagad and life would return to normal. Let her rhapsodize abouther work. He had plenty of his own to do for a change. If she tried to draw himinto her discussions all he had to do was start talking enthusiastically aboutthe amount of pyroxine in the local metamorphics and she'd leave him alonequickly enough.True to his word as always, Tyl succeeded in obtaining permission for Lyra tohave an audience with the Chief Consoler. From then on Etienne saw very littleof his wife save at mealtimes. He lost himself in his own field studies, makingas complete a record of the canyon of the Aurang and its formations as possible,estimating the age of various strata and returning several times to marvel atthe power and majesty of Cuparaggai Falls.It was only several weeks later, during one of their increasingly infrequentmeetings in their room, that he remarked again on the amount of time she wasspending among their hosts, and it was not something she said that prompted hiscomments it was her appearance."Where did you get that outfit?" He stared at her and tried to withhold hislaughter.Lyra executed a slow pirouette for him. The brilliantly striped freeflowinggown and cape swirled loosely around her."Tyl gave it to me. Miian ordered it. It seems that he thinks very highly ofme. We've been exchanging information, you see. He teaches me, I teach him.Miian lives for the sharing of knowledge.""Clad the two of you are getting along so well. But really, Lyranative dress?""What's wrong with it? It keeps off the wind, it's as warm during the night asmy long sleeves and cooler during the day. Eminently practical. They had tomodify the shoulder area for me. We don't have that curvature of the upperspine, and my arms are longer, but it's such a tentlike garment little work wasnecessary. Miian insisted.""Nice of the old boy. What enlightening discoveries have you made?""Everything I've learned to date only confirms what I originally suspected. TheTsla are the most sociologically advanced race of their class yet discovered.They have no standing army, no police force, and all citizens bear arms on therare occasions when it's necessary.""No crime at all, in a society this primitive?""There you go with your preconceived notions of what's primitive, Etienne.There's some crime, naturally. It's handled by the Consolers and Advisors. Theytreat the culprit like a patient, not a criminal. Cure and not punishment.According to the First Scholar there is perfection in everyone.""You included, naturally.""Me included." The sarcasm went right past her. "You included. The Mai and theNa included." Then she said something which made him sit up and take notice."Etienne, I believe the Tsla may be mildly telepathic.""Now that would be a discovery worth shouting about. There are no knowntelepathic races, only mutant individuals. What makes you think so?""Their remarkable perceptivity. They seem to have an instinctive grasp of whatI'm going to say before I say it."His initial excitement faded. "What makes you think it's anything more thanthat?"She suddenly looked uncomfortable. "For one thing, Tyl has commented on morethan one occasion that he doesn't believe you and I are getting along too well."The sharp laugh that filled the room was wholly spontaneous."And you're basing your assumption on evidence like that? You don't have to be atelepathic native to see that you and I aren't exactly acting like the idealcouple. I'm sure you've shared that knowledge with this Miian also and hepassed it on to Tyl.""You just don't want to consider the possibility, do you?" "Possibility? Show mesome real evidence for telepathic ability and I'll consider the possibility. I'mstarting to worry about you, Lyra.""Save yourself the trouble." She turned to leave. "I should have known betterthan to confide in you.""Lyra..." She hesitated. "Lyra, we've only been here a few weeks. The Tslaaren't natural wonders any more than they're living examples of Rousseau'snatural man. They're simply a nicer group of folks than the Mai. For all we knowthey may make mass sacrifices every six months.""I don't understand your hostility. Why this sudden antipathy toward the Tsla?They've been perfect hosts.""There's no antipathy and what I'm saying has nothing to do with the Tsla. AllI'm saying is that no conscientious researcher should jump to conclusions, muchless make value judgments about an entire race on the basis of a few weeks spentamong one group of villagers.""I can agree with that, Etienne. A lot more study is needed to confirm myfindings. There are several volumes to be composed. I haven't even had time toexamine how the Tsla's position as middlemen between the Mai and the Na hasaffected their outlook on life and their social development.""I'm sure someone will resolve all the loose xenological ends neatly some day."She said nothing and a sudden thought changed his tone. "Lyra, are you trying totell me something?""Yes. I'm not ready to go Upriver again yet, Etienne. My work here is barelyunder way.""When will you be ready to go Upriver again, my love?""Maybe in a couple of months. Certainly no sooner.""That takes us into local winter. That wouldn't cause us any problems here, butup near the arctic circle the Skar may freeze solid. The hydrofoil's notequipped for ice skimming, Lyra. We can't wait two months."She turned again, a swirl of brightly striped cottonlike folds. "I'm sorry,Etienne, but I can't abandon my work here. As you so aptly pointed out, I don'thave sufficient evidence to support my numerous conclusions.""Where are you going?""Evening meditation. I've been invited to watch and to participate if I desire.I'd ask you along but you wouldn't find a bunch of aborigines sitting aroundattempting to get in touch with their inner selves very interesting, would you?"And she was gone. He stared after her for a long minute."Well, damn!" He would have kicked his bed if it hadn't been constructed ofsolid rock. He settled instead for slamming one fist into an open palm until thelatter was sore.Of one thing he was certain. No matter how vital Lyra considered her work here,they had to return to the Skar. That was the agreement. Similar agreements hadkept their marriage together for twenty years and he was damned if he was goingto alter that relationship because of a sudden infatuation on her part for arace of pseudol amaistic anteaters with soulful eyes.She didn't come to the room that night. It wasn't the first time she'd stayedaway all night, but it was the first time he'd lain awake long enough to noticeit. It was very early the next morning when he strode purposefully down the halltoward the porters' quarters.Like his companions, Homat lay asleep beneath a half dozen heavy woven blankets.Etienne estimated the room temperature at seventy degrees. He nudged the Maihard."What is it, deEtienne?" Homat inquired as he tried to clear his vision."Get up. Get everyone up. We're leaving.""Leaving, deEtienne? I thoughtyou did not say, and it is very early.""There's been a sudden change of plans. You'll find out that we humans have atendency to do things on the spur of the moment.""I understand that, deEtienne, but-""I'll be in the courtyard if you need me. Tell them to hurry it up." He left avery puzzled Mai behind him.Evidently meditation was over, or else someone had roused his wife from hercontemplation. She stormed out into the open courtyard, ignoring the strainedsinging of several lizardlike puouts on the main gate. Etienne didn't look upfrom his work. He was checking the supplies several somber Tsla were providing."Etienne, this is childish. You know how I hate it when you turn childish.""Yes, I know, and you hate ultimatums even worse.""That's because ultimatums are the worst manifestation of childishness. Ithought everything had been settled last night.""Settled to your satisfaction. Not to mine. I'm leaving." He tugged brutally ona backpack's straps.She sighed deeply. "I told you that my work here is just getting under way, thatI'm only beginning to make some real progress in understanding this culture,these people.""Fine. I understand that." He moved to check another pack. Homat and the rest ofthe porters began filing sleepily out of the hospitality building, shivering inthe early morning cold. Few Tsla were about this early and the sun was justpeeking over the eastern wall of the canyon."You stay here, Lyra. You don't have to come down with me. If all goes asintended I'll be back in six months to pick you up. Stay and meditate like mad.""You can't go north alone," she argued. "Two is the absolute minimum authorizedfor an expedition .dike this.""Then from this point on the expedition advances without authorization, I guess.Homat's learned enough to assist me. Haven't you, Homat?"The Mai guide's gaze shifted warily from one tall alien to the other and hefound reason to work on the pack farthest away from them both.Etienne started toward another bundle and Lyra rushed to confront him, blockinghis path. "Stop it, Etienne. Stop it right now. I'm not in the mood for afight.""Why not?" he asked sarcastically. "Did I upset your morning devotions? And aslong as we're on the subject of childish acts, how would you define someone whoforgets eight years of higher education and goes native despite twenty years ofarduous fieldwork that consistently proves such activities are counterproductiveto good research?""I've explained before that the Tsla are a unique race deserving of specialstudy. Sometimes to obtain the best results it's necessary to bend the rules.""Not as far as I'm concerned it isn't." He waved expansively at the surroundingbuildings. "But you go ahead. Stay and have yourself a deliriously good time.Bury yourself in native customs and habits. Inhale primitive wisdom, join thelocal religion, become a Tsla nun if they have such institutionsI don't care.I never put restraints on you, Lyra, despite all your talk of ultimatums."As for me, I intend to locate the source of the river Skar and study itshistory and geology from there to the morass of the Skatandah. Halfway alongthat journey of discovery I will make it a point to stop back here and pick youup.""Etienne.""What?" He stepped around her and bent to the pack with a will."Etienne, you know I can't let you go without me.""Why not? What about your carefully timed research program?""We're a team, Etienne. We complement each other. Neither of us does our bestwork solitaire.""We'll just have to adapt somehow, won't we?""No," said a new voice. Etienne frowned, looked toward the hallway. He and Lyrahad been arguing in Tsla, using the local language out of habit.The Chief Consoler and First Scholar of Turput stood in the portal. It was thefirst time Etienne had seen him and the Tsla's advanced age manifested itself inthe streaks of silver that dominated his face, the wrinkled flesh of exposedforearms. Tyl stood at his right shoulder to lend support should it be needed.Miian leaned on a twisted cane."I was told of the disturbance," he said in a surprisingly strong voice."No disturbance," Etienne muttered, inspecting the packs. "Just a friendlydomestic conversation, that's all.""We do not mean to intrude," Tyl said. "It would give me much unhappiness if Ithought that we-"Oh far heaven's sake." Etienne turned sharply to confront the newcomers. "Mustyou people always be so damned polite?""We're sorry," said Miian. "It is our nature."Etienne threw up his hands."Such a disturbance cannot be allowed," Miian said."What do you mean it can't be allowed?" Etienne asked him."Discord among guests is not to be tolerated.""Really? And what do you propose as a solution?"Miian shambled across the paving to stand close to Lyra. He took her left handin some strange alien grip Etienne hadn't observed in use before."Thee must go with thy mate. If thy duality is to be the price of thy studies, Icannot allow thee to continue. When all is resolved, return to study with usanother time.""But it was already settled," she protested. "I was to remain here and continuemy research, learn your ways and"The Chief Consoler raised a sixfingered hand. "We will miss thee, for thou hasa thirst for learning that all but matches our own. If thee could bring thymate's work here all would be simplified, but mountains are difficult to move.It is more sensible for thee to accompany him. Besides, thee may still continuethy studies, for some of thy work can go with thee, a boon for which we would bemost thankful.""I don't understand, Miian." Etienne listened without looking. Apparently theFirst Scholar was taking his side and he was embarrassed by his early display ofanger."Beyond the lands that lie Upriver from Turput are many that are unknown to thyMai companions." He gestured to his right. "If thee will permit it, Tyl and fourbearers will accompany thee. He has traveled extensively, knows many Upriverdialects and peoples. When you pass beyond his realm of knowledge, he will bethere to see and to study for all Turput. And When not guiding thee he cancontinue to instruct you in our ways.""You said you'd do that yourself.""The instructor is not important. All that matters is the knowledge.""It's not that simple." She glanced at Etienne, who carefully avoided herstare. "Looks like you win after all. I can argue with you but not with Tslalogic. That is, if you have no objection to Tyl joining us.""I've no objection, but it's not entirely up to us." He rose from the pack he'dbeen inspecting so intently. "Homat?""You already have a guide, deEtienne," he replied slowly."We do, and a fine one, but what the old Tsla says makes good sense. Haven't yousaid that the river beyond this point is new to you?""Yes, yes." Homat was still reluctant to surrender any of his hardwonauthority. "I see that you are right, deEtienne. A Tsla who knows the way wouldbe welcome." He tugged at the hood of his coat. "Anything would be welcomed thattakes us quickly out of this cold country."Etienne grinned. "I apologize. I guess I did kind of drag all of you out of awarm bed on your equivalent of an icy morning." He turned to the First Scholar."We accept your kind offer. Tyl's been nothing but helpful since we got here andI see no reason not to share his company. How do you feel about this, Tyl? Youhaven't said anything.""It is Miian's place to say, but I look forward to it. I will gain muchknowledge. It is a unique opportunity for me.""It's settled then, I expect." Lyra started for the hallway. "I'll go get ready.See what I mean about Tsla judgment, Etienne? They have enough sense to see thatwe're a team even when we don't."He left the Mai to make final preparations and hurried to catch up with her. Shewas resigned to leaving, which was very different from being agreed."I'm sorry I had to force the issue like this, Lyra, but I was at my wits' end.I couldn't think of anything else.""I accept that." She slowed and some of the hardness drained from herexpression. "Maybe you're right, Etienne. Maybe I've gotten a little too closeto my work here. The soul of a good working team is its ability to compromise.I'm compromising. Just remember, you owe me one.""I promise, Lyra. On the way back you can spend as much time as you want. But wemust make it to the turnaround point, the source of the Skar, before wintersets in up north. We've no idea what to expect, since the southern winters aremoderated by the Groalamasan.""So you keep telling me.""What about this Tyl?" he asked, changing the subject. "You've been working withthese people. He's a scholar. Do you think he's up to a difficult, dangerousjourney? Physically, I mean. Mentally I know that he's ready.""Don't worry about his stamina, Etienne. The Tsla are as adaptable as we are,not at all like the Mai. He'll be able to handle the heat down in theBarshajagad. We'll make space for him inside. There's plenty o f room. He and hiscompanions will manage.""Companions?""You didn't hear the First Scholar's last words?" Etienne shook his head."Milan doesn't want to send Tyl by himself. He wants to send him with fourporters, to replace the Mai who will leave as soon as we reach the river.""We don't need porters on the river.""Milan has told me several times these past days that there will come a pointwhere we'll have to leave the river, leave our boat.""We can't leave the boat. You know that.""I know it, yes, but Miian insists that without porters we'll have to turn backat a place somewhere a couple of thousand legats Upriver.""It's true." They turned around, saw Homat standing behind them. "I listen andhear many things, deEtienne. The Tsla speak of this after you have comeinside." He eyed Lyra with great interest. "Why do they say such things?""Milan talks about a spot far Upriver where the Skar undergoes ... he called ita dramatic change of personality. It's like the Tsla to ascribe such traits toinanimate objects, and he was very clear in his description of this place. It'scalled the Topapasirut."Homat's extreme reaction was unexpected. His eyes went very wide as he executeda half dozen powerful signs designed to ward off dangerous spirits."It means," Lyra told her husband, "Cleansing Place of all the Waters.""That doesn't sound very threatening.""I agree, but Miian insists we can't pass beyond it with the boat. Hence hisinsistence that we accept porters.""Another waterfall? Satellite topographics don't show any large waterfalls inthe northern region of the Barshajagad, though admittedly pictures are less thanperfect.""No, not a waterfall. Something else.""Five Tsla, Homat?""I dislike the presence of so many strangers on board the spirit boat,deEtienne, but it seems we must tolerate all to gain the knowledge of one."Etienne Redowl considered, said finally, "Tell the one called Miian we accepthis generous offer, but that all the porters are to be under your command." TheMai seemed to grow several centimeters."They won't stand for that," Lyra argued."Won't they? Surely your high and mighty Tsla can take orders from a mere Mai.Don't tell me they'll argue about it.""Tyl is an important scholar.""I said that the four porters would act at Homat's direction, not Tyl. You'lljust have to explain to Miian that Homat's been with us a long time, that he'sfamiliar with our boat and its workings, and that he's our right arm. Or left,whichever they accord more weight to.""Neither. They're physically as well as mentally ambidextrous.""We need a chain of command. It's going to be crowded on the boat. As forletting them inside the cabin with us, I understand the need but are you sure wecan trust them?""I trust Tyl completely Etienne. And the porters will look on their work as theBuddhaistic equivalent of making a pilgrimage for merit. So they'll work theirhardest to make sure the expedition's a success.""Tell them to hurry themselves along then, Homat. We have a long way to go.""To the river, deEtienne, and to real weather! I will hurry them withdelightment!"Chapter NineCompared to the long climb up from the shore of the Skar, the descent was aspleasurable as an afternoon stroll through the gardens of New Riviera. Inaddition, the loads had been distributed among twice as many porters, the Tslashouldering their new burdens alongside but separate from their Maicounterparts.The Tsla joked amiably among themselves, their evident good spirits proof enoughof Lyras claim that all were willing volunteers. Whenever Tyl moved among themthey deferred to him as they would a superior, but without any of the bowingand scraping common among the Mai. The porters recognized and honored him astheir mental and spiritual superior. He, in turn, did not use his position tolord it over his fellows.There was something of a subtle hierarchy among the porters, however, as if eachone knew his place without having to be reminded of it. At the bottom of thepecking order was one exceptionally large, powerful, and mentally slowindividual named Yulour. He hardly spoke at all and was often the butt ofgentle, nonmalicious humor on the part of his companions, to which he invariablyresponded with a smile. It took a while for Yulour's slowness to manifest itselfbeyond a doubt, at which point Etienne slipped back from the head of the partyto take Tyl aside."Yulour?" Etienne wished he could see if Tyl was smiling, but that weavingflexible snout concealed the lower half of his expression. "He was orphaned inthe mountains, his parents slain by some carnivore he could not well describe tous. Perhaps the terror of that moment stopped his mind from growing." Tyl made agesture Etienne did not recognize."He was raised a part of Miian's extended family, but it did not help himhere." Tyl tapped the side of his head. "For all that he is a goodly soul, witha kind heart, and his back is strong if his mind weak. He will gain much meritfrom this journey, perhaps even enough to admit him to the afterlife.""It's not my specialty, more my wife's province, but I didn't know that the Tslabelieved in an afterlife.""Not all of us do. I do not know if Yulour does, so I try to believe for him. Heappears content with his lot, unfair as life has been to him. There are many Iknow who envy him his unshakable contentment. On this journey of discovery heis my greatest responsibilitysave for thee and thy mate, of course." There wasno guile in those warm brown eyes."If he were to wander away from us he would never find his way back. Indeed,though he has lived there all his life, he could not find his way back to Turputfrom this spot. He would not have enough sense to follow the road." Tyl waitedand when no more questions were forthcoming, fell back among his fellows.Everything Lyra claimed for the Tsla was borne out by each new experience. Theywere a kind, likable people. So why did he persist in trying to find a reasonfor disliking them?He knew the answer to that one. Lyra was not fond of the Tsla. She wasabsolutely infatuated with them. But was that the root of his problem? Hepressed on with his internal argument. No, it was something else. There was oneTsla in particular, one she spent all her spare time with, one she looked up toand turned to with every new question Tyl.Now there was a bizarre thought, he told himself. No question about it, Tyl wasan impressive specimen of mammalian life. It wasn't the first time Lyra hadgrown personally fond of some object of study.Patrick O'Morion's space, I'm jealous of an alien aborigine, he told himself.The shock of realization so numbed him he nearly wandered off the road toward ahundredmeter drop. Lyra noticed the dazed look in his eyes."Etienne? Are you okay?""Sure. Yeah, I'm okay." He blinked, extended his stride until he once moreassumed the lead. Lyra stared at his back, shook her head in puzzlement andhurried to catch up with him.The Tsla brought up the rear. Tyl stood next to Yulour, dwarfed by the porter'sbulk. "Yulour?""Yes, Learned One?""What is the sign made by crossing the Oo and the Strike?"The porter's brow did not furrow. There was no point in straining his capacityover the mildly complex concept."I do not know, Learned One.""That's all right, Yulour. It's not important. Tell me, what do you think of ournew friends?"Yulour looked over the heads of his companions, at the two humans. "They arevery nice, Learned One, though they have so little fur. And when they talk amongthemselves it is strange talk, neither like ours nor the Mai's. But they arenice.""Yes, they are. Thank thee for thy opinion, Yulour." The porter made a movementwith his trunk.Tyl rejoined the objects of his interest. "Your curiosity induced me to chatwith Yulour, Etienne. I put to him a question simple enough for a cub to answer,and he could not. It was beyond his simple powers of reason. Yet it struck methat he may be happier than we. While he is free of intelligence, he is alsofree of the pains and travails higher thought brings. Ignorance, frustration,envy he is subject to none of these.""You make him out to be a perfect saint.""Sometimes I wonder. He is so content, and still there are times I do notunderstand him.""We have a saying among our people, Tyl." Etienne struggled to translate it intoTsla. "Better a lucky idiot than an unlucky genius.""Ali, this strange concept of `luck' again. Lyra mentioned it to me. We have nosuch concept. You must explain it to me further." Etienne made an attempt to doso as they plodded steadily downhill toward the ever widening streak of silverthat was the Skar.Days passed and the heat intensified, rising past ninety degrees. As it did sothe Tsla began shedding their clothing, capes and togas vanishing into packs,not to be used again until the climate of the far north was encountered.It was the first time Etienne had seen a Tsla without the familiar capeandtogaattire. They appeared quite comfortable without it, as if clothing was employedfor protection against the elements and possibly to signify social standing, butnot because of some primitive nudity taboo.Not that they were naked in the human sense, since soft brown fur coveredeverything except forearms and forelegs. The only surprise was the unexpectedpresence of a tail, a short stub five to six centimeters in length. It made themlook animalistic, though several intelligent races retained tails. The AAnn, forexample, considered the retention of a tail as a sign of intellige nce, not viceversa.In other respects the Tsla were very human, if one discounted the sixfingeredhands, sixfingered toes, and myrmecophagous face. There was one other aspect oftheir anatomy that interested him. He fully intended to question Lyra about itas soon as he could be sure she wouldn't misinterpret his curiosity. Undoubtedlyshe would have found his uncertainty amusing.By the time the temperature touched one hundred degrees the Mai were sheddingtheir coldclimate attire, able for the first time in weeks to luxuriate in thestifling heat and humidity.They reached the bank of the Skar and turned toward Aib. Etienne was lookingforward to a cool shower on board the hydrofoil. As soon as they'd cleanedthemselves up they'd hand over the second half of the agreedupon payment to thelocal Oyt and make preparations for resuming their journey Upriver.That evening they were confronted by the leader of their Mai porters. So rapidlydid he talk that even Lyra had trouble following his words. It was left forHomat to interpret."It has something to do with the season of sowing," he explained. "They are alllate to help and are anxious to be on their way. There is also talk of localtaxes. They come not from Aib itself but from the outlying farming district."Lyra nodded knowingly. "I understand. They want to skip with their paymentbefore the local authorities can demand a cut. Perfectly Mai."The porters organized a hasty ceremony of departure, took their payment, andleft in a rush. Only slightly discomfited by the heat, the Tsla assumed thesecond half of the divided burdens. Larger and stronger than the Mai, they hadno difficulty with the full loads.Two days later they were nearing the outskirts of Aib when Etienne's eyebrowsdrew together. "That's funny.""What is funny, Etienne?" Tyl asked uncertainly.Etienne ignored the question. Impolite, but he was concerned with somethingbesides alien concepts of courtesy."I don't see the boat, Lyra."She strained her eyes. "Neither do I. Your eyesight's better than mine, Etienne,but you're right. I don't see it. Surely that's the dock where we left itmoored?""Has to be," he muttered. "See, there's the basaltic outcrop the local rulerused for a dais.""Something is wrong?" Tyi asked. "I feared as much. These Mai," he said evenly,not caring whether Homat overheard him or not, "will steal anything leftunguarded for half an anal and consider it moral.""We made an arrangement," Etienne explained even as his pace quickened, "withthe head of this town to watch our boat for us. We paid him half the set feeprior to our departure."Forbearing to say, "I told you so," Homat instead chose to put the best possiblelight on the situation. "Perhaps the people of Aib are not responsible for thedisappearance of the spirit boat.""You rationalize hopefully, Homat. What do you really think?"The Mai's gaze shifted rapidly from one alien to the other. It was a lookEtienne had become familiar with and he hastened to reassure their guide."You have nothing to fear from us, Homat. We are your friends.""You recall, deEtienne, how I warned you against this possibility?""All too clearly." They were almost running now. The dock was an empty gestureprotruding into the river."I cannot see, deEtienne, how the spirit boat could have vanished without theAibites knowing. If they did not take it themselves, they surely did little toprevent its being taken. I thought you said that it could not be stolen, that itwould protect itself.""That's what we thought," Etienne replied grimly. "It looks like we were wrong."He looked toward the town. "Let's pay our good friend Gwattwe a visit, shallwe?"The modest residence of the Oyt of Aib was guarded by a brace of wellarmed butobviously nervous warriors. The Oyt, one of them explained, was not at home."Then you've no objection to our entering to lay tribute at his table?" Lyrareplied."I was told to admit no visitors." The soldier looked very unhappy.Tyl spoke. "This refusal gains your master no grace, to flagrantly flout thelaws of hospitality concerning weary travelers.""In addition to which if you don't let us inside, we'll call on our otherworldlyspirits to blow the place down." This was more bluff than promise, since anasynapt wouldn't do more than scorch the stone wall before them, but the guarddidn't know that.The guard looked askance at the pistol riding Etienne's hip, having alreadyassumed it was some sort of weapon. He had no desire to personally discover itscapabilities. "I will find out what best be done." He turned and vanished intothe domicile, reappearing after a lapse of a few minutes. A curious, hesitantcrowd had emerged from other nearby structures. They milled about well clear ofthe travelers, staring at the pair of aliens and the five Tsla."You are to be admitted," the guard informed them, "but only if you leave yourspirit callers outside.""Our spirits come with us," Lyra informed him in nononsense tones.The guard sighed. "I was asked only to request it. Enter."The stone and wood edifice was something more than a house and a good deal lessthan a palace, but was no doubt the best a small town like Aib could afford.Although the matter of their boat's whereabouts occupied most of his thoughts,Etienne still managed to note the mixture of envy and distaste with which thelocal Mai viewed the Tsla.As Etienne had expected, Gwattwe had been there all along. Etienne thought helooked unwell, as if all the traditional bravado had been knocked out of him.Strange. If he intended to bargain for the missing hydrofoil he was beginningbadly."Where is it?" he snapped at the Oyt, in no mood for protocol."I do not have to guess to what you refer," said the Oyt tiredly. "Your spiritboat is not here.""You stole it," Etienne growled. "We trusted you, we left payment as securityfor that trust which you betrayed. You promised that our property would come tono harm.""I lied," said Gwattwe.Venerable mastery of diplomacy, Etienne mused sardonically. But this wasn'twhat he'd anticipated when they'd entered the town. Something was wrong here."Where have you hidden it?""We do not have your spirit boat." Gwattwe executed a most profound gesture ofregret and helplessness. Tyl was watching him carefully."I believed you when you offered us assurances. Why should I believe you whenyou offer disclaimers?""It matters not whether you believe me. We do not have your boat. We did notsteal it. Oh, we tried to." His expression turned sour. "Most assuredly wetried. Your spirits slew my advisor and several of his students, one at a time."He paused, but if he was expecting some word of contrition from Etienne he wasgoing to have a long wait. He continued."We tried everything that we could think of, but we never had a glimpse of thespirits that watched over your vessel, nor of how they slew." He rose from hiscouch and balding houris rolled clear of his feet."Then where's our boat?""It pains me to have to tell you that it was stolen.""But not by you?""Not by us. Why do you think it pains me?" Clearly Gwattwe of Aib was distressedonly because another had succeeded where he had failed."When I lost my best advisors in matters spiritwise I finally resolved tocontact the renowned Davahassi, who is head advisor to Langai of Hochac."Tyl leaned close to Etienne and spoke in Mai. "Hochac is a very bad place. Itlies a few legats north of the place where the Aurang flows into the Skar. Werarely trade with them, for the people there are mean of spirit and sometimesprefer to kill for what they want rather than pay for it as many Mai are wont todo."Etienne saw Homat stiffen, but the guide held his tongue. He would have toconvince Tyl to be a little more circumspect in his comments concerning the Maiwhenever Homat was around."It was hoped that Davahassi might solve the secret of your spirit boat as hehas traveled widely and gained much knowledge. He came down by boat with Langaihimself and a large escort of advisors. I was suspicious then but didn't knowwhat else to do."They studied your spirit boat for many days and buried three advisors of theirown in the river before Davahassi hit upon his plan. The secret, he announced,was to leave the spirits that protected your vessel in place and not to intrudeon their privacy, for clearly the craft was their home and they defended it assuch from any intruder. But that did not mean that the home itself could not bemoved, provided the spirits within were left undisturbed."Therefore at his instructions Langai had a great wooden cage constructed. Manyspells were then placed upon the spirit boat as the cage was placed around itand bound in place. It was then dragged from its home, the water, and placed ona platform whence it was transported to the center of Aib. It sat right therewhile we all celebrated." He pointed toward the town square outside the officialresidence."During the celebration our spirits were high. All would share in the profitfrom this action. We relaxed with our good `friends.' Davahassi, may hisentrails entice parasites, drugged our fine wine. When we awoke the next day itwas found that Langai and his advisors had slipped the spirit boat back into theriver. The wooden platform on which it had been placed apparently made a mostdelighted raft that they used to carry their booty homeward, like carrioneaters."We pursued, but too late, and Langai had stationed soldiers in the hillsbetween here and Hochac. Certainly we could not have approached by water in timeto intercept them." He concluded his tale of woe and lost opport unity with theMai equivalent of a disgruntled shrug."You see, we did not steal your boat, but it was not for want of trying.""How noble of you to say so.""A wooden cage," Lyra murmured. "Wood's a rotten conductor. Once out of thewater they'd be safe enough so long as they didn't make contact with the hull.""`Left the spirits in peace,"' Etienne repeated. "That explains what happened.Nothing's wrong with the ship's defensive systems. They just avoided provokingthem. I never thought the locals would have enough sense to move the whole boatwithout trying to get aboard and at the controls or contents." He turned back toGwattwe."We'd like your help in recovering our property. You can compensate for your ownattempted thievery and earn your fee by providing us with a troop of soldiers tohelp us assault Hochac.""Would that such a thing were feasible," Gwattwe murmured. "I would do it forthe chance at revenge alone, but Hochac is not Aib, hairy one. It is not muchlarger but it is far stronger. It would take many more soldiers than Aib couldprovide to overcome it, for Hochac is a walled town and heavily defended.Otherwise it could not withstand the attentions of its neighbors, whom it makesa practice of bullying and defrauding. The Hochacites are known for their loveof battle. We of Aib are a peaceful folk.""Sticky fingers and now sticky feet." A hand came down gently on his shoulder."Perhaps," Tyl whispered to him in Tsla so that Gwattwe could not understand,"it might be better for us just to go. The Hochacites may be expecting a bigattack. If we approach with patience and caution, we may surprise them. But donot inform this one of our intentions. Like all his kind, he may yet find profitin selling such information to those who have already stolen from him. Feuds arelike chap' to the Mai, and as permanent as their promises."Etienne turned back to the waiting Oyt. "As we apparently have lost our craftand cannot recover it, we must return Downriver to the Groalamasan and our basein order to obtain another. You owe us for what we already have paid you.""I do not deny that. Business is business," Gwattwe readily admitted."We will accept recompense in the form of a couple of riverworthy sailing craftso that we may safely return Downriver."Gwattwe looked relieved, if not downright pleased. "That is fair," he saidquickly. "The craft you wish will be provided. And may you have a safe journeyDownriver."Safe it would be, Etienne mused, but they had no intention of heading south.Having no reason to ply the Skar, the Tsla were not very good sailors. But Homatfelt right at home. With his help, both small boats managed to make their wayslowly Upriver.They anchored well out in the river away from the walled harbor of Hochac.Occasional fishing boats drifted past and their crews hailed the newcomers.Etienne and Lyra stayed out of sight belowdecks while Homat fielded the passinginquiries. The sight of the Tsla raised curious stares, but many of the driftingfisherfolk were from farther Upriver. Their questions were not threatening. Onlya few of the curious called Hochac home port. To them the sight of Tsla on theriver was unusual, but hardly cause for alarm.Langai of Hochac and his advisor Davahassi might know that the alien owners ofthe stolen spirit boat had gone to visit with the Tsla, but that wasn't reasonenough to connect the offworlders to these furry fishermen. As far as Langaiand the rest of Hochac knew, Etienne and Lyra Redowl were far away.So no soldiers rowed out to inspect the fishermen and the two boats were able tomove safely inshore on the heels of nightfall. As soon as it was dark, Etienneand Lyra crept out on the upper deck and produced daynight scopes from theirkits."Must be used to attacks." Etienne squinted through his monocular. "Thestockade's made of wood instead of stone, but its good and high. Too high toscale easily. You can see places where the individual logs have been scarred byfire. The top is flat and lined with broken glass. Cute.""What sign of thy spirit boat?" Tyl asked softly."I can't see a thing besides the stockade, but there's a helluva lot of lightfrom the center of town." He touched a switch on the side of the scope and thetiny longrange microphone amplified sound along with the light. Homat jumpedat the unexpected rush of noise while the Tsla drew back and made signs. Lyrareassured them.As soon as Homat had overcome his initial suspicion of the scope, Etienne askedhim, "What do you make of this?"The Mai moved hesitantly nearer the source of the sounds. "Drums, pipes, flutes,high chanting they sound as if they are celebrating." His face lit withrecognition of a particular chant. "That is what it is. A gathering to celebratetheir great triumph over the Aibites and their successful theft. I did notrecognize it at first. Many of the words here are different from in Po Rabi.""Then we have a chance to surprise them while they're partying.""I don't think so, deEtienne. They will have the spirit boat carefully watched,lest some of their own fellows try to steal it and sell it Downriver. Anyoneclever enough to steal the spirit boat would not be so stupid as to trust hisown people."Etienne touched the asynaptic pistol riding his hip. "Then we'll just have towalk in and make a polite request for the return of our property." He glanced athis wife but this time Lyra had nothing to say about the prospect of wreakinghavoc on the natives.Another source did, however. "The taking of lives would be most regrettable."Tyl wore his most soulful expression."I'm sorry too, Tyl, but we have to get our boat back and I'm in no mood to benice about it. Not only would its loss mean the end of our expedition, but thereare devices on board that could be a real danger to the Mai themselves if theyever managed to figure them out." He wiped sweat from his forehead. Thetemperature was still over a hundred and ten and the humidity hovered aroundninety percent."There's another factor to consider. Lyra and I could probably obtaintransportation back down to the Skatandah Delta, but we couldn't take months ofthis heat.""I do not dispute the need to recover thy property, Etienne. I only abhor thenecessity of taking lives through violence.""We'll do as little shooting as possible.""A very exuberant celebration." Homat was still listening intently to theamplified sounds coming from beyond the stockade as the two boats slipped intothe harbor. "Siask!" he suddenly snapped, dropping to the gunwale. Etienne andLyra immediately flattened themselves below the seats."What is it? What's the matter?""A patrol, I think. What do we do now?""If I may be permitted?"Etienne glanced down toward Tyl. "You have something in mind?""You and thy Lyra must remain concealed, for on sight of thee the alarm willsurely be raised, but thy friend Homat will only be questioned, especially if weshow ourselves. It is unusual, as you know, for we of the Tsla to come down tothe river. These warriors should be intrigued by our presence but not alarmed,for it is well known that we love peace and harm no one.""Good idea, Tyl. You put them off their guard long enough for Lyra and me to getclose enough to bring them down."Tyl's proboscis twitched with amusement. "That would be too risky, would itnot?" He gestured toward his companions. "We will undertake the necessaryaction.""Wait a minute." Lyra looked confused. "What about what you just said, Tyl,about loving peace and not harming anyone?"Etienne shushed her. "Don't confuse our guests. Let's see what these pacifistscan do when they want to, shall we? Think of it as an interesting footnote toyour research."She gave him an angry stare, but said nothing. They hid themselves beneath asection of sail as the Tsla rowed the boats into shore. He had a sudden crazyurge to pinch her but managed to suppress it.At first the patrol ordered both boats to stand off, but on sight of the Tslathey allowed them to dock. Etienne listened hard. At any moment he expected thesail to be thrown aside and to find himself eye to eye with a long spear.Then there was the sound of muffled struggling and he and Lyra emerged fromtheir temporary cocoon with pistols at the ready. They might as well haverelaxed beneath the cloth.Tyl and the porters had no trouble with the patrol. Yulour in particulardistinguished himself, exercising his great strength with a caution that wasfrightening to see. Etienne made a mental note to leave the teasing to Yulour'scompanions.The entire patrol had been neatly silenced. Etienne was full of newfound respectfor their philosopherguide as he helped him and the other Tsla slip the guardsinto the river, but he couldn't help but wonder at this facile contravention ofestablished Tsla tenets. Time enough later for social analysis, he told himselfcurtly. First order of business was to get their boat back, not discuss Tslamotivation.Having gone ahead to scout out the approach, Homat now beckoned them forward.Soon they were standing next to the impressive palisade of logs that girdled thetown. There were plenty of slots cut in the wood through which archers could aimand fire on attackers. The openings near the harbor showed only the backsides ofbuildings, but as they made their way around the stockade, gaps appeared whichpermitted a view deeper into the community.Eventually they located a small pedestrian gate. It was unguarded and swung wideat Homat's touch and they stepped inside, concealing themselves behind a squarestorage building.From the slurred shouts they could now hear clearly, it was evident tha t plentyof drinking and drugtaking was going on. As they moved toward the center of thetown they had a glimpse of unsteady revelers falling down in unexpected places,and nearly tripped over several who had celebrated themselves intounconsciousness.Ahead lay the town square, a place of ceremony and moneymaking among the Mai.Smack in the center of the paved square, surrounded by celebratory bonfires, wasthe Redowls' hydrofoil. The fires were maintained at a reasonable distance fromthe boat, not out of any fear of harming it but to ensure the safety of thewooden cage in which it rested. The chanting was loud now and terribly offkey.Etienne looked to his wife, saw with disgust but not surprise that she wasfuriously whispering a description of the celebration into her notetaker. Thatwas his Lyra if the locals ended up boiling her in fish fat she'd spend herlast moments jotting down the recipe for posterity."What now, Learned One?" Apparently Tyl had exhausted his limited store ofstrategic knowledge. Etienne felt a perverse satisfaction over the Tsla's use ofthe honorific."How can we free thy boat, Learned One?" asked one of the porters. "It seemssecured most strongly.""Doesn't matter," Etienne told him. "All we have to do is get within shoutingdistance. We're close enough now, but I'm worried that ail this loud chantingmight drown us out.""I understand," said Homat confidently. "You plan to call upon the spirits thatwatch over your boat."Tyl eyed him distastefully. The Tsla were not heir to the plethora ofsuperstitions that infected Mai culture."How will thee regain control of thy craft, Etienne? And more important,perhaps, how are we to transport it from the center of this unfriendly villageto the water's edge?""You'll see," Etienne told him. "Homat's not far from the truth." Their Maiguide chose not to look down his nose at the skeptical Tsla, probably because inany such exchange he was bound to come off second best.Etienne idly noted the architecture as they worked their way closer to thecentral square. No grand stone towers here. This wasn't Po Rabi. Most of thebuildings were of wood, thatch, mud, and adobe, though several did soar to theimpressive height of three stories. He did not admire them, however. Hochac'sprosperity was tainted and it throve by taking from its neighbors. Perhapstonight they could redress a few of those wrongs, make the inhabitantsreconsider their methods. He hoped he'd be given that opportunity. Lyra woulddisapprove of his attitude, he knew, but right now he didn't much care. Hewatched her coolly making notes and couldn't help but admire her. If they diedhere tonight, no one could say they'd neglected their research right up to thefinal moment.They were halfway to the central square when they stumbled into a pair of soberlocals. They looked very young and Etienne regretted having to pull his pistol.He was too slow and could have saved his regrets. Once again Tyl and hiscompanions did their work with quiet efficiency. There were no screams and nodeaths, though a single brief warning shout was lost in the shouting andchanting.They were surprised when the arrow thudded into Swd's side. The short thick furabsorbed some of the arrow's force, but not enough to keep the porter fromstaggering up against Tyl. He struggled with the shaft as they sought coverbeneath the overhang of a large house.The archer stood on the porch of a building across the street. He was waving hisbow toward the square now, jumping up and down and screaming high and steady.To Etienne's chagrin, Homat stepped out into clear sight to return the local'ssteady stream of expletives. While personally gratifying, this was a lousytactical move. The celebrants in the square heard the row, turned to see the oddassortment of intruders, and had enough presence of mind left to scatter andsound the warning throughout the village.A few located their own weapons and began to advance. Bows and arrows and spearsmight be primitive, but as the unfortunate Swd could attest, they were often aseffective as any modern weapon. The differences between asynapt and arrow wereneatness and convenience, not lethality. Add to that the fact that in secondsthey were likely to be heavily outnumbered and there was little humor to befound in Homat's foolhardy posturing.Wishing he was closer, Etienne cupped hands to mouth and yelled at the top ofhis lungs, "Execute Command RedTen!" Then he lowered the muzzle of his asynaptand fired at the feet of the nearest onrushing Hochacite. The Mai let out a yelpand fell on his face, paralyzed from the knees down.That halted the charge for a few seconds, long enough for an answering rumble torise from the central square. The rest of the attacking villagers turned andstared over their shoulders.Lit from beneath by the dancing bonfires, the hydrofoil made a most impressivesight as it rose four meters into the air on activated repellers, lifting thewooden cage with it. It executed a slow pirouette until it was facing thedirection from which the command had been given, locked in on Etienne's eyes,and started to move toward them. As it did so the downward facing air jets onwhich it hovered blasted flaming fagots of wood in all directions, scatteringfire and natives alike. The movement caused the wooden cage to begin to breakup, showering logs and planks down on the scurrying Mai.Chapter TenThose Hochacites who were sober started screaming about spirits and devils asthey flung their weapons aside and bolted for the nearest cover. Homat retreatedto rejoin his companions, his eyes wide and locked on the hovering bulk of thespirit boat as it drifted toward them.Lyra had to give him a shove to start him back toward the stockade gate. "Backto the harbor, everybody, before they get over the shock!"Moving as fast as possible without conveying the impression of a hasty retreat,the intruders fled with studied dignity. Now and then a face would peek out atthem as they passed along the street, but a burst from an asynaptic pistol wouldcause doors and windows to slam shut quickly.They reached the narrow gate and filed quickly through it. Unable to quite clearthe crest of the palisade, the hydrofoil made a satisfyingly loud smashing andcrackling as it splintered several of the massive logs.Etienne and the Tsla remained behind to guard the landward end of a pier whileLyra directed the boat over the water before retracting her husband's order. Thehydrofoil settled gently into the Skar. Bending low to avoid an intact sectionof wooden cage, she stepped aboard.From his position facing the town wall, Etienne was grated to hear the startupgrowl of the engine as power was transferred from repellers to jet. A few armedMai had pushed through the gap in the stockade, but hadn't gained the courage tocharge. As soon as word came that the boat was acting like a boat once more,some of the initial terror of its unboatlike behavior would fade and theHochacites would try to recover it. Etienne had no intention of giving them thatkind of time. "Now, Tyl! Get your people on board before the Mai have tine toregroup!" Even as Etienne backpedaled to cover the Tsla's retreat, the boldervillagers slowly advanced.Lyra made a quick head count and spun the wheel as she nudged the accelerator.The hydrofoil varoomed out into the safety of the Skar, but not as fast asEtienne wanted. The unwieldy remnants of the cage prevented the boat from risingup on its hydrofoils. Distant shouts sounded from Hochac's harbor; pursuit wasbeing organized.Among the ship's tools was a heat stitch that could cut and weld. It made shortwork of the leather thongs that bound the sections of the wooden cage together.As Etienne sliced the thongs the Tsla heaved the heavy timbers over the side,and a few arrows thunked against the rear of the boat. Finally, with a loudsplash the undersection of the cage gave way and drifted astern. The pursuingMai were still within insult range but by now even Homat was too tired torespond.Etienne stumbled to the intercom. "We're clear, Lyra. Raise her up."The rumble of the electric jet became a whine as the boat rose above the surfaceon its twin foils and rocketed Upriver at a leisurely sixty kph, leaving theTsla whispering their wonderment to one another and the frustrated Hochacitesfar behind."Wonderful, delicious," Tyl muttered as he peeked hesitantly over the side."The boat flies over the water. You must explain to me how it works."Etienne stiffened, relaxed almost as quickly. Tyl's words had sparked badmemories of Irquit and the ease with which she'd mastered the hydrofoil'ssecurity system. But there was no deception in this philosopherteacher. Etiennefelt guilty at his instinctive suspicion."Be happy to, Tyl. You're entitled to learn about what you've just rescued. I'lltry and explain the principles to you and you must tell me more about what we'relikely to encounter Upriver, especially this Topapasirut that has you soconcerned.""I will gladly do so, Etienne. But as for the Topapasirut there is little tosay. It must be seen to be understood.""Still certain we can't surmount it?""I still think so, yes, but after seeing what you have achieved tonight I amless certain than I was before."That is faintly encouraging, Etienne mused. Further discussion would have towait until morning. He longed desperately for the softness of hisairconditioned bunk. Lyra could drive for another half hour. Then they'd be farenough Upriver from any lingering pursuit to put the boat on autopilot.At last they were on their way again, though he felt no pride in the thoroughlyunprofessional but necessary diversion for which the inhabitants of Hochac wereresponsible. With any luck that would be the first and last interruption of itskind.As for allowing the Tsla into the cabin, that was a necessity. They would bemuch more comfortable inside, where the temperature approximated that of theirhome. There was no fear in him. For one thing he was too tired. For another,he'd slept peacefully among the Tsla for weeks. They'd earned his trust.Besides, he and Lyra could always lock themselves in their cabin, and no curiousTsla could disengage a locked autopilot.The morning dawned bright, hot, and stinking humid but Etienne sat comfortablyalongside Lyra in the little dining nook. Tyl squatted on the floor nearby. Theporters ate farther astern, in the storage area that had been turned into theirliving quarters. They could have joined the humans but chose not to. Etienneasked why, confident it would have some bearing on his question."They're ashamed," Tyl explained."Ah." Lyra looked satisfied. Apparently she'd been thinking along similarlines. "Because they had to fight?""Oh no." Tyl nibbled at his bowl, his stubby sixfingered hands probing forsolid morsels. The Redowls had already overcome their distaste at seeing a Tslarummage for food with its long snout. "They are ashamed because they were notpermitted to fulfill their intentions.""But they did," Etienne argued. "We're safe and we recovered our boat.""Yes, but no thanks to us.""You dispatched that patrol at the harbor.""It was our intention to assist thee during the entire process, Etienne. Yet wecould only stand helplessly by and watch while this wondrous craft," and hetapped the metal floor, "did more to save itself than did we.""But you couldn't have done more than you did," Lyra told him. "We barely hadenough time to activate the voice pickup.""That is not the point. We know we could not have carried this boat to the riveron our shoulders, but we did not have the chance to try. Therefore merit waslost because we did not have the opportunity to vanquish our enemy."Lyra looked uncomfortable. "It's my understanding that your society is apacifistic one.""Of course, that is true.""Then how can you talk of gaining merit by fighting?""Like a storm or rockfall, a declared enemy is an agent of nature. As an enemyit removes itself from the considerations of civilization."Etienne was enjoying his wife's discomfiture enormously. "But your enemy is onlyacting in what he considers a civilized manner.""He must be judged by civilized standards.""You mean, by Tsla standards.""Naturally. You do not think that we would adopt the standards of the Mai?" Hesounded politely outraged. "A truly civilized people instinctively know whatconstitutes civilized behavior.""Sounds like expediency to me.""Not at all. Our moral standards are not nearly so flexible.""Then you feel remorse when you kill an enemy?""Naturally. An enemy is one who has freely abjured his soul. How else could wefeel but sorry for him?""That wouldn't, however, have prevented you from killing every Mai in Hochacwho opposed you?""No, it would not. By opposing us in the recovery of your property they wouldhave demonstrated disregard for civilized behavior, thus removing themselvesfrom consideration by those who adhere to such behavior. I see no contradictionin this.""No contradiction at all." He glanced at his wife. Lyra's notetaker was runningand she didn't look up at Tyl. "Just wanted the point clarified.""I thought," Lyra said quietly, "that the Tsla considered it sinful to kill.""To kill any civilized person, yes, a terrible sin. But there is no moralrestraint against defending oneself from the hostility of an uncivilized personany more than it is sinful to raise a roof to keep out the rain.""All perfectly clear," Etienne agreed. He was content. It was clear that hisinitial worries about the safety of the Tsla were unfounded. For all theirvaunted pacifism they were quite capable of taking care of themselves should theneed arise. Killing a civilized person is a sin. Anyone who assaults me isuncivilized. Very neat.Neat enough to quash Lyra's romanticized notions of Tsla society. Her belovedmystics were no more or less bloodthirsty than any other primitive folk. Well,that wasn't quite fair. But it was evident they could slaughter with a clearconscience so long as their victims fell below civilized standards. When youset those standards yourself it gave you considerable flexibility inestablishing a defense.Lyra continued to press Tyl for information, hoping to bolster her fading thesisof Tsla nobility. Etienne left to check the autopilot and then to see what theother Tsla and Homat were up to. He also wanted to tell the porters that, in hiseyes at least, they'd acquired a great deal of merit for what they'd done inHochac.They were more than three thousand kilometers north northwest of Steamer Stationand the distant Skatandah Delta. Cloud cover was increasing daily though itbrought little relief from the heat and humidity. The Barshajagad was beginningto narrow sharply, towering walls shortening the daylight on the river. Bothsides of the canyon could be seen now though the edge of the Guntali Plateau wasstill faint with distance. But for the first time it felt like they were sailingup a canyon.Ahead lay another major tributary of the Skar, the river Gaja. Beyond thisconfluence, according to Tyl, the Barshajagad's walls drew toward one anotherwith breathtaking suddenness, closing in to seal off the place where riverdevils were born, the Topapasirut. Beyond the Topapasirut lay lands unknown evento the wise men of Turput.One thing Etienne no longer had to concern himself about was Lyra's tendency toadopt Tsla habits. After Tyl's breakfast explanation of adaptable battlefieldphilosophy he never again saw her in Tsla cape and toga.They reached the place where the Gaja flowed thick and muddy into the clearSkar. The Tsla records were accurate. It was immensely wide and tinged a palerust in color. The Gaja was another Amazon, just another tributary. He felt noamazement. Tslamaina had already exhausted his store of geological superlatives.Beyond the Gaja the Skar narrowed rapidly. As it did so the current intensified.Submerged mountains and hills began to produce some white water, the firstthey'd encountered in their long journey Upriver. The cloud cover was thickoverhead and Etienne saw why that section of the river had not been accuratelymapped by the single orbiting satellite.Seven thousand meters overhead, the edge of the Guntali glistened with ice andsnow. The rim was now a mere two hundred and fifty kilometers distant to east orwest, descending toward the bottom of the canyon in a series of steps andescarpments. Through the telescope Etienne examined one sheer wall some fourthousand meters high.One day they were cruising slowly so that Etienne could check the standardsubsurface water samples. Lyra sat at the controls while Etienne was working inthe lab astern. Several Tsla were watching the logging procedure with interestwhile Homat lay half asleep on his mat on the rear deck. Suddenly the boattipped wildly, almost knocking Etienne from his feet. Something had bumped theright side of the hull."What the hell was that?" Etienne yelled forward."I don't know. Something hit us from below.""What's with the scanner?""Nothing. It didn't come from Upriver."He did some fast thinking. Whatever had nudged them ungently hadn't shown up onthe scanner. Therefore it hadn't slipped down toward them. Therefore it musthave come up behind them.Therefore it sure as hell wasn't a rock.Homat was shouting hysterically from astern and Etienne and the Tsla piled outthrough the rear door into the hot, damp air. Even as he emerged Etienne caughthimself wishing for his pistol.Not that it would have done him any good. He was staring at a slowly risingcliff black as polished obsidian. Within the cliff was a cavern, filled withacres of dripping blueblack streamers like baleen, only thicker and more widelyspaced."Lacoti!" Homat was blubbering in fear. Etienne immediately understood howthey'd missed the creature on the scanner, since it was programed only toacknowledge submerged objects which might be dangerous to the boat. The devicewould blithely ignore anything organic flattened out along the river bottom. Thecurrent provided food for the Lacoti, which doubtless rested contentedly in themud of the Skar, mouth agape to receive whatever nourishment the river chose toprovide.Unless something disturbed it, of course.If the Lacoti had eyes, they were hidden somewhere back of that vast cavernousmaw. It was moving toward them, a fact that he perceived right away. He shoutedtoward the intercom, unafraid but having no wish for a closer view of Lacotigut. It might be a slow swimmer but it might also be capable of a last secondburst of speed. "Lyra, there's something back here that's about half the sizeof a starship. Move us out of here.""What do you think I'm trying to do? I can see it on the rear screen!" Her voicewas frantic. "We've got a short or something. I can't get any speed up.""Oh hell," he muttered. "Tyl?"The Tsla wore a fatalistic expression. "We are not river dwellers and have noexperience of such creatures. We can pray."Etienne let out a curse and dove into the cabin. Behind him the towering gulletwas drawing slowly nearer. Part of the problem stemmed from the fact that it wassucking in water at an enormous rate, creating a suction the hydr ofoil was hardput to counter. If they didn't lift up on foils and make some speed they weregoing to go down the Lacoti's throat like a cork in a sewer. He had no idea whathad prodded it out of its bottom lair. Maybe the hydrofoil's engine produced adiscomfiting vibration. No time now for study.He reached the cockpit and shoved Lyra aside. She didn't protest."Emergency override?""I tried it already!"He fumbled at the instrumentation. The stern screens were dark now and he couldhear the echo of water rushing down a monstrous throat.The familiar high whine of the jet filled the air. Lyra was thrown against awall and the backrest of the pilot's seat pressed hard into Etienne's back. Foran instant Etienne was sure he could see a thick black lip overhead as the boatslid down that endless throat. Then they were out in the light again and thestern screen showed the immense mouth receding behind them. It closed and theLacoti sank like an island. A quick check of the scanner showed it was notpursuing, just as it revealed rocky outcrops, mudpoles, and vegetation growingatop the massive back. The thought that something the size of the Lacotirequired camouflage was sobering. The sooner they reached shallower water thebetter he'd like it.He rechecked the readouts before allowing himself along, relieved sigh. "Gocheck our passengers.""Don't give me orders," she snapped as she pushed back her hair and adjusted onefallen halter strap. "I know what to do. I'm just not as mechanically inclinedas you, that's all."He spoke very carefully, conscious that she was treading a fine line betweenanger and hysteria. "When you tried the accelerator you forgot to disengage thesecondary lock on the autopilot. That's why the emergency override didn't workeither.""I know that," she murmured. She was mad at herself, he saw, not at him. "I sawthat thing in the screen and I got scared. I guess ... I panicked a little.""It could have happened to anyone," he said softly. He didn't want to say that.What he wanted to do was let off tension by calling her a stupid, senselesslittle fool. But he didn't. He was gentle and understanding. It was possibly themost intelligent thing he'd done since they'd stepped off the shuttle at SteamerStation many months ago.What really confused him was that he didn't know why he did it."I'm going to run a complete checkout," he told her. "That thing corning upunderneath our keel gave us a pretty good jolt. I want to make sure it didn'tbust something loose."She nodded. "I'll have a look in the hold."She was gone for several minutes, returned sooner than expected. Her expressionwas grim."Etienne, we've suffered a fatality.""What?" He spun the seat around and stared at her in disbelief. "How'? We madeit clear in time.""One of the porters. Her name was Uon. When you hit the accelerator I was thrownagainst the wall. Everyone out back was knocked to the deck. But Uon wasstanding up top, near the mast. When we shot forward she lost her footing andfell. Cracked her skull, looks like. She's dead."Fingers tightened on the back of the seat. "I didn't have any choice," hegrowled. "Another second's delay and we'd have become a meal.""I already explained that to Tyl and the others. They understand completely.They've ... made a request."He didn't look up. "What do they want?""They'd appreciate it if we could stop hereabouts for the night so they can giveUon a proper sendoff. I didn't get the details but apparently there's a lot ofritual involved. They want to anchor somewhere inshore.""I suppose we can find a quiet place. Least we can do. I'm really sorry, Lyra.""It was my fault as much as anyone's." She smiled slightly. "They've accepted itwith somber grace. They adjust to death very well."Now he looked up. "Maybe better than we? If that's a sign of social maturity I'mwilling to concede the point."But his concession didn't make her feel any better.They found a small cove, no more than an oversized pothole that the Skar'sswirls and eddies had etched into the riverbank. The night sky was a dullstarless gray thanks to the solid cover of clouds that stretched like a fluffyawning from one rim of the Guntali to the other.Lyra overcame her sorrow by burying herself in her studies, trying to recordevery slightest nuance of the Tsla funeral ceremony which was performed on theopen rear deck of the hydrofoil. This involved the use of torches, some specialpowder carried by Tyl, and much chanting and singing. Having no desire toparticipate or watch, Homat had relinquished his bedmat for the privacy of thebow. He lay there murmuring spirit rhymes as he leaned over the side to watchthe phosphorescent motocrullers, tiny, superfast clamlike bivalves that madewhirlpools of light beneath the shade afforded by the ship.Having considerably less interest in native rituals than his wife, Etienne hadretired to the comfort of their cabin. The expression on her face when she burstin on him startled him out of his reading. She stumbled against him and he putboth hands on her shoulders to steady her. She looked ill."What's wrong, Lyra, what's the matter?" She'd left the door open behind her andthe steady chant of the Tsla filtered in to the bedchamber."Sendoff ritual," she whispered, choking on the words. She pushed past him,toward the head. The recorder dangling from her neck bounced against her chest.Curiosity overcame his apprehension as he left the cabin and headed astern. Therear deck was lit by the flicker of torchlight, illuminating the source ofLyra's distress. His reaction was less violent than hers. Not that he wasdelighted by the sight, but since he held no high hopes for the Tsla he was farless disgusted and disappointed than his wife.The Tsla were deeply engaged in the funeral ritual and only Tyl broke away longenough to greet him. He looked concerned. This was mitigated somewhat by theblood dripping from his mouth and snout."Lyra left us in a hurry. I hope we did not offend her."Etienne summoned unsuspected reserves of diplomacy. "My wife sees you and yourpeople as being nobler than any of us have a right to be. It's a failing manyhumans are heir to."Tyl's nose twitched and those big soulful eyes turned toward the doorway. "Isee. But you feel differently?""After a fashion. I don't approve, but neither do I condemn. Neither wouldLyra, if she hadn't lost sight of her scientific training.""I am sorrowed," Tyl continued. "It is part of the ritual. It must be done thesame day, as soon after death as possible, because otherwise..."Etienne cut him off. "The reasons are selfexplanatory, Tyl." He was unable tokeep his eyes from the scene on the deck. "It's only that the customs are verydifferent among my own folk.""I can sympathize." He gestured backward with a hand. "Uon was much loved by herfriends. We could not think of sending her soul on to eternity without properlydisplaying that affection.""We feel likewise, only among our kind we choose to express such love for thedeparted in more metaphysical and less immediate terms.""Customs are different among all peoples. Now if you will excuse me, I mustparticipate or Uon's soul will not count me among its friends."Etienne pointed. "You have blood on your face."Tyl wiped at it. "The result of ritual contact. She struck the deck very hard."Etienne left the ceremony to return to the cabin, closing the door behind him.Lyra sat on the bed, staring blankly at a xenological chip unscrolling on theviewer. He doubted she saw the words. He sat down behind her and put both handson her shoulders."I know how you feel," he said helplessly. "It's never pleasant to have one'sillusions shattered.""Such hopes," she muttered disconsolately. "I had such hopes for them. Theyseemed to have progressed so far without the corresponding technologicaltraumas.""They have progressed far," he found himself saying, to his own considerablesurprise. "But it's still an alien culture, Lyra. You can't let yourself losesight of that, let your scientific observations be compromised by your feelingsfor them personally. You can't anthropomorphize their culture any more than youcan their physiognomy.""If I did that," she replied, "it was out of hope.""I realize that, which is why you're going to make your report on Tsla funeralcustom as detailed and informative as any other part of your records. Thebalance it will provide is important. It will help confirm your objectivity.Otherwise all the rest of your work among these people will be disregarded.""You're right, of course." She put the chip reader aside, fiddled with herrecorder as she leaned back against him. "I don't have any choice, do I?""As Lyra Redowl you do. As visiting xenologist representing the interests ofevery xenologist who couldn't make this trip, you do not."She nodded, then stood. "It was unprofessional of me to run away like that. Iknow better. Among the new one must always expect a shock or two.""It's easier for me. Rocks are rarely shocking."She smiled, not because his sally was funny but because he bothered to try andmake it so."We're only human, Lyra.""Yes, and the Tsla are not. For a moment I'd forgotten that. I won't forgetagain.""Don't let this push you too far in the other direction. Whatever you thinkpersonally about their customs, they're still good people, and our friends. Tylis what he's always been a learned and compassionate friend.""Among his own kind, yes. Etienne, you've been right and I've been wrong."He turned away, embarrassed by her admission as he often was when he won somesmall portion of their private war. There was a contradiction there he didn'tund erstand.She started toward the hall and the stern deck, muttering as she went. "Afterall, one can make the argument that ceremonial necrophilia is no more barbaricthan any of a half dozen other funeral rituals observed among pristine primitivecultures. Among the Canuh, for example.. ." Her voice faded as she slippedfurther into scholarly preoccupation.He felt sorry for her at the same time that he was glad he hadn't chosen toshare her discipline. He made a mental note to inform Tyl sometime soon that inthe event he and Lyra should meet with a fatal accident, they were to be buriedin accordance with human custom only.Still, several days passed before Lyra could bring herself to talk with Tyl orany of the surviving porters. They sensed her distress and kept their distance,no easy thing to accomplish within the confines of the hydrofoil. They busiedthemselves with learning the art of trolling, something they could not do on theunnavigable waters of the upper Aurang.They were now five thousand kilometers north of Steamer Station, with an unknowndistance yet to cover. Unknown because the satellite responsible for thephotogrammetric mapping of Tslamaina had rather neglected this portion of thenorthern hemisphere in favor of detailing the much more heavily populated areasaround the equator and the Groalamasan Sea.The temperature had fallen to the point where Homat was obliged to don longclothing in order to be comfortable in the ninety degree heat of midday. Ofgreater concern was the sharp narrowing of the Barshajagad. Towering walls hadclosed in on the river, compressing its volume into a much smaller channel, andthe increasingly swift current was becoming powerful enough to slow theirprogress even though the water could gain a grip only on the two submergedhydrofoils. They encountered no white water, however, and the scanner indicatedthe river bottom still lay far below their keel.But Etienne found it difficult to concentrate on such things; he was hypnotizedby the canyon walls, seven thousand meters that dropped in places sheer to theriver, a gorge unmatched even on gas giants with surfaces solid enough towithstand continual erosion by high winds. All that remained of the sky was anarrow strip directly overhead, masked by perpetual cloud cover, a faint grayband delineating the limits of the real world.Each time the river bent, the rock cliffs seemed to swallow any hope of retreat.The hydrofoil seemed very small indeed as it fought that steadily intensifyingcurrent. The Redowls worked in relays now, unable to trust navigation to theautopilot. If they lost speed while they both slept and the river caught holdof them, it would crush the duralloy hull against one of the granite walls aseasily as eggshell.Chapter ElevenTwo days of this saw their speed dangerously reduced. Lyra entered the cockpitrubbing her eyes, took one clear look at her husband's and said, "Etienne, wecan't keep this up. We're both exhausted and we've no way of knowing how muchlonger this stretch is."He coughed into his fist. "I thought the damn track would start widening outagain by now. It doesn't make sense. This much water moving downstream at thisspeed ought to have worn a broader canyon. But it hasn't.""What's the current reading currently?" She half smiled, half yawned as shesquinted toward the instrumentation, wishing it could produce a cup ofpostEthiopian katfe. Unfortunately the nearest cup of real hot stimulant waslightyears distant."Have a look for yourself." He touched a button without taking his eyes off theriver.She blinked at the readout. "That's incredible," she said quietly."Yes, incredible. No boat was ever designed to travel against such a current.""What about continuing on repellers?""Don't tempt me. Sweet of you to suggest it, but it's too risky. We could try itfor a few hours, but that's all they're designed for. Hopping rapids andavoiding waterfalls, not steady travel. We'd run down the batteries and probablyfind ourselves stuck in an identical position farther Upriver. Can't chance it."He muttered an obscenity."We can't quit here! We've come too far."She leaned against the console. "I know how much this meant to you, Etienne. Butit's not worth risking our lives for."He looked at her then. "You think we have a life?"A new voice interrupted them. "I overhear. There may yet be a way. I have hadlong to think on it and would not have thought it possible, had I not seen whatthy spirit boat can accomplish."Etienne didn't turn to confront their visitor. "What way, Tyl?"Do thee remember the crevice splitting the east wall, that we passed theprevious day?""No. I was too busy looking over the bow to do any sightseeing.""I was working on my notes," Lyra added."I have been watching the Barshajagad, marveling long, but always watching.There was a trail along the east wall. It terminates at this crevice. I havebeen this way once before. I saw no reason to mention the trail, to distractthee from thy work. We were to travel by boat, not by foot. But now I see that Imust mention this other possibility or all will end.""A trail? I didn't ... no, wait a minute," Lyra murmured. "I did see something.I thought it was an old highwater line.""It is a trail, Learned Lyra. A trading trail.""Where does it go?" she asked him."Up. Up to a high plateau. Not the Guntali. Higher than Turput but lower thanthat. High enough so that Tsla can live upon it. Up above the Topapasirut. Thetrail is steeper and more dangerous than the one that climbs to Turput.""How much more dangerous?""Enough to restrict travel. But it rises beyond the Topapasirut."Etienne gestured ahead, at the narrow, impossibly deep canyon. "I thought thatthis place was the Topapasirut."Tyl executed a gesture full of amused negativity. "No. If you would take themeasure of the adversary that still lies ahead, thee must climb beyond itsreach. That is, if thee think thy spirit boat can go no farther.""Point of diminishing returns, Etienne," Lyra reminded him. "Every hour we'reusing more power to cover less distance. Can't you calculate how long it will bebefore we reach the breakeven point and find ourselves making no progress evenat full power?""Soon enough. You say there's a way to get around this Topapasirut, Tyl?""Above, yes. Beyond, I do not know. I have not been to that place. But I havegazed on the Topapasirut. If thee would do likewise, thee must leave thy boatbehind, at least until thee see for thyselves.""Leave it where?""Turn back to the trail end. I would not have thought there was a place, but thyboat can rise like a bird from the water. "Etienne looked at Lyra."It's your decision, Etienne. You're the geologist.""Hydrology's not my specialty, though. But it's starting to look more and morelike we've come to a dead end, at least as far as this section of the river isconcerned." He looked back at Tyl. "The east wall, you said?"The Tsla nodded. Etienne turned back to the instruments. Unwilling to riskturning the boat broadside to the current, he lifted it on repellers and turnedit neatly in midair before setting it gently back into the water.There was a sharp lurch as the river caught the hull. He used only enough powerto maneuver, letting the cells recharge as they raced back downstream."This is our best chance, Etienne. We have to see what we're up against.""I know that, dammit. The canyon has to widen out somewhere above this. Itcan't be like this all the way to the arctic line. Too much erosion. There's ageological anomaly somewhere ahead of us.""And it has a name, apparently. Could it be another big waterfall, like theCuparaggai above Turput?""No. I'm sure of that much, anyway. The water here isn't acting like that andthere's no indication of a sharp rise in elevation at this point. Thephotogrammetrics are solid enough on that score. That's why I don't understandthis intensified flow. But if this Topapasirut's only the narrowest part of thecanyon, we'll see how much farther Upriver it lies. Maybe we can pass above iton repellers."By midday they had returned to the section of cliff Tyl had spotted. Etienneagain lifted the hydrofoil on its repellers, set it down on an exposed beachout of reach of the river's grasp.The crevice to which Tyl had alluded turned out to be much more than thatit wasa break in the Barshajagad wall, a sizable side canyon rising toward the sky.And the winding line against the rocks that Lyra had thought was a highwatermark did indeed show signs of use. It snaked along the granitic wall and startedup the side passage."Now we climb," said Tyl confidently."For how long?""Several days, at least." He turned his gaze upward."Homat won't be glad to hear that," Etienne murmured."Why not leave him to watch over the boat?" Lyra suggested."Sensible. We'll leave one of the porters with him anal carry our own supplies.I don't imagine he'll regret missing the chance to view the `birthplace of allriver devils."'"I will come with thee and leave the others behind, for I do not share thy trustof the Mai," Tyl said."Homat's been invaluable," Etienne replied. "Without his aid we wouldn't be herenow.""His kind are not to be trusted.""In this instance I think you're wrong, Tyl," Lyra said. It was the first timeEtienne had seen her openly dispute the Tsla's opinion.Tyl responded with a gesture of indifference. "Then I will direct Swd to remainbehind by himself. While recuperating, he will keep watch over thy propertyandits other guard."A small stream trickled down the branch canyon, which was indeed steeper thananything they'd climbed thus far. As the meters dropped behind and below them,so did the temperature. The Redowls were obliged to wear their longsleeved andlonglegged attire while Tyl and the porters redonned their capes and togas.Since they didn't expect to find any villagers to trade with, they carried afull stock of rations.They ascended to the cloud. At five thousand meters Lyra was having some troublebreathing, though this was due more to the unaccustomed exertion than thealtitude. Due to the denser atmosphere, five thousand meters on Tslamaina wasequivalent to thirtyfive hundred meters or so on Terra.As they crested the trail head, the clouds momentarily parted. Ahead rose thepeak of a steepsided mountain that towered above them and the nearby edge ofthe Guntali. As they rested, Etienne took a sighting on the peak."Eleven thousand meters, most of it frozen.""Aracunga," Tyl said. Etienne noticed that all the Tsla now wore their sturdiestclothing. They stood some two thousand meters higher than Turput, at the upperlimit of the Tsla ecological zone. They could climb higher still, but notcomfortably.After several days of climbing to the east, they set off northward. Etienneexpected Tyl to continue in that direction, but he was wrong. On the second daythey turned slightly to the west, and by that evening the Redowls could feelthunder again.They expected another waterfall, perhaps one that plunged the full five thousandmeters to the river below. But it was no waterfall Tyl led them toward. It was,the Topapasirut.Must be the father of all waterfalls, Etienne mused, still unconvinced by Tyl'sdenials. By the fourth day the thunder had become so loud they could communicateonly by signs.The Redowls could tap out messages on their wrist computers, but the Tslapossessed no such wondrous devices and had to make their intentions knownthrough gestures. It grew damp around them, the rocks treacherous and slick. Yetas they hiked now through the perpetual mist, the sky overhead remained clear.Etienne searched in vain for signs of the expected cascade. When they finallyreached the lip of the abyss, all was explained.It was raining upward. Forced into a narrow throat of the Barshajagad, theentire volume of the Skar suddenly made a sharp and unexpected bend from southto west. As a result, the swiftly flowing river cannonaded into the north cliffface that formed the base of the mountain Aracunga, five thousand meters belowtheir feet.This produced a spray that rose on disturbed air to drench the puny observersclinging to a granite overhang. The solid bedrock trembled under the river'simpact. Tyl communicated with gestures, but any description was superfluousbefore the stupendous sight below.Etienne knew that this was the Topapasirut, the birthplace of all river devils.He knew that Tyl had been more than right when he'd insisted no boat could passthrough this place. The hydrofoil could not rise high enough on its repellersto clear the maelstrom.Across the canyon, rising from the opposite side of the abyss, was a metamorphicmass that dwarfed even Aracunga."The Prompaj!" Tyl screamed into Etienne's ear. He took another sighting."Fourteen thousand two hundred meters," he informed Lyra via wrist computer. "Animpossible mountain. I think the two peaks were once closer than now. See howthe river bends sharply to the west before turning south again? Tslamaina'sseismically stable now, but a few eons back there must have been one hell of anearthquake in this part of the world. See the signs of slippage?" He pointed toparticular strata down in the roaring canyon."This section of the surface slipped eastward. South of here the land went west.The result was the displacement of the northern third of the Skar severalkilometers to the east. I'm glad I wasn't around then."Lyra tapped out a reply. "I'm not real happy to be here now. Let's get away. I'mcold and wet."They lingered a few moments longer so he could chip a few more pictures, takesome final measurements. Then they headed back toward the trail head, leavingthe clouds and hillsides to swallow up the Topapasirut, its thunder, and thebrooding massif that was called Prompaj.They made camp that night in a small cave, drying themselves and their clothesbefore a large fire. Etienne watched with interest as the porters groomed eachother's fur.The Redowls said little. There was no point in belaboring the obvious. Theirexpedition had reached its end. They'd run up against not a brick wall but awatery one.When the porters had finished and dressed themselves once more they gatheredclose around the warmth of the fire. Tyl spoke while his companions ate."What will thee do now, Learned Etienne? Does the spirit boat possess somemagical power we have not seen that would enable it to pass through theTopapasirut?""It does not," Etienne replied glumly. "We do have other machines which can flythrough the air and put any bird to shame, but we don't have one here. We choseto travel by boat. It's all we have. You were right, Tyl. I apologize fordoubting you.""You had not seen the Topapasirut, Etienne. No one believes until they haveseen.""That's it, then." Lyra was not as disappointed as her husband, though shestrove to sound as sympathetic as possible. If they could no longer go onward,they would have to go back, and she still had work to do among the Tsla."You've been stopped by a geological phenomenon, Etienne. What better way toconclude your report? Think of the reaction among your colleagues when youdescribe this place. Maybe some day we can come back up here with an aircar."He'd been staring at the floor of the cave. Now he looked up, determined."They'll be fascinated, but it won't be the end of my report.""Etienne," she said gently, "we can't get through that chute. You've alreadyacknowledged that.""I won't be stopped by the very river I've come to survey."She sighed, leaned back against the inflated sleeping pad. "Maybe you'll acceptit by morning."Maybe."He did not, nor did he admit defeat during the long descent to the Skar. He keptto himself and brooded, causing Tyl to move next to Lyra."What ails Etienne?""He's unhappy because he knows we can`t go on. F hat means he'll have to leavehis work here unfinished.""But it is not his fault. Nothing passes Upriver beyond the Topapasirut. He hasno control over that. It is not as if he were beaten by something in himself.""He knows all that, Tyl, but he is persistent, Etienne is. Always has been.""I see. A Tsla teacher would accept the inevitable; such constant worry isharmful to the mind.""True, but sometimes it can lead to solutions where none seem possible. I'veseen him do it before. Within our fields, Etienne and I are well respected.We've achieved success where others have failed. It's one of the reasons we wereallowed to make this expedition while other applicants were rejected. Sometimes,Tyl, blind persistence can succeed where everything else has failed.""I still do not understand why you would sacrifice peace of mind. I can admiresuch tenacity, but I cannot empathize with it."Down on the river there was a brief but joyful reunion with those left behind.Homat didn't try to conceal his relief over the safe return of his humanprotectors."AII these days," he whispered to Lyra later, "trapped with that Tsla, and himmumbling and chanting to himself all the time. It was enough to drive a saneperson crazy. Did you find a way to pass this Topapasirut?""No, we did not." To her surprise Homat looked downcast. "I thought you'd bepleased. That means we have to go back Downriver row, back to the warm lands ofOne Skatandah. Don't you miss them?""Very much so, but I have joined myself to your purposes and therefore amdisappointed for you.""That's a very nice thing to say, Homat." She hadn't expected such depth offeeling from the Mai. Nor was it a ruse. He was genuinely distressed that theirjourney had come to an end.She looked past him, frowned. Etienne was deep in discussion with Tyl andlooking more animated than he had in many days. She strolled over to join them."What's all the excitement about?""You tell her," Etienne suggested to Tyl, his features alive with enthusiasm."On the eastern flank of Aracunga Mountain," Tyl explained, "lies the Tslatrading town of Jakaie. I have not visited it myself but it is known to Turput.It is said that beyond Jakaie and the mass of the mountain, the Barshajagadonce more becomes a navigable river. If thee could but convey thy craft to thatplace, thee might safely resume thy journeyif the story is accurate.""An impossible if.""Maybe not," Etienne murmured. He was tense with possibilities. "Maybe we couldportage around."For a long moment she just stared at him. Then she let her gaze trace the lowersection of the steep trail that wound its torturous course up the side canyon."Sure we could. We'll just hoist the boat onto our shoulders and haul it fivethousand meters straight up. Lost your mind?"Her skepticism didn't even slow him down. "No, I've just found it. Look, thehydrofoil's made of ultralight material. The hull's a carbon filament honeycomb.And we can surmount the rough spots on the repellers.""With what power?" she argued. "We'd burn out the cells.""We would not. You're not listening. We'd only use the repellers to get overreal steep places. The rest of the time we'd rely on muscle power. Porters,Lyra! Mount the boat on some kind of platform and pull it up and over."She did some quick figuring. "I admit the hydrofoil's light, but it's a relativelightness. You'd still need a thousand Mai or Tsla to drag it up a thousandmeters."He looked back at Tyl. "Tell her.""There is a draft animal," the Tsla explained, "that the Mai use all along theriver. It is called a vroqupii. The Mai use them in teams to pull trading boatsUpriver against the current. They are strong." He eyed Homat. "Well, Mai?"The guide looked thoughtful. "We passed many trading villages below this place.Each should be home to a few vroqupii. The animals used hereabouts must beunusually powerful because the current is so fast.""Do you think we could find enough to do it?" Etienne asked."I do not know." Homat gazed at the intimidating trail.Lyra's dreams of returning to tranquil Turput were slipping away. "Assuming wecould find enough animals to do the job, could we hire enough? Would theirowners consent to such an undertaking?""If they were promised enough money, certainly," Homat replied, looking at heras if she'd just disputed a fundamental law of nature."What would we pay them with?""Our trade goods," Etienne said. "We have some left.""If we use up our remaining supplies we won't have anything to give any nativeswe meet beyond this point.""If we don't get beyond this point the question becomes moot." She had nocomeback for that. Etienne turned to Homat. "Would these vroqupii be able toclimb as high as Jakaie?" He translated the relevant measurements into Maiterms.Homat looked uneasy. "We go that much higher than the home of these Tsla whoaccompany us?" Etienne nodded. "I am not sure. But these Upriver tribes areproud. They might see such a proposal as a challenge.""They wouldn't freeze. It's not that high," Etienne said.Tyl agreed. "Many Mai hunters hike beyond Turput in search of prey, and theirblood continues to flow.""How many vroqupii might we need?" Homat wondered. An intense discussion ofweight versus capabilities ensued, before the Mai felt comfortable in announcinga figure."Thirty at least. Forty would be better, fifty best, and sixty delightful, but Ido not think we can find that many willing to try, not even for a share ofoffworld treasure.""We must try," Etienne told him."Then I will do my best to convince the Brul, as they who handle the vroqupiiare called." His bald skull glistened in the reflected cloudglare of afternoonand he smiled ingenuously. "That is my job, is it not?"Etienne nodded once. "Let's get started. Lyra, are you sure you're willing to goalong with this?"She shrugged. "If you're determined I couldn't stop you anyway, Etienne. I thinkit's a mistake to sacrifice the rest of our trade goods on a scheme that has agood chance of failing, but I can't argue that it's your last chance to go on.Our last chance," she added with a faint smile."I promise," he told her, "if it looks like we're not going to make it, we'llturn back and return to Turput. I know that's what you want."She almost said, "I want what you want, Etienne," but did not. Theirrelationship was based on more powerful bonds than artificial acquiescence. Theydid not give in to each other; they agreed on things. She agreed now and havingagreed, considered how best to help."Tyl, do you think it can be done with thirty vroqupii?""I have watched them pull heavily laden ships Upriver," the Tsla repliedthoughtfully. "They are very strong. But it will require more than mere strengthto achieve this thing. It will take cooperation among the Mai who are involved.The vroqupii can, I think, pull thy spirit boat up to Jakaie, but not if theBrul fall to quarreling among themselves.""They'll cooperate!" Homat declared angrily. "I'll see to it that they do.""And why should they listen to thee?" Tyl replied without malice. "Thee are arunaway from one of the far citystates that border the Groalamasan. The riverfolk do not trust those who come from the lands that lie against the Sea.""I am not of the citystates," Homat said proudly. "Not anymore. I am of," hehesitated to glance sideways at Etienne and Lyra, "I am of these folk." Etiennesuddenly felt very good."Don't include me in that mental family," Lyra said sardonically. "I'm goingalong with this insanity but I don't believe in it. If Homat wants to considerhimself as one with Etienne, that's fine. Idiocy knows no species boundaries."Everyone smiled."We'll do it, Lyra," Etienne told her, putting an arm around her shoulders."You'll see. We'll do it! We'll get the hydrofoil up to Jakaie, around theTopapasirut, and down to the river on the far side. Then we'll be on our wayagain.""Sure we will," she said softly. She inhaled deeply. "Well, I guess we'd betterget on with it. The sooner this is begun, the sooner it will end.""That's right," he replied with a grin, "but not the way you think it will."Word was passed down the river, the call going out for the bravest of Brulmahouting only the strongest of mounts. Meanwhile the carpenters of the villageof Taranau, which was the last sizable town near the narrowing of theBarshajagad, set about under Etienne's and Lyra's instructions building aplatform to hold the hydrofoil. It was to be light and strong, withdoublewheeled axles fore and aft. These could be bound to the platform which inturn could be attached to the two hydrofoils. Not only would the skeleton frameprovide a maximum of support with a minimum of weight, the open woodwork alsowould not block the downward exhausts of the repellers.Though they talked as rapidly as their brethren, the Brul turned out to be lessloquacious and argumentative than their urbanized relatives. They formed atightly knit society with rules all their own and wore their pride on theirfaces. It was not quite group arrogance.Lyra learned from Homat that most of the Brul lived outside the villages inisolated clusters or in single dwellings with only the immediate family forcompany. Their lives were devoted to the care and handling of their vroqupii.As it turned out the Redowls did not have to exhaust their store of trade goods.Once the nature of the enterprise became widely known, Brul arrived from distantlocations not to serve for pay but simply to pit the strength and endurance oftheir animals against those of their competitors.Still, the expedition was fortunate in engaging forty of the massive animals andtheir owners. After some discussion among the Brul the vroqupii were yoked tothe boat in ten ranks of four abreast. They walked on piledriver legs and theirbellies scraped the earth. The vroqupii was all traction and muscle, its shortsquare head set on a bull neck. A line of horny plates ran along the upper jawand swept back to form a low ridge above each eye, downcurving to shield thethroat.It was a startling assembly, not the least because with a few faintly yellowexceptions, the vroqupii were clad in short, bristly, rosehued fur. Theygrunted and heaved against their harnesses, anxious to get moving. The Brul saton the soft saddle behind the neck frill, alternately joking with and tauntinghis fellow drovers.With the rushing roar of the Skar for counterpoint, the expedition finally gotunder way. At first there was nothing but goodnatured jostling for position aseach Brul strove to prove that his animal was the strongest. Eventually thedrovers settled down to work, conversation fading as each concentrated on thetask at hand.The vroqupii plodded onward in comparative silence, even when they reached thebranch canyon and the way turned steep and difficult. They were used to pullingagainst the constant pressure of the river, and the incline did not seem tocause them any unusual problems. Etienne knew the real test would come duringthe final thousand meters, when the air turned cold and thin.Days passed and their speed slowed only slightly. What did drop off considerablywas the amount of joking among the Brul, as the difficulty of what they wereattempting began to sink in. Etienne had Homat weaving in and out among the Maievery night, listening for talk of discouragement or dissent.The tension was hard on everyone, and when they finally passed thefourthousandmeter mark, fourfifths of the way to the top, humans, Tsla, andMai were as tired as the patient vroqupf. It had been days since any joking hadpassed among the Brul, and the increasingly cold air was beginning to botherthem if not their animals.A few quit under the strain. One was killed when, shivering from the chill, hefell from his mount and was crushed under the heavy feet of the team behind himbefore it could be halted. But even those Brul who gave up left their animals inthe care of friends, admonished them to return the precious creatures in goodcondition when the final goal was achievedif it ever was. Forlorn anddisappointed, they straggled back down the trail by ones and twos.It was the cold that discouraged them more than anything else. By the time thetemperature had fallen to sixty degrees the Brut were so wrapped up in heavyclothing it was all they could do to cling to their saddles. A steady breezetumbled from the flanks of nearby Aracunga, and soon even Etienne and Lyra hadto bundle up."Do you think we'll make it?" Lyra asked her husband one day as she finished thelatest count of the remaining Brul. "It looks like we just might, if we don'tlose too many more drovers.""Don't you go getting confident on me just when I'm starting to have doubts," hetold her. He blew into his hands. If the temperature fell much further theywould have to dig jackets out of the hydrofoil's storage lockers. The Tsla alsolooked uncomfortable. It was chillier than it had been during their climb to theTopapasirut.As Tyl had explained, Jakaie lay at the uppermost limit of Tsla habitation.Above that level even the hardiest Tsla crops withered and died, though onecould survive by foraging and hunting. Or so it was said.Fortyfive hundred meters, fortysix, and as Etienne's nervousness increased,Lyra's spirits rose."We're going to make it, Etienne. You were right all the time. We're going tomake it.""I'll believe it when the boat's sitting in Jakaie's central square," he toldher. "I wish I knew why you get more enthusiastic the closer we come to a crisispoint, while I get more and more worried.""We complement each other, remember? When I'm down, you're up, and vice versa.""I thought all you wanted was to get back to Turput.""I never thought we'd get this far. Now that we have, I'm dying to see how theTsla of Jakaie have adapted to their harsh environment. There should bedifferent architecture, methods of farming, cooking, everything. Society as afunction of altitude. There's a whole paper in that.""Must be a very closeknit population.""I agree, but what makes you think so? You usually don't speculate in my field.""They have to be close. It may be the only way to keep warm.""Anytime you think it's getting a little chilly, Etienne, just consider the poorMai." She gestured toward the long team of vroqupii and Brul as she and Etiennemarched alongside the hydrofoil. "I wonder how low the temperature has to fallbefore they become susceptible to frostbite?""To freezing, I'd expect, but you'd never know it to look at them now. Half ofthem are so cold they can't shiver anymore. Too numb."Not one Brut had quit for several days now, however. For those who remained theclimb had turned into a grim contest. None would give up so close to the goalfor fear of being derided by those who stayed on.As for the vroqupii, they could not voice any complaints, but they seemed toadjust to the colder weather much better than their masters. Their pace wasslower now, more measured, but none had fallen by the wayside. Undoubtedlytheir short brightly colored fur afforded some protection against the changingclimate. It also helped that when a particularly steep spot was reached, theywere unhitched while one of the humans lifted the boat and its wheels to thenext level on repellers. The Brut looked forward to such respites with relief.Fortyeight hundred meters. Fortynine."Tomorrow morning." Etienne spoke as he crouched across from the portable heaterthey recharged every couple of days from the boat's batteries. He longed for thecomfort of their heated cabin. They slept outside at Homat's insistence. Ifthey did not, he warned them, they risked losing the respect of the Brut. "We'llreach the top of the canyon tomorrow morning."He put down his selfheating cup of tea and slid beneath the thermosensitiveblanket. The covering was warm but the ground beneath the sleeping pad veryhard. A glance showed the temperature to be fiftythree.Tomorrow, vindication, he mused. After that, two days of steady travel overlandto Jakaie. There they would find friends, shelter, and fires large enough towarm even the Brut.Lyra still sat in front of the heater, stating at her husband. "You never wouldknow when to say no, would you, Etienne? A bad habit, one that'll be the deathof both of us one of these days." She smiled. "You dragged me all this way whenI'd just as soon have quit and turned back toward home.""Home?" His eyebrows lifted."Well, back toward Turput. I've come to think of that as kind of a home awayfrom home.""In spite of the inhabitants' unpleasant burial rituals?""I didn't spend much time consorting with the dead. I get to do that on the boatevery night.""Very funny." But she was still smiling. Tyl sat nearby, leading his fellow Tslain their nighttime chant. Etienne watched her as she listened to them withoutreaching for her recorder. Light from the porters' fare lit her profile, burningaway the years.Ten years together. She'd been very beautiful a decade ago. Now she washardened, toughened by fieldwork, by adversity, by too many hours spent awayfrom the comforts of civilizationand still beautiful. All the poison in herspirit, all the acid in her voice could not change that.She grew conscious of his stare and turned back to him. "I owe you an apologyfor wanting to turn back.""How about a kiss instead? I haven't had a kiss in a long time. Apologies I canlive without."She eyed him uncertainly for a moment, then walked around the heater to bendnext to him, touching her lips to his. They were warm against the night.Then she pulled away, sooner than he wished. Too brief, too considered, notspontaneous enough, he thought. But something, it was something. It had been along time since they'd lead even that.He turned over beneath the blanket, feeling much warmed insideand not by theheateranxious for morning to come.Chapter TwelveScreams, shouts of panic, and the hoarse trilling cries of the vroqupii wokehim, the latter a sound he hadn't heard since the start of the long climb upfrom the Skar. Gesticulating silhouettes rushed past his sleepfilled eyes likethe shadows of ghosts. Only the heater was alive, a steady glow in the darkness.Trying to force himself awake he sat up, hunting for the source of all thedisturbance. Suddenly he found himself rising from the ground. Something hadplaced tight steel bands around his shoulders and the back of his neck. Hescrewed his head around so he could look overhead, thinking how strange it wasto meet a denizen of hell five thousand meters away from the center of theplanet.Four long wings beat at the air, protruding from a thick, flattened body. Windand a fetid, corrupt odor assailed his face. Not far from his eyes, altogethertoo near, was a mouth full of sharp hooks. A pair of saucersized bright blueeyes glared down at him. The pupils were huge and yellow.The odor of carrion was overpowered by a sudden sharp smell of ozone. Themonstrosity shivered. Lyra fired again and Etienne found himself falling. Helanded heavily on his blanket and sleeping pad instead of the naked rock. Withtwo holes burned through one wing, the creature had had enough. It liftedskyward, emitting a cry very like the sound the devil must make when gargling.Etienne rolled over and clutched his right elbow, which had absorbed the bruntof his fall. It throbbed painfully. He was fully awake now.Lyra jostled him as she slid on her knees next to him. Her eyes were still onthe night sky. "Here," she said, handing him his pistol. "Others are stillaround." She gave him a hand up.Guarding each other's backs they stumbled through the confusion and screaming,Etienne handling the asynapt with his left hand. The most immediate danger camenot from the nocturnal carnivores but from the bellowing, stampeding vroqupii.Etienne fired and fired. Though there was no recoil, his fingers grew numbsimply from gripping the pistol. Eventually the night was scoured clean,however, and he let the weapon fall to his side. The stars returned, except offto the north where the air was filled with vast dark shapes, rapidly receding.The Redowls returned to their campsite, set the heater back on its base, and satdown. All around them panic was giving way to muttered curses and exclamationsin excited Mai.Homat joined them, almost invisible in his coldweather gear."What were they?" Lyra asked him. Etienne massaged his elbow, still looking tothe north where a last straggler fled after its companions on tenmeterwidewings."Monsters." Homat was shivering despite his bulky attire. "Very rarely do theycome down to the river. They must be more common up here, where the land isbetter suited to monsters and Tsla!"Other eyes joined the conference. If Tyl had overheard Homat's last words, hechose not to comment. "Strepanong," he declared, gesturing heavenward with hisflexible proboscis. "Scavengers and killers." He paused. "They took two of theBrui. They rarely bother us in the fields, and never in the towns. Never have Iseen so many in one place at the same time. The presence of so much meat musthave drawn them.""A bad omen, bad omen," Homat was muttering. "Perhaps we should turn back,deEtienne."A small invisible needle pricked his elbow and he winced. "Not after making itthis far, Homat. I'm not turning back now.""The Brul may grumble once they restore calm among their animals," Homat warnedhim. "They do not come this far to fight with monsters.""Tyl, repeat what you said about never having seen so many in one place before.The chances of this happening again before we reach Jakaie are insignificant,aren't they? Tyl ,yThe Tsla spoke mournfully. "I can guarantee nothing, Learned Etienne, though itwould be most unlikely.""One strepanong is too many," Homat argued."We drove them off," Lyra reminded him, gesturing with her pistol. "We injuredseveral of them, maybe fatally, threw a real scare into the entire flock. Idon't imagine they'll come after us again. You tell the Bzul that. And from nowon Etienne and I will alternate standing guard at night so we're not surprisedanymore. If there is a next time they'll feast on strepanong, not the other wayaround.""That is no consolation to the families of the two who were taken." Homatshuddered at the thought."Their families will be compensated," she promised. "Tell the Brul that if theyturn back now because of a bunch of carrion eaters they're no better thanchildren, crying for their mothers. We're only a couple of days, maybe less,from our goal, where there'll be warm shelter and safety for all. "Tyl assumed an uncharacteristically haughty air. "That much can be assured. Tslahospitality refuses no one.""You can also tell them," Lyra continued with a sudden burst of inspiration,"that if they insist on turning back now, we'll have to find Tsla help to takeus the rest of the way."Homat smiled at this slyness. Truly deLyra was becoming knowledgeable of Maiways. "Ail your assurances would not convince them, but an insult to theirreputations!yes, I will tell them that. I do not think we will have anytrouble." He turned and disappeared in the direction of the vroqupii corral.The Redowls were left alone. Lyra indicated her husband's right arm. "What'swith your elbow?"He forced a wry grin. "It thought it was a foot. I landed on it, but I don'timagine it's broken. Just feels like it. Couldn't you have managed to shoot thedamned thing before it got me off the ground?""Sorry," she said dryly. "Be thankful we're camped on a relatively wide sectionof trail. You might've been dumped over a precipice.""Wouldn't that have made for an interesting dive? Time enough for fortyeighttwists with a couple dozen triple gainers thrown in. Unfortunately, I don'tthink I would have survived long enough to enjoy the judging.""I'll try and come to the rescue a little sooner next time."He was suddenly solemn as he eyed the sky. "I hope there won't be a next time.Insult to their professionalism or not, I don't imagine the Brul will stay ifwe're attacked again. Did you get a good enough look at our visitors to classifythem? I wasn't much interested in their taxonomy myself, and I didn't have thebest view.""It wasn't a bird. I'm not even sure it was mammalian. Looked like a crossbetween a condor and a centipede.""Sweet critter. I think we'll forgo any opportunities for upclose study." Hegrimaced as he tried to straighten his arm. "I saw enough to know it spends mostif not all of its time in the air.""I've never seen a quadruple wing arrangment like that before," she added,"except on insects, and the strepanong's no insect despite its appearance. Ithad feathers, and plenty of 'em.""I know. I had to smell them." He looked toward the circle of Tsla. Tyl waswatching them, the fire bright in his wide, sad eyes. "You're positive we're notmore than a day or two march from this town?"Tyl performed an elaborate gesture with his nose. "I am positive, Etienne. Apassing of the sun once or twice across the sky will see us in Jakaie. I lookforward to it myself, for I am curious to see how my brethren have adapted to soisolated a home. Life must be harder than in Turput.""But not so hard they won't be able to aid us?""Learned Etienne, the more difficult a Tsla's circumstances, the more generoushe is with his hospitality."Lyra confirmed this declaration, as Etienne knew she would.There was much grumbling and many more complaints than usual among the Brul thenext morning as they mounted their vroqupii. That was only to be expected.Etienne thought he saw several expressions of hatred directed at himself or hiswife, but Homat assured him it didn't matter whether the drovers disliked themor not. Only that they respected them.Several of the vroqupii displayed new scars, evidence of attempts by themarauding strepanong to carry them off. At least the weather had decided tocooperate, and the grumbling rapidly died down. It was almost warm as they setout up the trail.They reached the top of the canyon and paused for a brief celebration, whichhelped to raise the drovers' spirits considerably. That night they slept easy,reassured by the sight of one of the Redowls patrolling alertly with asynapticpistol in hand.By the following day nearly all dissension had faded away. The trail now crossedlevel ground and the Brul paused in their shivering long enough to study a landthey'd never visited before. They realized they were pioneers of a sort and afew found they were enjoying the journey.They were two days in from the trail head. The vroqupii surmounted theoccasional ridge with ease. The beauty of the lower plateau captivated thetravelers, from the rushing streams beginning their long race down to the Skarto the stunted but widespreading evergreens.Lyra was particularly interested in a convoluted pile of brush that Tyl calledan aroyt. Covering as much as half an acre, the aroyt was a single growth thatdefended its highly edible trunk with an impenetrable armor of centimeterlongthorns. There were also clumps of high mossy fungi that rose to their knees andheld melt water like a sponge. Not that water underfoot was a problem. Most ofthe trail had been cut from solid rock. Soil was a precious rarity at thisheight.They were approaching a saddle between a finger of Aracunga and a low hill whenthe two lead Brul who had disengaged themselves from the team to serve asadvance scouts returned at a gallop. That in itself was extraordinary, since itwas the first time the Redowls had seen a vroqupii move at anything faster thana walk.Homat hurried to meet the outriders as the procession slowed. The scouts wereclattering loudly to their companions as they traveled down the line."Maybe they've spotted Jakaie over the ridge line," Lyra suggested hopefully.Too hopefully.Homat rejoined them quickly, his fright apparent in his expression. "The Brulare taking their animals out of harness.""What?" Etienne looked toward the front of the team, could see the droversworking with the harness. "What the devil's wrong?""Exactly," Homat replied. "Many devils. Demons." Ibis eyes were wide."More strepanong? Or some other animal?""Not animal, not animal," Homat insisted. "Demons!" Etienne could see he was farmore terrified than he'd been the night of the scavenger attack.Etienne started up the line. "They can't unhitch and quit now! We're almostthere." As he spoke, several vroqupii were already moving out of file. "You'vegot to make them stop, Homat.""They won't stop, deEtienne. The strepanong they can understand, but no one canfight demons."Desperately, Etienne turned to Tyl. "What's going on? What are they sofrightened of?""I am not sure," Tyl murmured, "but I fear what I may know.""Demons are in Jakaie," Homat went on. He turned to point toward the saddle justahead. "Jakaie lies just over that ridge, but the demons are there. The Brulwill go no further, deEtienne. They say they are going back to their homes asfast as their mounts will carry them. They complain that nothing was said in thecontracts about dealing with demons.""What kind of demons?" Lyra asked, trying to make some sense of the Mai's panic."Ice demons!""Ali, it is as I fear." Tyl turned and began talking rapidfire to hiscompanions, the words flying almost as fast as if he were speaking Mai."Not the Tsla too," Etienne snapped angrily. The first retreating vroqupii werepassing the boat now, heading back toward the Barshajagad. He stepped toward thenearest."You must stay!" he shouted in Mai. The Brul ignored him. He walked to the nextin line. "You can't leave us here like this. We have a contract, an agreement."He struggled to recall the words Lyra had used to hold the drovers the night ofthe strepanong. "What of your commercial honor?""To flee from devils is no disgrace," the Brul announced with dignity, even ashe looked back over his shoulder to make certain no demons pursued. And that wasall any of them would say.In less than thirty minutes the last vroqupii had disappeared over the slopebehind them, its Brul urging it to greater speed. Etienne and Lyra consideredtheir boat, marooned on a rocky plain, yoked to nothing."Ice demons," Etienne grumbled. "Didn't they see how easily we drove off thestrepanong?""These are not strepanong," Tyl told him. "Thee must see to understand as theehad to see the Topapasirut to understand it. I sorrow for thee, Learned One. Asfor ourselves, we must go on to aid our brethren in Jakaie.""Hey, what about us? Are we supposed to just sit here and wait for the nextflood?""Etienne," Lyra said gently, "you're not thinking clearly. You never do when youlose your temper.""So enlighten me.""This town lies just over the ridge ahead." She stared meaningfully at thehydrofoil.Realization brought embarrassment with it, though the Tsla did not perceive it."Just ahead. We have plenty of battery power and we don't have to lift toohigh." Lyra nodded, turned to the Tsla. "These ice demons. They wouldn't happento be the Na, would they?""What other demons of the ice are there? I thought thee knew." Tyl gesturedtoward the boat with his snout. "Thee will use thy spirit boat to help us?""To help you, yes, and ourselves, since we have to get it into Jakaie somehow.You know what to do?" Tyl nodded and moved with the porters to climb aboard. TheRedowls followed."You wanted to see this legendary third race, the one that inhabits theGuntali," Etienne reminded her as they mounted the ladder. "Looks like you'regoing to have your chance.""I'm not sure I like the circumstances, but it doesn't appear we have much sayin the matter."They checked out the boat's systems carefully. It had been several days sincethe repellers had been used. But the hydrofoil lifted easily off the ground andstarted forward on its cushion of air. The wooden platform hung beneath thehull, the huge heavy wheels spinning aimlessly. Bindings groaned but held.Jakaie had better be as close as the Brul had indicated, Lyra thought as sheguided them toward the notch in the rocks. Otherwise they'd have to squat downsomewhere until the cells recharged the batteries.Jakaie was built into a flank of Ara cunga. The architecture was similar toTurput's but much heavier construction seemed to be the rule. The buildingsboasted fewer windows. At that altitude the Tsla needed to conserve heat.Off to the north lay irrigated fields filled with soil laboriously collectedfrom notches and arroyos where it had gathered. The wall was the most obviousdifference between Jakaie and Turput. It was an impressive wall; a good six orseven meters high but not especially thick.Apparently Jakaie was high enough for creatures of the Guntali to mix with thoseof the Tsla ecological zone. Including, it seemed, the Na. He tried to visualizethe Na in his mind's eye, using variations of the MaiTsla patterna bipedal,mammalian type. And that much was true. But the ways in which the new formdiverged from those previously encountered caused the small hairs on the back ofhis neck to tense.Several gates broke the town wall and no more than two dozen Na battered away atthe largest. That two dozen Na would take on an entire town said more for theirferocity and disposition than all the fears expressed by the Brul.Jakaie was large enough to harbor anywhere from five hundred to a thousandinhabitants, all of whom not only were on the defensive but appeared to belosing the battle. Tsla bodies were visible outside the wall. There was no signof dead Na though one individual did sit some distance away from the fight. Abig male, it was festooned with spears and arrows and was busily engaged inplucking them from his body as if they were so many bee stings.As they watched from the straining hydrofoil, the gate gave way under the steadypounding from rocks and small trees. The Tsla inside scattered as the Na rushedin among them, and screams of terror pierced the clear mountain air. "Thee musthurry, Learned Ones, or many will die!" Swd called from the foredeck."We're moving as fast as we can," Etienne told him through the speaker membrane."This boat wasn't designed for rapid travel out of the water."Many primitives would have paused at the sight of so alien an object as theflying boat coming toward them. Not the Na. Either they did not possesssufficient imagination to be fearful of strange new shapes or else they were tooconfident in their own irresistible strength. A few bellowed in the hydrofoil'sdirection as it crossed over the wall, but the assault continued.The hydrofoil bucked and rolled uneasily as they began to pass over homes andstreets. It wasn't designed to compensate for such uneven terrain. Everyoneaboard was glad when Etienne finally set the boat down in a parklike area nearthe center of Jakaie. A few anxious faces, flexible snouts aquiver, peeked outat them from shuttered windows and portholes. The noise of fighting could beheard clearly. Etienne checked his pistol as Lyra urged him to hurry. "What, ina rush to shoot some more natives?" he chided her. "How are you going to justifythat in your report?""If this town's devastated we won't be able to find the help we'll need to getus down to the river again.""What makes you think the Tsla here have any interest in helping us? This isn'tTurput." He scrambled down the boarding ladder."Because we're going to endear ourselves to them by helping to repel thisattack. Not that I wouldn't help them anyway." She started toward the brokengate and he had to hurry to keep up with her.Anxious to protect her precious Tsla, he mused. But she was right about onething they'd do it if they had to or not. Tyl and the porters had become morethan natives during the journey Upriver from Turput. They'd become friends.Tyl and the three porters were offered arms by oldsters and adolescents. OnlyHomat did not accompany the reinforcements. He remained with the hydrofoilbecause between his bulky clothing and the temperature he'd have been uselessin a fight.It was not as if they hadn't encountered violence on Tslamaina before Jakaie,but it was still a shock to stumble onto the decapitated body of a female Tslalying in the street. The head was nowhere around and the sounds of combat werevery close.After the Na broke through, the Tsla retreated to their strong buildings toharry the invaders with spears and arrows. Etienne and his party rounded theside of one such structure and halted only a few meters from a cluster of ten ortwelve farmers who were trapped against the wall by a pair of Na. The farmerswere holding the attackers off with long pikes and sharp tools, yet it wasapparent that if something wasn't done quickly the Na would pick them apart oneby one.Etienne had no time to admire Tyl's bravery as their guide darted forward,weaving with the waddling gait of his kind, to cut at the leg of one Na with acurved blade. It did not penetrate the leathery skin very deeply and he had toretreat in a hurry, leaving his weapon behind.But the Na had felt it, grunted, muttered something unintelligible, thenreached down to pluck the weapon from its ankle. The creature was four meterstall and covered with a thick, shaggy pelt. Its clothing was crudeheavy sandalsof some unknown leather, a leathery vest and breastplate, and a kilt of somesimilar material. A bone knife hung from a cord tied around the waist, the bladealmost as tall as Lyra. As its main weapon, the Na clutched a club which hadonce been a tree of respectable size. It was panting heavily and a dark tonguelolled from a corner of its mouth. That made sense. An inhabitant of the Guntaliwould have little use for sweat glands.Without a word Etienne moved to his left, Lyra to the right. As he ran he fired.Thick hair was burned black on the back of a pillarlike thigh. The Na howled andturned its attention away from the desperate farmers.The creature's forehead was very low and its blunt snout seemed incapable ofadvanced expression, but there was no mistaking that snarl of hatred. Itdisplayed four canines, two upper, two lower. The remaining front teeth appearedto have been fled to sharp points. One did not have to be an experiencedbiologist to realize the Na did not exist on a diet of vegetables.It uttered something in words of single syllables as it brought the massive clubdown faster than Etienne would have guessed possible. He dove wildly behind asmall wagon piled high with some kind of vegetation The club made kindling ofthe wagon and splinters bit at Etienne's exposed face. As he rolled to his feethe thought suddenly, What am I doing here? I should be behind a desk at auniversity, grumbling over sophomoric student reports and wondering who's goingto show at the next faculty gettogether.There was no time for regretful contemplation. The club swung parallel to thepavement and he heard it whoosh as he ducked and it missed the top of his skullby centimeters. Then a big hand was reaching for him, six treelike fingers withhooked nails at the tips.He stumbled backward, away from that menacing grasp, firing as he fell. The boltpassed between the forefinger and first thumb to strike the Na in the left eye.It let out a thunderous howl, dropped the club and fell to its knees, shakingviolently. The Na was dead by the time it hit the ground.Etienne tried to rejoin his companions, only to find his path blocked by theother Na. It charged forward and brought its own club down with both hands.Etienne barely missed being pulped by diving behind a nearby wall.Freed of the need to ward off two attackers, the farmers fanned out behind thesurvivor. Pikes and spears and scythes stabbed and cut at muscles and tendons.The Na roared and bellowed, frustrated in its attempt to locate the snoutlessTsla who had slain his companion. As a great tendon was finally cut, the beastfell to one knee swinging the club in a wide arc to kill a pair of Tsla who'dclosed too quickly.But now that the Na was down it no longer seemed so massive or invulnerable.Etienne took careful aim and fired at the base of the skull. The bone was sothick that it prevented the charge from penetrating to the spine, but the shockwas sufficient to temporarily paralyze the creature and send it tumbling therest of the way to the street.It did his heart good, though Lyra would surely not have approved, to watch thepeaceful, philosophic Tsla jump all over the body and start hacking it topieces. Knowing that his help was needed elsewhere, he left the survivingfarmers to their butchery.He needn't have worried. The Na were in full retreat, harried by the persistenttownsfolk. He spotted Yulour atop a croploading ramp and climbed up beside him."You don't fight here, Yulour?""No, Learned One," said the slowwitted porter. "I want to help, but Teacher Tyltell me no. He say, I would only end up hurting myself."Etienne nodded, commending Tyl's good sense. He picked his way back down theramp.The fleeing Na carried huge bales of some kind of dried meat from a storehousethey'd broken into, while others hauled off unknown booty in huge leatherysacks. The Tsla pursued them only as far as the ruined gate.Etienne saw only one other Na corpse. Perhaps word of the two deaths he'd had ahand in had been enough to frighten the rest of the Na into giving up theassault. Or perhaps they'd gained what they'd come for. He could speculate onmotivation later. Right now he was exhausted and more than glad to see them go.Another folk might have pursued in an attempt to recover their stolen stores,but not the Tsla. There was no room in their philosophy for active militarypursuit. And out on the open plain they would be at a disadvantage against theiropponents, whose size and maneuverability would not be restricted by stone wallsand narrow streets.He slo wed as he approached the shattered gate, to stare after the retreating Na.A group of curious locals began to gather around him. Smiling and making Tslagestures of friendship, he forced his way through them to find Tyl deep inconversation with a silverfurred elder.The guide introduced him. "This is Ruuan, First Scholar of Jakaie. Ruuan, makegreeting to the Learned Etienne, a scholar front a world other than ours. Hecomes here to learn about us ... and as thee have observed, sometimes to help.""I am gladdened by thy presence," the elder said. His accent differed from thatof Tyl and the other Tsla of Turput, but the words remained comprehensible."Also that thee saw fit to put aside thy studies long enough to aid us in a mostdesperate time. I have been informed that thee helped to bring down two of theNa and thereby to hasten their flight."Etienne holstered his pistol. "Does this happen often? From what I saw of thefight I don't see how you could survive repeated attacks.""The Na assail us infrequently, and usually with less loss of life. Many timeswe will simply fall back against the mountain and let them take what they will.They are not indiscriminate thieves and never take more than they can carry.But it has not been a good time for us and it was decided this time to resist. Ido not think the choice wise.""They come to steal your food?""When the time is hard on us, it may also be hard on them. Nor do they know howto grow food of their own. Despite their appearance, they have a hunger for thefruit of the soil. When it is scarce on the Guntali they will sometimes comedown among us. I suppose they cannot be blamed. The life offered by the Guntalimust be very hard.""You sound like you're ready to forgive them," Etienne said, eyeing the bodiesscattered both in front of and behind the ruined gate."We always do," the First Scholar told him. "Have they not souls just as we?They are more to be pitied than hated for their ignorance and weaknesses.""I didn't see many weaknesses, but I've already learned that you Tsla are moreforgiving than we humans." Already the townsfolk were busy removing the dead.That sparked an unpleasant memory."After the ... funeral ceremonies ... are concluded, what do you do with thebodies of your deceased?" He could not look at TyI as he said this. Sensing hisdiscomfort, the guide discreetly allowed the First Scholar to answer."Here we cremate the bodies and then scatter the ashes upon our fields, so thatas tillers of the soil those who pass on may help the next generation to growbetter crops.""So they can be stolen again by the Na. You ought to put a stop to it.""That would be a fine thing," the elder said, "but alas, a thing not possible.We cannot chase the Na up to the Guntali. It is too cold for us and the air toothin for us to fight in. Up there, they are the masters."Similarly, they cannot fight long down here. The thick hair which protects themfrom the Guntali's cold soon causes them to grow too hot to exert their greatbodies, and they must retreat.""I'm glad I don't have to depend on the weather for my defense," Etiennereplied. Not that ii was within his province to criticize the way these Tslamanaged their lives."Actually," the elder continued, surprising his human audience, "there aretimes when we trade peacefully with the Na.""I'd been told the Tsla served as a conduit between Mai and Na, but for somereason it just slipped my memory.""You must not judge them only by this unusual attack," Ruuan advised him."There are many times when the Mai also prefer to fight instead of to trade."Etienne was glad Homat was still back at the boat. "Listen, I'm standing heretaking in all this information and it isn't even my department. Lyra's the onewho should be making a record of your ways." He looked past them, making aperfunctory survey of the battlefield. "Where is she, anyway? I haven't seenher since we split up to try and flank the two Na we first encountered.""Ah, Learned Teacher Lyra," Tyl murmured."Yes. Didn't she stick with you, Tyl?" Suddenly he was very cold, the kind ofcoldness that comes from inside the body and makes the muscles of one's arms andlegs start to cramp."No. We became separated during the fight. I have not seen her since. Perhaps weought to return to the place where we began the combat." He sounded concerned.There was no sign of Lyra. Not where Etienne and the farmers had slain the twoNa, not in the streets nearby, not before the gate. The word was passed amongthe townsfolk. Surely they'd know her whereabouts. An alien fighting among themwould stand out immediately.When the word came it was, devastating in its finality.Chapter ThirteenThe expedition's aims, his hopes for a personal rapprochement, the papers theyplanned to present to various scientific societies, the acclaim andacknowledgment and honors, all suddenly meant nothing beside the hollowness inhis heart. Ten years of hard work had been shattered like that gate which had soineffectively protected Jakaie.Several of the townsfolk had seen the alien female disappear into a Na sack.They were positive she was alive at the time. Two or three Tsla had been stuffedin the sack with her.Etienne and Tyl, accompanied by the First Scholar, rushed to the narrow streetnear the gate, following the lead of two young Tsla. A quick search turned upseveral raggedy fragments of Lyra's shirtand something more significant.Battered but still functional, her pistol lay dark against the paving stoneswhere she'd dropped it.Asking without wanting to ask, he looked despairingly at Ruuan. "Why would theytake her alive?"The elder glanced at Tyl, who knew the strange creature better than he, but noenlightenment was forthcoming. So he answered."I told thee, Learned Etienne, that when times on the Guntali are difficult theNa come here to find food. They are not selective in their diet. Meat is meat tothem, whether recently killed on the Guntali or traded to them by some merchant. . . or the merchant himself. They take live captives to prolong their supplyof fresh food, as we do with our domestic animals."The sudden irony of it made Etienne want to laugh, but he couldn't, any morethan he could cry. All he could do was stare silently through the broker. gatetoward the rampart marking the rim of the Guntali, more than a thousand metershigher than Jakaie.Lyra was up there somewhere, no doubt occupying her thoughts with theunprecedented opportunity granted her to study the culture of the Na at closerange. Probably she was bouncing around in her sack with her fellow captives andcursing the lack of a recorder. She'd be doing exactly the same thing when theyslipped her on the spit. Her last notes would detail the eating habits of theNa. He was sure it would be a paragon of scientific explication and his wife'sfinal thought would be regret over the fact no one else would be able to readthem."Damn them," he muttered. "Damn her!" He let all his anger and hate andfrustration flow out over the stones and an occasional curious onlooker and whenhe finally concluded the tirade he was ashamed of himself, because there stillwere no tears.As he turned back to the patient Tyl he discovered he could speak withextraordinary calmness. It was the peace of the resigned."Do you think they will eat her soon, or save her for a while?" How easily thewords came now, the absurd words.Tyl looked to Ruuan instead of replying. "It is hard to say. Certainly theyhave sense enough to wonder at the differences between her and us. If any amongthis tribe has ever seen a Mai, they may think she is kin to them, albeit from alarger tribe. They may want to sample this new food right away, but I think theymay choose to make a special feast around her. Thus they would save her for alast meal.""I have to proceed on that assumption."Tyl eyed him curiously. "What can thee do, Learned Etienne? I am wounded forthee. I was very fond of Learned Lyra. I learned much from her and enjoyed oursharing of customs and knowledge. Both pupil and teacher she was, but there isnothing to be done for her now.""You and your damn fatalism! She's my wife, damn it, and as long as there's theslimmest chance she's still alive I have to go after her. It's her own damnfault for being so careless and putting me in this position, and she knows it.She's probably laughing over my predicament right now knowing that I have tocome after her or risk everything going down the drain. Months of work, years ofpreparation all at risk because she didn't have a care for her fat rear and letsome big dumb cretin of a native stuff her in his shopping bag. Lost her pistol,too." He shoved the other asynapt into his belt."I'm going to go back to the boat for our cold weather gear. Lyra'll be lucky ifshe doesn't freeze to death before she finds herself on the menu. Or maybe shewon't be lucky. It depends on how right your assumptions are and how fast I canmove up there." He scanned the rock wall."One thing I can tell from here; I'll have to hike it. No way the repellers willlast long enough to get me up that. What about trails? Are there foot trailsleading to the plateau, or do they just follow the easiest route down?""Always they follow the easiest," Ruuan said. "That is their way. They make noattempt to hide themselves, for they have nothing to fear from us. But I do notunderstand what thee intend, Learned Visitor. The captured are already lost.Whether alive or dead this moment matters not. Thee saw how the Na fought herein our homeland, constrained by our walls and overheated as their bodies were.Think what they will be like to confront on the Guntali, where they are at homeand in comfort. I will meditate on thy mate's behalf.""Thee meditate thy butt off. I'm still going after her." He turned to theirguide. "Tyl, you'll come with me, won't you?""As the First Scholar tells, the captured are already lost to us. In any case wecan do nothing against the Na in their own land. To do so would only be to addto the rolls of the departed.""How do you know you can't do anything if you've never tried?""Logic, Learned Etienne, anti common sense, dictate our actions. We are calmbecause we are sensible, content because we understand our role in the scheme ofexistence." He reached out to try and comfort his distraught hairless friend."Please, Etienne, friend, thee must continue with thy work. Thy Lyra would havewished it. Thee must not grieve for her.""I'm not grieving for her, you gutless wonder. I'm going after her because shemay still be alive." Then, more quietly, "I mean no insult, Tyl. I won't grievefor her unless I know for a fact that she's dead.""If thee wish to perish alongside her, why, that could be understood," saidRuuan, attempting to make some sense of an alien reasoning that flew in theface of all logic."I've no intention of committing suicide.""That is what thee will do if thee persist in following the Na onto theGuntali," Tyl insisted. "I am sorrowed, Etienne, but I cannot follow thee. Myteachings, my beliefs, will not allow it. You may ask of any others thee wish."He did not add that such a request would be a waste of time.Etienne forced himself to reply as courteously as possible. "I respect yourbeliefs, Tyl. I don't understand them and I don't sympathize with them, I don'teven like them, but I can respect them. But I'm wasting tame standing heretrying to convince you." He wondered what Lyra would say if she could hear Tyl'srefusal."I'll go after her myself.""Thee will not return," Tyi warned him."Oh, I'll come back. Look at it like this I'm going to acquire additionalknowledge. It will be a learning experience.""Death is learned soon enough," Tyl said. "They who""I will go with thee."So intent was he on his mental preparations and his frustration with the Tslathat Etienne didn't hear the voice.Again it said, "I will help thee.""Who said that?" He turned, to find himself confronting one of the porters. Thelast porter anyone expected to say anything Yulour."If thee will have me, Learned One.""Have you, yes, and glad of it." He didn't think Yulour could think fast enoughto be of much help in a fight, but if supplies could be piled on that willing,powerful back they would make much better time. And it would be good to havecompany. In that respect the porter's slowness did not concern him. He doubtedhe'd be much in the mood for extended conversation atop the Guntali."Why? Isn't it against your spiritual principles?""I have no spiritual principles, Learned One." Yulour fought with the large Tslawords. "I do not have sense enough to have them." He looked hesitantly past thehuman. "Teacher Tyl must allow. I am bound to him."Tyl was staring curiously at the porter. "I cannot allow myself to go, nor wouldthy companions, but if thy conscience is clear and committed.""What is conscience?" Yulour asked innocently.Tyl sighed. "No matter." He turned to Etienne. "He may accompany thee as hewishes. I cannot stop him, though I would if it were in my power. All beingshave free will. Remember this, though thee will bear a heavy responsibility ifhe dies. It will be on thy conscience.""I'll remember that." Etienne faced his one volunteer. He'd had little personalcontact with Yulour, indeed, with any of the porters, preferring to give themtheir instructions through Tyl."Thank you, Yulour. I accept your offer of help. It would be better understoodamong my own people."The porter shook his head sadly. "I do not understand, Learned One."Etienne clapped the Tsla on one muscular shoulder. "It doesn't matter. All thatmatters is that you're willing to help.""I like Teacher Lyra," Yulour said with simple sincerity. "I want to help her.""If we can, we will, Yulour."They hurried back to the hydrofoil, ignoring the crowd of curious Tsla which hadgathered around it. Homat was waiting to greet them.Etienne caught his breath as a blast of superhot air rushed out of the maincabin. Inside the temperature reached for the hundreddegree line, forty degreeswarmer than the air outside. Homat's reaction was exactly the opposite ofEtienne's. As cold air poured inside he retreated to the pile of blankets he'dassembled on the floor of the cockpit, curled up beneath them, and peered outapologetically as Etienne strode in after him."Please do not be angry with me, deEtienne," he pleaded. "Only I was leftbehind, and I remember how to work the device that makes the air inside thespirit boat hot or cold. I could not resist. It's the first time in many times Ihave been truly delightful warm."Etienne had to smile. "Relax, Homat, it's all right. I'm not mad at you." Thesmile quickly vanished, "DeLyra has been taken by the Na, by the ice demons."Homat began to moan and Etienne hastened to cut him off. "Yulour and I are goingafter her."Homat's nearly bald head emerged from the smothering blankets. "After thedemons?""After the Na, yes.""You will not come back.""I really appreciate all the support I'm getting," he mumbled absently as hestarted rummaging through a storage locker in search of needed supplies. "Inever thought I'd see the day when Mai and Tsla were in perfect agreement onanything.""After the demons," Homat whispered. "II would come with you if I could."Etienne threw him a surprised look. "That's delightful of you, Homat, but youknow how much use you'd be. The temperature atop the Guntali's probablysomewhere just above the freezing mark. I don't think you could handle that forvery long. No Mai could. The climate here in Jakaie's at the upper limit of yourtolerance.""I wish it were not so, deEtienne. It is wondrous that you can move so freelybetween the comfortable weather of the Skatandah and the roof of the world.""Our special clothing helps to make that possible, Homat." He held up a thermalcoat just excavated from storage. "I'm more concerned about the atmosphericpressure above the sixthousandmeter line. The air will be thicker than at acorresponding altitude on my home world, but thinner than I'd like. We have somemethods of compensating for that, too."Into the large backpack went a half dozen supplementary breathers. Eachconsisted of a facepiece designed to fit comfortably over mouth and nose andflexible metal tubes that fit over the ears and behind the head to hold thecontraption in place. The tubes contained pure 02 under pressure and would serveequally well under water. For high altitude use they'd last much longer, sincetheir full flow wouldn't be required.Two ascents from the bottom of the Barshajagad had prepared him for the comingclimb. All that he feared was the possibility of having to do some running athigh altitude. He wondered how Lyra was handling the thin air and lowtemperatures. She was wearing long clothing when the Na had attacked, but thatwouldn't suffice if the nighttime temperature dropped below freezing. It mightbe that all that stood between her and freezing to death at night was the warmpresence of her fellow captives."Yulour, will you be warm enough?" he asked his sole companion when all wasready. The porter wore several layers of toga and two capes, in addition to acloak pulled tight over his head."I will be fine, Teacher. Please not to worry about me. It upsets me when I seeanyone worrying about me."Tyl and Ruuan waited at the main gate to see them off. With typical Tslamatteroffactness, masons and carpenters were already hard at work repairingthe broken barrier. Ruu-an presented ore stocky villager who would guide themto the base of the incline the Na usually employed for their travels."Do they ever leave a rear guard behind, or anything like that?" Etienne askedthe First Scholar.Ruuan made a negative movement with his trunk. "They have nothing to fear fromus since we never pursue them."That sense of invulnerability should be my greatest ally, Etienne mused. Oncesafely back in their own territory atop the Guntali the Na would relax.Counterattack would be the last thing they'd expect. The shock should beconsiderable. But he didn't delude himself into thinking that they'd run off inpanic. The Na weren't the type to run.No, he'd have to rely on surprise. Even with two fully charged pistols hedoubted he could hold off an entire tribe of the giants for more than a coupleof minutes."We're wasting time." He led their local guide toward the wall beckoning to theeast, moving as rapidly as practicable. Yulour fell in step behind, the big packbobbing easily on his broad shoulders.Tyl and Ruuan watched them go."What a strange folk," the First Scholar declared. "I listen in amazement to theaccomplishments you tell me they have achieved, and then something like this isdone, something which a child of but a few years can see is useless.""They are full of contradictions." Tyl's gaze was still on Etienne's retreatingback. "One moment they are very wise and the next, foolish as little Mai. Ithink their souls must be in perpetual confusion.""Thee believe they have souls, then?""I am convinced of it, though other teachers of Turput argue otherwise.""It may be that their minds are variable, that they are adults one moment andcubs the next. Very strange folk. I am glad I was able to meet and talk with oneof them before they died.""Yes, I will miss them. The female came to me day after day and asked endlessquestions, which allowed me to make a close study of her and her ways. Now thatthey have left us we will have only that to remember."He turned and helped the elderly Ruuan as they started back toward town,continuing the discussion as they walked.There were plenty of switchbacks which over the years the Na had developed intoa recognizable pathway, so the climb was not as difficult as Etienne firstfeared. He still had to stop at regular intervals to catch his breath. Commonsense insisted on calling regular halts while his nerves tried to force him togreater haste. The supplementary breathers wouldn't last forever and he tried toration the flow of the one clamped over his face.Despite the frequent pauses they reached the plateau sooner than he'd dared tohope. Gaps in the thick clouds afforded only an occasional glimpse of Jakaie andits valley sitting far below and behind them. Above the rest of the real worldbrooded the mountain called Aracunga. A thick cloud of ice crystals trailedsouthward from its crest, looking like smoke flowing from a volcano. In thedistance rose a white ghost, the impossible bulk of the skyscraping PrompajMassif.A few trees stood ready to greet their arrival, thin wispy branches applaudingtheir achievement at the behest of a steady wind. Nearby, greenbrown bushesclung to the ground. Etienne bent to examine the nuts they produced, found themhard to extract from the poor soil. They hugged the earth with hooks of wood.In the light dusting of snow they saw tracks of animals that walked on broad butdelicate feet, with long strides. Etienne visualized something tall and thinrunning fast. As they left the rim they encountered larger spoor, indicationthat a large predator had recently passed.Whenever their course was in doubt Yulour would drop his head toward the groundand employ his oversized proboscis to sniff out the scent of the Na."Not far," he told Etienne by the end of the day."No reason for them to cover ground." Etienne squinted into the growingdarkness, an occasional snowflake tickling his skin. "Probably they've picked acomfortable spot to relax and reminisce about their attack on Jakaie. If theyhave that much sense, that is. We should come up on them soon, then?""Yes, soon." Yulour straightened. "Then what we do?""I'm not sure. Depends on how they set their camp."They saw the glow from the earth before Yulour caught the scent of the tribe.The fire itself wasn't visible because it lay in a depression. Heeding Etienne'srequest for silence, Yulour followed the Teacher as they crept up the side ofthe low ridge and found themselves looking down into a small crater in therocks. It was deep and offered excellent protection against the wind. On thefar side, stone overhung part of the depression, and the alcove was packed withsleepy, sated Na. Only a few of the primitives were moving, mostly to tend tothe roaring fire. The odor from the burning chips was strong.For the first time Etienne saw Na females, along with twometertall cubs.Unlike the children of most species, the offspring of the Na were not cute. Theymoved nervously in their sleep, their bare feet kicking toward the warmth of thefire.Vegetation was unusually abundant in the depression, not only due to thepresence of nutrients unintentionally supplied by Na but also because the hollowserved as a watertrap. The pool lay directly below Etienne, the fire on the farside. A large pile of dried animal dung helped to reflect as well as freshen theblaze.Yulour pointed and whispered with childlike excitement. "Look there, Teacher,look thereEtienne's gaze traveled to the right of the fire. Stone and bone had been heapedtogether to create a crude kitchen. Attached to a long bone suspended over asmoking fire was a shape that he didn't immediately recognize. It took him amoment to see that it was a dead Tsla shorn of its fur. He glanced sideways athis companion. There was no fury, no hatred in the porter's face."It doesn't bother you?""What bother me, Teacher?"Etienne gestured toward the firepit. "They're cooking one of your own kind downthere.""Everyone must eat," Yulour said ingenuously.Etienne turned away. Obviously a great deal more research would have to beperformed before they could fully understand the Tsla.Of more immediate interest was the cage that rested against the far righthandbase of the depression. It was made of the curving rib bones of some bigcreature, lashed together with cured sinew. Fourno, fiveTsla were clusteredtogether within. Along with one figure clad in bright blue. His pulse raced,threatening to set his fingers trembling.Lyra was alive and apparently intact, from what he could see. The collar of hershirt was buttoned all the way up over her neck and her long hair was wrappedaround her face. The Na had left their carrying sacks in with the prey, and Lyralay beneath one for further protection from the cold.A single young male squatted sleepily in front of the cage, idly tossing pebblesinto the fire and ignoring his charges."Soon he may steep, Teacher," Yulour said of the guard."He'd better." Etienne checked to make sure both pistols were readilyaccessible, along with the supplementary breathers. Then he backed carefullydown the slope and circled the depression.When they climbed up again they topped the rise directly behind the cage. Thenthey waited.It was well after midnight when Etienne stirred himself for another look downinto the hollow. Tslamaina's moons were masked by cloud and most of the light inthe depression came from the central bonfire. He watched the motionless guardfor another half hour before he could be certain the Na was asleep."What must I do, Teacher?" asked Yulour."Just stay here and keep quiet, and wait for us.""Be careful, Teacher.""I will, Yulour.""I will come down if thee need me," he added anxiously as Etienne slid on hisbelly over the top."I know you will. You're a good friend, Yulour.""I thank thee, Teacher," whispered the porter, overwhelmed by the compliment.Etienne halfslid, halfcrawled down the incline. The tribe dozed like the deadbeneath the rocky overhang. He checked his wrist. It was twelve degrees belowfreezing. He was quite comfortable but he worried about Lyra. If the temperaturefell much further she would have difficulty walking until he could get her intoher own thermal suit, which was stuffed into Yulour's copious backpack.He reached for a purchase only to see the rock tumble down the slope. It came torest against the back of the cage. The guard did not stir. Etienne followed thestone as rapidly as practicable, assuming a kneeling position behind the cage."Lyra," he whispered intently, shifting his gaze from her to the guard and backagain. Bodies stirred within the cave but no one rose from steep."Lyre!" Her head jerked around in the darkness and she shoved her hair aside."Etienne?""Who the hell else would it be?" He pulled one of the pistols and carefullyadjusted the setting after quickly inspecting the lashings holding the cagetogether. "I'm going to try and burn through the material holding these bones.Be ready, for God's sake!"He started working, the pistol's faint hum absorbed by the wind overhead and thecrackle of the central fire. Lyre moved quietly to wake her fellow prisoners.They had enough presence of mind to keep quiet, save for one who whispered insurprise, "It is the mate of the stranger who is with us!" Lyre shushed him."Here, as Etienne cuts these loose, take them up and lay them somewhere aside."The Tsla moved silently to comply.He smiled to himself. Fatalistic in philosophy the Tsla might be, but clearlythat didn't extend to sitting dumbly by if the chance of escape presenteditself."Etienne, what the devil are you doing here?""Saving fair maiden from an incipient barbeque." Another lashing split and hestarted on the bonds above it. One of the Tsla males gripped the base of theloosened section to prevent its falling.Lyre sat clear of the humming pistol, shook her head. "Somehow I never thoughtyou capable of the heroic gesture, Etienne.""Lyre, shut up. I'm busy." Another series of sinews gave way and he started onthose holding a second bar as the Tsla carefully removed the first.The second bone popped clear easily and again the Tsla moved it aside. Lyre wasfirst out and Etienne caught her as she stumbled. Her muscles were numb fromcold and confinement.For an instant he thought she might have suffered some unseen injury. Shequickly dispelled that concern."I'm in one piece, though I thought I'd suffocate in that damn stuffsack." TheTsla were filing out wordlessly behind her, looking around in bewilderment."We're up on the Guntali, aren't we? The sack was opaque, so I couldn't get anybearings." He nodded. "No wonder I'm so cold.""Fill me in on the details later," he advised her, looking anxiously past hertoward the dozing guard."We axe grateful," said the senior Tsla among the captives."Be grateful when we're safely back in Jakaie," Etienne admonished him. "Followme and stay low." He started up the slope on his belly, glancing back once tomake sure Lyra was on his heels. "You need any help?""No. It just feels good to be moving again."As soon as they dropped over the dark side of the depression he extracted herthermal suit from the supplies. She was so cold it took hex three times as longas normal to climb inside."I am gla ddened to see thee, Teacher. We feared for thee."She looked at Yulour in mild surprise, peering past him to see the others whohad come with her husband. Her disappointment in the darkness was evident."Etienne, you wouldn't believe the habits of these Na. Their cruelty isn'tstudied, of course. It's simply their way. But their victims suffer needlessly.As a matter of fact I'd have to say that based on preliminary studies whichadmittedly were not carried out under the best of conditions, they have noredeeming social characteristics whatsoever.""You'll think of some as soon as you get warmed up. You'll end up with abalanced report. You always do.""Maybe, but I don't feel I'm in a very balanced mood right now."Where the last of the Tsla captives reached bottom Etienne addressed themhastily. "As you know, I am Learned One Lyre's mate. We're going back to Jakaie.Stay together and no talking unless it's absolutely necessary. We have to travelas rapidly as possible. If anyone gets lost or falls behind for any reason...""We know what we must do," said the senior Tsla. "But we do not know the wayback to our home.""We do, so stay close by us." Holding Lyre's hand tightly in his own he turnedto follow Yulour. The rest of the Tsla trailed behind in perfect silence.Chapter FourteenThey shambled on through the cold and wind all the rest of that night, followingEtienne's lead. He glanced constantly at the instrumentation on his wrists, butwas glad he could rely on Yulour's sense of smell for confirmation of theircourse. The rising sun was welcomed not only for the warmth it provided but as afurther aid to direction. Aracunga was a more reliable beacon than any readouton a tiny screen.They were well down the trail toward home when a boulder the size of a smallhouse fell past them in awesome silence, to pulverize a basaltic outcrop below.It missed Etienne and Lyra by a few meters.Instinctively he pressed his back against the cliff. "Landslide," he muttered.Yulour made a quick, sharp gesture of disagreement, looked upward. "Na slide."A glance toward the Guntali showed a single enormous hirsute shape leaping overthe edge, gesticulating angrily and stomping the ground. The mouth made soundsthat were swallowed by the wind. Then the figure vanished."Coming after us," Etienne commented with unexpected calm. "I'd hoped theywouldn't. I wonder how many of them there are." He pulled on Lyra's hand. "Canyou run?"She clutched her pistol firmly, nodded."Remember now, hon, we don't want to harm any more of the native population thanis absolutely necessary," he said dryly."Pardon my lack of objectivity. The rotten cannibalistic bastards.""No time for gory details, love."Trying to make as much speed as possible, they raced down the pathway. No moresmall mountains crashed down around them, but by the time they reached the baseof the cliff they could hear bellows and roars behind them.Twists and toms in the descending trail made it impossible to fell exactly hownear their pursuers were. Voices could carry a long way in the clear mountainair. Then they broke out of the tales at the base of the cliff and foundthemselves running along a wellbeaten road.The Tsla who'd, joined Lyra ire escaping shouted warnings to the farmers whotoiled in the fields. Tools were flung aside, seedlings left in pans as everyoneran for the safety of Jakaie.Yulour poi a hand on Etienne's shoulder, bade him tom as he pointed with theother. "There, 'feather!"Etienne saw, no raiding party this time, but the entire tribe stumbling down thecliff face in pursuit. Females and awkward adolescents brought up the rear.Evidently the rescue was an outrage sufficient to infuriate the Na beyondreason.They ran slowly but with groundeasing strides. Out in front and much too closebehind were males hefting clubs bigger than a man."Come on, move it!" he shouted at the farmers who had begun to lag behind."We'll make ii with plenty of time, Etienne." As Lyra spoke her right footlocated the only hole in the road and she went down in a heap, immediatelyrolling over on her back to clutch her ankle. Pain replaced confidence on herface as she cursed her clumsiness."Not broken," she was finally able to gasp out."I know that, stupid," he said as felt gingerly of the already swelling knot. Helooked past her. He couldn't tell if the Na had seen her go down. The farmersand escapees were nearing the town wall now."Hurry, Teacher," Yulour implored him. "There's little time.""Get up, Lyra," Etienne ordered her. She threw him a look of anger mixed withdetermination. Using his shoulder and an arm for support, she struggled to herfeet. They limped toward Jakaie. The agony in her ankle started her cryingsilently, but she didn't stop.Etienne did so, however. "Too slow. We'll never make it." He bent under her andher pain gave way to startled surprise."Etienne!" She was across his shoulders. "Put me down! You'll end up killingboth of us.""Lyra, you talk too much." She bounced awkwardly on his shoulders as he ran.There was no pain, but the considerable weight soon had him panting heavily.Without the supplementary breather's steady flow of pure oxygen he couldn't havedone it."Teacher, can I help thee?" Yulour waddled alongside them. Something went whomp!against the earth off to their left, smashing a small bush to kindling. The Naclub was much larger than the unlucky shrub.Etienne wanted to look back to see how close their pursuers were but hecouldn't spare the wind. The city gate was very near now, the repaired entrancegaping invitingly. This time armed Tsla waited on the walls, waving and shoutingto urge him on. Encouragement was one thing he didn't need. Already his legsfelt like lead determined to sink toward the center of the planet and Lyra,lovely sweet Lyra... if only she were a little less voluptuous.Something struck the small of his back and he almost went down. But hestaggered, regained his balance and ran on. A dull flame began to bum just abovehis coccyx as waiting hands reached out to relieve him of his burden.They set Lyra down alongside him as he sucked at the last of the breather's air,breathing like a man who'd just finished a long underwater swim. Shouts andyells penetrated his exhaustion."I'm too tired to sit up," he wheezed. "What's happening?""Don't ask me. I'm the one with the sprained ankle, remember?""Pity you couldn't have sprained your mouth.""Be of good cheer, Teacher," said the solicitous Yulour. "I will find out." Hemoved toward the gate.Long moments passed with Lyra massaging her ankle and Etienne slowly regaininghis strength."That was a dumb thing to do," she finally told him. "You could have gotten ahernia.""Excuse me," he said between gasps. "Next time I'll drop you.""Next time I shoot myself before I let them take me." She saw the expression onhis face and looked away. "So it's bad xenology. I can't help it. I havefeelings too. What on earth made you try something like that, anyway?" When hedidn't reply she pushed at his shoulder. "Roll over. I want to see your back. Isaw the tail end of that club hit you."With an effort he turned onto his side. Her fingers moved across his waist,making him wince."Could have busted your spine," she murmured gently. "You've got a hell of abruise.""I can tell. Where's Yulour?"She looked toward the gate. "I don't see him, but so far it looks good. There'sstill a lot of yelling and screaming on the walls, but the new gate looks muchstronger than the old one." Her eyes returned to him. "You're an idiot, Etienne.You saved my life.""That was the idea.""Why?"He slowly rolled back, stared blankly at the sky. "Damned if I know." His facecontorted as the fire in his back spread to new nerves."It never ceases to amaze me, Etienne, how often you can do the right thing andthen say just the opposite. Stay there. I'll get something from the boat." Shestarted to rise, flopped back heavily. "I forgot. I can't walk.""What a sensible, always alert pair we make," he murmured. "If only oursponsors could see us now." He would have laughed if he hadn't been so tired."Thank you for saving my life, Etienne, whatever your motives.""Anytime. Don't mention it. Do you think you can help me sit up?""Be careful," she warned him.Several faces were suddenly staring down at them. Ono was familiar."Hello, Tyl." Etienne clasped his knees toward his chest, trying to alleviatesome of the pain in his back. The nerves thorn argued with every millimeter ofeffort.Tyl executed a most profound sideways Tsla bow. "We did not expect thee toreturn, Learned Etienne. Thee were in the right and we in the wrong, and mostgrateful am I to be proven so. It was a grand thing thee did. Songs willcommemorate thy deed. And this one's, whose service is unprecedented." Heindicated Yulour, standing in front of the crowd."I don't understand, Teacher," Yulour said."Dear, sweat, brave Yulour," Lyra murmured. "I know thy customs and why thykinfolk did not come, but why did thee?""It seemed a good thing to do, so I did it." He looked embarrassed."I'll make it up to you," she told him."Make . . . up to me? I do not understand.""I know you don't. Do you understand what I mean when I say that Etienne and Ithank thee very deep?""Thos are welcome," the porter replied gravely. "Now I must go and find myfriends."Tyl watched him go. "A peculiar soul, but manytimes blessed, l think.""He certainly has our blessings," said Lyra. She looked toward the wall. Theshouting had ceased and the Tsla wore leaving the top of the palisade, chattingeasily among themselves."It seems the Na have given up and gone away. Do you think they might attackagain?""They vented evil gestures and many shouts," Tyl informed them, "but I thinkthey will not come back for some time. They are not animals and know they cannotbreak into Jakaie without first surprising its people. This time there was nosurprise, so they have gone.""So we're safe?" Etienne mumbled."Yes, all are safe now. Jakaie owes thee a debt for the deadthee have restoredto them alive."Etienne's back improved slowly under Lyra's ministering hands. The worst of itwas the body wrap she made him wear. It enveloped him from beneath the armpitsto below his waist and he walked like a recently resurrected mummy.Among the prosaic Tsla the novelty of the rescue quickly wore off and theyreturned to their daily chores. But there were frequent, shy visits from thosehe'd saved and from their relatives and friends to thank him.The debt they owed, they insisted, could never be repaid. Until Tyl came aboardthe hydrofoil one morning to see the patient."There was a mooting." The temperature in the main cabin was seventyfive andHomat sat shivering off in a corner."What kind of mooting?" Lyra asked."A community meditation. I am sorry thee were not invited, but there was notime. I have made the people aware of thy problem. Thy wooden undercarriage isstill serviceable, is it not?""The wheels haven't fallen off, if that's what you mean," Etienne replied."There are not here the large draft animals like the Mai have. No vroqupii.There are lekkas, but they are for riding, not for pulling. Unlike Turput, herethe land is cultivated mostly by hand. But we are Tsla. The Tsla are strong." Heflexed both arms and they saw the muscles ripple beneath short fur."All Jakaie will assist. Will it not be easier to lower thy boat back to thebottom of the Barshajagad than it was to bring it up?"Etienne considered their guide's words, trying hard to restrain any excitement.Excitement hurt his back."Sure it would be easier, but still a difficult descent.""I have talked long with Ruuan and the other elders. Them is a way north ofhere that descends to the Skar and bypasses the Topapasirut. They say also thatthe way is longer and gentler than that which climbs the side canyon we used.They say, Etienne and Lyra, that it can be done.""Who am I to dispute Ruuan?" said Etienne. He felt like shouting but restrainedhimself lest he strain something."When can we start down?""Soon. The families of those thee saved demand the honor of taking up the ropesnearest the spirit boat, where the work will be the hardest.""Our thanks go out to them," Etienne said."Thee can thank them thyself." Tyl readied himself to leave. "It will take sometime to organize provisions and find the rope sufficient to secure thy craft.Thee will have ample time to thank thy new friends and repair thy back.""Wait a minute," said Lyra, frowning. "What about the Na? What if they come backwhen the town is nearly deserted, or catch everyone out in the open?""This too was discussed during meditation. They will not come near Jakaie for along time, so embarrassing to them was their defeat. And after a few days ofdescent the temperature will grow much too hot for them to follow us.""We won't argue with that, will we, dear?" He stared meaningfully at Lyra.As usual, she wasn't intimidated. "If the townsfolk feel confident of theirsecurity, I don't see why we shouldn't permit them to bounce you all the waydown to the river."In contrast to the agonizingly difficult haul up from the bottom of theBarshajagad, the descent to a rocky beach northwest of Jakaie and the bulk ofAracunga mountain was almost relaxing. There were a few rough places, easilysurmounted by the hydrofoil's repellers, but as the Tsla promised the slope wasfar gentler than the steep side canyon route on the southern side.Chanting in unison as they leaned into the heavy ropes, the Tsla were able tolower the boat on its wheeled cradle faster than the Redowls expected. It washard to imagine the vroqupii and their Brul doing the job any more efficientlythan the citizens of Jakaie. It helped that there was none of the sense ofcompetition among the townsfolk that there had been among the Mai. Homatgrudgingly conceded that sometimes cooperation was worth more than skill andstrength.When at last the wooden cradle was removed from the hull and the boat bobbedonce more in the waters of the Skar, Etienne passed among the villagers tryingto thank personally each and every Tsla for their help.Ruuan chided him. "Too many thanks. If thee would truly thank us, thee mayshare thy knowledge with us when thee return this way. We will be waiting totake you up and past the Topapasirut a second time."No obstacles ahead to hold us back now, Etienne thought excitedly. No more blankspaces on the topographics, no second Topapasirut. According to the Mai, theBarshajagad began to widen once more north of that place. For the moment theystill floated between immense sheer walls, but now that the birthplace of riverdevils lay behind them the stark cliffs no longer seemed quite so forbidding.The seven of them reboarded and the Redowls settled into their boat with a senseof relief. It had become their home and refuge, and it was good to be surroundedonce more by familiar objects and the comforts of an advanced technology.As Etienne let the boat float free in the current, the townsfolk assembled onthe shoreline set up a plaintive, haunting chant of farewell, as different amusic from the whirling frenzy of the Mai as Ligeti is from Gregorian chant. Theswift current pushed the hydrofoil out into the center of the river.Lyra stood on the foredeck alongside Tyl, executing with him the Tsla posture ofgoodbye. The song of farewell was beginning to fade with distance when Lyraturned and called to her husband. "Don't you think that's enough? Let's move."He made a face up at her. Suddenly she was concerned."What do you think I'm trying to do?"She pressed her face to the plexalloy. "What do you mean you're trying?" Theywere accelerating steadily, but in the wrong direction. Only the boat's internalstabilizers kept them from spinning in helpless circles like a leaf caught in aflash flood."Everything's functioning except the intake feed.""Dammit!" She rushed for the nearest gangway.As she looked aft she saw the canyon narrowing further behind them, forming theimmense granitic funnel which Etienne had theorized constituted the upper limitsof the Topapasirut. In the distance and coming rapidly closer she could makeout thickening mist and the first faint, threatening rumble of water attackingrock. She dropped through the gangway and in seconds stood alongside herhusband."Everything checks out, everything. Except the intake feed. Every time I try toopen her wide she locks shut on me."Emergency override?""Forget it. I'm still trying, though.""Repellers?""No way. We used our stored power during the descent from Jakaie. We need timeto recharge or else we can recharge by moving Upriver. Of course, if we couldmove Upriver we wouldn't hoed to recharge." He worked rapidly at the diagnosticcomputer, canceling unhelpful replies to his queries. Unfortunately, those werethe only type of reply he could extract.The rumbling astern was becoming thunder. Dense mist enveloped the narrow cleftof the canyon. He switched the stern scanner to sonic and tridee blackandwhitegraphics appeared on the screen as ultrasound penetrated the obscuring mist. Ina very few minutes the currant would slam the helpless boat into the unyieldingsheer cliff that was the upsidedown waterfall, the Topapasirut. Fragments ofthe hydrofoil would boil out of the orator Downriver, to be wondered at by anyMai who encountered them on nameless beaches. Of the crew there would be only amemory. Nothing so fragile as flush and blood would survive the comingconcussion.The boat was enveloped ire a storm as the river rained toward the sky."Do something!" Lyra shouted above the crash of the water."Do something yourself!"She eyed him a moment before turning to disappear below. Her voice reached himvia the engine room intercom."Everything looks okay. The fuel cells are produc"I can see that on the readout!""Just letting you know what I see down here. The engine's quiet, andwait aminute.""That's about what we've got left." The boat vibrated anxiously beneath hisfeet. Would they know when they hit the cliff? He couldn't begin to calculatetheir velocity."Try it now!" Lyra ordered him.He ran numbly through the restart procedure, was startled when the Functionlight turned green. He stabbed the accelerator, bringing thrust up to maximum.For an eternity they hung motionless in the vortex, suspended in fog betweenopen water and oblivion. Then very slowly the hydrofoil began to creep Upriver.To Etienne their progress seemed infinitesimal. His anxiety was heightened bythe knowledge that whatever had shut down the flow of water to the jet oncecould do so again at any moment. Gradually their velocity increased to the pointwhere the boat could rise up on its hydrofoils. As the river fell away beneaththe hull, relinquishing its grasp, they started to make some real speed. Thunderfaded behind them.As they left the mist Lyra emerged from belowdecks. Her hair was strung likepaint across her face, alternating with rivulets of sweat. She stank of Skar."What did you do down there?" He spoke without looking at her, refusing to takehis eyes off the controls lest something else fail before they were out ofdanger."Emergency surgery." She slumped int o a seat. "Very complicated." She held upsomething in her right hand. As he turned to look he saw that she was wearingheavyduty insulated work gloves.A half dozen glistening worms twisted in her grip. They had dark heads."These were glued to the conduit just above the main feed to the jet. Watchthis." She hold up a small diagnostic probe with her left hand, touched it tothe tail of one worm. A loud buzzing filled the cockpit and the readout on thefront of the tool went berserk."Local relative of the terran gymnotids. Generates quite a current for its size.They must have thought they'd found themselves a nice new home when they slippedin through the mesh intake strainers on the foils. Every time you ordered theboat to open the intake feed they responded with a corresponding jolt. Nowonder the computer couldn't locate the source of the shortout in the system.It was external. You'd order the feed opened and these little cuties would shortit shut, countermanding the directive."She rose and turned to open one of the ports in the cockpit. With greatdeliberation she flung her slimy acquisitions as far out into the river aspossible. Then she closed the port and spoke toward the stem."You can come out now, Homat."Hesitantly their Mai guide emerged from the heated storage locker in which hehad secreted himself. "We're not going to die, deLyra?""No, we're not going to die. Not today, anyway. The spirit boat is functioningnormally again."He crept out to join them, still encased in his coldweather gear to combat thecabin's air conditioning. Soon that air conditioning would no longer berequired. That would be no comfort to Homat, who would continue to pile onclothing the nearer they drew to Tslamaina's arctic circle.The population of Jakaie was still assembled along the riverbank. As the spiritboat reemerged from the mouth of destruction, alien voices expressed relief. Thevillagers lined up quickly and once more the occupants of the hydrofoil weretreated to the chant of farewell as Tyl and his companions performed thegestures of goodbye."Calm acceptance," Lyra murmured, "no matter what our fate." She was standing onthe foredeck alongside their Tsla friends. "Tell me, Tyl, what would thereaction have been if we hadn't come back out?""There would have been no reaction that thee could have seen, save that after asuitable time they would have begun a funeral chant instead of one of farewell.""There didn't seem to be any panic as we slipped downstream.""Why should there be? There was nothing they could do to help us," he explainedpatiently. "Thee should know, Lyra, that we are not given to violent displays ofemotion in public.""I recall. Would any of them have grieved for us in private?""I imagine so. But they could do nothing to help us.""Just as nothing could be done to help those who'd been taken by the Na."Etienne spoke from inside the cockpit, addressing his wife in terranglo. "Idon't care what the level of mental serenity is among these people, they're notgoing to make much progress until they dump this fatalism. If they don't watchout, the Mai are going to push forward to develop a complete, advancedtechnological civilization. The Tsla will end up becoming wards of the Mai, justas it will be the Mai who will push out to tame the Na and the Guntali.""Specious argument for radical change," Lyra shot back. "The Tsla are content asthey are, much happier than the Mai."Sure, and the ancient Polynesians were happier and more content than thecaucasoids who ministered among them, and we remember what happened to theirculture.""Etienne, the analogy doesn't apply here. The Tsla are a different race,occupying a radically different ecological niche. It's not the same thing atall." And she launched wholeheartedly into a lengthy dissertation on historyand anthropology that both Homat and Tyl desperately wished they couldunderstand.Upriver, according to the best information available to Ruuan and the elders ofJakaie, two last immense tributaries fed into the Skar the Madauk and theRahaeng. Beyond that lay the far narrower but still impressive Upper Skar, andunknown lands.Several hundred kilometers above the Topapasirut the geology of the land alteredradically. The gorge of the Barshagajad widened and the river rose in frequentsteps, reducing the depth of the canyon. The Redowls were constantly beingwakened from sleep by the insistent beeping of the computer. Since the boatcould not negotiate rapids on autopilot, Etienne or Lyra would stagger sleepilyforward to run the whitewater or lift the hydrofoil past it on repellers.The steady rumble of the rapids was in stark contrast to the silent river southof Aib. At night Tslamaina's four moons transformed the streaks of white waterinto thousands of pale crystalline tentacles. Not all was difficult, however.There were quiet stretches of relatively calm water of great beauty.They began to relax for the first time since leaving the Skatandah. As thetemperature grew chillier and the river climbed its ancient bed they encounteredfewer signs of settlement, as the land was fit only for Mai hunters andgatherers. Occasionally they saw a few ramshackle houses clustered aroundpoorly irrigated plots. No elaborate terraces had been built there.Shaped by a harsh land, the local Mai were a hardier breed than their southerncousins. They were also open and much more honest. Or perhaps they were just sostartled by the appearance of the hydrofoil and its strange inhabitants that theurge to thieve never crossed their minds."I'm not sure that's it at ail," Lyra theorized one day. "The truism seems tohold among nonhuman primitives as well as among our own kind that the poorer thepeople and the more isolated their homes, the more trustworthy and helpful theyare. Hardship seems to breed a need for companionship which extends to lendingassistance to any who come your way."Etienne did not argue with her because he was more interested in the locals'openness and lack of fear. They were startled but there was none of the fearfulparanoia or jealous awe the Redowls had encountered farther south. He surmisedit was because everything was new to these pioneers. For all they knew theRedowls came not from another world but from some unknown distant citystatebordering the Groalamasan. When one shares a world with two other intelligentraces it's not difficult to accept the existence of a third.They expected to encounter a few Tsla villages, but Ruu-an told them to expectnone, and the information supplied by the elders of Jakaie turned out to beaccurate. Whether the abandonment of the northern latitudes by the Tsla was adecision of choice or due to some unknown circumstances, Lyra could notdetermine. Homat and Tyl argued about it long into the nights, with the Maistaking a claim for greater adaptability among his kind and Tyl retreating intocalm conviction that a perfectly good reason existed for shunning such a barrenland.A considerable surprise awaited everyone aboard the boat, however, when theyreached the confluence of the three great rivers. Where the Madauk and Rahaengjoined their volume to that of the Skar, several small villages had grown,trading posts, no more.It was not their existence or location that shocked the travelers, but ratherthe populationMai and Tsla traders and hunters mingled freely, working side byside with a lack of selfconsciousness that was stunning when compared to theuneasy peace maintained by their southern relatives. The need to work togetherto survive in a harsh land had overwhelmed ancient suspicions and inhibitions.Homat and Tyl were startled as much by the implications as by the reality."It bodes well for the future," Lyra commented. "Maybe when the Mai gain thetechnology that will enable them to live and work in colder climates and theTsla the ability to move more freely through the humid river valleys, they'lldiscover this living example of racial cooperation waiting up here to show themthe way.""They cooperate here in order to survive," Etienne argued. "Without thatexternal pressure, technological advancement may only heighten ancientconflicts, not solve them.""You're such a damn pessimist!" she said angrily.He shrugged. "I look at things the way they are, not the way I want them to be.""And so do I, or are you making one of your frequent criticisms of myobjectivity?""It's just that it's so much easier to be objective about this." He hefted asample of dark schist chipped from the riverbank where they had anchored inshorethe day before. "On Earth this would be called precambrian or Vishnu schist.It's much older than its terran equivalent, however. There's nothing subjectiveabout it.""Lucky you.""Nobody forced you into xenology. You chose it.""I sure did, because it's a damn sight more exciting and interesting when thesubjects of your studies can talk back to you and help you with your research.Better that than a life of drudgery and dirt. My work provides me with newrevelations every day.""All well and good, so long as you don't get personally involved with yourrevelations." Too late to retract, he thought furiously. Once more his mouth hadmoved faster than his brain.She eyed him strangely. "Now what's that supposed to mean?"He tried to escape into silence, stared at the rock walls about them. The cliffson either side of the river were barely a thousand meters above the water now."When we first arrived in Turput," he mumbled, concentrating on his instrumentsinstead of looking at her, "you spent an awful lot of time," he hesitat ed overthe right word, "meditating with Tyl.""It was very instructive," she replied. "I'm still not following you, Etienne.""I thought maybe you were diving a little too deeply into your work.""I don't-" she broke off, gaping at him. Then her expression twisted into asmile. "Well I'll be damned. You're jealous of Tyl, aren't you? Jealous of aprimitive mammalian alien.""I didn't say that," he snapped quickly. "There you are, jumping to conclusionsagain, seeing things the way you want to see them.""Well you can relax, Etienne." The smile grew wider. "Among the Tsla the lengthand shape of oversized probosces are important sexual characteristics, but aflexible shnoz holds no attraction for nee whatsoever."His head jerked round and he stared at her. "I just said you were spending a lotof time with him, I didn't mean to imply thatyou've got a dirty mind, Lyra.""You mean a dirty husband. Etienne, I can't believe you. I don't know whether tobe tattered or insulted.""Oh hell," he muttered, embarrassed to the soles of his feet, "be busy."Footfalls sounded behind them. "Anyway, our passengers are coming in.""So what? They can't understand terranglo.""Don't be so sure. I'll give the Tsla this; they're quick on the uptake. Don'tbe too surprised if we learn that they can draw a few inferences from ourprivate conversations, especially when their names are mentioned.""Not just a dirty mind, a dirty paranoid mind," she murmured, but she broke offwhen Tyl and his companions trundled in.Homat was sandwiched between two of the porters, a ball of thick cloth and furamong which only eyes and mouth were visible. "I can't go outside anymore,deEtienne," he whimpered. "No more."Chapter FifteenDays passed and the temperature fell slowly, but outside the hydrofoil theclimate was working dramatic changes on the landscape. Though sheets of frozenwater hung from the much reduced cliffs, hundreds of fast streams flowed intothe Skar.Homat was squatting in the main cabin behind the cockpit, heavily bundled andwarm but far from comfortable.Etienne had been mulling the problem for several days. Now he spoke to their Maiguide. "Maybe we can fix something up for you, Homat.""No matter, deEtienne. I will not go outside any more.""Lyra, what about trying to ft him with one of your spare thermal suits? You'vegot two backups. You two are about the same height, though you're much more""Watch it," she said warningly from her seat."Rubensesque. Homat would swim in a suit, but couldn't you concoct some kind ofstrap so that the sensors would stay close enough to his skin to function, andadjust the thermostat for Mai comfort?""I'll see what I can do." She escorted the nervous Homat down to the lower deck.Several hours later they reemerged. The thermal suit ballooned around Homat'sarms and legs but she'd managed to secure the fabric around his torso."It's still a little base. I had a hard time convincing him he couldn't wear hisfurs inside because the thermal sensors had to have some skin contact. Hefinally gave in, but I thought he was going to turn blue before he finally gotout of his old attire and into the suit. It wasn't hard to adjust thecircuitry." She put a hand inside one sleeve, pushing back the elastic material.She drew her fingers back hastily."Are you sure you're okay like this, Homat? It's hot enough in there to burn."Their guide sues jubilant. "For the first time in many many days I am trulycomfortable," he replied. "So delighted I am! Thank you, deLyra, thank you allmuch!""What about you, Tyl?" Etienne asked the Tsla who rested on the floor behindhim. "Will you and the others be able to handle the weather here if it'snecessary to go outside?""We have our double capes and hoods, Etienne, and we can tolerate colder climesthan thee. We will be all right, as long as it does not prove necessary toremain outside for too long."Etienne unexpectedly leaned forward and the hydrofoil lurched sharply to port."Sorry. Instinctive reaction." He pointed. "What's that?"A small mountain stood in the shallow water by the riverbank. The mountain hada half dozen legs, two of which were busy in the water. As they watched infascination the muftiton beast brought up a twisting hundredkilo fish inhooked claws, transferred the catch to a long snout lined with sharp triangularteeth. For so massive a creature it moved with blinding speed. Long black haircovered the entire body and dragged in the water.Eyes with narrow pupils peered out at them from beneath bony ridges. Etienneedged the hydrofoil toward shore for a closer took. As he did the beast turnedwith a deep grunt then galloped away on all six legs, its catch clutched firmlybetween extended jaws."I have never seen anything like that before, de Etienne."As he spoke Homatmade rapid protective signs across his chest and stomach."I have," Tyl said softly. "A Hyral. I have seen only two such before and bothwere dead, having fallen over the edge of the Guntali."As they stared the hirsute fisher crested a slight slope, where it dropped itscatch between its mate and two massive rolypoly cubs before turning to throw apenetrating, high pitched roar toward the boat.Lyra was staring through her recorder as she committed the new discovery totheir records. "Family group. I wondered what else the Na ate.""Speaking of the Na," Etienne said as he steered the hydrofoil back into themiddle of the river again, "it's cold enough here for them to come right down tothe water, but we haven't seen any.""Perhaps they stay away from the river out of superstition, some kind oftaboo.""I wouldn't think that. Not with all the fish to be had in these waters.""Maybe the air's too thick here. We're not nearly as high as the Guntali nearTurput. It wouldn't matter. The river's still wide and deep enough to protectus." She looked thoughtful."Something will have to be done about the Na, Etienne. We've seen proof that Maiand Tsla can work together, but the Na appear too primitive and combative to bebrought into any worldwide interracial process without extensive education anda great deal of care. Just because I'm not fond of them doesn't mean I want tosee the other two dominant races exterminate them."They're not animals. They're intelligent and have developed a rudimentarysociety. If you consider the amount of territory they control then a case couldbe made that they and not the Mai or Tsla are Tslamaina's dominant life form.""I'm glad we don't have to make the ultimate decisions," he replied. "Someoneelse will have to decide whether it's right to intervene in local affairs toprotect the future of the Na, and that's a long way down the road."Though the Skar's course twisted in a steady curve farther eastward, theycontinued to travel north toward the planet's sole ice cap. The occasionalappearance of the sun through the uneasy clouds did little to warm them. Despitethis Homat spent an inordinate amount of time out on deck, luxuriating in histhermal suit and the freedom it provided, a freedom to laugh at temperaturesthat would have frozen an unprotected Mai in minutes.They saw evidence of the ice cap before they set eyes upon it. It announceditself as a brightening ahead, where the ice reflected the sun back against theundersides of scudding clouds. The next morning they lifted on repellers toclear still another rapid, turned a bend in the river, and saw the southernmostedge of the frozen rampart.The once awesome canyon of the Barshajagad had been reduced to a meanderingriver valley. Numerous waterfalls tumbled down the melting edge of the cap. Theywould freeze solid again during the night.They did not have to trace dozens of the streams to locale the source of theriver Skar. The much shrunken but still navigable stream emerged from a hugehole in the wall of ice, having eroded a tunnel a hundred meters high at theentrance. Etienne guided the hydrofoil it until it floated beneath the lip ofthe vast cavern. Then he carefully nudged the boat ashore, scraping bottomseveral times before beaching on the gravel.Overhead the ice had thinned and sunlight poured through the translucent, frozenceiling, timing the ice a pale blue and illuminating the river for a distance ofseveral dozen meters from the entrance. Then it was swallowed by cold night.Cold water dripped from smooth icy stalactites, stinging the upturned faces ofthe crew as it stood on the deck to examine the surroundings."What a beautiful place," Lyra murmured. Somewhere a faint echo concurred withher opinion.The four Tsla kneeled in a circle, chanting and making signs. The Redowlswaited respectfully until the ceremony had concluded before Lyra inquired as toits purpose."We give thanks," Tyl explained. "We feel in our souls a great warmth, as mustthee, for thy journey has been, far longer than ours.""We couldn't have made it without your help," Etienne told him, "and without theaid of your people.""All given freely in the pursuit of knowledge. We were glad we could help." Swdand Yij likewise expressed their feelings, while Yulour stood nearby and lookedon with bemused contentment."What do we do now'?" Homat inquired, peering out through the eyeslits in thecloth that covered his face. "Do we begin our return tomorrow? A long journey.""I know you're anxious to go home, Homat, but we've come all this way to see thesource of the Skar and we're not leaving until we do so."Homat sounded puzzled. "But have done so, deEtienne." He gestured at thespacious cavern and the distant darkness. "What other source can there be?"Eti enne smiled as he turned to point into the blackness beneath the ice. "Thisisn't the river's source. Somewhere back there it emerges from the mass of theice cap, probably in the form of a hot spring. I can't think of anothermechanism which could have bored so deep a cave in the body of the ice. I needto record it."Homat's eyes grew wide. "You can't mean to go back in there, deEtienne! This isthe top of the world. Who knows what devils and monsters lie in wait for us inthe night which lives throughout the day?""Why should any lie in wait," Lyra asked gently, "since no one ever comes here?If any did live back in there they'd long since have given up hope of any mealscoming to visit them.""You argue very plausibly, deLyra. My mind wishes to believe you, but myinsides are not convinced.""If you'd feel safer you can camp on the shore here and wait for us to return. Idoubt the river runs very far back, hot springs or not.""No, no, I will come with you," the Mai insisted bravely. "I would rather dothat than stay here alone. You are certain there is not far to go?""I can't be sure, but I'd be willing to bet we'll have less than an hour'sjourney in the boat. If the water becomes too shallow, we'll travel the rest ofthe way in on repellers.""Why do your words not make me feel confident, deEtienne?""Relax, Homat." He turned to Lyra. "When we reach the source I want to take somecore samples. This must be very old ice and the geologic history of the planetis stored here, conveniently waiting to be thawed out for study."Lyra offered no objection. Their goal was within reach. Soon they would beginthe long journey back to warmer climes. Let Etienne enjoy his fieldwork for aday or two. There was no reason to rush now that they'd arrived at theirintended and eventual destination.He looked to his right, deeper into the cavern. "There's a nice wide spot. I'mtired of rocking. The water them is gentle and shallow. I'll move us aver andset the foils down on the gravel. Be nice to sleep without rocking for achange.""Second the motion," Lyra said. "It should be safe enough. There's no sign ofcarnivores about, no bones or dung on the beach, and the water should keep anysmall vermin clear of the boat, assuming this enviroment is benign enough topermit their existence.""I'll run a good charge through the hull. That ought to keep off any latenightvisitors.""It would be delighted to sleep so quietly," Tyl agreed."Then it's settled. We owe ourselves the rest," Etienne declared. "First thingtomorrow morning we'll go Upriver to the source so I can get my samples. Withluck this ice may predate the collision that created the Groalamasan. That willgive me plenty to do on the way back Downriver.""You did enough griping about the heat down south to fill a book, and now youcan't wait to get back to it," Lyra chided."I've always been coldnatured, Lyra, you know that. It doesn't mean I enjoysweating down to skin and bones, though." For a change the argument wasfriendly. In its own way that was as great an accomplishment for the two of themas was reaching the head of the Skar.Lyra was sound asleep when the muffled scream woke her. She blinked as her headlifted from the pillow and she stared across the cabin. Soft green lights fromship's instrumentation lit the darkness. A soft wheeze alongside indicated thather husband still slept.The scream had barely faded and she was beginning to wander if she'd dreamed itwhen suddenly a cluster of the green tights changed to red and a warning hornstarted to blare. Etienne woke instantly, slid off the bed and struggled withhis pants."False alarm?""I don't know," she told him, still straining to hear. "I thought I heardsomething yell." The barn continued its racket as a soft knocking sounded at thedoor. Lyre opened it as she fought with the seals of leer blouse."What is happening?" Tyl asked sleepily. The remaining Tsla clustered in thecorridor behind him. "There are strange noises outside and Swd thinks he smellssomething even though we know we are protected from the air outside.""Noises and smells and you think you hard something," Etienne muttered as hesealed his coat. "'that settles it." He pushed past Tyl on his way to thecockpit.The light of three of Tslamaina"s four moons poured through the transparentplexalloy. The horn continued to shout as Etienne strained to check theinstruments. "Don't see anything outside. No abnormal readings. We haven't movedfrom where I parked us yesterday evening and the hull's still electrified.""I'll check astern," Lyra told him. She removed her pistol from its chargingslot."Watch yourself," Etienne admonished her.With the Tsla following curiously she worked her way aft. There was no sign ofHomat, but that didn't worry her. Anything less than a complete upset of theboat would not be enough to pry him from the comfort of his overheated cubicle.Cautiously she cracked the stern doorway. Freezing air brought her all the wayawake. The rumble and gurgle of the shallow river was the only sound as shestepped out onto the rear deck.A glance forward showed only darkness. There was no movement in the upperreaches of the cavern. Outside only the moons moved in patient processionagainst the sky. Something shorted out, she thought, wondering if some otherstrange local critter was somehow playing havoc with their instrumentation.A heavy weight landed on her right shoulder. She went down hard. The asyrraptwent flying across the deck. A big chunk of dead log lay next to her.The Na who had thrown it now peered over the gunwale, eyes glittering in themoonlight. Several similar hairy faces joined the first. One huge, muscular arm,reached over the top of the railing and Yij disappeared over the side.Tyl and Yulour took Lyra under the arms and hauled her toward the doorway. Asecond club flew toward them. It landed short, booming across the metal deck.Through the wash of pain that radiated from her shoulder Lyre gasped, "The gun .. . get my gun!" The source of the scream must have been a Na who'd made contactwith the electrified hull as it tried to board the hydrofoil.Careful not to touch the metal another Na took aim with an axe. The bane bladewas a meter across. At the last instant Swd lunged into its path, to fallgushing blood and life back against Lyra, the weapon's intended target. Yulourhad to kick the nearly split body aside as they fell inside.Etienne was there to help, his eyes on Lyre's shoulder where the club hadstruck. She moaned when he touched her.He closed the hatch, then ordered her to move her right arm."Hurts like hell, but it works," she told him."Rotate," he said curtly. She did so, turning the arm palm up, then palm dawn."Lucky you.""Not so lucky," she told him painfully. "My pistol's outside. That's twice I'velost it when I needed it most. Going to have to work on my grip." She glanced atTyl. "Did you see where it landed?""The lightning thrower flew through the air. I saw not where it landed.""The little metal tool, Yulour mumbled frantically, trying to keep abreast ofwhat was happening, "I saw where it is.""Why didn't you go after it?" Lyra asked him. "I told yore to go after it."Yulour looked away, hurt. "We were more concerned with saving thee, Lyra," Tyltold her. He looked at the porter and said gently. "It's all right, Yulour. Tellus where the lightning thrower landed.""In the water," he said brightly."Oh hell!" Lyra looked up at her husband. "I'm sorry, Etienne, I'm sorry. Inever saw them. We went out on deck, everything seemed normal, and thensomething landed on me like back taxes.""Never mind that now. Just take it easy with that shoulder."Something went whang atop the cabin and everyone looked upward, but the metalheld. Thin as it was, the alloy was far too tough to yield to mere bone andstone."What will we fight them with?" Tyl wondered. "It is dark and they are veryclose.""We don't have to fight them with anything, Tyl. Help Lyra forward."Outside the cockpit was a choice scene from Dante. The hydrofoil was surroundedby at least thirty of the towering aborigines, who were jumping up and down,howling and spitting and gesturing angrily at the boat. The Na carefully avoidedall contact with the hull and when one of them attempted to express his feelingsby urinating on it, they no longer tried that either. They did use long spearsand the ubiquitous clubs to hammer on the sides. The wood and stone were poorconductors and the Na had discovered they could flail away at the hull withoutrisk to themselves.As the Redowls watched, one especially massive warrior tried to vault over therailing. He didn't quite make it and grabbed a hold with his hands. His lowerbody slammed into the hull and he lit up in a shower of blue sparks. When thethick fingers finally let loose the huge body splashed into the river.Etienne assumed the pilot's chair, his fingers flying over the controls. Amuffled roar sounded aft as the engine came to life. The hydrofoil lifted half ameter on its repellers and shot forward, scattering Na. One didn't dodge quicklyenough, and a sickening thud sounded from the bow as the aborigine was knockedaside.Nightscope screens came alive, revealing the rest of the war party fallingastern. Several bathes bobbed in the shallow water together with pieces of theindividual run over by the boat and a smaller silhouette Yij. Angrily Etiennespun the hydrofoil on its axis and sent it roaring down on their attackers,plowing through the now panicky Na and sending several additional bodies flying.The sound of metal meeting flesh momentarily filled him with an unholy del ightand he damned himself even as he pivoted for another run.As the Na threw their weapons aside and scrambled onto the beach he bashedthrough the survivors two more times. By then they were in full retreat outsidethe cavern, not even turning to hurl an occasional insult back at their intendedprey. Etienne slowed as he beached the boat on the far side of the Skar."The middle of the river's still deep enough here to prevent them from crossingafter us," he muttered. "Stay here." He took his pistol as Lyra assumed thepilot's seat, favoring her injured shoulder."One nighttime stroll on deck's enough for this little lady." He smiled thinlyat her by way of reply.Tyl and Yulour followed him aft. The doorway opened easily, readmitting thenight. He had a sudden thought, closed the door immediately and directed theTsla to wait for him as he disappeared belowdecks.He reappeared carrying a pair of long metal rods, showed one to Tyl. "These arefor making seismic soundings in spots inaccessible from the boat. Never mindwhat I mean, just take them." The Tsla did so."Those are explosive charges on the tips. Small lightnings. There are fivecharges on each pole. You press this here," and he showed the fire buttons tohis companions, "after you've touched the end of the pole to your target.They're difficult to use, but they were not designed as weapons. They'll beeffective if you have to use them, though.""I understand, Etienne,"' Tyl told him, lightly fingering the fire button.Etienne turned to the other Tsla."How about you, Yulour? Do you understand? See, you press there after you touchwhatever you want to stop with the other end of the pole."The porter eyed him blankly, his expression a bovine mixture of sadness andconfusion. Sighing, Etienne carefully set the second pole to one side."Never mind. Stay close as we go outside."He cracked the doorway to the deck for the second time. Outside it was silent asthe departed, an unfortunate simile. Holding the asynapt out in front of hisbody he edged out, keeping low and nearly stumbling over the cleaved corpse ofSwd. The porter had been a faithful worker, obedient and always ready to lend ahand. Now he was only a lesson in Tsla anatomy. Etienne found he was too mad tobe sickened by the sight.Tyl and Yulour stayed tight on his heels. Three Na bodies lay draped over thestern rail where they'd perished in a last-ditch attempt to board the boat. Theylooked even bigger up close than they did from a distance. Etienne inspected theshore. Nothing moved on the gravel. The river itself and the mouth of the icecavern were equally devoid of life."Shouldn't have let them surprise us like that. Always underestimating. You'dthink we'd have learned our lesson by now.""I am sorrowed," Tyl said solemnly."Nothing for you to be sorry about, Tyl. The responsibility's ours. We're the`masters of superior technology."' He let out a rueful laugh. "Some joke. It'sjust that we haven't seen Na or signs of Na since that day back in Turput and Ididn't expect to encounter them this far north. Shows how adaptable they are. Ididn't think. I'm the one who should be sorrowed." He gestured at Swd's body."Now two more of your people have died.""Death comes to all of us eventually," Tyl replied. "You ask that I not sorrowfor thee. Now I ask that thee sorrow not for us. Swd and Yij achieved what theycould not have in a dozen lifetimes, because of thee and thy mate. Their soulsare grateful to thee, not angry.""Well I'm angry! Damned angry. Angry at myself, angry at..." the wind went outof him with a rush as Yulour struck him in the midsection and drove himbackwards. As a result the small spear passed beneath his arm and pierced hisside instead of his spine.Tyl whirled and leaped to jab the end of the seismic probe against the neck ofthe Na who had thrown the spear. He pressed the fire button. With a sharpreport, the Na's head blew off its wide shoulders, arching into the darkness ina spray of blood and bone fragments. Ii landed in the water with a splash.Yulour was rolling away from Etienne, who lay on his back, staring up at theroof of the ice cave. With great care the porter extracted the spear. Bloodquickly rushed from the wound. Tyl rose to alert Lyra but she'd heard theexplosion and now joined them on deck.Her eyes widened as she saw the extent and depth of the wound. She vanishedbelowdecks again and reemerged moments later carrying the boat's firstaid kit.Etienne was breathing raggedly as she worked to halt the flow of blood. Hispulse was racing and uneven."What happened?" she asked the Tsla as she worked.Tyl explained while Yulour looked on helplessly. "That one," and he indicatedthe decapitated body of the Na who had thrown the spear, "was not dead but onlypretending."Lyre saw that the headless corpse was spraddled across the two other bodies. "Itwas shielded from the full charge. It lay still, waiting for its chance. Theyhave that much intelligence, anyway. Too damn much intelligence by half, thehairy bastards." She glanced up at Yulour. "Throw them over the side, and becareful not to touch the metal outside. It's still holding a charge, a spiritdeath.""Yes, Teacher."Yulour showed his considerable strength by disengaging each corpse in turn andshoving the dead weight into the water. Then he returned to carry Etienne intothe Redowls' cabin.Both Tsla looked on respectfully as Lyra ministered to her husband. A thirdfigure joined them later."I didn't know what to do, or how to help." Homat looked very small alongsidethe two Tsla."Be quiet, Homat." To his credit the Mai said nothing more, remaining silentalongside his taller companions.They watched as Lyra slowly passed a small plastic device over Etienne's sideand chest. When she finished and put it aside her expression was grim. Etiennetried to reassure her by smiling, but the pain made it difficult."Well . . . doctor?""You're bleeding internally. I can stop it temporarily. I'm afraid it may be anarterial lesion. I have to stop it, Etienne, or you'll bleed to death. I wish Iknew more surgery.""Thank God you don't," he whispered. "You've spent twenty years messing up anynsand. I don't need you fouling up my insides as well.""We've got to get you back to Steamer Station where they can fix you properly.You know how geed the thranx physicians are.""I know. It's funny when you think that they're better than human surgeons, themnet having any bones and all. How long can you 'temporarily' stop the bleeding?"She didn't look at him. "I don't knew. The spear went a long way in, Etienne. Ican seal the break and step the bleeding and close you up, but there's noguarantee it won't break open again anytime. If it does, I don't know if yourcirculatory system will accept another heat patch."The computer says you should rest as much as possible. Some medication willhelp. But you car. forget about jumping around boulders and cliff sides oryou'll tear your guts open again.""I'll be a good little boy." Despite the mild sarcasm his ready acquiescenceconfirmed the seriousness of the damage. Normally she had to strap him dawn toget him to take a vitamin pill.She tried to take his mind off the injury by explaining how the surviving Nz hadlived long enough to fling the spear."We won't be that careless again," she finished. "Not that I think we'veanything more to fear from this particular band. First thing in the morningwe'll start back Downriver. As soon as we get within reception range of theStation we. . .""No, he said sharply."No? No what?"No we can't start home first thing in the morning. We're not finished.""Maybe we aren't, but you are. We've came all the way.""Not quite, Lyra. We go an to the end of the river first, then we can turn hack.Nat before then. I'm not leaving until we reach our last goal. If you try tostop me I'll throw a tantrum and kill myself.""Listen to me closely, Etienne, because I may only be able to say this once,"she said softly. "You are an utterly impossible man. You have no more sense inyou than a sponge. You would try the patience of .lob, let alone a tired littlewoman like myself."He squeezed her hand tightly. "I love you, too.""That's what I said. Who would I shout at if you weren't around?""I know. A good target is hard to find.""I agree." Angrily she rubbed at the moisture welling up in her eyes. "Which iswhy I'd like to keep you around for another couple of days or so. My shoulderstill hurts. That we can keep joking about. There's nothing funny about the holein your ribs.""You're telling me? He let loose of her hand. "Lyre, you have to do this forme. I'll be very careful. No climbing, no quarrying. If I can help it I won'teven bend over. Yulour can help me get around, can't you, Yulour?""Yes. Yulour is strong, Teacher. I can carry thee wherever thee wishes to go.""Too risky, Etienne. You must let that side heal as best it can.""On the way back I promise I'll stay in the cabin for months. It can heal then.But it would be insane to turn around and head back when we're only a few hoursfrom the end of our journey. I want those ice samples! We don't have anythingelse to compare to them and taking them from the edge of the ice cap want meannearly as much. If you insist, you and Tyl can take the corings and I'll justwatch." He paused, added quietly, "Resides, if this turns out to be my lastexpedition I'm damned if I want anything left undone.""Don't tally tike that," she said quietly. "I'll kill you if you talk likethat."Somehow he manufactured another smile. "Then we'll go on?""All right. No more than half a day. I don't want to spend a night in glacia ldarkness. Whether we come to the hot springs or whatever, we go on for half aday and then we turn around.""Fair enough. I wouldn't want the repellers to fail in here, anyway. And Ipromise to let you do all the heavy work.""You're so good to me." Twenty years, she mused. Twenty years of performing inthe same play together and they each had their lines down pat.She prayed she would be allowed to keep acting opposite the same male lead.Chapter SixteenHe slept soundly the remainder of the night. Lyra knew because she stayed awakeat his bedside monitoring his condition. The computer's diagnostic programindicated that the internal bleeding had been halted. Getting the arterial walland surrounding flesh to heal would be a much slower and more difficult process.The machine assured her of an eightyfive percent probability of survival forher husband, provided that he adhered to all instructions, took his medicationand ultrasound treatments regularly, and received proper surgery within sixmonths. There would be no permanent damage except possibly to some tom lemnisciin the area. That would keep him out of any gymnastic competitions. She greetedthe evaluation with relief.They would have to be exceedingly cautious during the return journey. No chancescould be taken, no more violent encounters with belligerent life forms,intelligent or otherwise. Her studies among the elders of Turput would have towait.One half of a component whole was useless, and it took at least two to make ateam.Exhaustion and darkness finally conspired during the early hours of the morningto send her into a deep sleep. When she awoke it was to discover that most ofthe morning was gone. He was upset when she woke him for his breakfast butdidn't argue very strenuously. Instead he sought refuge from his discomfort andfear by making delicious wisecracks about her cooking and waiting on him. Sheenjoyed every criticism.At Etienne's insistence Yulour carried him forward and they installed him on araised pallet so he could see out through the cockpit bubble. Lyra settledherself behind the controls.The hydrofoil hummed as it lifted above the water. She turned inward and sentthe boat toward the black maw that was the rear of the cavern. There was no signof the night's attack. The current had mercifully carried off the three bodiesYulour had shoved ever the side.Lyra would have been gratified to learn that her husband's opinion of the Tslahad risen several notches. Not becausecif their calm acceptance of their fates or their precocious knowledge of theintricate workings of the mind, but because of the way in which they handledthemselves through one crisis after another.Ice swallowed distance and daylight until the mouth of the cavern had beenreduced to a distant dab of white ink. Lyra switched on the hydrofoil's runninglights and fore and aft search beams, bringing gasps of surprise and admirationfrom Tyl and Homat. From the pilot's chair she used the two beams to scan theopposite shore. The river continued to narrow beneath them. Fish fled from theintruding illumination.Surprisingly, the ceiling of the cavern remained far overhead, testament to thelength of time the Skar had been flowing. They flew slowly along the windingtunnel beneath millions of tons of permanent, ancient ice."Spirits live here," Homat murmured nervously. "This is the top of the world.Spirits live here." Beneath the roof of the planet even the thermal suit washard pressed to keep him warm."We should be taking periodic samples from the shore gravel," Etienne told Lyra.She eyed him uncertainly. "Think you can handle the controls?"He grinned. "They're no heavier than the breakfast you fed me. Yulour, give me ahand up, will you?"After making sure Etienne wasn't working in pain, she donned her own thermalsuit and a longhandled scoop and went out on deck. She gathered samples foranother thirty minutes before she was obliged to scream at him."Stop the boat, stop the boat!" Her tone was urgent, not alarmed. He nudged therequisite controls and the whine of the hydrofoil's repellers died as it settledinto a meter of frigid water."What is it?" he called toward the speaker membrane in the bubble wall. Hisfirst concern was that she had spotted signs of Na, but that didn't jibe withher attitude. She was standing by the railing, staring off to port.At the shout, Tyl had bundled up and rushed out to join her, with Yulour closebehind. Homat crowded close to Etienne."Come out on deck, if you think you can make it without hurting yourself." Nowshe sounded funny, he thought."What is it, what's wrong?""Everything's wrong. You'll see." That was all he could get out of her as hepainfully worked his body into his own cold gear.As he started for the gangway Homat reached out with a delicate hand. "Don't go,deEtienne. Spirits live here."Gently he disengaged himself from the Mai. "Lyra's nod confronting any spirits,Homat. We don't believe in spirits.""No one does, until the spirits come for them.""A good point, but I'm willing to bet they're not coming for us here."Yet when he stood on deck and stared at the cause of his wife's excitement hefound himself seriously considering Homat's warning. For while the spirits didnot present themselves for inspection, they had left ample evidence of theirpresence.The Redowls gazed quietly at the shore until Tyl broke the silence. "What is it,Learned Etienne?""I'm not sure, Tyl. I think they're machines of some kind. At least, they looklike machines."Using the tiny remote control he'd brought from the cockpit he aimed bothsearchlights. The powerful beams swept into the side cavern Lyra had discovered,illuminating unpredictable metallic blue forms and piles of twisting, curvinggray shininess. Yellowishwhite coils of tubing connected separate structuresand smaller adjuncts of green and deeper yellow protruded from the largershapes."You don't know what this place could be?" he asked the Tsla."I have never heard of it, Etienne. No Tsla has ever visited here, to myknowledge."Lyra's breath congealed in the cold still air of the cave. "We've got to have acloser look." She glanced over at her husband, her companion in discovery. "Ifthe Tsla didn't build them it's almost certain the Mai didn't.""Then who? Surely not the NO""You ask the simplest questions. Get back to the controls and move us overbefore you fail down."He nodded, returned to the cockpit. As those on deck steadied themselves thehydrofoil lifted out of the water once more. Etienne pivoted the craft and movedinshore, setting down halfway between river and revelation.Lyra broke out hand beams from the ship's stores and distributed one to each oftheir three companions so that even Homat, who had to be half dragged from thecabin, had his own source of light. In addition they could control thespotlights mounted atop the boat by means of two remotes. Thus armed against thedark they climbed the polished gravel toward the alien construct.It was clear that the facility had nut escaped the ice intact. Bits and piecesof metaloceramic matrix littered the ground. But the damage seemed minor."Wonder how old this place is?" Lyra whispered."No telling 'til I can run some analyses." He bent carefully at the knees andpicked up a section of some tubular material. Tiny strands of opaque metal wereembedded in the core and protruded slightly from the ragged end. He ran a fingeralong one of the flexible filaments."Not glass.""Poured quartz?""Silicabased, anyway. That's not all." He handed it over.Her arm dropped a centimeter before she could recover from the initial surprise."My god, that's heavy. Any ideas?" She turned it slowly in her hands, examiningthe metal."Alloy of iridium; something in the platinum group, anyhow. Hard to say forcertain just looking at it."Homat could not understand tine strange alien words, nor was he sufficientlyversed in metallurgy to comprehend even if the Redowls had spoken in his ownlanguage. It did not matter, because regardless of what the humans decided, heknow what this spirit home was constructed of.Solid sunit.More sunit than jreal addicts saw while lying dazed and doped on theirdreamcouches. More sunit than the most avaricious philosophers could conjure upin their imaginations. More sunit than even Moyts possessed.Tile old merchant's story was true, his dying admonition to the Zanur of Po Rabifounded on fact. He had been to this place of spirits and had returned with theproof of his tale. Homat swelled with pride. No Tsla had visited the spotbefore, but an old Mai had done so. IIts travels had killed him, but not beforehe had made truth his tombstone. And of all the Mai only he, Homat, hadduplicated that epic journey.Not all the strange shapes and terrifying forms were pure sunit, but there wasmore than enough laying about to shock the members of the Zanur who had sent himon the journey in the guise of a scout. Here was wealth enough to buy more thanbusinesses and trading vessels, storehouses of grain or gems or the services ofothers. Here were riches sufficient to buy a citystate entire, to purchase allof Suphum or Ko Phisi or both.Enough wealth to purchase the world.Stunned by the visions before him, he wandered among the spirit buildings,hardly daring to touch the solid gray masses of the precious metal. Lyra warnedhim not to stray too far. She was concerned by the obvious effect the discoverywas having on their Mai guide, though she did not realize its source.Some of the constructions towered two hundred meters toward the ceiling of thecavern, where the ice cap had drawn away from the metal. The reason for suchspaciousness was selfevident, revealed by mere touch. Much of the metalsurrounding them was comfortably warm."Not a great deal of heat," Etienne commented, "but a lot of energy is involved.Some kind of mechanism is still functioning here, protecting this place fromencroachment by the ice.""No sound," she replied."Insulation. Makes sense in a cold place.""It's more than that," she said, running her fingers over the smooth frost freeflank of a contorted metal ellipse. "There's nothing moving anywhere, novibration from within. I think the heat may be a characteristic of the alloy."Removing one of her gloves, she searched the ground until she found a shortthick chunk of the yellowish material."This has broken away. See the ragged edge?" She leaned back. "Probably fellfrom somewhere higher up. There's no telling how long it's lain here, but it'sjust as warm as the intact stuff. Generation of heat's a property of the metal.The damn stuff's exothermic.""All right, I'm convinced. And not only is it exothermic, I think the property'svariable. The temperature of the metal is just high enough to hold back the icewithout melting a big hole in the ice cap.""Maybe," she said quietly, "this installation was built before the ice capmoved so far south. Maybe the glaciers moved over and around it, burying ithere.""That would make this place a minimum of ten thousand years old, given whatlittle we know of Tslamaina's geological history." She said nothing.They continued their examination, but they found nothing to suggest the natureof the builders. Everything was a solid mass, seemingly formed whole from molds.They found no doorways and no windows, nothing to hint at the builders' size orshape. Only smoothsided featureless geometric forms. Equally striking was theabsence of visible controls."If this is a fully automated installation," Lyra pointed out, "designed tofunction for a long period of time without supervision, there would be no reasonto expose sensitive controls to the cold.""Possible. We'd have a better idea if we could tell whether it's operating now,or dormant, or kaput.""Instruments," she murmured. "Sit down and rest, Etienne. I'll be back in aminute." She turned and jogged toward the hydrofoil, gathering up the two Tslaas she ran.With their help she set up several sensitive probes next to the hull, aimed themat their discovery, and began to take readings. Some of the instruments operatedefficiently from a distance while others required her to pass among thestructures with remote sensors.Except for the heat emanating directly from the metal, from the standpoint ofradiant energy the enigmatic erections were dormant. The residual readings thatappeared on the instrumentation matched the output of their flashlights and thehydrofoil's batteries. Though the examination could hardly be consideredexhaustive, considering the limitations of their equipment, the Redowls agreedthat regardless of what the constructs had been designed to do, they weren'tdoing anything now.A library search informed them that selfexciting exothermic metal alloys hadexisted only in theoryuntil then. As for the machines themselves, their designdid not match the technological architecture of any known civilization.However old it was, most of the alien technology seemed to be in excellentcondition. Though fragments littered the ground, there was no evidence ofextensive degeneration within the metal or ceramics themselves.While they couldn't give a date to the installation or a name to its builders,they could determine the composition of the materials used. In addition toiridium, Etienne noted the presence of two dozen alloys that defied chemical andspectroscopic analysis, including one thin metallic whip that the computerinsisted was an alloy of metallic sodium, despite the fact that in the damp airof the cavern there wasn't the slightest evidence of oxidation on its shinysurface. When they dipped it in the, river and nothing happened, the Redowlsthought they could hear Homat's beloved spirits move a little closer.Much of the spirit boat was still strange to Tyl, and he was having troublefinding the fresh lightning pack that Lyra called a battery cell. He rummagedcarefully through the storage bay, trying to disturb as little as possible. Anoise overhead caused him to pause.Curious, the Tsla climbed the walkway. His snout was extended, the tip probingthe air. The sounds drew him up from the hull, through the second deck grad ontothe upper. He walked past the humans' sleeping quarters, past the place of foodthey called the galley, until he was standing in the passage that opened intothe open bubble of the cockpit. He stared for a long moment before speaking."What do thee here, Mai?"Startled, Homat spun around. When he saw who confronted him he relaxed. "I amsimply curious. We Mai are always curious about new things."Tyl gestured with his snout, a mildly insulting display. "Thee should be outsidehelping our friends.""I know, I know. I'll be there again soon. But it's so cold out there, so cold."He shivered."I am cold outside also, but the coldness is settling now inside me.""I don't understand you, meditator."Thee linger too long and too frequently over the important places of thiscraft. For several days now I have noticed this. Thee have always stared as ourfriends worked here, but never mare so since the attack by the Na. I think thatthis interest has escaped the attention of our friends, who though sophisticatedin many ways are childishly naive in others. They are preoccupied with theirstudy of our world and ways. But I am not so occupied, nor so naive. Thisunnatural interest of thee must be remarked upon." He turned to leave."Stop there, meditator!" The chill had suddenly slipped from Homat's body intohis voice.Slowly Tyl turned. His gaze fell to the device the Mai clutched firmly in hisleft hand. It was heavy for the sixfingered grip and Homat had to support partof it with his other hand. But the correct end was pointed at Tyl. He had seenthe device in operation often enough to know that much."Mai," he whispered, managing to combine a whole paragraph of insults into theinflection he wrapped around that single noun.Homat was neither impressed nor intimidated. The Tsla usually overawed the Mai,but not him, not Homat. The hairy ones were bigger and stronger, but notnecessarily smarter. No, size was no indication of intelligence, as he fullyplanned to prove."Do you know what this is?" he said, enjoying himself thoroughly as he gesturedwith the device he held. "This is the humans' lightning thrower. I have seen itoperate many times. It may be difficult to build, but it is very simple to use."He pointed toward the clip holsters attached to the lower part of the controlconsole."They sit there in their little homes, drawing strength from the spirit worlduntil they are ready to serve the humans. These spirits are stupid. They do notrespond to sacrifices or prayers or offerings, but will serve any who learn therituals of operation. I have made an extensive study of such rituals these pastmany months.""To what end?" Tyl inquired softly even as he estimated the distance betweenthem."You have seen the sunit that sleeps here, and the other metals. Enough wealthto buy half the world.""I am sure," Tyl said carefully, "that the humans would not object to theereturning with enough of the gray metal to make thee wealthy until thy passing.""I'm sure they would allow me to bring a small amount, but not any more thanwould interfere with the plain rocks deEtienne has already collected, forexample. Why should I bow and scrape for a beggar's pouchful when I can have allthat the spirit boat can carry?" He produced a thin Mai smile. "I can have thespirit boat itself. The sunit will make me master of Mai. This vessel can makeme master of the Groalamasan."Tyl's initial anger dissolved into sadness and pity. "Poor Mai. Thy dreams areso much larger than thy body.""Are they?" said Homat hoarsely. "I planned to wait, but you push me towarddelightenment. The Tsla have always pushed the Mai. In the end we will overwhelmyou. See, how simple the humans' spirit devices are to work? You just touch thislittle round thing here..."Etienne looked up from the base of the metallic mass he was studying, using thecrutch Lyra had fashioned for him from a scoop net, and glanced back toward theboat. The glare from the two powerful spotlights made him squint."Did you hear something, hon?"Lyre lifted her eyes from her work. She was trying to decide if some scratchesthey'd discovered on one wall might be writing. "Hear what?""The boat. I thought I heard something arc."She shrugged. "Missed my ears."He thought a moment, glanced to his right. "Yulour. Did thee hear anything fromthe spirit boat?"The patient Tsla was sitting on the ground, playing with some colored stones. "Iheard nothing, Teacher."Just then Etienne saw a shape approaching them. "Here's Homat. Maybe he heardsomething."Lyre returned to her studies and Etienne waited until their guide emerged fromthe glare. "Homat, you were near the boat. Did you hear something?""Yes, Etienne." He sounded odd, Etienne thought, though he couldn't define thedifference. "I heard. It was your lightning thrower dealing spirits."Lyre heard that, slowly rose from where she'd been silting.Etienne spoke precisely. "The lightning thrower? You mean it went off? How didthat happen?'"The way it always happens." The Mai was careful to keep his distance fr omEtienne, despite the severity of the man's injury. He removed the pistol fromthe pocket of his thermal suit. Etienne stiffened and Lyra backed toward themetal wall behind her."it happened," Homat continued, his confidence starting to build, "when Itouched this place you call the trigger. I touched it and called upon thelightning spirits. I, Homat, did this."Etienne struggled to choose the right words. "That's a very dangerous thing todo, Homat. You don't know what you're doing. The lightning spirits can be veryunpredictable. You could hurt yourself."Homat laughed softly. "You clever humans. You come here from another world, withyour wonderful magical devices, and you try to make us think none but you canmake them work." He shook the asynapt at them. "Well, I can make them work!"Where is Teacher Tyl?" Yulour asked uncertainly, looking past the Mai towardthe hydrofoil."Be quiet, simpleton. The meditator is dead. I killed him, with this." He shookthe pistol again."But why?" Lyra cried as she looked toward the boat.Homat's voice was as icy as the air around them. "To make certain that I didknow how to call upon the lightning spirits. Truly it is very easy. You justtouch this trigger place here." Cane finger eased toward the firing button.Etienne negotiated a couple of awkward steps backward, leaning on the crutch."Don't be frightened, Homat told him. "I don't think I have to kill you.Besides, I need your arms and your backs.""what for?"Homat looked past him, his eyes afire. "To load the spirit boat with the graymetal, the sunit."The iridium alloy? Your people value it too?""More than any other thing of this world. It will make me master over much ofit.""We don't care if you take some sunit back with you," Lyre said. "Enough to makeyou rich, if you wish. We promised you a reward for helping us.""The meditator said much the same thing. I take my own reward, Lyra. I want totake back as much sunit as the spirit boat will hold. We will make room bythrowing out the useless things you have gathered during this journey, bits ofplants and rocks and clothing and cheap trinkets.""Homat, you can't! We need to take samples of your world back for study.""You don't listen, Lyra. What is important to you does not matter now. Itdoesn't matter that your civilization is smarter than that of the Mai. Itdoesn't matter that you are smarter than me, though i am not so sure of thatanymore. It does not matter that you are larger and stronger. This is all thatmatters now." He gestured with the asynaptic pistol. "I have not touched itsince we fought the Na. It slew the meditator. I am certain it can slay you.This is something even we simple Mai can understand.""Irquit wasn't the Zanur's representative," Etienne said accusingly, "It was youall the time.""Oh, no, Etienne, she was a representative of the Zanur. We both were. But shewas in charge over me, and I couldn't have that. I did not need her around,watching as I made careful study of your magic. I knew we would fail atChangrit.""So you're a traitor then. To your citystate of Po Rabi, to your Zanur, to yourNajoke demeHalmur."Homat dug his toes into the ground, a sign of disrespectful disgust. "From thismoment on Najoke demeHalmur is nothing. He is become less than the grains ofgrave! that roll from the mouth of this cave, less than the droppings of theprewq upon the fields. The Zanur is become nothing. Po Rabi itself is as nothingbeside the wealth that lies here. If I choose I will buy Po Rabi for a winterhome. I will be Moyt over all."Lyra fought to restrain her temper. "Now listen, Homat. Maybe you can operatethat pistol without burning your foot off, but running the spirit boat isanother matter entirely.""Is it so? I have watched for a long time now while you thought me shivering andcowering behind you for protection. Already I have steered the spirit boatonce. I think truly it is not so complicated to use. A very few controls run itmostly, and one allows the spirits within to run by themselves.""Even an autopilot needs occasional instructions.""Does it? I think you try to deceive me. We will see.""And what happens," Etienne pressed him, "if we don't return and our friendscome looking for us? They'll find the boat and they'll find you.""Perhaps. If they do I will shiver and cower some delighted more and explainthat you were slain by the Na and that I, Homat, not knowing what else to do,was returning the spirit boat to its rightful owners. I think they will lei mekeep the sunit and award me honors for my bravery and dedication.""Even assuming you could run the boat," Lyra said, "how can you get it past theTopapasirut without the help of the Tsla of Jakaie?""I think they will believe my story also. If they are reluctant to believe,there are other ways." He gestured past them toward the mountain of metal. "TheTsla are also traders. They are not immune to the promise of great wealth. Notall the hairy ones sit and meditate their lives away. They work hard in theirshops and fields and when they come down to the Skar, wealth changes hands. Andthere is another reason why I know this can be done.""Another reason?"An elderly merchant of Po Rabi preceded us to this place. Without lightningthrowers, without this wondrous delighted clothing you have given me, without aspirit boat, he came to this place, stood perhaps on this same spot, andreturned to Po Rabi with proof that he had done so. With all your wonders at mycommand, I cannot fail to do as well."But why this talk of your spot returning? I bear you no malice, and I need yourstrength to load the sonic into the spirit boat. Then we will see. It would beeasier if you agreed to help me return to the Skatandaho Perhaps I will even letyou keep your boat. You will not have the useless rocks and weeds that you havegathered, but you will still have the magic images you make of them."One thing is certain you have no other choice but to help me. If you do not,it will take longer to load the sonic with the help of only this simple one," hegestured toward Yulour, "but it will be done nonetheless. And I will surely killyou.""Yulour and I will help load your precious sunit," Lyra said bitterly, "butEtienne cannot. If he does much lifting he stands a good chance of reopening thewound inside him.""If he does that you can fix it again.""I don't think it cap be axed again, at least not in the same way with the coolswe have on the boat.""He works like you and the Tsla or he dies now. I cannot spare the attention tolet him sit and watch for a chance to surprise me."Etienne limped forward. "I'll watch myself, Lyra, don't worry. I can rig a slingand work with my left arm.""Our specimens," she muttered disconsolately. "Everything we've worked so hardto assemble, the first pieces of the puzzle that would enable us to startbolding a picture of this world's ecology, all thrown away.""They won't do us any good if we don't live to deliver them.""Not so stupid," Homat said approvingly. "I didn't think you were that stupid."He gestured again with the muzzle of the asynapt. "I do not like this place. Letus hurry."Though he worked very carefully, the pain in Etienne's side never let him alone.The internal bleeding didn't start again, but Lyra ached in her own heart as shewatched him struggle to load the heavy alloy.Homat supervised the loading silently and displayed not a twinge of remorse. Thelower hold was filled and they began stacking piles of broken metal on thesecond deck. Yulour carried twice his share of the toad as he toiled quietlynext to his human friends.Several days later an exhausted Lyra, sweating inside her absorptive thermalsuit, slumped to the ground and spoke sullenly to Homat."That's all she'll carry.""No, there is yet room," Homat insisted. "Much more room. You must continue.""Listen to me, Homat. The sunit, the metal, is very heavy. If you stack any moreon the upper decks you'll ruin the boat's stability. All the sunit in the worldwon't do you any good if you turn over in the middle of the Skar." She held herbreath as she dropped her gaze to the ground. Actually the hydrofoil could carryanother ton or so in comparative safety, but she doubted Etienne would lastanother day.Homat looked uncertain. "Very well. That is enough. Enough to buy two cities,and I can always come back for more.""Fine," Etienne commented. "Now let us help you deliver your damned fortune sowe can go our separate ways, which won't happen soon enough for me.""Or if you insist on trying to take the hydrofoil back by yourself," Lyra added,"at least let us go with you as far as Tmput. We can find transportation back toSteamer Station from there, and by the time we reached our outpost you could behalfway around the Groalamasan.""And then what'?" Homat inquired suspiciously, his inherent Mai paranoiasurging to the fore. "Then you'll organize your friends and come looking forpoor Homat with more of your strange weapons, to punish him and steal hisglory." His grip on the asynapt tightened.Slowly Lyra got to her feet. "Homat, don't be a fool.""Truly that is not my intention."Etienne was backing toward the silent mass of alien metal. He stumbled and Lyrarushed to help him, her eyes never leaving the pistol."There's no need for you to do this, Homat. We won't come after you. It's notworth it to us. It's not worth the spirit boat. We can always get another.""Can you?" She knew enough of Mai psychology to see that he was working himselfup good and proper, trying to excite himself to the point of pushing thetrigger. Killing Tyl was one thing. Mai and Ts la disliked one another andsometimes fought. But the thought of slaying them was something new. There werepowerful spirits involved, strange alien spirits, and he was still unsure ofhimself.He was going to do it, though. She could see it in his eyes, read it in the wayhe stood, hear it in his voice. The scrawny bald little humanoid primitive wasgoing to kill the two of them in cold blood there at the top of his world,beneath a ceiling of ancient ice, their backs to an enigma that would now neverbe properly studied."I will keep the slave," Homat said solemnly. He gestured toward Yulour, whostood nearby looking worried and confused. "I will make use of his strength onthe homeward journey. Him I do not fear, but I do not trust you. I cannot stayawake all the time to watch you. As soon as I slept you would forget all yourpromises, set aside your assurances, and toss poor Homat into the Skar to takehis chances with the fish."It is not I who is destined to be food for fishes. Not Homat the brave, Homatthe great." He took aim with the heavy pistol."When he settles on me," Etienne whispered as he took a step forward, "run forit. I'll take the shot and if you can get beyond the ship's lights you'll have achance.""No, I won't...""Don't be an idiot!" he said huskily, taking another step forward. "Now of alltimes." The muzzle was shifting to cover him, Homat's finger moving toward thetrigger. "Use your legs, Lyra. For both of us."The tears were coming again, blinding her worse than the glare from thespotlights. She didn't know what to do and there was no time to make carefuldecisions. If only Etienne wouldn't be so damn logical! But he was right. If shecould hide in the darkness of the cavern there was an outside chance she couldslip aboard the hydrofoil without Homat seeing her. She was bigger and strongerthan the Mai.Homat saw her start to back away and moved the muzzle back to cover her insteadof Etienne. It was impossible to outrun the charge, but the heavy weapon wasawkward in Homat's grasp. Etienne saw that he was anticipating Lyra's flight andsteadied himself to leap between them to take the shot.He didn't have to. The same thought had occurred to someone else. Certainly noone, least of all Homat, expected Yulour to interpose himself between the pistoland its intended targets.Etienne didn't have time to wonder at the Tsla's unaccustomed assertion. He wasshoving at Lyra with his left hand."Now, run now."Lyra was gaping at the Tsla. "I don't understand. Yulour doesn't act on hisown.""Don't worry about it now, shut up and run!"She left him leaning on his crutch as she whirled and bolted for the blacknessto their left. Homat turned to aim at her, but once more Yulour made certain hisbody was between hers and the gun."Get out of the way, moron!" Homat shouted. Yulour stood quietly, holding hisground. "I said get out of the way! I need you for the journey Downriver."He could hear the gravel flying from beneath the human female's boots. Ofcourse, he could abandon both of them, leave them to die slowly, but he wasfurious that his carefully rehearsed triumph might be spoiled by a simplemindedTsla. He stared over the barrel of the lightning thrower."You brought this on yourself, idiot. I'll just have to get along without you.Downriver I'll find plenty of willing backs with sensible heads atop them." Hetouched the trigger.There was a bright, crisp flash of light as the asynapt fired, accompanied by afamiliar faint crackling sound. Etienne shouted, "No!" and tried to throwhimself at Homat. Given the distance that still separated him from the Mai, itwas a futile gesture. A sharp pain ran from his side down his left leg and hecrumpled despite the support provided by his crutch.Dust stung his eyes as he lay staring dumbly across the gravel. Yulour had notfallen under the impact of the charge. He hadn't fallen because he was no longerthere.But something else was.Chapter SeventeenFor an instant Etienne was positive that the charge had struck him instead. Thatwould explain the illusion. Or perhaps the silent Yulour possessed the power ofold. He blinked, and the illusion remained. His side still flamed. His nose wasrunning. It was real.Where Yulour had been, what Yulour had been rose four meters toward the roof ofthe cavern. It was slim and silvery. The coldly viscous sides twisted and flowedlike the ripples that spread out from a pebble dropped in a pond. Indeed, whathad been Yulour looked a lot like a tower of opaque water. Where an internalripple reached its apex the silvery hue became suffused with other colors grayand white, blue and purple. They spread in irregular chromatic blotches acrossportions of the unstable tower, fading gradually back info the silver.Homat stood motionless, the asynapt still clutched convulsively in both hands.Probably he could not have dropped it had he wanted to. Suddenly all theterrors, all the childhood fears, all the old Mai stories of demons and devilsand evil spirits that he had automatically absorbed as he had matured hadsolidified before his bulging eyes. He started to tremble and lost control ofhis bowels. He was trying to scream but only a thin whispery whine passedbetween his parted lips.Through his pain Etienne thought he heard Lyra shout from her hiding place backin the artifacts. She wasn't trying to maneuver behind Homat now. All she coulddo was stare in wonder at the tower of pulsating quicksilver that had beenYulour. Of the three who saw, it might have been that she was the most stupefiedof all, for only Lyra Redowl was familiar with the folklore anti mythologies ofhalf a hundred worlds, and thus only she knew that what stood before them in thecavern had a basis in hypothesized reality.It had been seen beforeor had it? No one was certain because no reputableevidence was ever presented to conclusively prove the existence of such acreature. Rumors gave it different names, of which the one that stuck was morehopefully descriptive than verifiable."I'll be damned," she murmured in awe, "a Mutable."Etienne heard and the word sailed through his numbed brain. A Mutable. Folktalesspoke of them not only on commonwealth worlds but on the worlds of the AAnnempire and the inhabited globes that turned in emptiness outside the boundariesof the principal political entities. Every space traversing civilization hadlegends of encounters with true shapechangers, silhouette shifters, metamorphs.Mutables.But myths and fraud dissolved in the dank cavern before the glittering realitythat had been Yulour the slowwilted Tsla. Legend or folktale or hallucinationmade real, whatever it was it had saved Lyra's life. Its intentions beyond thatwere shrouded in speculation.As Etienne lay there staring at the rippling silvery shape, it occurred to himthat he and Lyra were likely the first lawman beings ever to see a Mutable inits natural state.It had protected Lyra. That was all that really mattered.He wondered if the body's constant movement might be an indication of somepermanent instability. As he wondered, the tower turned slightly, showing asuggestion of what might be an eye near the top. The deep gray oval swam in asea of silver. A second might drift alongside the first, beyond his sight. Itmight have a half dozen hidden duplicates.Traveling like a tree on greased treads, the Mutable moved toward the hydrofoil.The motion was silent. A single pseudopod emerged from the center of the tower,formed tentacles that reached for the asynapt in Homat's shaking fingers. As hewatched, Etienne wondered hove the creature had shaken off the effects of theburst from the pistol.He wasn't given the opportunity to observe the result of a second shot, becausethe Mai let out a single final massive shudder, then fell sideways onto thegravel. The gun fell from limp fingers.At this the tentacles withdrew. It mattered not to Homat, whose crumpled formlay motionless now near one of the boat's hydrofoils, knees drawn tight againstthe thin chest, all hint of aggression fled along with the life force. The causeof death was clear and no autopsy could have made it any clearer Homat had diedof fright, murdered where he'd stood by his own guilt and thousands of years ofaccumulated racial fears.The Mutable inclined forward over the Mai's body. Then it straightened, pivotedslowly, and moved away. Rocks and gravel were depressed where it had passed, asif a large, heavy ball had rolled across the ground where the Mutable moved.Despite its size the creature traveled with ease and a graceful fluidity. Lyrakept her eyes on it as she helped Etienne back to his feet and handed him hiscrutch. She could recall no legend of a Mutable's harming anything, but that wassmall comfort as she stood in that cold, dark place supporting her badly injuredhusband.Though no pupils were visible, Lyra thought the pair of large gray spots atopthe silvery mass were focused on her."Please do not be afraid," the Mutable said. It spoke clearly, in Yulour'sfamiliar voice, though without that Tsla's slowness. "Yes, I am what you call aMutable. I am the native you knew as Yulour. Please do not be alarmed." Theupper portion of the tower inclined toward the hydrofoil. "I did not mean forthat one to expire, but as are all his people he was a prisoner of his ownprivate terrors. You, however, are more mature and not subject to such.""Don't give us too much credit just yet," Etienne found himself mumbling. "I'mscared as hell.""You must not be frightened." The Mutable's voice was almost painfully gentle."Mutables don't exist except as rumors," Lyra murmured."That is how we prefer to exist. It simplifies much."Lyra left Etienne to stand on his own and stepped forward, extending a hesitanthand. "I don't want to offend, butcould I touch you'?""If it is required to establish my existence in your mind.""It's not. I know you're here. It's just something I'd like to do.""Then please do so."She lightly pressed against the silvery flank, discovered that it felt like warmvinyl. It took an effort of will not to jerk her fingers away, not because itwas too hot but because the surface was in constant motion. She stepped back,her palm tingling."If you two don't mind," Etienne said, "I'm a little tired. I think I'd bettersit down." It was a measure of his exhaustion that he allowed Lyra to helpwithout his uttering a single wisecrack."You said, `it simplifies much,"' Lyra repeated. "What does it simplify?""Our work. We are caretakers, we Mutables.""Caretakers? For whom?""For the Xunca."Lyra frowned. "Never heard of 'em.""But you know of the TarAiym and of the Hur'rikku, who dominated this groupingof stars, this galaxy, until they destroyed each other in a great war.""Yes, I know the histories," Lyra replied. "Both races have been gone, from thisportion of the galaxy, anyway, for at least a hundred millennia.""The Xunca predate both. They are so ancient little more than their memoryremains. We are their caretakers. Whether we are an independently evolved raceor machines fashioned by them, we ourselves do not know. We know only our work.""These Xunca lived and ruled before both the TarAiym and the Hur'rikku?""They did not rule. They simply were. Their probings reached regions that can beexpressed only 'ay pure mathematics. Reached beyond this galaxy, beyond thesatellite clusters of stars you call the Magellanic Clouds. They went suchplaces.""You imply a technology capable of traversing an intergalactic gap," Etienneobserved. "Such technology is not possible."The Mutable admonished him gently. "Did not your own kind once say the same offasterthanlight travel, before they learned of spaceplus and nullspace? Isay to you that they the Xunca did this thing."This world you call Horseye and that the dominants call Tslamaina is itself aproduct of Xunca technology.""This planet is a construct?""No." Thoughtfully the Mutable moved to its right so they could observe it freeof the glare from the hydrofoil's lights. It was a gesture of courtesy andEtienne lot himself relax further."The Xunca did not build this world, they modified it to suit their needs. Theasteroidal collision which produced the oceanic basin now filled by the(Broalamasan's waters was not an astronomical accident.""Why do that?""The Xunca required a large body of water which would circulate only in onedirection, whose currents would never change. The positioning of the four smallmoons assures this. Here the oceanic currents flow eternally in the directionyou call clockwise."This perpetual motion, driven by lunar gravity, never needs refueling ormaintenance. It exists and was designed to drive great engines buried in theocean floor. Since Tslamaina is tectonically stable and has been for eons savefor one regrettable massive earth tremor, there is no danger of the machinery'sbeing destroyed by subduction. It sits and waits, ready to be driven by themechanism of the ocean currents. The currents that scour the bottom of theCrroalamasan are very powerful by the standards of most worlds. Thisconstruction was necessary because there are no other stable oceanic worlds inthis area. The machinery is shielded against detection by spacegoing peoples.It has lain dormant far tens of thousands of your years.""How many tens of thousands?" Lyra wondered aloud."Enough to total several hundred millions.""And you've been `caretaking' the facilities all that time?""We are longlived or welldesigned," the Mutable explained matteroffactly."I don't care," Lyra argued. "Nothing lives for a hundred million years?""The rocks beneath your feet do. Our internal structure resembles them more thanit does yours. You may be interested to know that a smaller installation,similar to that which sleeps beneath the ocean of this world, exists on yours."Lyre started. "On Earth'? Nothing hike what you describe has ever been found. Isthe shielding against detection that effective?""Yes, but that installation was destroyed by your world's continental drift. Itwas emplaced when your continents were one large land mass and there was asingle, much larger, world ocean like that on Tslamaina. The Xunca were notomnipotent. They could not plan for every eventuality."But that was only a small relay and its loss not vital to the system. The maintransmitter was constructed on this world. The three local intelligent lifeforms evolved independently long after its emplacement. They do not suspect itsexistence. None do." He gestured past them."This is a tiny portion of the transmitter's antenna system. )Most of it liesbeneath your feet. It is our task to see that it remains in operating condition,together with the extensive relay network to which it can be linked.""Can it operate through the ice cap?""No. In the event that the transmitter system becomes active, a portion if notall of this ice will be melted."Etienne's thoughts moved rapidly. "That would raise the level of the Groalamasanenough to flood every major city on Tslamaina."The Mutable sounded apologetic. "As I have said, all this was designed a verytong time ago, and the Xunca could not foresee everything. However, it ispossible this will never occur. The system has not become active in all thehundreds of millions of years since it was fashioned. Who knows how manymillions more will pass before anything happens`? Nothing may ever happen.""Nobody builds something like this," Etienne muttered, "thinking it will neverbe used.""Why not, Etienne?" Lyra said with disarming calmness. "What about the securityalarms people put in their homes?" She looked startled. "Is that what this is?""We do not know what the system is for," the Mutable replied sadly. "Not one ofus knows. We are only caretakers, net operators or builders. We do what we wereinstructed to do eons ago. Watch over the system and insure that it remainsintact."Do not think that we merely sit and wonder. We discuss and debate. We have ourown culture. Now and then we assume one of tine shapes of the spacegoing racesand visit each other, for only one of us is assigned to each world. We assistone another in diagnosing and solving problems, but generally there is little todo. The Xunca built for the ages. But as to the purpose of the system, only theXunca themselves know that.""What happened to them?" Etienne asked. "If they were such masters of science,why did they let the TarAiym and the Yur'rikku usurp their place?""The TarAiym and the Hur'rikku usurped nothing. Both races rose to power in thevacuum left by the departure of the Xunca. They Oid not force the Xunca toleave. The Xunca were never forced to do anything. They departed because theyfound something their technology could not cope with.""Then why leave this elaborate system behind"? To let them know when it was safefar them to return? You must know something about it?""Only that it will become active if whatever it was intended to react tomanifests itself." The Mutable hesitated. "We do know that it involves oneparticular section of space.""fan you be any more specific?""It lies in the direction of the constellation you call Boozes, as seen fromyour Earth, but farther out. It is an area of modest size, some three hundredmillion lightyears across, encompassing a volume of approximately one millioncubic megaparsecs."Etienne frowned for a moment until the figures quoted by the Mutable linked upwish something in his memory."The Great Emptiness. We've known of it for hundreds of years. It's a `modest'region, all right. It ought to be as filled with galaxies and nebulae as anyother section of space, but it's not. There's nothing there, astronomicallyspeaking. Some free hydrogen and a few isolated stellar masses of uncertaincomposition.""This we know," the Mutable admitted. "What we do not know is how the Xuncatransmitter is involved.""I'd rather it were connected to something simpler to explain," Etiennemuttered. "We humans are a gregarious bunch. We like crowds, not bigemptinesses.""You are concerned.""It seems the Xunca were. Don't you sense some kind of threat?""We do not worry, nor should you. Too much time has passed without anythinghappening.""Then you do think a threat of some sort is involved.""We have had much time in which to evaluate possibilities. When one's entireexistence is devoted to a single task, there is a fair amount of time to devoteto idle speculation. I must admit that some of us believe the Xunca system to bea warning device.""Strange, but your words don't give me much comfort," Lyre muttered."I wish that I could allay all concerns. We wish no less for ourselves. Youshould know that. We have had to content ourselves with a saying `the Xuncamoved in mysterious ways."'Etienne forced himself to think of more immediate matters. All the talk of vastempty sections of space, of alien devices lying dormant for incalculable eonswaiting for some unknown problem to manifest itself, of caretakers who couldchange their shape moving unobserved among different civilizations, was makinghim dizzy.He needed to talk about something he could relate to. "Your task, then, is toensure the inviolability of the Xunca system.""That is so."Etienne drew Lyra close to him. "Then that means you must have decided by nowwhat you're going to do with us.""It has been a very long time since this transmitter was checked," the Mutablesaid quietly. "In that time this river has enlarged the cavern considerablyaround it and opened a wide entrance. That must be sealed with ice.""You're avoiding my question. What about us?""I have enjoyed the opportunity to study you for many days, Etienne Redowl man.It would have been simple to let the native dispose of you or to do so myself."Lyra's arm tightened against her husband's back. "But after hundreds of millionsof years of dedication to a single task, one develops a high respect forindigenous life forms that have succeeded in developing intelligence withoutdestroying themselves in the process. When one is governed by insights that maybe more than a billion years old, one develops laws and insights of one's own.And there is one thing more."Etienne allowed himself to hope, wondering what ancient philosophical conclusionmight stay the executioner. "What's that?""I like you. You are simple, uncomplicated, primitive. But you are likeable.Many peoples do not place likeability high on the list of survival traits. Wedo. I do. I like you for yourselves and for what you are, what you represent. Weare not merely components of a carefully constructed machine. We are alsoindividuals. As such we can admire individuality in others. Your persistenceand dedication, your"was that a smile atop the silvery column?"immutabledevotion to your chosen professions reminds me of our own.""I'm glad you tike us," Lyra said. "I think we like you. But how do you plan toinsure that we don't bring others of our kind back to this place, to tell themthe story and show them the tip of the transmitter?""I will see to it not only that this cavern is sealed, but that the transmitteris movedand shielded so that your most sensitive instruments cannot relocate itno matter if they spend years scanning the northern hemisphere of this world."As for relating what I have told you to your colleagues, we have observedenough of humankind for me to believe that you would not be taken seriously. Andthere is a third protection. You will give me your word."Lyra glanced at her husband, then back at the Mutable. "I hope to live a whilelonger yet, but I never expect to be flattered like this again. For what it'sworth you have our word.""Thank you, woman. It is done, and I am much relieved.""I only wish," she added, "that Tyl could be here to give his word also.""I am sorry. Revealing my true nature is not something done lightly. I held backin the hope that the Mai would spare you and I could then help you return safelywithout exposing myself. I could do nothing for the Tsla."As they stared the Mutable's exoderm began to flow and ripple violently. Theystepped back as the silvery skin started to cloud over with patches of darkgray. These changed to white, pale yellow, and then became a rich hazel color.Simultaneously the sentient tower began to collapse, the internal structureshrinking and compacting. The transformation was accomplished in utter silence.Once more Yulour the Tsla stood before them."I thought you would find my company during the return journey less unsettlingin this guise. I hope my company will not upset you. I have already set inmotion the machinery necessary to conceal the transmitter from potential pryingminds." Indeed, as she stood there listening Lyra was certain she could detect arising hum from behind them, and a slight vibration beneath her feet."I enjoy your company," the Mutable went on, "and have not had the opportunityto spend much time among your kind since I have never been assigned to ahumanoccupied world. You are an interesting adolescent race.""You're certainly welcome to our interesting adolescent company," Etiennereplied dryly. As if they could prevent the creature from accompanying them ifit so desired. "Whatever your motives, you did save our lives, even if you didcompel us to share a mystery that we know won't be solved in our lifetime, letalone your lifetime.""Myself," Lyra said dreamily, "I prefer to think the Xunca went away forpersonal reasons and that they left this relay system behind to help whateverintelligences might arise in their absence. That's a nice thought, anyway. I'drather think of any people chat brilliant as altruistic rather thanindifferent."They started down the slight slope toward the hydrofoil. Yulour moved to helpEtienne, who flinched, but only for a moment; the fur against his arm was real,the smell pure Tsla.They gave Tyl a formal farewell, and Lyra restored some lightness to a situationweighty with solemnity by suggesting Etienne carry out the standard Tsla funeralritual. That sparked an affectionate exchange of insults to which Yulourlistened with interest.Etienne finished it by doing something he hadn't dons in quite a while. He tookLyra in his arms and kissed her long and hard. They stood enfolded in each otherfor a long time, and Yulour watched that with equal interest. Such mayflyrelationships were not for his kind, but there was a decided poignancy to themthat forever escaped those condemned to near immortality. The Mutable sighed anancient, silent sigh, no louder than the winds that move the hydrogen betweenthe stars. Existence for these people was a brief explosive flash ofconsciousness, then limbo. A breath of life blown by in a rush of emotion and afew hasty thoughts.The Mutable could only empathize. For it life was an infinite march toward anunknown end. Besides, there was work to do.Etienne assumed the pilot's chair, nudged several touchplates, looked uneasy.Lyre moved next to him."Trouble"Looks like it. We've had these spotlights on for a lot longer than we planned.The batteries are drawn down too low to power the engine, much less therepellers. We're going to have to drift out until the current and the sun canrecharge us."Yulour studied the control console for an instant. "I think I can help. Noreason not to, now."The unTsla's right arm began to change. Fur and muscle became a single thinstrand of faintly radiant metallic silver. The tendril slipped through the smallopening of a power socket. A tremor ran through the boat as a half dozenreadouts suddenly flared brightly."Sorry. The resistance was less than I thought," Yulour explained as the silvertendril was withdrawn and became an area again. "It is not only that a Mutableis powerful. A Mutable is power.""Also handy to have around for a difficult trip. Nothing like a couple ofhundred million years of specialized evolution to give you an effectivejumpStart, though it does seem a bit disrespectful somehow." Lyra seemedbemused.Etienne tried again and the engine whined to life. The hydrofoil rose two metersabove the gravel and pivoted toward the river. Spotlights illuminating theirway, they commenced the long journey down the Skar toward Turput, SteamerStation, and eventually, home.There they would take a long sabbatical to write their official report, onewhich would be haunted by memories. Somehow that report no longer seemed asimportant as it had when they'd started their expedition up the Barshajagad.Very little seemed important anymore, beyond the way Lyra clung tightly toEtienne and how he played with strands of her hair.Behind them the visible tip of the Xunca transmitter was engulfed by arcticdark. It brooded motionless now but soon it would move. Within the seeminglysolid mass pimesons and goons and bits of matter and bits of stuff that wasn'tmatter traveled their assigned pathways at speeds approaching that of lightasthey had for uncounted centuries.Unnoticed by uncomprehending humans or caretaking Mutables, one tiny sectionsuddenly showed signs of activity where for ages there had been none. Theunusual movement at the subatomic level within might intensify or it might shutdown again.But something was happening. Something had triggered a minute portion of themachinery beyond that which was responsible for normal maintenance. How soon thesomething might require attention, not even a watching Mutable might have said."Soon" was a relevant term, an abstract, a precession through infinity. For amore specific explanation of what it meant in this instance the Xunca wouldhave to be consulted.Wherever they were.\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*Note Map of the Commonwealth and its Chronology Published in 05 Flinx in Flux\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*ABOUT THE AUTHORBorn in New York City in 1946, Alan Dean Foster was raised in Los Angeles,California. After receiving a bachelor's degree in political science and aMaster of Fine Arts in motion pictures from UCLA in 196869, he worked for twoyears as a public relations copywriter in a small Studio City, California,firm.His writing career began in 1968 when August Derleth bought a long letter ofFoster's and published it as a short story in his biannual Arkham CollectorMagazine. Sales of short fiction to other magazines followed. His first try at anovel, The TarAiym Krang, was published by Ballantine Books in 1972.Foster has toured extensively through Asia and the isles of the Pacific. Besidestraveling, he enjoys classical and rock music, old films, basketball, bodysurfing, and karate. He has taught screenwriting, literature, and film historyat UCLA and Los Angeles City College.Currently, he resides in Arizona with his wife, JoAnn (who is reputed to havet he only extant recipe for Barbarian Cream Pie).
Author Alan Dean Foster
Title Voyage To The City of the Dead
Series A Novel of the Humanx Commonwealth
Series No
Original copyright year 1984
Genre Science Fiction
Date of e-text 01/14/2001
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\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
By Alan Dean Foster Published by Ballantine Books
The Icenggger Trilogy
ICERIGGER
MISSION TO MOULOKIN
THE DELUGE DRIVERS
The Adventures of Flinx of the Commonwealth
FOR LOVE OF MOTHERNOT
THE TARAIYM KRANG
ORPHAN STAR
THE END OF THE MATTER
FLINX IN FLUX
MIDFLINX
BLOODHYPE
THE HOWLING STONES
The Damned
Book One A CALL TO ARMS
Book Two THE FALSE MIRROR
Book Three THE SPOILS OF WAR
THE BLACK HOLE CACHALOT
DARK STAR THE METROGNOME and Other Stories
MIDWORLD NOR CRYSTALTEARS
SENTENCED TO PRISM SPLINTER OF THE MIND'S EYE
STAR TREK@ LOGS ONETEN VOYAGE TO THE CITY OF THE
DEAD
WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE . . . ... WHO NEEDS
ENEMIES?
MAD AMOS PARALLELITIES\*
\* forthcoming
Books published by The Ballantine Publishing Group are available at quantity
discounts on bulk purchases for premium, educational, fundraising, and special
sales use. For details, please call 15007333000.
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
Copyright 1984 by Alan Dean Foster
First published in the USA in 1984 by Ballantine Books
This edition published by arrangement with Ballantine Books, a Division of
Random House, Inc.
First NEL Paperback Edition 1986 Third impression 1987
British Library C.I.P.
Foster, Alan Dean
Voyage to the city of the dead.
I. Title
813'.54[F] PS3556.0756
ISBN 0 450 39874 9
The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no
relation to any real person or actual happening.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, byway of trade or
otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the
publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in
which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition
being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by
any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, recording or
any information storage or retrieval system, without either the prior permission
in writing from the publisher or a licence, permitting restricted copying,
issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, 7 Ridgmount Street, London WC1E 7AA.
Printed and bound in Great Britain for Hodder and Stoughton Paperbacks, a
division of Hodder and Stoughton Ltd., Mill Road, Dunton Green, Sevenoaks, Kent
TN13 2YA. (Editorial Office 47 Bedford Square, London WC1 B 3DP) by Cox & Wyman
Ltd., Reading
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
For, Daniel, with love,
For when he gets older and starts traveling
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
Chapter One
They didn't call in the Guard because the intruder was already half dead. Still,
they were upset.
Muttering angrily among themselves over the outrageous breach of protocol, the
members of the Zanur looked to their leader for direction, but Najoke
demeHalmur held his peace. It was up to the intruder to explain himself, and
fast. Hands still hovered close to sheathed knives, although it was becoming
apparent this was no assassination attemptthe intruder was too enfeebled to
present a threat to anyone but himself. So Najoke stayed his hand as well as his
lips. Seeing this, the other members of the Zanur calmed themselves.
Two unkempt servants attended the intruder, and they had their hands full
keeping him on his feet. He was completely bald, as befitted his age, but more
than age had been at work on that body recently. Pain was evident even in the
movement of the eyes, and their owner was breathing as if he'd run a long ways,
for all that two younger Mai supported him.
Several of the more impatient members of the Zanur started toward the stranger.
DemeHalmur stayed them with a wave of one slim, sixfingered hand. "Patience,
my friends. Let us hear what this despoiler of etiquette has to say.
Retribution can come later. We are no judges here."
The leader's words sparked the withered visitor's attention. He shrugged off
the helping hands of his servants, much as he continued to push away the
clutching hand of death. Though unsteady and shaking, he stood straight and by
himself. "Good members of the Zanur, I beg forgiveness for this intrusion on
the affairs of state. When one has little time left, one has no time at all for
protocol. I have much to tell you."
DeYarawut rose and pointed, hairless brows drawing together. "I know you. You
reside in my district."
The elderly speaker tried to bow to the side, as etiquette required, and the
effort nearly sent him sprawling. His servants rushed to help but he gestured
them back.
"I am flattered by your remembrance, Zanural deYarawut. I am Bril
dePanltatol. A humble trader who works Upriver." The drama of the oldster's
intrusion, his unforgivable breach of tradition, was beginning to fade. And he
was known. No surprises were here.
Legends sing of the wrongness of such thoughts.
"No excuse can be made for your interruption, dePanltatol," demeHalmur said.
"You know the penalties."
"Your most excessive indulgence, Moyt, but as I said and as you can see, little
time is left to me."
DemeHalmur had not become ruler of a great citystate without the occasional
ostentatious display of compassion. "You must have bribed efficiently to obtain
this entrance, oldster. You are to be admired for that. Say what you have come
to say."
"Good members of the Zanur, I have for most of my life been a trader of fine
woods and metals between our great city of Po Rabi and the Upriver. Hai, even as
far as Kekkalong." Kekkalong was a very long way Upriver, and many of the
Zanurals had never journeyed beyond the boundaries of the city. They listened to
the rover with a little more respect.
"I am a good citizen and work hard for my city. So I listen well to any tale or
rumor that suggests the opportunity to increase my wealth."
"As do we all," Zanural deParinti commented. "Get on with it."
"Among the many tales of the Upriver are those which speak of a dead place, home
to spirits and ghosts and demons beyond counting, who guard such wealth as could
not be counted in a thousand lifetimes by all the accountants of all the
citystates that ring the Groalamasan itself."
"A wonderful story, I'm sure," another Zanural called from his council seat. "I
too have heard such stories."
"It is well known," dePanltatol continued, "that the nearer one travels to the
source of such tales, the more vivid and impressive they becomeor else they
fade away entirely.
"This particular tale is told over and over again in a hundred towns and
villages of the North. I have listened to it for more than fifty years. I
resolved finally to pursue it to the last storyteller. Instead it drew me
onward, pulling me ever farther north. Sometimes the tale smelled of truth, more
often of village embroidery, but never did I lose track of it entirely.
"I went beyond maps and merchant trails, always up the Barshajagad, following
the current of the Skar and in places abandoning it completely. I walked I,
Bril dePanltatol upon the surface of the frozen Guntali itself!"
Now the whispers of interest were submerged by illconcealed laughter. The
Guntali Plateau, from which arose all the great rivers of the world that drained
into the single ocean that was the Groalamasan, was so high and cold and thin of
air that no Mai could travel upon it. Yet the wrinkled old trader was laying
claim to such a feat.
Like his fellow merchants and Zanural, demeHalmur refused to countenance the
possibility, but neither did he laugh. He had not become Moyt of Po Rabi by
dismissing the most elaborate absurdities without careful dissection. "Let this
one continue proving himself the fool, but let him not be convicted until he has
finished his story."
"Up past even far Hochac I went," dePanltatol was breathing harder now, "and my
journey was but beginning. I lost servants and companions until I was obliged to
travel on my own, because none would go farther in my company. All believed me
mad, you see. I nearly perished many times. The rumors and the river led me ever
onward."
"Onward to what?" another of the Zanural snorted derisively.
The oldster glanced sideways and seemed to draw strength from his scoffers. "To
the source of all the tales and songs. To the land of the dead. To the part of
the world where demons and monsters make their home. To the top of the world,
good Zanural."
This time the laughter could not be contained. It did not appear to discourage
the old trader.
"I found the City of the Dead. I, Bril dePanltatol! And I came away with a
piece of it." He frowned then, and wheezed painfully. "I don't remember that
time very well. My mind was numbed by all I had endured. How I stayed alive I
don't know, but I drove myself to make another boat. I made many boats, I think.
It's hard to remember. I disguised what I had brought away beneath a bale of
Salp skins and brought it all the way Downriver, all the way back to my home, to
Po Rabi."
DemeHalmur's wide black eyes flickered. "A most interesting and entertaining
story, dePanltatol, but all such tales of demon cities are entertaining. I hope
you are a better trader than you are a storyteller." Polite laughter rose from
the other members of the Zanur.
"Is that what you broke into our conference to tell us?" snapped another Zanural
angrily. "If you can do no better than that, I promise you your age will not
save you."
"There is only one thing I can add to what I have told you," the exhausted
trader admitted. "For it I have ruined my mind and my self, so there is little
for you to threaten me with. My triumph will be shortlived and I will not buy
the seat on the Zanur that I longed for." A few insulted murmurs arose among the
Zanural, loudest from those whose fortunes were smallest.
"So I will leave my tale to you, together with that one other thing, and let you
judge, Zanural of the city, if I might have been thought equal in wealth to sit
among you." He turned and blew on a small bone whistle that hung from a cord
around his neck.
A dozen laborers entered in two columns of six. Between them they held ropes
attached to a low dolly. Laughter gave way to curiosity and confusion among the
members of the Zanur. The dolly had six axles and fat rubbery wheels made from
the treated sap of the arer tree.
From his place at the head of the long council table demeHalmur saw the pile
of fine gray Salp pelts piled high on the dolly. They were valuable but not
exceptionally so. Certainly they weren't heavy enough to require the use of a
sixaxle and twelve strong Mai to pull the load. He could see the way muscles
strained against something massive but concealed. He stood slightly,
unconscious of the movement, to have a better view.
The laborers halted and moved aside. With the aid of his servants Panltatol
staggered to the dolly, Disdaining help, he reached out and shakily pulled the
skins onto the floor. They'd been sewn together and came off as one.
There was something else on the dolly, as demeHalmur suspected, but the sight
of it struck him speechlessa single metal bar reposed on the wooden platform.
It was twisted and bent by some unknown force and was as thick as a large Mai's
body. But that observation passed quickly. The Zanural were interested in its
composition far more than its shape.
It had not been polished and it displayed long gashes and much pitting, evidence
of exposure to powerful chemicals or energies. Its color was familiar.
"I did not actually enter the place of the dead." Panltatol's voice was
weakening. "I was near, very near, when weather so terrible it cannot be
imagined except in dreams finally forced me to retreat. This relic I found on
the banks of the Skar, where the river had carried it. This alone I was able to
bring back with me. Zanural of Po Rabi, this is my legacy."
Forgetting their dignity, abjuring protocol, they left their seats to examine
the massive metal bar. Sensitive sixfingered hands caressed the smooth gray
substance. The dull silvery sheen was a property of the metal itself.
It looked like sunit. It had the color of sunit. It felt like sunit. When three
of the Zanural from northern Po Rabi tried to lift it and could not, they were
positive it was sunit.
DeChangrit, who on the Zanur was second in power only to demeHalmur himself,
removed a small ingot from the money belt that circled his waist. It was a serl,
the largest denomination coined by any of the great citystates that lined the
shores of the Groalamasan Ocean, newly minted in powerful Chienba. He placed it
in one of the gouges cut in the flank of the bar and tried to calculate the
worth of the twisted mass in his head. He was a superb businessmai and his
estimate was very near the mark.
"Several million," he announced aloud. "At least." Having already made their
own calculations, several of his associates nodded by way of confirmation.
DePanltatol abruptly sat down on the edge of the dolly, leaning back against
the bar for support. He ran one hand gently across the cold metal, lovingly, as
if it were a woman reclining in his hammock. There was not a Mai among the Zanur
who did not feel the same love for that bar. It represented a great and compact
fortune.
When the murmurs and excited conversations began to die down it was Changrit who
asked the question uppermost in all minds. "Is there more?"
His tone was respectful now, no longer sarcastic or accusing. Thus vindicated,
Panltatol seemed to draw strength from some unknown source. They were no longer
laughing at him.
"Honored sirs, I do not know. I found only this one piece, washed up on a rocky
and wild shore. But the rumors that drove me to the top of the world always
spoke of more in the City of the Dead."
Many signs were made by the Zanural, for they were as intensely superstitious as
the common folk. Daily their lives were punctuated by the performance of rituals
designed to ward off unfriendly deities and spirits, which all Mai knew ruled
the affairs of each individual from birth to death. At the rear of the chamber a
wideeyed servant hastily dumped more incense in the ritual burner, in case the
spirits in attendance that day were possessed of particularly large noses. The
air of the chamber was immediately suffused with sweet fragrance.
"No actual City of the Dead exists," one of the Zanural ventured hesitantly. "It
is not a real place."
DemeHalmur used his hands eloquently. "No such solid piece of sunit as this
exists, yet it sits there before us."
"More," Panltatol mumbled. "More in the City of the Dead."
"How much more?" asked Changrit with becoming avariciousness.
"They say ... the rumors say ... that the city itself is built of sunit." Dead
silence greeted his declaration, appropriately. "I am sorry I did not go
farther." A thin smile appeared on his withered face. His right arm lay like
brown cloth against the cold metal. "I am so tired, honored ones. I must rest a
while."
"Wait!" Changrit rushed forward. With his own arms he supported the oldster, a
sign of the esteem in which Panltatol was suddenly held. "How do we find the
City of the Dead? How could one retrace your travels?"
"Why, don't you know?" Panltatol whispered. "There is no City of the Dead. The
journey cannot be made. But I made it. I, Bril dePanltatol, went where it is
impossible to go. But you can't follow, none of you." He said it with vehemence
as he unexpectedly sat up without aid. "You can't follow because only an insane
one could make such a journey. I am mad, you see, and you are not." A sudden
thought made him blink with confusion.
"Very tired." He leaned back against Changrit again and closed his eyes. They
would not open again.
Changrit gently lowered the thin body. "A true Mai. He sacrificed everything in
hopes of improving his fortune. I honor him."
"We all honor him," demeHalmur said, "as we will honor his memory."
"What of the sunit?" Lust was apparent in the voice of the Zanural who voiced
the common thought. All eyes were on the bar.
"You know the law," demeHalmur said sternly, if a trifle reluctantly. "I covet
it as much as any of you, but it goes to his family and employees." He made a
protective sign in case certain spirits were listening. "The law is clear."
Zanural dePeyetmy was almost in tears. "Couldn't we bend the law just a
little?"
"I am sworn to uphold it, and I will do so. Those who would bend the law
ultimately find themselves strangled by it." Murmurs of assent sounded from
around the table.
"Of course," demeHalmur went on, "there is the matter of a death tax." A few
smiles appeared. "Also the fact that dePanltatol undertook this journey without
proper authorization, and we still must deal with the matter of his rude
intrusion into the Zanur Chamber." He studied the bar. "I would say that perhaps
half should go into the city treasury."
"That still leaves a nice fortune." Changrit had retaken his seat on
demeHalmur's left. "No family could be disappointed to receive such an
inheritance. Now that the law has been dealt with, how are we to deal with this
remarkable story?"
"A great journey," one of the other Zanural announced portentously. "One to be
enshrined in memory and song. I myself will commission a song cycle to
commemorate it."
"A thoughtful gesture," demeHalmur agreed, thankful for the Zanural's support.
His proposal meant that demeHalmur would not have to pay for the requisite
memorial. Other Zanural cursed themselves for not thinking to make the clever
political move.
"Now who shall volunteer to help equip a new expedition to journey to the top of
the world in search of this rumored City of the Dead?"
Suddenly every member of the co uncil sought to shrink in his seat. One, bolder
than the rest, said sharply, "I would not venture more than a thousand legats
Upriver for all the sunit on Tslamaina."
"Nor would I," demeHalmur agreed. "DePanltatol was quite right. None of us is
mad. The very idea of setting foot on the Guntali Plateau is a concept only a
disturbed mind could conceive. To attempt to retrace his wild path would be
impossible." He gestured toward the bar and the body lying next to it. "We must
be satisfied with this."
"Not necessarily." All eyes turned in surprise to Changrit. DemeHalmur waited
warily for any suggestion his rival might make. Each had much respect for the
other, so much so that they never employed assassins. Such methods they left to
cruder Mai while they dueled with words and gestures.
"It is true that any journey far up the Skar is daunting, let alone one to the
top of the world. One might undertake such an expedition only to perish within
sight of one's goal. It is more likely any travelers would end up staring at the
inside of a Na's belly instead of the City of the Dead." Zanurals executed signs
indicating anxiety.
"Or else they would find themselves deceived by the Tsia. We do not have the
means for accomplishing such a journey, but there are those who do."
"I don't see them here," another Zanpral called. Laughter punctuated his
observation.
Changrit gave him a withering look until the laughter had subsided. "A good
merchant knows his responsibility to the Zanur, to his citystate. He knows also
his own limitations. I am quite aware of mine as you must be of yours.
"But there is something new come recently to Tslamaina. I speak of the visitors
from the sky."
Uncertain mutterings were silenced by demeHalmur. "I've heard much of them.
What is it you propose, Changrit?"
"I can propose nothing unless recent information I have received from my agents
can be confirmed. Call for the ambassador to Losithi."
There followed a long delay, made palatable by a regal midday meal, while Ror
deKelwhoang, ambassador to Losithi, was summoned from his offices in the
Ministry. He arrived in due course, breathless and puzzled.
"For what reason have I been summoned in such haste, honored Zanural?"
There was much respect among the members for the skills of the elderly
Kelwhoang, just as there was in the Zanur of Losithi. Po Rabi's main rival in
trade and commerce, it lay several hundred legats to the southwest and
controlled the western end of the Skatandah Delta, the great marshland formed by
the emptying of the Skar River into the Groalamasan.
Midway between the two citystates but slightly nearer Losithi lay the station
established by the strange visitors from the sky. Their science was much
advanced and gain was to be made there for those who knew how to ferret it out.
The visitors were carefully courted by diplomats from Losithi as well as Po
Rabi.
"Tell the Zanur," Changrit instructed the ambassador, "what you told me several
weeks ago concerning the visitors from the sky. The .new visitors."
"New visitors?" DemeHalmur frowned, as did several other Zanural. "You mean
that more of the large bug creatures have arrived on Tslamaina?"
Kelwhoang looked toward his sponsor Changrit uncertainly, but received a
gesture of openness by way of reply.
"All are friends here today, Kelwhoang. Speak freely."
The ambassador nodded. "There came upon us a day rainy and cold, which forced me
to-"
DemeHalmur interrupted him. "Our time is valuable, Kelwhoang. Spare us the
poetry."
"Forgive me, Moyt. I was taken aback by this sight." He indicated the monstrous
bar of sunit.
"Understandable. Your attention to potential profit marks you well in our sight.
Still, make your tale concise."
Kelwhoang gestured in agreement. "Members of the Zanur. As you know, I make it
my business during the long journey between our city and Losithi to take note of
all of interest that transpires within the Delta. The visitors from the sky keep
to their buildingthatwalksthewater, but I have cultivated my acquaintance
with them.
"Thus did I learn that five weeks ago allies from the sky arrived among them. I
was astonished to learn that these newcomers look not like those who built the
skystation, but much like us." That bit of news prompted gasps of astonishment
from the Zanurals.
"You mean," Guptinak asked, "that they are not as horrible to look upon as the
large bugthings?"
"No," said Kelwhoang, gratified by the reaction his revelation had produced.
"They are much like Mai, only taller, taller even than a Tsla but not so large
as a Na. They have more body hair and their features are sharper and more
pronounced, rougher and not as beautiful. They suffer from our climate much as
does a Tsla, unlike their bugthing friends who are quite comfortable in the
Delta. One male and one female, similar enough to us that at a distance one
could almost think them Mai.
"I did not meet them myself, only saw them conversing with the Moyt of the
station, the one called," and he struggled with the difficult alien name,
"Porlezmozmith. Later I was able to talk with her and she remarked on the
similarity between us and the new visitors. Truly the resemblance is striking
between us. These newcomers' faces have smaller eyes, larger ears that are great
curved winged things visible even at a distance. Oh yes, they have but five
digits on their hands and feet instead of the normal six, even as the bugthings
have but four, though they have that extra pair of arms and legs. It may be that
these new visitors are more akin to us than the Tsla or the Na, with whom we
share our world."
"All fascinating," demeHalmur said, "but how does this profit us?"
"Tell them what the bugthing told you his new guests have planned," Changrit
prompted.
"Ah. I was told they brought with them a wondrous magical boat which walks upon
the water more freely than the station the visitors first built. It does not
depend on wind or muscle for power but carries its own energy inside it. I was
told that it can travel at great speed Upriver, against the current of the
Skar."
More mutters of astonishment rose from the assembled members. "We've heard much
of the wonders brought by the visitors from the sky," demeHalmur said. "I
sense your thought, Changrit, but surely they would not sell us this amazing
craft?"
"Never," the ambassador admitted. "I have been told many times by the Moyt
Porlezmozmith that they can have only the briefest of contacts with us and that
they are forbidden by their own laws to sell us any of the advanced tools and
instruments they have brought with them."
"No profit in that," one of the Zanural grumbled. "Truly these visitors are
alien."
"These newcomers who are like us," the ambassador continued, "are scholars, not
merchants. They intend to make a study of the Barshajagad, the canyon which
cradles our river Skar."
"Now that makes sense," demeHalmur commented. "There is always profit in good
scholarship." He made a sign to invoke the spirit of knowledge and insight, but
finally had to ask, "What is in your mind, Changrit?"
"These visitors from the sky still know little of our world. Beyond the Delta
they are ignorant, for all their knowledge. They know nothing of the ways of the
Skar, or of the Hotiek or the Aurang or any of the lesser tributaries. They know
nothing of the peoples who inhabit the canyon. They will need guides."
"Ah!" DemeHalmur's expression was fed by enlightenment. "Friendly locals to
show them the way."
"Yes, to show them the way."
"And good friends that we are, it behooves us as the rulers of Po Rabi to find
volunteers to assist them?"
"Every chance we can find," Changrit agreed firmly.
"How do we know that these strange creatures have any interest in traveling up
the Skar farther than the town of Ibe?" a Zanural wondered aloud.
"We do not," Changrit admitted. "How does one divine the intentions of aliens?
Yet if they are as similar in appearance to us as Ambassador deKelwhoang says,
who is to say that their motivations are different?" He looked away from the
table. "You've no idea how far they intend to go Upriver, Kelwhoang?"
"No. The bugMoyt was not too clear. He did say a long journey. Certainly
farther than Ibe."
"Then our course is clear, Zanural." DemeHalmur leaned forward the better to
emphasize his words and gestures. "We must do our utmost to ensure that these
visitors make use of our good intentions and accept the aid that the people of
Po Rabi will freely extend to them."
"Assuming they accept," said another member. "What if they do not travel to the
region of our hopes? What if they reach Kekkalong and decide they have journeyed
far enough?"
"Then perhaps," Changrit murmured quietly, "they might at that time be persuaded
to loan us the use of their wondrous craft. I'm certain that the loquacious Ror
deKelwhoang will employ all his admirable verbal talents to ensure that the
immediate requirements of the Zanur are met."
"I shall do my best, of course." The ambassador performed an elaborate gesture
designed to invoke the spirits of all the great diplomats of the past. He
glanced sideways at the huge, gleaming mass of solid sunit.
"However, if I am to do my best, honored ones, it would help if you could
explain to me the reasons behind my mission. Would I be remiss in assuming it
has something to do with the astonishing wealth that lies next to a dead Mai in
the center of this chamber?"
"You would not," demeHalmur said. "Seat yourself."
Gesturing his thanks at the honor, deKelwhoang joined the table as Changrit
related the events of the morning.
The subsequent discussion and laying out of plans lasted well into the evening.
The heat of day was followed by the heat of night and still the Zanur sat in
extended session. Bureaucrats and guards gossiped and wondered, but still the
rulers of Po Rabi remained sequestered in their chamber.
It was only when they finally adjourned in the early hours of the morning that
someone thoughtfully directed attendants to remove the stiffened corpse of that
soon to be memorialized merchantexplorer Bril dePanltatol. Great care had
already been taken to ensure that a proper share of his legacy was safely
transported to the city treasury.
Greater care and craft might make possible the seemingly impossible task of
securing for the Zanur of Po Rabi the rest of his legacy.
Chapter Two
Etienne Redowl was sick of measuring current flow. He was sick of taking samples
from the river bottom. Recording the ebb and flow of sandbars and mudbanks no
longer interested him, nor did watching the analyzer spit out graphs listing
gravel composition mineral by mineral.
But there was nothing else for him to do at Steamer Station.
It seemed as if they'd been waiting for permission from the native authorities
to begin their Upriver expedition since the beginning of time. Anyone who
thought the bureaucracy of Commonwealth Science and Exploration difficult to
penetrate should have to cope once in his life with the byzantine machinations
of the Mai of Tslamaina. The station's location between the rival citystates of
Po Rabi and Losithi only made it tougher to obtain the necessary clearances.
There was no pushing the matter, however. Where a Class FourB world was
involved, Commonwealth policy was strict. Porlezmozmith, the officer in charge
of Steamer Station, was sympathetic to the Redowls' plight, but not to the point
of challenging regulations. So the husbandwife team sat and sweated and waited.
Etienne paused on the ladder long enough to adjust the thermosense on his
fishnet shirt and shorts. Minuscule cooling units woven into the material
struggled to cool his skin. He checked his wrist telltale. A fairly mild
afternoon, with the temperatures hovering around a hundred and twenty degrees
and the humidity a mere ninety percent. He longed for the coolness of their
quarters on the station platform above.
The thranx found the temperature a mite hot, but the humidity suited them just
fine. That was why they'd been chosen to staff the only Commonwealth outpost.
For them it was almost like home. For humans it was pure misery.
Survey should have named it misery, Etienne thought. Instead it had been named
for its geology. That geology and the unique civilization it had produced were
the reasons why Etienne and his wife Lyra had braved endless application forms
and sweltering weather in order to be the first humanx scientists allowed to
work beyond the boundaries of the outpost. Or such would be the case if the
native authorities ever gave them the okay to travel Upriver. Until that
happened they were stuck at the station. Months of waiting for permission to
arrive, endless days spent battling the terrible heat and humidity had sapped
his initial enthusiasm. Lyra was bearing up better beneath the daytoday
disappointment, but even she was starting to wilt.
He forced himself to see Tslamaina as it looked from high orbit. The refreshing,
cooler image reminded him again why they'd come to the world its discoverers had
named Horseye. Lyra had no room for flippancy in science and preferred
Tslamaina, the native name, but the image certainly fitted.
Eons ago the planet had collided with a meteor of truly impressive dimensions.
In addition to creating the vast circular basin that was now filled by the
Groalamasan Ocean, the concussion had badly cracked the planet's surface. That
surface, high above the single worldocean, comprised the Guntali Plateau.
Water running off the Guntali for hundreds of millions of years patiently
enlarged those surface cracks, eventually resulting in the most spectacular
river canyons ever encountered. The combination of geological and
climatological factors necessary to produce such awesome scenery had not been
duplicated on any other of the explored worlds.
Of all the river canyons by far the greatest was the Barshajagad, which in the
Mai language meant "TongueoftheWorld." More than two thousand kilometers wide
at the point where it finally emptied into the ocean, it reached northward from
its delta some thirteen thousand kilometers to vanish in the cloudshrouded
north polar wastes. From the edge of the Guntali, a few hundred kilometers
Upriver, to the surface of the slowly moving river Skar, the Barshajagad
dropped approximately eight thousand meters in elevation. Where mountains rose
from the plateau, the disparity was even greater.
So wide was the Barshajagad at its mouth, however, that a traveler on the
surface of the river could not see where the gradually ascending slopes finally
reached the plateau to east and west.
The, result was an astonishing variety of life forms organized into ecological
regions not by latitude but by elevation, as nature made use of the different
temperature and moisture zones that climbed the canyon walls.
Three different intelligent mammalian races had appeared on Tslamaina, each
confined to its own portion of the river canyons. The intensively competitive
and primitively capitalistic Mai ruled the ocean and the river valleys. Above
them in the more temperate zone between three thousand and fiftyfive hundred
meters were the Tsla. Clinging to the frozen rims of the canyons and freely
roaming the Guntali were the carnivorous Na. Or so the locals claimed. None of
them had ever seen a Na, and since Mai society was infused with a healthy
respect for and belief in thousands of spirits, demons, and ghosts, Lyra Redowl,
circumspect xenologist that she was, was reluctant to give instant recognition
to the existence of this legendary third intelligent race.
Temperature and pressure and not national or tribal boundaries kept the races of
Tslamaina separated. That made for a sociocultural situation every bit as unique
as the local geology, as Lyra was fond of pointing out to her husband.
Their hope, the dream that had brought them across many lightyears, was to take
a hydrofoil all the way up the Skar to its source, making a thorough study of
the geology and the people of the planet as they advanced. But Tslamaina was a
Class FourB world. That meant they could only proceed with the natives'
permission, and that permission still was not forthcoming, despite repeated
anxious requests.
So Etienne had been confined to examination of the delta soils and the geology
around the station which was, in a word, flat. Lyra was better off, able to
visit with those fisherfolk who sometimes stopped at the station to chat and to
attempt to steal anything not bolted down. Station personnel never ventured
reprisals for the attempts. For one thing the attempts were always unsuccessful.
For another, it was part of the local culture.
Six months had passed since the shuttle had deposited the Redowls at Steamer
Station and Etienne was close to calling off the expedition. Only the knowledge
that they would be the first to make an Upriver journey kept him from booking
passage out on the next supply run.
It would help if Lyra would learn to keep her frustration to herself, but no,
not her. She'd declaim long and loud to anyone within earshot. The thranx were
too polite to tell her to shut up, and Etienne had tried many times and failed.
After the first month he simply gave up and tuned her out. It wasn't hard. He
had been doing it for twenty years. Eight or nine years ago the conflict might
have ended in divorce, but now they had too much invested in each other.
Convenience and familiarity balanced out a lot of bickering, though sometimes
he wondered.
Something was itching sharply on the back of his neck. Holding onto the ladder
with his right hand he reached up and back with his left, coming away with
something soft and flexible. He eyed it with intense distaste.
It was as long as his hand and thick as his thumb, completely transparent
except for the dark maroon color spreading slowly backward from the head. As he
held it firmly it wiggled and twisted in search of the blood so recently
discovered and quickly vanished.
The dangui was an elegant local bloodsucker related to the annelid worms but
possessed of a cartilaginous backbone which when flexed allowed it to jump at
its intended host. It turned red as it filled up with blood. It looked like a
glass leech and seemed to find human plasma perfectly palatable, much to
Etienne's enduring disgust.
Forcing down the gorge rising in his throat he flung it as \_far away as he
could, heard the faint plop when it hit the murky green water. He felt the back
of his neck and his hand came away bloody. First stop inside the station would
be for antibiotic spray.
The metal stilts on which Steamer Station rested carried a mild electric charge
to discourage infestation by such local pests though they rarely troubled the
thranx because of their tough exoskeletons. Etienne dealt in smooth, hard
surfaces and clean stone and didn't care much for biology, particularly when it
chose to get personal.
High thin clouds blocked out some of the ultraviolet, but Etienne was still
grateful for his naturally dark coloring, a legacy of ancient Amerindians. A
lighterskinned human would quickly fry under Tslamaina's relentless sun. Though
he'd been outside less than ten minutes, the sweat was pouring off him. The
cooling meshwork shirt and shorts were all that kept him halfway comfortable.
Even the climate might be bearable if only they'd receive permission from the
native authorities. The frustration of waiting was worse than any heat, he mused
as he made his careful way up the ladder.
Behind him tall fat pseudopalms thrust enormous green fronds over the lazy
water. Table tree roots exploded sideways from their trunks before dipping down
into the mud. Nappers, tiny crustaceans with multihued shells, filled the air
with their doglike barking.
Little relief beyond the shade it offered was available inside the station since
the internal temperature was set to accommodate thranx and not humans. A hundred
was certainly cooler than onetwenty, but the humidity was unchanged. Only
when he entered the rooms reserved for less tolerant visitors did the humidity
begin to drop. By the time he reached their quarters, station machinery had
lowered the temperature fortyfive degrees and sucked out more than half the
humidity.
Lyra Redowl barely glanced up at him. She sprawled in a chair studying her
clipboard viewer.
"Anything interesting?"
"Glass leech bit me."
"Bad?"
"I doubt it." He moved to a cabinet and removed a tiny spray can, dosed the back
of his neck. "The Skar flows into the Groalamasan, the Groalamasan goes round
and round and it comes out here." He gestured toward the lavatory.
She put her viewer aside, spoke coolly. "I don't blame you for being upset,
Etienne. I'm as pissed off as you are. But there's nothing we can do except
wait. Make an effort not to take it out on me, okay?"
"I'm not taking anything out on you," he said exasperatedly. "Why do you take
everything I say so personally? Can I help it if this damn delay's got me
running around like a monkey chewing his tail?"
"You have to work on your selfcontrol. You'll end up with an ulcer."
"I keep control of myself!" He struggled to match his tone to his assertion. "I
haven't got time to argue with you, Lyra. "
"I agree." Her eyes moved back to the viewer.
He sighed, counted quietly to eight, then plopped down in one of the thin
chairs. "What are you buried in now?"
"Varofski on multiple societal interactions."
"Haven't you read that already?"
"Twice. This is my third time around. What do you suggest I do? Squat here and
watch thranx shadowplays on the tridee?"
"It would be a change, but I don't want to argue about it."
"You never do. That's why I'm always amazed how regularly you end up doing so."
Suddenly she looked up at him and smiled. It was a little forced, but welcome
nonetheless.
"Listen to us, fighting like a couple of idiot children. Etienne, I'm just as
frustrated as you are. What the hell is keeping those Moyts from giving us
travel clearance?"
"Who knows." Rising from the chair, Etienne crossed to the kitchen area and
thumbed the switch on the left side of the refrigeration unit. It dispensed
fruit juice, heavily salted and sugared. The cooking facilities were nearby but
rarely utilized. The Redowls preferred to take most of their meals cold;
Tslamaina didn't encourage consumption of piping hot food.
Glass in hand he walked over to stand behind his wife's chair, rested a hand on
her shoulder as he sipped at the icy liquid.
"Truce, Lyra?"
She reached up to pat his hand. "Truce. Can't we do something, Etienne?"
"Not a damn thing. You know the law. We're wholly dependent on the whims of the
locals." She nodded, returned to her reading.
He never tired of looking at her. After twenty years he still found her
physically alluring. Lately she looked even better than usual, having lost
weight since their arrival. Tslamaina would sweat you down to skeleton size if
you weren't careful.
"I don't understand the delay," she said. "I've talked to the local fisherfolk
and traders and they just give me the local variations of a bemused shrug. From
everything I've been able to learn both these citystates are hotbeds of new
ideas and rapid development. You'd think one or the other would be eager to
grant us permission to travel Upriver."
"I'm sure they would," Etienne agreed, "if we could promise them something solid
in return. Unfortunately, the regulations protecting Class FourB worlds
prohibit any commerce with natives. No introduction of advanced technology
allowed from external sources, and that's what they want to buy from us. The
usual nasty cycle. The Moyts would like to grant us clearance for Upriver travel
but they want payment in return. We can't pay them what they want because
regulations forbid it. So here we sit, and sweat."
"Too true. How's your neck?"
He felt at the shallow bite. "Filthy little monsters. I don't mind dealing with
something big and toothy, but I hate parasites."
"Let me give you another shot of antibio." She put down her viewer and reached
for the spray. A cool dampness caressed his neck a second time.
"There," she said with satisfaction. "This is no place to pick up an infection,
no matter how interesting. We've been lucky so far. Not that we've spent all
that much time outside." She hesitated. "Etienne, I'm ready to start chewing the
furniture again. We've got to get out of hereTell you what. Why don't we check
out the boat?"
He made a face. "We're going to wear it out before we get started, checking the
systems so often."
"No, I mean really check it out." There was suppressed excitement in her voice.
"Let's take it out for a run on the open sea. It's always cooler on the
Groalamasan."
"Porlezmozmith will be miffed. She'll call us down for undue exposure of
advanced technology to a presteam society."
"Crap. The local fisherfolk have seen us testing it lots of times."
Etienne grinned down at her. "Woman, you have a devilish sense of humor."
"It helps, when you spend your life trying to make sense of other people's
cultures. Come on. It'll be fun. And a change."
Etienne was feeling better by the time they left their quarters. They threw
together a cold lunch of native edibles. The consistency of the flat,
crackerlike bread was unusual but the taste was delightful.
From their quarters it was a short walk down to Level Three, the lowest of the
station, where the hydrofoil hung silent in its bay, a sleek deltashape built
of ultralight metals. A compact electric jet protruded from beneath the stern,
looking like the mouthparts of a dragonfly nymph. The hydrofoil was an
exquisite bit of engineering and despite its fragile appearance, could take a
considerable pounding. Inside, the craft was spacious and efficient.
Ignoring the occasional stare of passing thranx maintenance workers, Etienne
operated the bay controls. With a soft whirr the double doors parted, revealing
the turgid mix of fresh and salt water that lay twenty meters below.
Bow and stern couplers lowered the hydrofoil toward the water. Lyra was already
on board, stowing their lunch and running the autoprogram through diagnostic
functions. Disdaining the ladders, Etienne wrapped arms and legs around one of
the coupler cables and slid down to the boat. A touch on one switch sent the
couplers upward, leaving the boat floating free on the water of the delta.
A plexalloy dome enclosed the cockpit where Lyra waited in the pilot's chair.
The engine came to loud life as the photovoltaic coating of the boat worked to
ensure that the fuel cells which supplied power were fully charged. The air
conditioning greeted him with a blast of deliciously cold air.
Lyra nudged the accelerator and turned the wheel. They slid from the shade of
the station and headed south. Soon they were clear of the last platform trees
and high marsh grasses and out on the open ocean.
Chapter Three
The steady trade breeze caught them, and the humidity on deck dropped quickly to
a tolerable eighty percent while the temperature plunged to oneohfive. Etienne
took advantage of the much cooler weather to move out on deck. Occasionally he
turned to smile and wave to Lyra, who remained inside the transparent dome
handling the instruments.
Intakes mounted on the front of each foil sucked in water and fed it to the
electric jet astern. The jet forced the water through twin highpressure
nozzles, sending the boat skimming over the surface at high speed. The
hydrofoil had been designed to function as a river runner but could handle open
ocean reasonably well as long as the waves didn't crest dangerously high.
Behind them the Skatandah Delta was a long line of green marking the horizon.
Lyra sent them flying southwestward, toward the great citystate of Losithi.
They were careful to stand well out to sea, clear of the heavy commerce that
crowded the waters beyond the harbor.
A thousand kilometers and more to north and south, the eightthousandmeterhigh
cliffs of the Guntali Plateau probed the sky. From the LosithiPo Rabi area,
distance and planetary curvature made them invisible, though there were places
where the cliffs dropped sheer to the sea, a sight unequaled on any other
inhabited world. Only where rivers like the Skar had cut their way to the ocean
were cultivation and urbanization possible.
Lyra's voice sounded through the intercom membrane built into the cockpit dome.
"I've got something on the scanner, a few degrees to starboard. Want to run
over and check it out?"
"Sure, I want to check it out. What Porlezmozmith doesn't know won't hurt her."
He clung to the railing and watched the foils slit the surface of the sea.
Lyra smiled back at him as she angled the boat slightly to starboard. The moving
dot on the scanner was soon within sighta tripledecked trimaran, a big
merchant cruiser and a fi ne example of Mai shipbuilding. Her three hulls rode
low in the water, bursting with trade goods gathered from her journey around the
circular sea. If she wasn't based in Losithi she would have just arrived from
distant Ko Phisi and before that, Suphum. From here she would move on to Po Rabi
on the other side of the Skatandah, thence around to Chienba and points east.
She was making good speed with the wind at her back. The trade winds moved
eternally clockwise around the circumference of the Groalamasan. Only in the
vicinity of the warm southern pole could a native captain test confused winds
and sometimes shorten the homeward journey around the great ocean.
Gesturing and chattering, sailors were already lining the upper decks and
scrambling into the rigging for a look at the strange alien vessel. More
exciting to a Mai seaman than the hydrofoil's silhouette was the fact that it
moved at impossible speed and against the wind, not to mention without sails. As
Lyra raced the hydrofoil around the massive merchantman for a thorough look,
Mai sailors and passengers rushed from deck to deck to keep them in view.
After recording the merchantman for their journal, the Redowls passed among a
fleet of shallowhull fishing boats reaping the rich harvest of life that
thrived where salt water mixed with fresh.
As they slowed to thread more easily between the first islets and clusters of
pseudopalms, one large craft suddenly moved toward them. Its occupants
brandished eager expressions together with long gaffs, axes,, and pikes. The
Mai would gladly have slit the throats of the two humans in order to gain
possession of the invaluable hydrofoil. Etienne experienced unscientific
thoughts as Lyra nudged the accelerator and left the wouldbe pirates in their
wake.
"Nasty little bastards," he muttered as he stared astern.
"That's not being very understanding of a primitive culture, Etienne," Lyra
said disapprovingly.
"All right, so they're primitive nasty little bastards."
"Avaricious, not vicious," she insisted. "You must try to view them in light of
their society's laws. A typically primitive plutocratic culture where personal
wealth signifies an individual's social standing. You can't let your own view
point affect your observations."
"Like hell I can't. Porlezmozmith feels the same way about the Mai."
"She's an administrator, a bureaucrat, a bytepusher who knows nothing of
xenology and cares less."
"All I said was that some of their ingrained habits could stand some
modification."
"Environment dictates their actions, not personal choice."
"What environment?" He made a sweeping gesture toward the nearing line of high
trees. "This is a warm, lush land. How do you go from that to a highly combative
society?"
"They sublimate most of a natural aggressive drive in competition for commerce
and trade. Isn't that better than organized war between the citystates?"
"It's healthier, sure, but from the standpoint of what's civilized there's
something to be said for slugging it out with your neighbor toe to toe instead
of trying to steal him blind."
"Their attempts at thievery are governed by a strict code of rules, Etienne,
which is more than you can say for war."
"Leave me to the structure of the planetary crust, not Mai society. It's
cleaner."
"You mean simpler, don't you? There are so few variables in geology. It makes it
easy for you, but I don't envy you. There's no personality, no joy in studying
the daily activities of a rock."
"Oh no? Let me tell you ..."
It went on in that vein for another few minutes before Lyra finally ended it, as
she always did. So many of their discussions lately seemed to end that way.
"Well if you're going to act like that then I'm just not going to talk about it
anymore." And she turned her gaze resolutely away from him, directing her
attention to the scanner.
He fumed silently all the way back to the station.
A services officer was waiting for them in the boat bay. Etienne shinnied up a
cable, prepared to send down the couplers. The officer moved to stand next to
him.
"Excuse me." Her symbospeech was rough and unpolished, a good sign that Horseye
might be her first offworld post. She clung with tru and foothands to a nearby
pillar and her four legs were spread wide. Her whole body shied away from the
open bay.
That was understandable. Thranx were good floaters but poor swimmers and their
breathing spicules were located on the Bthorax below the neck. A standing
thranx could drown in shallow water while still being able to see and hear
clearly. That was the only reason why Tslarnaina was not a popular duty station
among the thranx. The climate was perfect but much of the terrain threatening.
So Etienne didn't ask why the officer was clinging to the pillar for dear life,
understood why nothing more was said until the hydrofoil had been drawn up into
the bay and the double doors closed beneath it.
"What is it?" he finally inquired as Lyra moved to join them. She adjusted her
halter top, did not look at him. Her expression was frosty.
"An ambassador from Po Rabi is due to arrive shortly," the officer announced.
"Word has come ahead via courier boat. You have been granted permission to
travel Upriver through the Delta along those branches of the Skar controlled by
the Moyt of Po Rabi."
Etienne let out a whoop and did a back flip, much to the interest of the thranx
working in the bay area. Such a gymnastic feat was beyond them. Lyra stood and
smiled at the officer. The argument that had accompanied them back to the
station was completely forgotten.
"It's about time," she murmured. "Did the courier say anything about the long
delay we've suffered, why or for what reason?"
"Nothing additional was mentioned," the officer said, adding a brief gesture of
negativity coupled with thirddegree empathy.
"I'll bet I know what finally happened," Etienne declared. "Steamer Station's
actually situated a little closer to Losithi than it is to Po Rabi. They must
have decided that it was time to forget about hard bargaining and grant
clearance before we struck some sort of deal with the Losithians."
"I am sorry to dump dirt on your theory," the thranx said apologetically, "but
it would appear they still insist on some kind of token payment."
"But we've been through that a hundred times," Lyra pointed out. "They want
advanced technology and we're not allowed to give it to them. Don't tell me
they've decided to accept our nontech trade goods?"
"No. Commander Porlezmozmith has devised a method of satisfying them without
contravening any of the regulations governing commerce with Class FourB
natives.
"Many areas of high ground do not benefit from seasonal floods of the Skar and
so do not receive deposits of fresh silt or yield the crops they otherwise
might. The commander has reviewed this with representatives of Po Rabi and they
understand the implications quite well.
"Salvenkovdew, who is in charge of the station's chemistry section, has agreed
to rig equipment to produce highquality natural fertilizers for such highland
fields. Under current regulations this type of fertilizer does not qualify as a
hightech commodity, so it can be traded to the natives, and the Po Rabians have
agreed to accept it as payment."
"Good old Porlez!" Etienne exclaimed. "She's been working on our problem all
along and never breathed a word of it."
"Probably didn't want to get our hopes up," Lyra said. "I hope the form of
payment isn't to be taken as a comment on the value of our expedition."
"Who cares? We're on our way at last! Thanks," he told the officer. Twin
antennae dipped and bobbed by way of gracious reply. "When's this ambassador
supposed to get here?"
"The courier could not be certain. Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps several days from
tomorrow. I am much gladdened for you both."
"Thanks again. We've been ready to leave for months, though I suppose we can
find a few lastminute things to take care of."
"If you will excuse me." The thranx officer released her iron grip on the
support pillar and slowly backed clear of the closed bay doors. She looked much
happier after she had moved well away from the potential gap.
Deep in conversation, Etienne and Lyra returned to their quarters. Working
smoothly they began packing a motile with personal belongings and other
lastminute items. They were going to be away from civilization for a long time
and there would be no returning for a forgotten chip or bit of clothing.
At least they could consume native foods. That left a lot of room on board for
other equipment, extra medical supplies, and tridee cubes.
Stowed in one of the bottom compartments was their coldweather gear, untouched
since its arrival on Tslamaina. They would need the suits when they entered the
north polar latitudes. After the relentless heat of the lower Barshajagad, both
looked forward to some cheerful freezing.
Two days passed before the ambassador's ship appeared. His retinue was as modest
in size and appearance as the vessel which bore them. Ror deKelwhoang looked
disappointed when he was informed he could not bring any of his escort onto the
station, but accepted the determination with diplomatic grace.
In its own modest way the ambassador's official craft was impressive enough.
Hired rowers held their doublebladed oars at attention as the ambassador
debarked, though they were unable to keep their eyes from wandering toward the
strange alien castle that stood high above the water on massive metal legs.
The meeting took place on a deck that encircled the station's lower levels.
Etienne and Lyra waited in their briefs and tops. Tslamaina was no place for
formal wear.
The ambassador wore little m ore than the curious humans. His cache du sex was
opaque, as was the custom, and his upper garment of silver and coppercolored
threads concealed little despite covering him from neck to ankles. It made for a
very flashy nonexistent costume. As Lyra had explained, the composition of the
material as well as the intricate weave told a knowledgeable onlooker much about
the wearer's status, as well as the time of year and what holiday it might be. A
good Mai tailor could make much out of little.
Lyra found such details of native life fascinating. Etienne bore her enthusiasm
stoically. He was interested in minerals, not millinery.
The Mai ambassador spread his arms wide and turned a slow circle. The movement
was fluid but slow, reflective of his advanced age. Porlezmozmith, who had met
him before, performed the formal introduction. Her Mai was competent but could
not match that of the Redowls; that was due to the thranx larynx, not a lack of
linguistic talent.
"Ror deKelwhoang, our visitors who would travel your lands, Etienne and Lyra
Redowl."
"It is our pleasure to greet you," Lyra added. "We look forward with endless
delight to exploring your magnificent country. We are endlessly grateful for the
permission to do so granted by your Zanur on behalf of your most powerful and
respected citystate."
The ambassador acknowledged the elegant tribute, which Lyra had rehearsed unto
boredom, with a slight gesture signifying acceptance. His soft, perceptive eyes
seemed fixed on Lyra. That was understandable. She stood eye to eye with the
ambassador, which made her tall for a Mai female but not a grotesque scarecrow
of a giant like her husband. It was the first time the ambassador had set eyes
on the new aliens and he was evidently entranced by the similarities. Etienne
had to stifle his amusement at the ambassador's unabashed preoccupation. By Mai
standards Lyra's proportions were nothing short of awesome.
"It is with delight that I bring greetings and good wishes from Najoke
demeHalmur, Moyt of Po Rabi. It has been decided after much careful discussion
and agreement on a contract of exchange for certain materials to permit you free
passage throughout all the vast territories controlled by our citystate."
"I'm glad everything's worked out," Etienne replied. His Mai was more colloquial
than Lyra's, but the ambassador didn't seem to mind the informality of the
alien's speech.
"What route will you be taking?"
Etienne smiled disingenuously. He and Lyra had debated the possibility of
treachery by the locals and had decided it would be better to appear a little
impolite and conceal the exact details of their itinerary.
"We're not certain. Here and therewe travel where our thirst for knowledge
draws us."
Experienced diplomat that he was, deKelwhoang did not react to the probable
evasion. "I envy you your freedom. Alas, my work rarely allows me to vary from a
designated course. I have been told of the marvelous devices you possess which
enable you to find your way at night and in bad weather as clearly as in
cloudless daytime. Nevertheless, we would be remiss in our duty and it would be
an offense to our honor if you were come to distress attempting to work your way
into the main channel of the great Skar." Etienne was immediately on guard.
"It is also necessary that you carry more than signed documents, which can be
forged, to prove that you travel under the protection of all Po Rabi. That way
the ignorant bandits and suspicious villagers you may encounter, many of whom
have not mastered the art of reading, will allow you to pass freely through
their lands."
The ambassador turned and called over the railing toward his boat. A moment
later two Mai appeared at the top of the stairs. Their fishnet attire was plain
and their attitude deferential.
Etienne's first thought was that they constituted some formal part of the
ambassador's entourage, but such was not the case.
"These will be your guides as well as your guarantors of safe passage,"
deKelwhoang announced. He bade each in turn step forward anti make gestures of
obeisance before the humans.
The male's name was Homat, the female's Irquit. No honorific "de" prefix,
Etienne noted. Both wore simple face makeup and had their long hair bound back
in single braids in contrast to the ambassador's elegant but thin coiffure.
After bending and turning, both extended their hands outward toward the
Redowls, palms upward.
After a moment's hesitation Lyra reached out and pressed her own palms to each
proffered pair, palm down. The much longer Mai fingers extended well up against
her wrist. Each of the six fingers ended in a soft fleshy pad. There were no
nails, no residual claws.
Then she stepped back and drew her husband and Porlezmozmith aside, spoke in
symbospeech. "What's your opinion, Commander? I don't really want these two
along, but I don't want to offend this ambassador either, especially since we're
not yet on our way."
"You are the xenologist, Lyra. But it would be bad diplomacy to refuse this
offer of aid. They come to you as official representatives of their city. They
do not look threatening to me and may indeed prove useful on your journey. Your
mastery of Mai customs is far from complete."
"If it was we wouldn't be disappearing Upriver for a few months. Etienne, what's
your opinion?"
"If it was up to me I'd rather not have them along, but as Porlez says, this is
in the nature of an official presentation and I don't see how we can decline.
I'm sure they're being sent along to learn everything they can about us for
their Zanur, but I don't see much harm in that. They'll have to stay out on the
stem deck anyway, away from any sensitive controls. The air conditioning in the
main cabins would kill them in a few hours, or at least make them damn
uncomfortable."
"All right then, they can come along. As you point out, Porlez, they may be of
real help. If they cause trouble we can hold the Po Rabian Zanur directly
responsible. Instruments aside, it'll be nice to have along a couple of locals
who are familiar with the territory. Maybe they know how to cook. It would be
nice when we enter colder climes to be able to enjoy a real hot meal instead of
what the exciter oven throws up at us."
"I guess it's settled then," Etienne said, and couldn't resist adding, "Nice of
you to ask for my opinion. Porlez, can you add anything?"
An inflexible thranx face cannot look thoughtful, but the station commander
somehow managed to convey that feeling nonetheless.
"Just remember that when you pass above communicator range you're entirely on
your own. We have no aircar here and it would be hard for me to muster a rescue
party to come out after you under the best of circumstances. We do not care for
travel by boat, as you are aware."
"We're aware of the dangers, as we were before we accepted this opportunity,"
Lyra reminded her. "We're looking forward to our independence and we're quite
used to being on our own in difficult country."
"I know, I know," Portezmozmith said. "I did not mean to sound as if I were
chiding you. Once you pass out of communicator range I am no longer responsible
for your safety, but I feel concern nonetheless."
Etienne was touched. Such compassion was a widespread thranx attribute and one
of those characteristics that had deeply endeared them to humankind, but it
still had the power to surprise.
"All the more reason then," he replied, "to have native help with us that we can
count on. We'll have ample time to establish the reliability of our guests
before we've gone beyond communicator range." He nodded toward the two slightly
nervous guides.
"It would seem you are aware of what awaits you," said the commander. "I can
think of nothing else to add." They all turned their attention back to the
waiting ambassador.
For his part, Ror deKelwhoang had listened with interest to the harsh alien
babble, which contrasted sharply with the rapidfire sibilant singsong phrases
of his own tongue.
"We thank the Zanur," Lyra said carefully, "for its kind thoughts and accept
this offer of assistance with open hearts." Expressions of relief appeared
simultaneously on the faces of deKelwhoang and the two guides. It would have
gone hard on all if the offer had been refused.
Lyra couldn't resist adding to her knowledge of Mai customs. "Etienne and I are
mated in the sight of the Ocean and the Oceans of all worlds. What of you?"
"We are not mated," Irquit replied, instantly establishing herself as senior of
the pair. "Neither to each other nor others. The Zanur feels," and she made a
deferential gesture toward the ambassador, "that in light of the many dangers
that may lie in wait for us Upriver, it would be best if those with no family
ties were honored by the opportunity to assist you."
"How encouraging," Etienne said dryly.
"I'm curious," Lyra persisted, "did you two volunteer for this, or were you
`honored' by choice of the Zanur?"
"Both apply." DeKelwhoang stepped in gracefully. "Not all are qualified to
serve as guides on such a momentous journey. Both these two have traveled far
past the Skatandah. They have knowledge of its currents and its winds as well
as many of the peoples you will encounter. I assure you that we have gone to
great lengths to provide the most competent helpers Po Rabi has to offer."
Not wanting to risk impugning the Zanur's motives, much less its methods, Lyra
switched to more mundane matters. "Irquit, we have some storage space available
on our boat. What will you need to bring with you?"
"Very little. Some simple kitchen utensils and a single change of clothing. We
will eat your food or purchase our own along the way. The Zanur ha s provided us
with money. We can also cook for you, if you wish." Etienne looked pleased.
"Both Homat and I are accomplished foragers."
Foraging was a word with many meanings in the Mai language, Lyra knew, referring
to the ability to bargain sharply, scavenge efficiently, or steal without
getting caught.
"We also," Homat said, speaking for the first time, "brought no weapons with us,
having been told that should we meet hostile peoples you would manage our
defense. We did not wish to bring killing instruments with us."
"Very thoughtful of you." Clearly Irquit is in charge of the little company,
Lyra thought. But there was a natural shyness about Homat she found appealing.
"That's all settled, then. If you would like to come help us with our loading-
"No thank you," Irquit said hastily. "If you do not object we would much prefer
to remain outside." She was staring with wide Mai eyes at the imposing alien
structure. "If we are not to depart until tomorrow we can sleep outside, here,
on mats."
"Are you afraid?" Etienne asked thoughtlessly.
Lyra shot him an angry glance, snapped in terranglo, "Don't you have any empathy
for alien psychology? Can't you see they're trying to cover their fear
gracefully?"
"I only thought that since these two are going to spend the next several months
exploring strange country on a strange craft, they ought to start getting used
to strangeness as soon as possible."
"They are not afraid," the ambassador said. He was picking his words with
unusual care, Lyra thought. "There is something else."
"What something else?" Lyra asked, still upset over her husband's lack of
sensitivity.
Ror deKelwhoang looked uncomfortable. "I would rather not say."
"Don't worry. We're scientists, here to study and learn about your ways and your
world. We're just as interested in what you dislike as in what you like."
DeKelwhoang did not look in Porlezmozmith's direction. "It is a question of
appearances, you see. We place much value on appearance. There is truth in
appearances. It is only that we have certain evil spirits cast in the form of..
."
"There is no need for apology." Porlezmozmith knew where the ambassador's
desperate circumlocutions were heading. "We are used to shape prejudice." She
spoke to the two guides. "Remain by yourselves outside, if it is your wish."
Strange, Etienne thought. How could the Mai fear the thranx simply because of
their shape? Lyra would have told him to read his history.
"We do not mean to give offense," deKelwhoang said quickly.
"None taken," the commander assured him. "This is something we are used to
dealing with. I and my assistants will withdraw. It was a delight to meet you,
Ambassador. You and your fellows are welcome anytime at Steamer Station. As are
those," she couldn't help adding undiplomatically but with illconcealed
enjoyment, "of great Losithi."
The ambassador stiffened at the mention of Po Rabi's rival but, good tactician
that he was, retained his composure.
"Thank you."
Porlezmozmith and the rest of the thranx contingent departed, leaving the
Redowls alone on the deck with the Mai.
"We wish you much delight and good fortune in your studies," deKelwhoang said
earnestly. He did not look at the two guides. "We of Po Rabi hold scholarship in
high regard, unlike the rulers of certain other citystates. We hope you may see
your way clear to sharing your knowledge with us after you return."
"That is our intention," Lyra told him. "This is your world and we are guests
upon it, and we are thankful for your assistance." She performed a gesture
indicating great appreciation.
Reassured, deKelwhoang turned and walked slowly down the stairway ramp. Waiting
hands helped him back into the boat. On command the oarsmen dipped their paddles
and pushed away from the support pillar where they had tied up. The Redowls
watched for a while as the boat turned eastward. Then their attention shifted
to their unexpected guests. Homat and Irquit waited patiently, their small
bundles of cooking utensils and personal effects looking humble indeed.
"You're sure you want to sleep out here?"
"Please, deLyra," said Irquit, "we would feel more comfortable and would be
out of everyone's way." She ventured the Mai smile, a thin parting of the lips
that barely revealed the small fine teeth beyond. The corners of the mouth did
not turn up.
"As you prefer."
"When are we to leave? We have heard so much of your wondrous boat and are most
anxious to begin this great adventure with you."
Homat smiled too but said nothing. Not the loquacious type, Etienne decided. Not
that it mattered. The two Mai weren't coming along to provide casual
conversation.
"Tomorrow morning," he informed them. "We're almost ready and it'll take just a
few minutes to put our boat in the water."
Irquit looked puzzled. "It is not in the water now?"
"No. It waits suspended by," he tried to shape his thicker lips and less bulbous
cheeks to form the correct expression, "you'll see tomorrow. Showing is better
than talking."
"Yes, better than talking," Irquit agreed. She looked nervously toward the dark
building beyond, abode of grotesque bugthings. "We will be left alone out
here?"
"Yes." Lyra assured her. "Though our friends are used to a life beneath the
ground and have a more flexible worksleep cycle than we do, they still prefer
to sleep during the hours of darkness. No one will disturb you out here and you
won't be in the way."
Irquit smiled again. "I am much delighted that we are going with you."
"And we are much delighted to have you along," Lyra replied. "We'll see you
again in the morning."
"Come morning." The two females exchanged the palmtopalm caress a second time,
though Lyra was convinced she'd never be able to compensate properly for the
lack of a sixth digit.
Chapter Four
The sun was barely aloft as the hydrofoil was lowered into the calm water
beneath the station. The readout that indicated air temperature clung
desperately to the hundred degree mark, and there was no chance it would drop
any lower. The Mai stood at the base of the loading ramp which had been dropped
to the boat's stem deck, looking chilled and uncomfortable.
Afire with excitement that had been lost during months of waiting, the Redowls
ignored them. When the last supplies had been taken aboard and stowed, they
thought to offer moral assistance to their suddenly reluctant passengers.
Homat and Irquit boarded warily, eyes darting anxiously about in search of sails
and oars. When Etienne tested the engine, both dashed for the rail and clung
tightly to the unyielding metal.
Lyra wiped morning sweat from beneath her sun visor and tried to comfort them.
"It's all right, it's only our engine. The device that moves the boat. It's
loud, but harmless. The spirits within are fully contained."
"There are no sails," Irquit observed cautiously.
"Or oarsmen," Homat added.
"No, there aren't. We move by taking water in at the front of our craft and
pushing it out the back much faster than we take it in."
"What pushes the water?" Irquit asked, slowly releasing her grasp on the
railing; it was undignified. Homat continued to hang on tightly.
"Our engine. It would take a long time to explain. Maybe once we're on our way
I'll try." She left Irquit with a reassuring smile and descended the ladder to
the upper cabin.
"DeLyra, I am fearful!" Irquit gave Homat a disapproving look, but Lyra paused
and eyed him pityingly.
"All right then, come on inside. But you won't like it."
Homat followed her, Irquit tagging along because she didn't want to miss
anything. Once below, the truth of Lyra's words became immediately apparent. At
a cabin temperature of eighty degrees, both Mai found themselves shivering.
Etienne greeted them in the transparent bubble of the cockpit, left explanations
to Lyra. Though she used simple terms and kept her science as basic as possible,
it soon became clear that such concepts as electricity and lightemitting
diodes were beyond the comprehension of their guests.
Before long Homat confessed, "I think I would rather be fearful than frozen,"
and he led the retreat back toward the stern.
Once outside he hopped around for a few minutes until his system warmed, then
busied himself arranging personal effects on the deck. The Mai would sleep where
they cooked, away from the terrible arctic climate their hosts appeared to
favor.
Reassurances and explanations notwithstanding, it took Lyra another hour of
quiet coaxing to convince them that the boat wasn't going to devour them if they
let loose of the rail when Etienne raced the engine and sent the hydrofoil
leaping forward. She showed them how the boat lifted clear of the surface on its
twin metal blades, explained how that enabled them to move Upriver at seventy
kilometers an hour.
As time passed and the smoothness and exhilaration of the ride overcame initial
fears, both Mai not only relaxed but began to enjoy the journey, though from
time to time Homat made signs designed to keep them from striking a submerged
log or drifting helplessly toward the clouds.
Villages crowded the shores of tiny treecovered islets. Astonished children
barely had time to shout before the hydrofoil had raced past their disbelieving
elders. The boat's scanner picked out fishing craft ahead, enabling Etienne to
steer safely around them long before they came into view.
Larger islands appeared as they moved farther Upriver. There the water had
receded from the floods sufficient to permit planting of grains and other
foodstuffs. Some villagers were engaged in crude but effective aquaculture, from
the raising of crustaceans to the gathering of waterfowl. All looked askance at
the spirit b oat that roared past their homes and scattered birds and amphibians
in its wake.
There seemed no end to the villages. According to the initial satellite surveys,
the Skatandah Delta was the most densely populated section of Tslamaina, which
was why it had been chosen as the site of the first Commonwealth outpost.
As they traveled toward the equator the temperature intensified, if that was
possible, and no occasional sea breeze battled the humidity. Despite months of
acclimatization, the Redowls spent the majority of their time sequestered in the
airconditioned interior of their craft. Merely to step out on deck risked a
shock to the system. Homat and Irquit were right at home on the stern deck,
however, and readily exchanged muted comments about the fragility of the human
system.
Homat made a game of trying to outguess the scanner, sitting on the bow and
staring at the water in search of submerged rocks or other obstacles. He always
lost, but the acuity of his eyesight impressed both Etienne and Lyra.
By analyzing the current and the debris the water carried, the hydrofoil's
computer could make a decision on which branch to take, but it was still nice to
have Irquit confirm the choice. Without the computer or their guides they could
have spent years wandering through the Skatandah in a futile attempt to locate
the main course of the Skar.
As the days slid past in superheated study, the Redowls found themselves more
and more grateful for the presence of their two passengers. Having completely
overcome their fear of the boat, the Mai had revealed themselves as efficient,
helpful, and good company. Lyra derived an added benefit from being able to
study their reactions to new discoveries, additional information on Mai society
which she regularly entered into her scientific log.
They also turned out to be excellent cooks as well as sharp bargainers at the
villages where they stopped to purchase supplies, and except for periodic raids
on the salt tablet and vitamin stores, the humans' stock of packaged food
remained nearly untouched.
Irquit and Homat didn't try to hide their delight. Not only were they enjoying
themselves, but Lyra knew they must be anticipating the honors that would come
their way after they returned home. Their careers were made. She was pleased for
both of them.
It was clear that those Mai fortunate enough to make their homes in the delta
were more content than their urbanized relations. Government control so far from
Po Rabi was lax, food was abundant, and there was little to inspire conflict.
The social setup would change, Lyra suspected, once they left the lush Skatandah
region behind and emerged into the main channel of the Skar. Farming above the
delta would require more effort and extensive irrigation. Competition would be
tough, as it was within the citystate boundaries.
The heat, the friendliness of the villagers, the lazy days passed in discussion
and study produced in the Redowls a feeling of inner security. It was left to
Homat to remind them that they were traveling on an alien world and not Earth's
relatively benign waters.
Etienne had gone over the side and was leaning back against one of the curving
support struts that ran from hydrofoil to hull, trailing one leg in the cool
water and letting the spray from the foil wash over him. They were traveling
fast enough to alleviate concern about glass leeches and he was completely
relaxed beneath the refreshing spray.
He gave Homat a curious glance as the Mai started to descend alongside him,
carrying a metal prod. Now that he'd overcome his initial fear of the strange
vessel, the shy native clambered nimbly over it while displaying an agility
Etienne could only envy.
It was the prod that caught his eye. "What's that for?"
Homat gestured with the metal. Etienne wiped spray from his face and looked
behind him.
Attached to the foil just beneath the glassy surface of the water and slowly
creeping toward Etienne's feet was a thin dark shape, three meters long and as.
thick as his arm.
"Sandrush," Homat said curtly as he worked his way around the strut until he was
holding on behind Etienne.
"Poisonous? Parasite?"
"No. Inhaler."
"What does it inhale? Blood?"
"Inhale you." Etienne watched with interest as the Mai used the prod to pry open
the creature's wide round mouth. The teeth were small and curved inward. The jaw
dislocated itself and Homat spread the gape wide still. As they watched the
sandrush began to fill helplessly with river water until it had swollen to four
times its normal size. The dull green membrane was evidently capable of
expanding to hold prey larger than itself, and the meaning of Homat's words
became ghoulishly clear.
Eventually the pressure of the water proved too much for the powerful suckers
that lined the sandrush's ventral side. It relinquished its grip and fell away
astern. Etienne was suitably impressed.
"If it gets a hold of you, very bad," Homat explained unnecessarily. "It won't
let go unless it dies and sandrush is very hard to kill. Swallow you whole." He
turned to climb back up toward the lower deck.
Etienne wondered at the flexibility that would allow an animal to expand so far
beyond its normal size even as he thoughtfully removed his legs from the water.
He wondered what other charming native fauna lurked just beneath the surface of
the river, following the boat hungrily.
Since there was little here for him to study he did most of the piloting,
leaving Lyra free to record her impressions of village life and culture within
the Skatandah. While the communities there differed little from those clustered
around Steamer Station she continued to take her usual copious notes. Even the
tiniest change in social structure or clothing or fishing methods was occasion
for excitement.
Gradually the marshlands and islands of the delta began to fade behind them.
Fewer platform trees and pseudopalms
were seen, more open water and less land. An unknowing observer might have
concluded that the Redowls had taken a wrong turn and were heading once more out
into the open ocean.
But the water they skimmed over was now almost entirely fresh. They had entered
the main body of the Skar, a river large enough to make the Amazon or Nile or
any of the other known rivers of the Commonwealth look like a meandering creek.
From the center of the river it was impossible to tell you weren't traveling on
a freshwater sea, because there was no sign of land to starboard or port. Beyond
invisible banks the cliffs that marked the edge of the Guntali rose unseen
toward a cloudflecked sky.
Etienne eased the hydrofoil to starboard until the shoreline hove into view.
Thereafter they were able to cruise on autopilot, allowing Lyra to concentrate
on her notetaking and leaving Etienne free to stare through the telescope
mounted atop the observation mast. Numerous villages dotted the bank. Farther
inland he saw farming communities and small commercial centers. At the extreme
range of the scope's resolving power he could discern the first gentle slopes,
evidence that they really were traveling up a river canyon.
While the temperature crept toward the hundred thirty mark in early afternoon,
the humidity fell slightly. It required an effort to remain outside the boat's
airconditioned interior for longer than half an hour. Lyra spent much of her
time outside chatting with the owners of the small trading boats that pulled
alongside whenever they stopped. While she dictated notes, Homat and Irquit
bargained for provisions. Irquit did most of the trading while Homat attended
to the cooking, having mastered the electric oven the Redowls insisted he use
instead of the woodburning stove he had brought on board.
They were then a thousand kilometers north of Steamer Station and the mouth of
the delta, cruising the smooth back of the river Skar at a steady ninety kph.
They had barely begun their journey.
Everywhere the Mai citizenry was friendly and open, though more primitive than
those of the advanced societies of the citystates that ringed the great world
ocean. All was not peaceful and pastoral along the river, however. The presence
of village stockades and other fortifications hinted at sporadic conflict, and
there were those who were less than overawed by the peculiar visitors' advanced
technology.
"Hon, I think you'd better have a look at this." Etienne kept his gaze on the
scanner as he took the boat off autopilot.
"What is it?" Lyra's voice sounded over the intercom in the cockpit.
"Ships ahead, lots of 'em. Fishing boats by the computer image."
".What's notable about that? I'm busy, Etienne."
"Lyra, there are at least a hundred boats. That's not usual, is it?"
"No, it's not." The intercom went quiet for a moment and when she spoke again
her tone was thoughtful instead of impatient. "Are you sure?"
"I'm quite capable of following the readouts," he said sarcastically. "It isn't
normal, is it, for a fishing fleet to attain that size?"
"Not from what we've seen thus far, no, but maybe it's normal up here."
"Why don't you ask Irquit?"
A sigh whispered at him from the grid as she put her beloved work aside. "I
suppose I'd better."
Irquit sat on the open rear deck of the hydrofoil, cleaning vegetables for the
next meal. Purple and maroon predominated, but that didn't detract from the
tastiness, Lyra knew. Homat peeled tubers by hand.
"Irquit, my husband says that there are at least a hundred fishing boats in the
river ahead of us." Neither of the Mai expressed surprise at this calm
revelation, having already become familiar with much of the hydrofoil's
instrumentation. They called the cockpit scanner the iron eye.
Irquit looked uncertain. "That is more t han I have ever heard of fishing the
river. There are never so many grouped together down by Po Rabi. Is deEtienne
certain they are just fishermen?"
"We can't tell that through the iron eye. What could they be doing except
fishing?"
"It could be a war fleet," Homat suggested tentatively.
"Out to attack one of the villages? This doesn't seem to be a poor area."
"it is sometimes simpler," said Homat with innocent wisdom, "to take rather
than to work, no matter how easy the work may be."
She could have argued the point but it was not the time to engage in idle
sociological speculation. "Tell that to my husband, Homat."
He made a sign of acknowledgment and worked his way around the boat until he was
standing outside the transparent dome of the cockpit. He could see Etienne
clearly. Condensation was banished from the clear acrylic by the silent efforts
of special air circulators. He leaned toward the speaking membrane.
"DeEtienne, I fear the many vessels you say lie ahead of us."
"Is there any way you can tell what they're up to by looking at them?"
"Yes. If they have their gill nets out I think they're just fishing and not
ready for war. Gill nets cost too much to risk in a fight."
Etienne considered. "Better tell Lyra to come forward, then. The iron eye can't
distinguish something as wispy as nets. We'll need somebody to make visual
confirmation."
"I'm already here, Etienne." The membrane picked up his wife's voice before she
stepped into view. Irquit was with her. "You don't have to tell me my job."
"I wasn't telling you your job," he snapped, "I just-never mind. We'll be on
top of them in a minute." He examined the crowded screen. "I'll have to slow
down or we're liable to run over somebody."
"We've never run into more than four or five boats fishing together before. Too
much competition," Lyra murmured. "It doesn't fit the established pattern."
Masted wooden shapes were appearing on the horizon ahead.
The roar of the electric jet dropped to a rumble and the hydrofoil's speed
dropped radically until the hull once more broke water. As they began to pass
among the component vessels, the fishing fleet was even more impressive up close
than it had appeared on the scanner.
The craft that plied the warm waters of the Skatandah Delta rarely required the
muscles of more than three or four fishermen. these great bargelike vessels each
boasted two dozen crew or more. They lay across the Skar in three rows, blocking
a decent part of the river's considerable breadth, and were roped together.
To Etienne's relief they clearly saw the huge gill nets strung between the
ships. Since they didn't drift with the current they must utilize heavy anchors
to hold them in place. Women and children manned the nets and lines alongside
the men.
Every tenth barge was a vast floating platform nearly as big as some of the
oceangoing trimarans they'd encountered out in the Groalamasan. The reason for
their extraordinary size, as well as for the number of fishing craft, soon
became apparent. It had to do with the size of the catch.
Some twenty vessels were swinging close together, bumping sides and full of
organized confusion as their crews strained at nets and lines. The water between
began to froth and bubble, was finally broken by the emergence of an immense
rainbowhued head. More glowing color breached the surface and the fisherfolk
redoubled their efforts to haul in their whalesized catch.
"Arwawl!" Homat exclaimed excitedly. "I've tasted its dried flesh but never seen
one before. They run only in the main river and come nowhere near Po Rabi's
shallows."
The chanting of the fishermen was a steady, triumphant chorus now as they hauled
in the huge interlocked nets. As they did so ten ships passed to port of the
immense barge, ten to starboard. The barge crew lent its muscle to the task and
long gaffs, attached to winches, were brought into use. Slowly the arwawl was
hauled onto the deck, bending the stern beneath the surface of the river for
long moments before the silvery tonnage could be better distributed.
The single catch was enough to feed many villages, Etienne mused, but the fleet
apparently wasn't satisfied. Still other nets were out, trailing from the less
fortunate boats. He admired the fisherfolk's persistence.
It was left to Irquit, less mesmerized by the efficiency of the fleet, to sound
a warning. She moved closer to Lyra, who was intent on recording the fishing
with her instruments.
Irquit performed a diminutive half bow. "Forgive me for troubling you, deLyra,
but I think we are in danger."
"What?" Lyra strained to refocus her attention. "What's that, Irquit?"
The Mai stepped to the railing and pointed over the bow. "I have been watching
those four ships." Lyra raised her gaze, saw nothing unusual about the quartet
of fishing craft dead ahead.
"What about them? They are fishing, like their companions."
"Not like their companions," Irquit argued. "They are moving toward us. They
should be anchored in place, holding their nets against the flow of the Skar.
They are drifting downstream."
"Maybe they're trying to reposition themselves in a better spot. Fishermen move
all the time."
"I'm sure they are moving to a better spot, but not to catch fish, I think."
Lyra frowned. "What makes you think so?"
"Two drift to our left, two to the right. Their nets lie between. If we continue
on this course they will soon ensnare us."
"I'm sure it's not intentional," Lyra replied, but inwardly she wasn't so sure.
The boats were very close now and the big gill nets lay concealed by the rolling
water. "We'll warn them clear."
"The nets of the Upriver fisherfolk are wondrous strong, deLyra," Irquit said
anxiously. "I don't know that even your spirit boat could escape from them.
There is something more. See how busy the crews are?"
Lyra squinted, peered through her recorder's telephoto for a closer look. "I
see. Isn't that normal?"
"I am no fisherwoman, but I have visited this part of the Skar before. To travel
downstream is simple. One simply raises the anchors and drifts with the current.
Never have I seen so much activity surrounding so easy a task. When one works
that hard at something that simple, one usually has something to hide."
Lyra thought a moment, leaned over to call toward the cockpit. "Irquit thinks
the four fishing boats coming Downriver toward us might be trying to ensnare us
in their nets."
Etienne wished the hydrofoil's scanner could provide more detail. "What's your
opinion, Lyra?"
"I don't know what to think, but I don't want to take any unnecessary chances.
I'd like to find out so that we'll have a better idea what to expect in case the
same situation reoccurs in the future. Let's do our guesswork now."
He nodded. "We'll let them play all their cards, then. Tell Irquit not to worry.
I can handle it."
"Handle?" Irquit was trying to divide her attention between the stocky human
female and the suspiciously active fishing boats dead ahead. "What does
deEtienne mean `handle?"' The boats were near enough now for the otolk wood
floats to stand out clearly against the water.
"He means he's ready to deal with. any hostile moves."
"But you must move away, move to avoid them while there is still time! I know
that the spirit boat can move quickly to the side, and..."
"Have a calming, Irquit. Etienne knows what he's doing. Everything's under
control."
A gentle shudder ran through the hydrofoil's hull as the bow made contact with
the heavy nets and two of the oblong floats. As they continued Upriver, pushing
the net with their bow, the four fishing boats were drawn toward each other ...
and the hydrofoil was caught between them.
Explosive roars of triumph sounded from all four Mai vessels and ail pretense
vanished. It was suddenly clear that they were interested in tougher quarry than
fish. Gaffs gave way to long pikes and spears, and the chanting that
accompanied the appearance of these weapons was very different from that which
had provided a quaint backdrop to the landing of the arwawl.
Homat began to moan and rock from side to side. "Doomed we are. These river
primitives will show us no mercy!"
Irquit merely looked resigned. "I warned you, deLyra."
"And you were right," the xenologist replied calmly as she turned again toward
the cockpit bubble. "We've established their real intentions, Etienne. I've
made my recordings." She paused as something whizzed past overhead. "Let's not
hang around. They have bows."
"Don't you want to observe native weaponry in action?"
She ducked as a woodandbone shaft splintered against the deck. "Don't get
funny, honey. If you want to linger, we can switch places first."
"Never mind." He grinned at her as he gunned the engine. The jet nozzle pivoted
a hundred and eighty degrees until it was facing toward the bow.
"Hold tight," Lyra warned the two morose Mai. They barely had time to reach for
handholds before the hydrofoil shot backward in full reverse. Suddenly nothing
kept the four fishing boats apart. The nets fell limp into the river.
The chanting subsided as the wouldbe pirates watched their quarry vanish astern
at sixty kph. Then crews rushed to the oars as all four crews realized there was
nothing to stop their momentum. Frantic yells and curses replaced the warlike
chanting of a moment earlier.
Etienne slowed and reversed direction once more, watching with interest as the
four fishing boats, still linked together by their nets and lines, slewed
inexorably toward each other. Loud snapping sounds filled the air as hastily
manned oars were splintered against colliding hulls. Curses were drowned by
shouts of confusion and conflicting orders as nets became tangled with ru dders
and broken oars.
Keeping well beyond arrow range, he edged the hydrofoil easily around their
wouldbe captors, toward the center of the river. A few of the unhappy
fisherfolk, unable to attack with their short bows, settled for bombarding the
spirit boat with ferocious insults. Homat stifled his laughter at their plight
long enough to translate those couched in the local dialect or too complex for
Lyra to understand. She patiently entered them all into her journal under a
subheading drolly labeled MAI INVECTIVELOCAL VARIANTS AND DIALECTS. All grist
for the xenological mill.
Etienne halfexpected some of the other fisherfolk to aid their brethren in the
attack, but he was pleasantly disappointed. Instead of joining in, the Mai
who'd stood to the side to watch were lining the sides of their own vessels and
cheering the spirit boat's escape.
"That's not the reaction I expected," he shouted toward the speaker membrane.
"Irquit, what's going on? They don't seem angry at our escape."
"Why should they be? They chose not to participate in the attack on us. So they
do not share in its failure. They admire the successful, no matter where they
come from. So they applaud our escape." Irquit leaned over the railing to peer
astern. The four badly entangled fishing boats continued their steady drift
Downriver.
"By the time they get themselves separated, deEtienne, they will have a long
hard row Upriver to return to their homes. That will give them time to think
anew about trying to capture a spirit boat. I hope not many were hurt. There is
much confusion."
"And I hope half fall overboard and drown." Homat spat over the side. "Let the
river eat them. May they stew in their own urine! We meant them no harm and
still they would have slain us!"
Lyra paused in her notetaking. "It's difficult for poor people to turn down the
chance to acquire great wealth, Homat. I'm not defending their actions,
understand, but I can empathize with their feelings." She had to use four
connected nouns to make the idea of empathy comprehensible to the Mai guide.
"Do you think we'll be subject to more such attacks?"
Irquit made a gesture of uncertainty. "Who can predict? As you say, deLyra,
your spirit boat represents power and wealth to all who set eyes upon it. Your
property will be coveted from the Skatandah to the region of ice." Another thin
smile. "Clearly any who try will have much difficulty in taking it."
"We can take care of ourselves," Lyra assured her.
"That is proven. I will not dance with worry next time. None can threaten the
spirit boat."
"Oh, we're not omnipotent," Lyra corrected her, "but we're far from defenseless.
If necessary we can do more than just dodge gill nets."
"Yes. I have seen the weapons that rest in the holders alongside the round
tiller deEtienne steers the spirit boat with."
"Those are only for use in dire emergency," Lyra said firmly. "We carry them to
defend us against dangerous animals, not intelligent peoples. My Zanur would be
very upset with us if we used them against your people."
"My people are the people of Po Rabi," Irquit replied, indicating with gentle
bloodthirstiness that it wouldn't bother her in the least if it became necessary
to shoot a few riverfolk. Lyra sighed inwardly. Once upon a time, back in the
tribal days, her ancestors had felt similarly. A few throwbacks still did.
The kilometers slid beneath the hydrofoil's keel by the hundreds, the Skar still
running wide and slow, the distant walls of the Barshajagad still rendered
invisible by haze and distance. Lyra began to enjoy the bargaining for supplies
that took place whenever they pulled in to shore.
"You can learn a lot by watching Homat and Irquit," she told Etienne on more
than one occasion.
He would nod politely, but the methodology of native batter didn't intrigue him.
Instead, he spent the trading time sequestered atop the observation mast with
one eye glued to the telescope, studying the nearing lower slopes of the canyon
with their irrigated fields and elaborate terraces.
As a precaution, they spent each night well out in the middle of the Skar. The
hydrofoil's autoalarms would alert them to the presence of any potential danger.
Occasionally, Etienne would vary the routine by climbing the mast to turn the
telescope skyward, quizzing himself by trying to identify the strange
constellations overhead. On this particular early morning there was no rain and
few clouds. The humidity was lower than usual and the temperature had plunged
into the nineties. He was very surprised to see Homat's wideeyed hairless face
appear outside the transparent scope enclosure. The guide looked nervous, and
not from the height.
Etienne unfastened the plastic to admit the edgy Mai.
"Something wrong, Homat?" he inquired solicitously.
"II must talk with you, deEtienne."
"Must be important to bring you up here from beneath a warm blanket."
"It is, very important."
"Just a second." Etienne swung the telescope aside on its gimbaled mount to make
more room, thoughtfully shut off the blower that was pouring refrigerated air
into the enclosure.
As soon as the temperature had warmed, Homat entered and sealed the entrance
behind him. In the cramped space atop the mast Etienne was more conscious than
ever of his bulk compared to that of the diminutive native.
"What is it?" Beyond Homat he could see two of Tslamaina's four moons gleaming
on the river. The other two would appear within the hour, he knew.
"For a long time I have meant to do this, but I did not know how to do it and
have not had a chance to do it."
"Do what?"
"Warn you, deEtienne. You and deLyra are in great danger."
Etienne leaned back in the narrow swivel chair and smiled at the native's
concern. He swung one leg idly back and forth.
"We're in constant danger, yes. The fisherfolk we just ran into Downriver
demonstrated that."
"No, no!" Homat whispered intently. "Not that. The danger of which I speak is
nearer and more insidious."
Etienne studied the guide's face closely. "Homat, what is it you're so
frightened of?"
"I am not bold by nature," he explained anxiously. "I have traveled as widely as
I have not because I desired to but because I was ordered to do so by those who
employed me.
"Now I have found that I cannot go on without telling what I know, deEtienne.
Something within pushes me to make confession. All my life I have been a small
person, one who scrapes and nods and follows the orders of others. You and
deLyra have treated me most fair, better than I have ever been treated by any
other employers. I have come to like you very much. For the first time in my
life, someone makes me feel important. It is a feeling I want to keep."
"Why shouldn't you?" Etienne found himself taken aback by the unexpectedly
emotional confession.
"Because of Irquit."
"Irquit? What can she do to you?"
Homat's wide eyes darted nervously around the plastic enclosure. "Are you sure
no one can hear what we say?"
"Of course I'm sure. The intercom's not on and we're high above the rest of the
boat. Homat, explain yourself. Why are you so afraid of Irquit all of a sudden?
I hadn't noticed that she's been treating you badly. She's been very helpful."
"That is her task. To be helpful until..." he hesitated. "MaiwithHair,
remember that what I am about to tell you is worth my lifeIrquit is the direct
representative of the Zanur of Po Rabi."
Etienne was beginning to lose patience with his visitor. His viewing time was
slipping away and he wanted to get in some sleep before sunrise.
"We already know that, Homat. You are, too."
"No! I am a hired guide. She is responsible only to the Zanur itself. Tell me,
deEtienne, have you not remarked on her intense interest in your spirit boat
and its functions?"
"Naturally. Do you think we're only attuned to technology? My wife is
particularly sensitive to the actions of," he almost said primitive peoples, but
quickly changed it to "other individuals. Irquit's interest is only natural.
Lyra ought to know. She's studied guests on other worlds beyond this one."
"I know what that means, deEtienne," Homat replied somberly. "Tell me on those
other worlds did she ever encounter any assassins?"
Chapter Five
Etienne's smile vanished and he sat up straighter in his chair. His impatience
was replaced by sudden interest.
"Would you mind explaining what you mean, Homat?"
The guide shifted nervously. "Your wonderful craft makes use of many
impossibletounderstand spirits, deEtienne, but it seems to me not so
difficult to command them."
"Operation is highly simplified for users not technically oriented, yes."
"Simple enough for Irquit to operate?"
"Maybe, if she were to stick to basic gostop type directions. What about it?"
Homat gestured forward, past the moonlit bow. "Tomorrow we are to stop at the
village of Changrit to restock our larder. Changrit has an alliance with Po
Rabi."
"I didn't think Po Rabi's influence extended this far north," Etienne told him.
"Changrit is independent. It is a trade alliance only, but that is enough when
much is at stake. Long before Ambassador deKelwhoang delivered us to you to
serve as your guides, river riders were sent racing north to Changrit. An
understanding was achieved with the Moyt of Changrit." He brushed absently at
the single knot of long hair that trailed from the top of his head.
"The ambush is to take place at night, while you are anchored out in the Skar
and less on guard. Your spirit boat is to be taken so that its secrets and
treasures may be shared by Changrit and Po Rabi." He hesitated only for a
moment. "You and your mate, of course, will not survive."
"I see," Etienne said quietly. "Suppose Irquit proves unable, despite her
studies, to operate the boat?"
"All is planned for. In that event it is to be loaded upon a barge and shipped
Downriver."
"I don't see any problem, Homat. We just won't stop near Changrit for supplies.
Even if they're lying in wait for us out in the river we can simply run past
them."
"It may not be so easy, deEtienne. Even now word is relayed along the riverbank
marking our progress. The fighters of Changrit will be ready to challenge you
no matter when you try to pass their city."
"I'm curious. How did the Zanur plan to explain our disappearance, in the event
our friends back at Steamer Station learned of it?"
"You have been watched and studied. Not all who sought to talk with your mate
while you waited to travel were simple fisherfolk. Changrit was chosen because
it is the northernmost city with which Po Rabi has an alliance and it was
believed to lie beyond range of your talkthroughair spirits."
"That's right enough."
"There is no reason why your friends should connect your disappearance to Po
Rabi or any other city. For all they will know you perished when your boat sank
in the Skar, as many boats do."
"And what if our friends come looking for us and find our boat in the possession
of the Zanur, or the Moyt of Changrit?"
"Then it is to be said that you were swamped by an arwawl, that this was seen
from shore, and that your boat was towed to safety but not in time to save its
crew. I am not privy to all the details, as Irquit is."
"But they had to tell you this much so that you could help at the critical
moment."
"Yes." Homat dropped his gaze, unwilling to meet his benefactor's eyes. "My
ancestors are ashamed."
"All right, you've told me about the proposed attack. That doesn't make Irquit
an assassin."
"She will become one only if it proves necessary," Homat explained. "She is
there to make certain the attack does not fail. When it comes she will pretend
surprise and will appear to aid you, but if it looks like the attack may fail,
she is to choose a moment when you are not on guard to push you overboard or put
a knife in your back. Have you not noticed her skill on things bigger than
vegetables." He looked away.
"I just thought she was a deft cook," he muttered.
"Deft indeed, deEtienne. I have seen her demonstrate her skill on things bigger
than vegetables." He looked away. "I was to help in all this, of course."
"Of course," Etienne said dryly. He reached out and pushed a button. A tired
moan came from the grid.
"What is it? I was just getting into a really decent dream."
"Would you come up here a minute, hon? I'm observing something I think you'd
find intriguing."
"Come on, Etienne. Maybe tomorrow night."
"It may be less visible tomorrow night. I wish you'd come up now. Our position
tomorrow will be radically different."
"All right, all right," she snapped back at him. "This better be good."
He waited in the enclosure with the nervous Homat until a sleepyeyed Lyra had
ascended the mast to join them. There was very little room to move around with
three of them atop the platform.
"What now?" She was still blinking sleep from her eyes, but her expression
turned to one of confusion when. she noticed Homat.
"Where's Irquit?" Etienne asked her.
"Irquit? What's she got to do with? ... On the stern deck, I would imagine,
blissful in the arms of the local representative of Morpheus. What the hell's
going on up here?"
"Homat has something to tell you."
Lyra listened quietly as the guide repeated the tale he had told Etienne. She
considered quietly for several long moments once he'd finished.
"We could turn back. We're scientists, not soldiersoffortune and not
hardcontact explorers. We're not prepared to deal with largescale local
antagonism. If this town is linked by treaty and duplicity to Po Rabi, we can
apply for clearance and protection with the Zanur of Losithi."
Etienne looked doubtful. "Wouldn't work. Word will reach Po Rabi and they'll
know we found them out. That could put them into open conflict with Losithi. We
don't want to be responsible for starting a major local war. Besides which
there's no guarantee we'd fare any better with the Zanur of Losithi than we
already have with Po Rabi. Better the devil you know, et cetera."
"They are as envious of your technology as is the Zanur of Po Rabi," Homat
agreed.
"Then there's the distance we've already come. Returning and retracing our steps
would take at least a month, even if we were lucky enough to obtain immediate
permission from Losithi. We've passed the equator and we're above the worst of
the climate. Not that this oven has suddenly become comfortable, but it's bound
to improve.
"I've no desire to retrace our steps, restudy what we've already thoroughly
recorded, and I'm sure you don't either, Lyra. And there's always the chance
that Losithi could arrange a similar kind of ambush when we resumed our
journey, and they'd be better prepared for us than these Changritites are
likely to be. The geology's finally starting to get interesting, Lyra. I don't
want to go back to taking mud samples for an additional two months. Despite
Homat's fears I don't imagine we'll have any trouble passing through whatever
barrier of nets and ropes the locals can erect."
"I know that," Lyra agreed. "It's not that. I just don't want to harm any
natives. You know what a resident commissioner would have to say about that."
"There's no resident commissioner on Tslamaina. Not advanced enough yet. No
one's going to know anything, and even if we were found out we'd just tell them
that we had to defend ourselves, which is likely to be the truth."
Lyra turned her attention to Homat. "What happens once we're safely past
Changrit? What about the next town? Could it be in alliance with Po Rabi too?"
Homat spoke with conviction. "No. Changrit is the only far north city allied
with Po Rabi. Beyond Changrit much is unknown and all are independent of the
citystates that line the Groalamasan. And Changrit was chosen because it alone
can muster enough strength for such an attack."
"Everything you've told us makes sense," she murmured. "It's what you haven't
told us that worries me."
"I do not understand your words, deLyra."
"Why are you so eager to betray your own city?"
"I have told you that I have come to like you, and that you have given me a
sense of selfimportance and true worth that I have never felt before."
"That's not good enough." For emphasis she added a powerful Mai gesture of
disbelief. "You could have kept silent and fulfilled the dictates of your
masters. If we had succumbed to this trap you would have enjoyed much honor in
Po Rabi, and if we had escaped you would still be safe. Why risk the one by
throwing in so openly with us when you'd have been safe both ways by keeping
quiet? I'm glad that you `like' us, but I've studied Mai society for too many
months now to believe that you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart."
Homat looked uncertain, turned lo Etienne for guidance.
"You'd better tell us the truth, Homat."
"Don't you believe me, deEtienne?"
"Yes, I do, but my wife's a born skeptic. Unlike intelligent beings, rocks and
minerals aren't intentionally deceptive. You're going to have to convince her to
convince me."
Homat nodded. When he spoke again much of the nervousness and all of the soft
deference had vanished from his voice.
"I told the truth about coming to like you, and about not wishing to be a party
to such a vile deception. But deLyra suspects me rightly. I have another reason
for confessing this now.
"It is true I would risk nothing by keeping my silence, but also would I gain.
nothing. Po Rabi is my home, but I have traveled widely and have come to think
of the world as my home. There are many great citystates where one may make a
fine life In Po Rabi I have little chance to rise above my station. True, if the
attack on your spirit boat were to succeed I would return home to a fine reward,
but in you offwonders I see the chance to do much better. With the knowledge I
can gain from you I can make myself valuable beyond mere `rewards.' Thus far
only Losithi and Po Rabi have dealt with your hardshelled friends. Suphum would
welcome my knowledge and make me a member of their Zanur, as would Tolm and many
others. I could not hope to rise so high in Po Rabi on the results of my labors
as an assassin.
"I have provided you with information which may save your lives as well as your
expedition. In return for this information and for my loyalty, I expect suitable
recompense."
Lyra looked satisfied. "!Vow I believe you, Homat." She added to Etienne in
terranglo. "Typical powerwealth decision. Very Mai. The fact that we're not of
his race doesn't enter into the equation. Business takes precedence over vague
feelings of loyalty to home and kind." She switched back to her very fluent Mai.
"You are a more complex person than you've led us to believe, Homat. You're a
very effective deceiver." This last was, in Mai, a compliment, and Homat looked
quite pleased with himself.
"All of us carry deceptions. They are worth little. Truth is all that can be
sold. I am only a simple one seeking to lift himself from the depths in which he
was born."
"Having deceived us this long, how can we be certain you won't try to strike
your own bargain with some village Moyt?"
"If you do not return safely to your Steamer Station, I gain nothing from
helping you now. I do not wish to take the spirit boat. I believe I have more to
gain by helping you."
"A straightforward enough commercial decision, Etiennedevoid of sentimentality.
I'd rather rely on that than on his fondness for us. Having made his confession
and his choice, it's now in his best interests to see to our continued health
and safety."
"Delightful so," Homat agreed. "Then you believe me about Irquit and the
attack?"
"We'll find out for certain tomorrow," Etienne told him. He turned his attention
to the telescope. "Now if you don't mind, Homat, I still have some observations
of the sky I want to make and Lyra needs her beauty sleep."
Homat gaped at him. "But you are to be attacked! You must make preparations to
defend yourselves."
"Maybe we won't have to fight, Homat."
"We'd better not," Lyra murmured uneasily. "Self defense or no, if word ever
got back to our sponsors that we'd engaged in a running battle with Class FourB
natives we'd never get another grant in our lives."
"Don't be so damned concerned for the welfare of the charming, considerate
locals. What are you worried about? Is Homat going to appear before the Research
Advisory Board to announce that we knew about the attack in advance?" After
months of fighting with his wife, Etienne was more than ready to light something
else, and to hell with the regulations.
Besides, Po Rabi's deception grated on him. He remembered the ambassador's
politeness, the warm feelings of contentment and achievement they'd felt just
before setting out Upriver. If Homat's confession proved true, that meant all
those kind words of help and assistance and talk of mutual sharing of knowledge
was so much dung.
Maybe Changrit was the last city in league with Po Rabi, and maybe it wasn't. It
wouldn't hurt to send a lesson not only to the Zanur of Po Rabi but to any other
Mai who coveted the spirit boat, that the peaceful human visitors weren't to be
trifled with. Yes, they all but owed it to the Mai to show what scholars could
do when aroused. In so doing they might quickly discourage all future such
assaults, thereby saving lives.
"It still bothers me to have to fight," Lyra said softly.
"I understand." He was quite willing to be understanding now that he'd matte up
his mind how to handle the Changritites. "But if it comes to that, it's
selfdefense. Anyway, by fighting we're only adhering to local custom. Remember
how the rest of the fishing fleet cheered us on our way? Maybe some timorous
board member would disapprove, but not the rest of the Mai."
She spoke in terranglo again while Homat looked on blankly, desperately wishing
he could comprehend the alien babble.
"We could just use repellers."
"Dangerous if they managed to get a net or two on us. You know how unstable the
boat is on repellers. That's a last resort. Besides, if we don't invite some
kind of reaction, we'll only have Homat's word about Irquit. What if she's no
assassin, merely a guide? What if their orders are only to stand aside and let
the Changritites do all the dirty work? Maybe he's just trying to shut her out
of the bit of business he's working with us. By watching her reactions we'll
have final proof of his words. If she doesn't make any threatening moves, once
past Changrit we'll have a new problem to deal with."
Lyra sighed, shook her head sadly. "This is going to complicate the hell out of
my notes."
"If that's ail we have to worry about as we pass Changrit," he countered, "we'll
be well off. Besides, think of the potential opportunities for studying the
behavior of the Mai in battle."
She responded with a rude noise which even Homat could understand.
The following night on the Skar was equally cloudless and clear. As the sun
began to shrink behind the distant ramparts of the canyon wall, Etienne peered
through the cockpit bubble at an anxious Irquit. He nodded to himself as he
studied her expression. Point one to Homat.
The guide was talking to Lyra, who stood watching the western shore.
"We are almost all out of meat, deLyra. I thought we were to stop here at
Changrit." She gestured with a six fingered hand toward the dots of light which
marked the riverbank. "We will soon be past the harbor."
"We're not stopping tonight, Irquit," Lyra replied. "We have ample supplies of
our own foodstuffs down in the hold. Maybe we'll stop in a couple of days. It's
such a beautiful night, Etienne thinks we should enjoy the weather. I agree."
"But Changrit is such a wonderful place!" Irquit protested. "There is so much
to see, so much for you to put into your records, deLyra."
"Oh, that's okay. I'm sure we'll find other places to stop that are just as
interesting. We can stop and study there."
"None are so grand on this part of the Skar as is Changrit." Irquit was
glancing nervously past Lyra, apparently studying the river ahead.
"Something wrong?" Lyra asked innocently.
"No, no. I only wanted so much for you to see so powerful and beautiful a city.
I felt that..."
Etienne tuned the pleading voice out and concentrated on the scanner by his
right hand. He knew what Irquit was looking for, out there atop the dark water.
The green screen was filled with bright shapes of many sizes strung out in three
parallel lines across the Skar. It must have taken the Changritites weeks to
gather the enormous flotilla.
He lost speed as he studied the scanner, looking for the place where the boats
were spread thinnest.
There were more boats ahead than he'd expected, and the danger was greater. Some
of his initial enthusiasm for a fight evaporated. The capture was no game to the
local Mai, and despite superior technology there was something still to be said
for commanding overwhelming numbers. He made certain the repellers were
functioning, just in case they had to employ them.
Pick your way through, he suddenly decided, and take care not to get entangled
in those damn nets and heavy wooden floats. Above all, don't let any of the
locals on board. Surely they wouldn't have any real difficulty breaking through.
Irquit was failing at not looking Upriver. She knew about the ambush. That much
of Homat's story was obviously accurate.
"Please, deLyra, it would be so much better to make port at Changrit tonight. I
can shop very cheaply at first light and we can-"
"Go astern, Irquit," Lyra ordered her sharply. "We're not tired or hungry, we
don't need to stop for supplies, and we're going on tonight."
The guide started to object again, then thought better of it and followed the
rail sternward. Etienne wondered what she'd tell Homat, whom she still thought
of as a partner in deception, and how well Homat would hide his true feelings.
Then he made out a dim irregular shape off to port, through the transparency of
the cockpit bubble, and he no longer could spare the time to worry about the Mai
already on board. None of the four moons were aloft yet and the river ran clear
and unslivered beneath the hydrofoil's keel.
A half dozen tiny objects appeared suddenly on the scanner, heading for the
hydrofoil. "Spears, Lyra!"
She dropped to her belly on the foredeck, behind the metal dome over the
heavyduty fishing equipment. A couple of sharp points whanged off the bubble
and he flinched involuntarily. They did no damage to the tough plastalloy.
Large shapes hove into view, lying where the scanner had. predicted their
presence. Etienne turned off the sensitive audio pickups. They weren't
necessary. He could hear the shouting and excited hailing of the boat's crews
quite clearly in the still night air.
Arrows and warcries followed the first volley of spears, then something long and
heavy flew over the bow and clung there as Etienne turned sharply to port to
avoid a small fishing barge filled with gesticulating, wideeyed bowmen. Arrows
splintered or glanced off the clear cockpit bubble, but the larger affront
remained. It was a heavy fishing net attached to huge bolts which had evidently
been fired by several catapults or large crossbows operating in unison. Several
such nets, flung one atop the other, could seriously obscure his vision. He
could still run on instruments, but not if the thick mesh was entangled in the
engine nozzle.
Putting the hydrofoil on autopilot and entering 'evasive orders, he took his
pistol from its charging socket near the pilot wheel and headed for the stern.
Lyra met him halfway through the cabin.
"Who's driving?" she asked curtly.
"Multiple K."
"Not good enough. Too many boats." She eyed the weapon in his right hand. "I
came down so I wouldn't have to do that."
"It's to burn that net, not Irquit."
"What net?"
"You'll see when you take over." He pushed past her, slipping the safety off the
asynaptic pistol.
He was halfway to the foredeck when something buzzed him like an apoplectic
wasp. The fastmoving, elegantly agile hydrofoil made it difficult for the Mai
marksmen to aim but occasionally an arrow or spear would spang against the hull
or whistle past overhead. Despite their inaccuracy, the sheer volume of
primitive projectiles made moving around out on deck dangerous.
Dropping flat and utilizing the slight inward curve of the metal gunwale for
protection, he crawled toward the bow. Once alongside the cockpit bubble he rose
and carefully began burning away the net that covered the plastalloy.
The bow section was aerodynamic so there were few projections for the nets to
catch onto, and he had half of the net cleared away before a sudden burning made
him glance down at his left arm. A small stream of blood dripped from where a
passing arrow had dug. Etienne made a mental note to ask Homat if the Upriver
inhabitants ever used poisoned barbs in their fishing. He turned back to the
work at hand.
Lyra appeared to be fully occupied with the task of steering them through their
assailants while causing as little damage as possible. She was darting rapidly
from side to side, w orking with unexpected animation. He frowned, leaned close
to the bubble. Yes, she was very active, and so was the second figure she was
grappling with.
The hydrofoil lurched abruptly to starboard and nearly threw him overboard. Only
his grasp on the remaining Mai net kept him from a fatal dunking. As he
struggled to his feet he identified the second figure in the cockpit Irquit.
But that was impossible. Because of Homat's warning they made doubly sure to
lock the cabin door every time either of them entered or left. Irquit should
have been stuck outside, on the stem deck where she slept with Homat.
Lyra was heavier than the Mai and probably a good deal stronger, but if Homat
was to be believed Irquit was a trained killer. Lyra's experience ran to more
genteel pursuits. From what he could see, his wife was having a hard time
fending off a wickedlooking blade. He shouted at her, aware as he did so how
useless his words were.
Without Lyra at the instruments and with the autopilot turned off, the hydrofoil
was beginning to slow. That was a safety override, designed to keep a boat with
a disabled crew from running into the shore. As the whine of the jet faded,
Etienne saw shapes begin to close in on them. They'd run past most of the
Changrit armada, but were still near enough to be overtaken by determined
oarsmen. He could hear them chanting in the dark as they strained to overhaul
the spirit boat.
If they were allowed on board, asynapts wouldn't be enough to cope with the
sheer weight of numbers. Ibis first thought was to get back inside. He could
lock any boarders out, and with their primitive weapons they couldn't break in,
but they could certainly disable the engine or clog the water scoops.
Bowmen were close now and suddenly found themselves presented with a relatively
stable target. They kept him pinned down by the fishing dome, unable to move
through the shower of arrows.
Suddenly he saw a third shape inside the cockpit. For a moment he despaired. If
Homat had lied to them, if he'd been a willing ally of Irquit's and of the Zanur
all along-he screamed Lyra's name.
But if that were the case, then why the trembling expiation last night up on the
telescope platform? As Etienne watched he saw Homat edge carefully around the
pinwheeling combatants, climb up into the pilot's seat, put both sixfingered
hands on the wheel and nudge the accelerator.
Again he found himself thrown to the deck, only this time it was due to the
hydrofoil's sudden leap forward. Shouts of dismay and anger reached him from the
two fishing boats that were almost within boarding range. Two Mai actually made
the jump and landed aboard.
The asynapt flashed twice in the darkness. There was a brief bright blue flash
where each charge struck flesh, the smell of ozone in the air, and a single
splash as the first victim tumbled overboard. The second fell near Etienne's
sweaty face, curved knife locked in a stilled grip.
Etienne scrambled erect and ran to the nearest entryway. When Irquit saw the
other human enter the cabin she broke free and rushed astern, trailing curses in
her wake. He just missed her in the main corridor, collided with Lyra instead.
It was a timely collision, since his impact knocked her aside and clear of the
knife that whistled past them.
He fired wildly and seared a section of ceiling, as a funny, high moan sounded
from the direction of the cockpit. Homat fell away from the wheel as Lyra moved
to help him.
Another pair of fishing nets clung to the boat, and Etienne pushed a few tangles
aside as he cautiously emerged on deck. Irquit was unarmed, however, except for
her mouth. She snarled something that Etienne translated crudely as "Death to
the Faceless One!" Whether the curse was aimed at Homat or himself he had no way
of knowing and likely never would know, because their former guide and cook
threw herself over the side and instantly vanished astern. No doubt her
Changritite allies would fish her out of the river and send her on her way
Downriver toward Po Rabi.
Etienne was gratified that they'd put their trust in Homat. Certainly he had
burned his bridges behind him. There was no way the Mai could ever show his face
in Po Rabi again.
If he didn't live, though, it wouldn't make any difference. Etienne remembered
that surprised moan as Irquit's knife sailed past his ear. With the Changrit
flotilla rapidly falling astern, he turned and hurried back into the cool
interior of the hydrofoil.
The pilot's seat was unoccupied and he slid behind the wheel, made a fast check
of the instruments. The scanner showed only a few small logs floating to
starboard, in contrast to the thick cluster of shiplike shapes behind them. In
a minute or two those distant threats would slip off the screen altogether.
Homat was lying on the floor moaning. Lyra had pulled the knife out and was
working to stanch the bleeding. The weapon lay near her right leg, a very large
blade to have struck so small a humanoid. A couple of centimeters to the left,
and they'd have found themselves continuing their journey without either of
their guides. Lyra had removed her halter and bound it over the hole. The
halter's airconditioning system was still operating full blast, and he thought
to ask why when it occurred to him that the cold would promote coagulation. On
rare occasions it struck him that he'd married a woman of more than average
intelligence.
With the flow of blood slowed she disappeared astern, to return a moment later
with a handful of vials and spray cans.
"I don't know how well this is going to work on you, Homat. It wasn't designed
to be used on a Mai, but it's all we have and I don't know what else to try. Can
you understand me?"
He nodded slowly, his small sharp teeth grinding together in pain.
"You're fully mammalian and from what I've been able to learn your physiology's
close enough to ours so that"
"Screw the biology lecture, Lyra!" her husband snapped.
She glanced sharply up at him, but this time only nodded. Her unvoiced admission
of his rightness gave him no pleasure. He was too women about Homai.
The freeze spray on top of the effect produced by her halter's cooler stopped
the rest of bleeding. Homat gasped at the chill and tried not to look at the
intimidating alien machines they were using on his body. Then she took a small
curved device that cupped the curve of her palm, adjusted it carefully, and held
It over the wound as she removed the bloodied halter. As she passed the device
over his shoulder and upper chest it hissed softly. A faint bright yellow light
poured from its underside.
Homat writhed in pain, but when she pulled her hand away and snapped off the
surgiseal he could see that the cut had been closed completely, and sterilized
in the bargain. There would be a permanent scar, but Lyra was no surgeon and
there hadn't been time to consult the computer.
"Any poison?
"No, deLyra," Homat whispered at her, staring at his chest in amazement. "A
clean knife for a clean death." Etienne received this information with relief.
His arm had ceased bleeding and now he could stop worrying about his own wound.
"You'll be all right now," Lyra assured their guide. "Just take it easy for a
few days and try not to use that arm too much." He was shivering steadily and it
occurred to her it wasn't from shock.
"He'll freeze in here, Etienne." The cabin thermometer registered a temperature
of eighty degrees. "We've got to get him back out on deck."
"Go ahead, we're well clear now. I'll help you." He allowed the autopilot to
resume control of the boat and moved to lift Homat in his arms. The slim Mai was
a light burden and once he had been placed on his sleeping mat, Etienne turned
back to the stern gangway. It didn't take long to discover how Irquit had made
her way inside to attack Lyra. A small wad of sikreg gum, a local product Irquit
employed to help thicken her stews and soups, had been jammed between the
center seal and the door, preventing the lock from functioning.
Thoughtful of Irquit, to have made such a study of how the doorways operated.
Undoubtedly she'd been studying hard ever since they'd departed Steamer Station.
It was their own damned fault, Etienne told himself. They were going to have to
cease thinking of the Mai as ignorant primitives.
The thought made him frown as he turned to stare at Homate Their remaining guide
was sitting up now, propped against the low bar of the railing that ran around
the top of the gunwale. The Mai had operated their boat!
"That was very quick thinking of you, Homat. Taking control of the boat while
Lyra was fighting with Irquit. Another couple of minutes and the Changritites
might have overwhelmed us."
"Yes, I was standing here watching them close on us, de Etienne, and I thought
to wonder what was wrong. I saw the door there by your hand swinging open, and
with heart in hand crept inside despite the cold to see what was the matter, for
I knew we should not be slowing.
"I have watched for a long time now, through the round glass, as you and deLyra
ran the spirit boat. While I still have no idea what controls the spirits that
make it go, it is not hard to see how you control those spirits. I told you that
Irquit thought she could do it, so I saw no reason why I also could not do so.
"You turn the wheel to change direction and push the little button to increase
the speed."
Etienne relaxed a little. "Put that way it doesn't sound terribly complex, does
it? How are you feeling?"
"Your wondrous tools have delighted my side. Much better, all thanks from my
ancestors and me to you."
Etienne nodded. "Did you hear what your former companion said as she took her
leave of us?"
"No." He gave a shaky Mai smile. "I can im agine it was not very polite."
"Not very. Enough to insure that you'd better never go within a dozen legats of
Po Rabi again."
"I had already committed myself to that. Did you not believe me?"
Etienne looked uncomfortable. "It is hard on a strange world to know what to
believe and what not to believe, Homat. Forgive me if I seem insensitive."
"Do not feel so, deEtienne. They say that the people of Suphum do not pause for
midday rest but work straight through 'til sundown. That is also hard to
believe. Truly is the Everything filled with wonders. I do not regret my
decision, though I might have had I died under Irquit's knife, may her flesh
rot in the river. I do not need a home, now that I have you and deLyra as my
friends and protectors."
"Don't worry, Homat. You'll have your reward when we get back to Steamer
Station." Lyra was adjusting a clean halter top. "I don't care what the
regulations say. We'll slip you something that should make you wealthy for
life."
In true Mai fashion Homat instantly pointed to the interior of the boat. "That
machine you used to heal me. Could I have one of those?"
Lyra laughed. She hadn't laughed like that in a long time, Etienne thought,
surprised at how sharply it pierced him.
"The surgiseal would wear out before very long and you wouldn't be able to have
it fixed, Homat. There's nothing worse than a magician whose magic unexpectedly
deserts him. Don't worry, we'll find you something suitable that will last."
"I am not worried," Homat replied calmly. He moved his arm gingerly. "Truly a
delightful instrument, though."
"Hadn't you better check the autopilot, Etienne?"
"We're okay. We're back out in the middle of the river and the scanner will
sound if there's anything ahead it can't deal with. Maybe we ought to start
thinking about replenishing our stores. Irquit was right about our being low."
He looked down at Homat. "You're positive Po Rabi's influence doesn't extend any
farther Upriver than Changrit?"
Homat sighed. Sometimes you had to tell this peculiar folk the same thing
several times before they believed you.
"The next major trading town beyond Changrit is Kekkalong, deEtienne. I have
never been there but I know it thrives independent of any oceancity's rule. It
lies some three thousand legats north of Changrit."
Lyra did some fast mental calculating. "Five hundred kilometers. We can hold
off that long. Since it's a major port, maybe we can tie up there for a couple
of days, take a rest. I can do some intensive research. I'm certainly not going
to have the chance to do any work in Changrit."
"A most delightful major port," Homat agreed. "Not as big as Po Rabi or Losithi,
but nearly as large as Changrit. Beyond Kekkalong all is unknown country,
unknown to me and to any living trader of Po Rabi. None have journeyed so far
Upriver from the Groalamasan."
"Then you'll be the first," Etienne said. He turned apologetically to his wife.
"Two of them got on board. I had to use the asynapt on them. There was no time
to shoot to incapacitate, Lyra."
To his surprise she didn't bawl him out. Perhaps Irquit's assault had made her a
tad less protective of the people she had come to study.
"Only two? That's not bad. Probably not enough to start a blood feud with the
Changritites."
"That's good, because when we return we might have to deal with the same
situation all over again."
"Our return's a long ways away yet, Etienne. We'll worry about it months from
now. By that time the Changritites may have grown bored with watching the river
and sent Irquit on her way. At least we won't have to watch for any onboard
threats." She glanced down at Homat, who was rubbing his miraculously healed
shoulder.
"I apologize for doubting your story, Homat."
"No, no, no reason to apologize, deLyra. I would have doubted you if in your
place. Doubt is healthy."
She stared out into the damp night. Occasionally a light from a house on shore
would flash dimly in the distance, like a star. All was calm and quiet.
"I'm beginning to think that it is," she murmured softly.
Chapter Six
Kekkalong turned out to be all that Homat had promised. A natural harbor had
been scooped from the shore of the Skar by powerful currents. As they entered,
small fishing boats and pleasure craft clustered like whirligig beetles in the
hydrofoil's wake.
As was the style in the great oceanic cities, half the buildings were
constructed below the surface, the other half above. There was the expected
profusion of tall, thin towers. Unlike the structures of ancient human cities,
which they superficially resembled, these narrow cylinders reached deep into
the earth. Some served to convey cool water to the surface while others allowed
hot air to rise from the town's subterranean levels. The Mai flourished in a
brutally hot climate, but they enjoyed a cool breeze as much as a human, even if
their idea of a cool breeze was a gust of damp air at ninety degrees.
The townsfolk were friendly and did their best to restrain their curiosity about
their tall, hairy visitors. As Kekkalong was ruled not by a single Moyt but by a
coalition of merchants, there was something of a respite from the overpowering
urge to compete that drove the inhabitants of the southern cities. Lyre took
notes as fast as she could address her recorder.
With the loss of Irquit, Homat's bargaining abilities were brought to the fore,
and he proved himself an adequate replacement. As soon as he overcame his
ingrained shyness he proved quite adroit at dickering for supplies in the
marketplace.
They were walking through the central market, buying samples of the local
carvings for their stock of primitive specimens, when Lyra called to her
husband. As usual he'd left the trading to her and Homat, being more interested
in the stones chat had been used to pave the street.
"What is it? Lyra, did you know that some of this might have been quarried out
of a pegmatite dike?"
"Sure I did," she replied sardonically, "but I'll try to forges it for now. Come
over and listen to something."
She stood before a very old Mai. Trying to muster some interest, Etienne
observed that the wrinkles on the Mai face formed whorls wish age instead of
lines.
"Only two hundred legats up the Skar," the oldster declaimed, "lies the place
where it is joined by the great Aurang."
"He says," Lyra told him, usurping the old one's tale, "that the Tsla have a
major town not far up the Aurang."
Etienne eyed her uncertainly. "How far is not far?" She gave him a figure in
legats and he converted the native measurement in his head. "Between eight and
nine hundred kilometers. That's a hell of a `not far.' Our itinerary calls for
us to follow the Skar to its origin, mapping and taking notes along the way.
Nothing was said about making any major detours."
"It would give us the chance to study a wholly new race, Etienne, examine an
entirely different culture. We have to make contact with the Tsla sooner or
later."
"I thought the plan was 'later."'
"But it's such a wonderful opportunity! I'm told the Tsla build very few centers
and that this Turput is one of the main ones."
"It would stall mean a radical change in our plans," he argued. "Lyre, not a
day's gone by since we set down on this world that you haven't been able to
wallow in your work, whereas I'm still waiting to reach the point where the
Barshajagad narrows enough for me to do some serious research and studies in my
specialty."
"If we go to this Turput, you'll have that chance, Etienne. They can't live in
the river valley." She exchanged some rapidfire chatter with the oldster. "His
description of Turput's location fits what we've learned about their ecological
niche. Turput's at least three thousand meters above the Skar. Apparently the
Aurang hasn't cut nearly as deep a canyon. You should be able to dive into your
studies sooner if we visit Turput than if we avoid it."
He considered carefully. "I know that we're supposed to make detailed studies of
the Tsla as well as the Mai, but the plan was to do that during our return
journey, after we'd attained the other major objectives."
"Etienne, my primary interest in coming here is to see how several entirely
different cultures coexist side by side in separate habitation zones. To do this
I need to observe how the Tsla live and react to the Mai."
"Can't it wait until we're on our way back?"
"We owe ourselves the detour. At three thousand meters above sea level the
temperature will drop at least forty degrees from what it is here on the Skar,
with a corresponding fall in humidity. For the first time since touchdown we can
slip into real clothes and dispense with air conditioning. Doesn't that interest
you?"
He had to admit that it did, but there were other factors she hadn't mentioned,
possibly by design.
"From what this old one said, Lyra, Turput lies only eight hundred kilometers
upstream from where the Aurang enters the Skar, right?" She nodded. "Okay. That
means climbing three thousand meters up the canyonside over a short distance.
Too steep a slope for the boat to navigate and too far to run on repellers."
Lyra pointed to the old trader. "Ossanj says there's a decentsize town at the
confluence of the two rivers, called Aib. He says we might hire them to watch
the hydrofoil as well as find porters to ferry supplies up to Turput."
"Really? Does he happen to have any relatives in Changrit ?"
"Etienne!" She sighed with exasperation. "We're far beyond Changrit's
influence. You know that."
"Maybe so. Pardon me if I seem excessively cautious. It's just that we haven't
done so well where local help's been involved."
"Come on! You know we can take enough precautions to insure the safety of the
boat. "
"Granted that we can, I'm still not sure I'm ready for a threethousandmeter
hike. That's going to make hash of our itinerary."
"Our itinerary's not graven in stone, Etienne. If the weather's bad when we come
back down the river we might not be able to make the climb at all. We can't pass
on the chance. The weather's favorable now. Surely we can hire some kind of
local transport so we don't have to make the entire climb on foot." She turned
back to the trader. "Tell him about Turput, Ossanj."
"A most delighted wondrous place," declared the oldster. "Mysterious are the
workings of the Tsla." He made a gesture to protect himself from any interested
spirits. "Their fields climb the sides of mountains. They grow there delighted
fruits and vegetables that wither here by the river."
"How do you know all this, Ossanj? I thought the lands of the Tsla too cold for
your people to tolerate."
"With much clothing to keep warm, we can visit there for short times."
"And we'll be comfortable, Etienne," Lyra added encouragingly. "Doesn't that
sound inviting?"
"Not as inviting as continuing Upriver."
"But that's just my point. Here's a chance for you to see some real topography."
"Lyra, I'm sick of river valley, you know that. But we ought to stick to our
itinerary."
She drew away from him. "I see," she said coldly. "Fine. You continue Upriver
with Homat. I'll take enough. of the trade goods to tide me over until you
return and I'll go up to Turput myself. Meet you on the way back."
He sighed. "Lyra, you know that's no good. What about the cultures Upriver from
here? Am I supposed to do your fieldwork as well as my own?"
She shrugged. "Okay, then take a month or two and go where you wish, study what
you want, and come back for me. But I'm going to Turput tomorrow, Etienne, while
I have the opportunity and while the weather's good."
"Damn you," he said quietly. "You know the dangers in splitting up. You get your
way, as usual. I'll come with you. But I won't like it and you'll have to listen
to me bitch about it all the way up the canyon."
"I'll suffer it." She smiled triumphantly at him. "Consider it serendipity
instead of an enforced detour. Many important discoveries are made because of
serendipity."
"Bullshit. You've just decided that you want to go now."
That prompted a glare that chilled the air in the marketplace. She didn't speak
to him for the rest of the afternoon.
Homat would have voted for staying on the river. Though he had eaten the produce
the Tsla traded with the river dwellers and had heard much of their marvelous
accomplishments, he'd never seen one and didn't care if he ever did. He thought
that deEtienne should have argued more powerfully with his mate, and if that
had failed, given her orders. But it would seem that malefemale relationships
among the offworlders were very different from those among the Mai. He spent a
whole morning making signs and attempting to propitiate the proper spirits
before they set off Upriver once again.
It wasn't long before the hydrofoil's instrumentation warned them of the
approaching confluence of the Skar and the Aurang. Ahead, the Skar executed a
sharp bend westward while the Aurang flowed into the main river from out of the
north. Given the Aurang's immense flow and orientation, anyone not knowing
which was which would have proceeded up the tributary, thinking it the Skar.
Making landfall on the eastern shore of the river just above the town of Aib,
they dispatched Homat to inquire about the availability of transportation and
porters. Despite the high rate of pay offered, engaging help turned out to be
difficult.
"They are reluctant to leave their homes to travel to the land of the Tsla,"
Homat explained.
"Why is that?" Lyra inquired. "I thought that trade went on daily between Tsla
and Mai, and has since ancient times."
"That is truth," Homat agreed. Behind them, fisherfolk and farmers gathered
curiously around the anchored hydrofoil, engaging in the usual futile hunt for
sails and oars. "But that does not mean that the Mai are anxious to go up
there." He held up something oval that resembled a cross between a grapefruit
and a sick lime.
"This is a gououn. It cannot grow below the level of Turput." He bit into the
shinyskinned fruit with gusto and spit out several purple seeds. "This and much
else can be grown by the Tsla alone. This makes many Mai fearful of them. And
there are other things." He made hasty protective signs.
"The Tsla trade with the Mai, but they also trade with the Na of the Guntali."
"Then they're not rumors," said Lyra with excitement.
"Oh no, very real, deLyra. Too real." He shuddered. "Skins of strange creatures
they bring down from the Guntali, and much serash." Etienne knew serash to be
the word for the local equivalent of ivory.
"We Mai never see the Na, for we would freeze in moments in their lands. Their
air is difficult to breathe and we would grow dizzy with fear.
"But some will come for hire. There are always some who will come, if the pay is
sufficient," he said with assurance. "I wish muchly though, my des, that you did
not have to leave the spirit boat behind." He looked at the curious to make sure
they weren't being overheard.
"Alb is little better than a large village. The Oyts of such towns have few
morals. Better to have left it behind in Kekkalong."
Etienne made the Mai movement for negation, glanced sourly at his wife. "We're
already taking too much time out of our schedule for this side trip, Homat.
Leaving the boat at Kekkalong would've cost us several weeks of overland travel.
Don't worry though. The spirit boat will be quite safe until we return."
Homat looked doubtful, still watching the crowd. "I cannot dissuade you,
friends from across the ocean of night, but I do not think this a wise decision.
Even the porters I have hired have come down to us from Upriver and not from
Aib. I fear treachery."
"Relax. We'll have our weapons with us. No one's going to bother the boat in our
absence. You'll see." He indicated the fishing dock where they'd tied up. "Has
not the Oyt of Aib promised us that he'll, keep the dock sealed off and all the
curious away? None will be permitted to come near and he's said he'll utilize
his personal guard to insure that. We're paying him a handsome amount to see to
it that any locals stay clear."
"The sum is not so handsome as the spirit boat itself," Homat grumbled. "As for
the guard he will post here, would that it had come from Kekkalong. Still, if
you are satisfied, Homat is satisfied." There was no satisfaction in his tone,
however. He found it a struggle to understand these peculiar creatures. In many
ways they were unimaginably sophisticated and in others, childishly naive.
"We know what we're doing, Homat."
"Could you not at least take it a safe distance up the Aurang?"
"And dock it in the middle of the river, exposed to unknown currents and high
winds?" Lyra asked. "It's safer here. Besides, anyone who wanted to find it
could do so just as easily a few dozen legats up the Aurang. We'll worry about
our property, Homat, and you worry about the cooking and the guiding."
"As you say, deLyra."
In truth, he greatly enjoyed giving orders to the half dozen porters. It was the
first time in his life he'd been able to exercise any power over his fellow Mai.
Power gave rise to wealth, to new knowledge and capabilities. Power was the
measure of an adult. He enjoyed himself so much he managed to forget his fears
about the safety of the spirit boat.
The Oyt of Aib, a bucolic youth named Gwattwe who fancied himself something of a
dandy, personally saw them safely on their way. He had his own spirit doctor
cast a spell for their healthy return.
From Aib they would ride on lowagons northward until they encountered the
Aurang's southerly flow, then turn northeast following the trading trail into
the highlands.
"May you return in delighted safety," Gwattwe told them. "As one who has traded
often with the Tsla, I would go with you myself to serve as guide and
interpreter, but a village Oyt must watch over his people."
"We understand," Lyra assured him. "We know that you'll take good care of our
property."
"Have I not sworn the oath?" Gwattwe looked injured. "Have I not given promise
upon my mate and children and most of all, my fortune? Not to mention that I do
not receive the second half of payment until you return."
I trust that, Etienne thought as he listened to the Mai's speech, more than any
other assurance. Among the Mai, money was as blood.
As they turned to enter the waiting lowagons a bored looking chorus of small
children launched into an irritatingly atonal chant of farewell. They kept it up
until the little line of porterdriven lowagons had moved beyond the first bend
in the road, then scattered before the blows their chorus master dispensed
impartially.
Gwattwe watched the strange visitors depart, then turned glittering eyes to the
dock where the hydrofoil bobbed lazily at anchor, tethered to the landing by two
wondrously strong metal cables.
"What do you think on all this, wise Enaromeka?"
The spirit doctor eyed the alien craft thoughtfully. "Give them six days before
taking possession, Gwattwe."
"My purse itches feverishly. I don't know that I can wait six days."
"Better caution than confrontation. I do not think they suspect, but it would be
awkward if they were to double back along the road to see what we were doing.
Patience. We shall be masters of all the Skar. Even the oceanic states will do
us homage ... if we can make the spirit boat obey us."
"Even if we cannot," Gwattwe said, "we can make the hairy ones pay a huge ransom
for its safe return. If they refuse, surely there are many item s of great value
within the craft that can be removed and sold. These are no wizards, no gods
come among us, Enaromeka. Lightning does not fly from their fingers, no matter
what the Downriver rumormongers would have us believe, and the rocks do not
shake beneath their tread. They are like unto the Mai, save for their size and
hairiness, and they have fewer fingers and toes to drive them through life. If
cut, I am sure they would bleed, and if they bleed, they will die. I understand
them, and I think with care we can come to understand their spirit boat.
"Besides," he added with a smile, "they will be gone long to the city of the
Tsla and long returning. We will have ample time to study and experiment with
their vessel."
"It shall be a legendary triumph for you, Gwattwe," the spirit doctor declaimed
with becoming unctuousness.
"And for you also, my good friend and advisor, for to you falls the honor of
extracting the secrets of the spirit boat. "
Enaromeka suddenly felt ill. "What? To me?"
"Are you not the smartest of the Aib?"
"The cleverest, but you, great Oyt, are the smartest."
"Your flattery is unnecessary. I know when I am beyond my depth."
Enaromeka looked resigned. "It will truly be a delightful great honor. I will
enlist the aid of my most precocious students. In time, we will learn all that
can be learned."
They observed and measured, discussed and debated for six long days. By that
time Gwattwe was trembling with impatience to step aboard and claim possession
of the spirit boat for Aib and his family line. Word filtered through the town
that the day of Taking had arrived and many of the villagers put aside their
daily chores to gather on shore above the dock. All wished to partake of their
community's triumph, for all would benefit by the successful "repossession," as
the town adjudicator had described it in a moment of florid rationalization.
The power and wealth that accrued to Aib would be shared by all, and the name of
Aib known all along the river.
Enaromeka made certain everyone heard him clearly. "I claim the honor of being
the first aboard." Gwattwe responded with a gesture of deference. This was as
rehearsed and part payment to the spirit doctor for his services.
The gunwale was bumping gently against the wooden dock as he stepped gingerly
over the side onto the exposed rear deck. Nothing happened. Enaromeka turned a
slow circle, looking quite pleased with himself until a voice rumbled in perfect
if slightly stiff' Mai
"Visitor, you do not belong on this boat. No permission for visitation has been
granted. You have twenty anats in which to vacate this boat or you will suffer
dire consequences. You have been warned."
Enaromeka stood as if paralyzed, while Gwattwe blinked and tried to see through
the transparent bubble enclosing the cockpit. The warriors arranged nearby
forgot their positions as they searched the windows for the invisible speaker.
So did Enaromeka's assistants.
There was no sign of life within the boat. Nothing moved beyond the
transparencies and the boat itself continued to bob on the breath of the
current.
Enaromeka overcame his initial panic and moved cautiously to where he could
look down into the boat. "I see no one."
"Nor do I," Gwattwe said from the dock.
"I will go inside and look." Enaromeka reached for the door handle and \_pulled.
"I can't move it."
"That is to be expected," said Gwattwe. "It is not to be anticipated that they
would trust us enough to leave their vessel unlocked. Would a long knife help?"
Enaromeka put his face to the window that comprised the upper half of the
doorway. "It is strong. Little lights inside are blinking on and off, like the
fires of hunting parties up the side of the canyon. Perhaps the lights have
something to do with the lock. Fire spirits. Give me a zhaloo."
From within the ranks of warriors a heavy spiked club was passed forward. One of
the spirit doctor's students handed it across to Enaromeka.
"Five anats," the voice announced dangerously. "Leave this boat now."
"I know what it is," Enaromeka declared suddenly, unwilling to abandon his
moment of glory to an unseen specter. "A spirit voice locked within the boat,
left here to frighten us." He spoke boldly. "I, Enaromeka, am not frightened by
spirits. I will learn the secrets of this craft despite all the voices that
shout at me. I am not afraid of voices!"
Taking careful aim with the club, he brought it down over the transparency
covering the blinking lights. A brilliant explosion of light momentarily blinded
the watching crowd and there was much screaming. Women and children fled for the
safety of boulders and sun shelters. Several of the warriors lined up in stately
procession along the dock broke formation to sample the cool waters of the Skar.
Gwattwe had enough presence of mind to note their names and former rank.
When his sight had recovered somewhat from the effects of the unexpected flash,
he turned back to the spirit boat. It still rode easily on its lines. Curled up
on the rear deck was the object that an instant earlier had been his spirit
doctor. Smoke rose from the skull and sides of the fetal shape while the leather
sandals burned ferociously.
One of Enaromeka's students jumped onto the boat. Gwattwe held his breath but
nothing happened to the scholar as he beat at the fire consuming his
instructor's feet. With great presence of mind, the student yelled instructions.
There was movement among the onlookers. A bucket was located, filled with river,
and carefully handed over.
As the student dumped the water on Enaromeka's corpse, a solemn voice intoned,
"Visitor, you do not belong on this boat. No permission for visitation has been
granted. You have twenty anats in which to vacate this boat or you will suffer
dire consequences. You have been warned."
"I'm not leavings" the student announced, making a sign to ward off the most
dangerous of unknown spirits. Reaching down, he picked up the ineffectual
zhaloo, hefted it angrily as he moved toward the doorway that had defeated his
instructor.
Gwattwe was not as surprised by the light this time. The student was barefoot,
and the water in which he stood did not protect him from the fire spirits. His
departure from existence was much more spectacular than Enaromeka's. Swallowed
by the burst of energy, he gave a tremendous convulsive twitch and leaped or was
thrown over the side of the craft.
Two warriors reluctantly doffed their armor and dove into the river to pull him
ashore. Gwattwe examined the student's body with much interest. It was broken
and distorted, though differently from Enaromeka's. The soles of his feet had
been carbonized and black streaks ran up both legs. The smell of burnt flesh was
strong in the morning air.
But there had been no fire, only a burst of light and a loud crackling sound.
Pungiram, one of the elders of Aib, had come down onto the dock.
"It would appear, my Oyt Gwattwe, that the hairy strangers are not so dumb as
they frst seemed."
"So it would appear." Gwattwe showed no distress at having been abruptly
deprived of the services of his spirit doctor. He eyed the boat with more
interest than ever. "In this first test of trust and friendship, they have come
out ahead. But I am persistent, old one. There must be some way to drive the
protecting spirit out of this boat so that we can take possession of it."
Pungiram decided to speak up. "You will not find many ready to do battle with
unknown spirits, especially spirits that slay as efficiently as do those
guarding this boat."
"I am not afraid of spirits," Gwattwe said as he hastened to shield himself with
a couple of quickly executed signs, "that are of this world, but it is a new
thing to try to deal with a spirit that comes from beyond. However, I am not so
sure that we are dealing with a spirit here. This boat is a thing of metal and
other strange substances. It is nova proper spirit house."
"Do we have any idea what other spirits consider a proper abode?"
"Perhaps we may learn. I will not give up and walk back to my house." His gaze
rose, turned to the trade road which had swallowed up the tall hairy ones. "A
long way to Turput, a long way back. We have much time left to us."
The surviving students had clustered around the Oyt. He frowned at them. "What
ails you?"
"We must do something about the Teacher." The speaker gestured toward
Enaromeka's blackened body. "He must be given a proper burial."
"He must have his wood and his journey to the sea," another insisted.
"I agree," Gwattwe said "Which of you will honor him by being the first to step
onto the spirit boat to remove the body?"
Rapid glances were passed among the scholars. They decided it would be best to
discuss the matter in depth before making any firm decisions. They drifted away
toward the town, arguing vociferously among themselves.
His peace and quiet restored, Gwattwe again considered the object of his dreams.
He had never been to any of the wondrous citystates that traders told of, had
traveled only a short distance Downriver. But he'd visited Kekkalong and had
admired its wealth. The spirit boat was no more than another new thing to be
studied and understood, as he had come to understand power and wealth. He would
make a massive effort to be patient. He would have to be or he would quickly run
out of advisors.
He would make a speech praising brave Enaromeka. Then everyone would go back to
work. Tomorrow he would consider the problem anew. That was all that was
required; careful thought and sufficient tomorrows.
But he would have to cajole as well as order his advisors. The odor of a
colleague's burning flesh was a powerful deterrent to curiosity.
Chapter Seven
"DeEtienne, deEtienne, we must stop and rest!"
Etienne halted, staring ahead to where the trading road climbed still another of
the endless vertical walls in a series of laboriously cut switchbacks. The roar
of the Aurang cataract was a constant buzz in his ears, even though it was out
of sight far off to their left.
"We're nearly there, Homat. I don't want to spend another night on the road.
Tell them no."
"It does not matter, deEtienne." Homat gestured at the line of heavily laden
porters behind them. "They say they will go not a step farther until they are
given time to put on their warmest clothing."
Etienne made a face as he checked his wrist instrumentation. The air
temperature was eightyfour and holding. Despite that, several of the porters
made no attempt to hide their discomfort, and two were shivering. For his part,
Homat was manfully trying to hide the chills that wracked his own body.
"Very well, but tell them to be quick about it. I want to reach Turput before
dark."
"We should, we should, deEtienne," Homat said gratefully. He turned and
relayed the information to the porters. They responded with a babble of thanks,
dropping their packs with fine disregard for the contents in their rush to help
one another on with heavy coats and hats.
Lyra watched with interest. It was strange to see a Mai clad in longsleeved and
longlegged attire. The coldclimate gear was made of double layered cotton like
fiber stuffed with some puffy plant material.
"In the land of the blind the oneeyed man is king," Lyra murmured.
"I don't see how that relates to our present situation," Etienne commented.
"In the land of the bald, the hirsute man is king."
"That's a lousy analogy."
"You never did have much of a sense of humor." She turned away from him.
The distant Skar was now only a faint silver thread lying against the western
horizon. A considerable walk indeed. The fact that the air at three thousand
meters was almost Earthnormal was a great comfort. Down on the Skar, they'd
been forced to breathe mud. Or so their lungs had persistently told them.
The thinner air did not seem to have troubled the porters, but the drop in
temperature had been affecting their performance for several days. Bundled up in
their heavy clothing, they looked much more comfortable.
Etienne had to admit that he was enjoying himself. The multicolored strata they
passed as they made the ascent were an unending source of wonderment. Tslamaina
was an ancient world, and its entire history lay exposed within the canyon
walls. He wished only that he could see across the canyon, but at the confluence
of the Aurang and the Skar it was still well over a thousand kilometers wide.
At least the road had been wide and clear, with no rough places, and they'd
encountered few of the vertical walls with their legstraining switchbacks. Wind
and water had turned the steep walls here to a manageable slope.
For the first time he could see the edge of the Guntali Plateau, revealed in the
distance from time to time when the high clouds cleared. The uneven rocky rim
rose another three thousand meters higher than Turput, sharply defining the
original surface of the planet.
At this altitude the strepanong, dorril, and malming became more than distant
circling dots, their enormous soaring shapes resolving into living creatures
with five to eightmeter wingspans. The great scavengers rode the superheated
air that rose from the floor of the Barshajagad and rarely scoured below the
twothousandmeter line. This according to the porters, who were nonetheless
terrified of them.
They'd climbed past the last Mai village days ago and since then had seen only
an occasional solitary hunting party swathed in heavy clothing. Etienne was
enjoying the comparative silence.
"Billions of years," he murmured. "That's how long it took the rivers to cut
those canyons."
Lyra turned from her study of the porter's cold weather gear to grin knowingly
at him. "Then you're glad we made the detour?"
He was still unwilling to grant her the small triumph. "Certainly it's more
interesting than the section of the Barshajagad we left, but I'd still prefer
that we'd kept to our original itinerary."
"Can't give in gracefully, can you? You can't ever let me win. Why can't you
admit when you're wrong?"
"I will, when I am wrong."
"Sure. You're the stubbornest man I've ever met, Etienne."
"Then why did you marry me?"
"Always the same question. Always testing, never content. One of these days I'm
going to..." she turned and walked away, mumbling to herself. She always stopped
before finishing that sentence, for which he was grateful. Or at least, it used
to be that he was grateful. Ten years now she'd put off finishing that sentence.
Homat hurried up alongside him as they resumed their climb. "The porters pass on
their gratefulness. They are still cold but it leaves their bones."
"Should be warm enough," Etienne snapped, unaware of the sharpness of his tone.
"Took them damn near an hour to change clothes."
"They are not used to such cold, deEtienne." Homat tugged at the rim of his own
hood, trying to cover as much of his bald pate as possible. "Nor am I. They
dressed as rapidly as they could." He tried to see into Etienne's eyes. "Truly,
you and deLyra are not cold?"
The geologist wore modified lederhosen and a heavier shirt over his mesh briefs.
"Not only that, Homat, I'm still on the warm side."
Homat considered this. "Our bodies do not appear so very different, deEtienne,
and while you and deLyra have more fur, much of you still is bare skin, as are
our bodies. I would not think that you would still be warm here."
"Different environments induce difference adaptations, Homat."
"Truly," Homat confessed.
"If you're through lording it over the natives," Lyra said in terranglo from her
position farther up the road, "maybe we can make a little progress before
nightfall?"
"I wasn't `lording it.,"' he shot back angrily, "I was just explaining to Homat
that" but she'd already turned away from him to resume her climb. When she
did that it made him mad enough to spit wood. Short of grabbing her and forcing
her to listen to him, however, there was little he could do, and he didn't want
to engage in a shouting match in front of the porters. So he swallowed his
anger, convinced it would go straight to the ulcer he was building in his gut,
the painful cavity that had his wife's name written all over it.
It was early evening when they finally crested the last ridge overlooking
Turput. Neither of them knew what to expect. A smaller version of Kekkalong,
perhaps. They were pleasantly surprised.
Neat narrow streets paved with gray flagstone ran down to the fast moving Aurang
and continued on the far shore. Both banks were lined with wooden water wheels
that turned steadily in the swift current. Instead of the blocky Mai
architecture they'd come to associate with civilization on Tslamaina, they saw
buildings designed with flowerlike domes and elegant arches. Graceful winding
walls connected the main structures, and fluted slate tiles drained rainwater
from the roofs. Small observation towers bloomed amid the larger edifices.
Excepting the towers, nothing rose higher than three floors.
Above the town the Aurang split into a series of gentle cataracts where dim
figures worked with long fish sweeps. Terraces heavy with fruit bushes stepped
toward heaven. At the far end of the formation Etienne identified as a hanging
valley, a wide waterfall crashed into the riverbed.
Most magical of all were the sounds made by the profusion of bells and wind
chimes that inhabited every house and shop, dangled from windows and rafters and
projecting beams. The tinkling and clanging and bonging were audible even above
the rush of the Aurang. There were bells of metal and ceramic, of glass and clay
and wood, bone bells and stone chimes.
"Isn't it magnificent, Etienne?" Behind Lyra Homat made an impolite noise while
Etienne elected to reserve judgment. Alien beauty could be deceptive.
"Very aesthetic appearance," he grudgingly admitted. But he found it hard to
resist the multicolored town after the bland whites and yellows of Mai
communities. It seemed as if every building in Turput was painted a different
color. The town, like the air above it, was alive with rainbows.
They started down the ridge. As they neared the town they saw one could enter
from any direction without encountering an obstruction. There was a single small
gate, an afterthought of wooden logs and planks. One could walk around it as
easily as through it. It also offered them their first Tsla.
Lyra and Etienne were not familiar with Tsla characteristics and so could not
tell how old he was, but both scientists received an impression of age. In
height he stood midway between Etienne's and Lyra's. The resemblance between
Tsla and human, and for that matter between Tsla and Mai, ended there.
His togaandcape attire could not conceal the fact that he was covered
everywhere save on the forearms and forelegs with a short, soft brown fur. The
head rested on a neck that was curved forward, giving a false impression of age.
Ears were short round stubs set atop the head. The six fingers were shorter and
stubbier than those of Mai or human while the eyes displayed a dewy luster.
Most prominent of all the facial features was the quarter meter long flexible
snout like that of the terran tapir. It bobbed and dipped with an independent
life of its own, no doubt conveying subtleties of expression discernible only to
another Tsla. Twin nostrils were visible through the fur at the tip.
It strained Etienne's laboriously memorized Tsla to translate the Tsla's
g reeting. "I am Sau, Keeper of the Gate of Hospitality." To Etienne's relief the
Tsla switched to fluent Mai. "Word of thy coming has preceded thee. You are the
visitors said to come from another world."
Lyra nodded sagely. Her affinity for languages reached far beyond Etienne's, and
she wasn't hesitant about trying the local dialect. "We are they, Keeper. Your
gate must be of hospitality, for it protects nothing but air."
"A conceit." The Tsla spread both hands to the air, showing bare skin up to the
elbow. "Most visitors seem to expect a gate, so one was made. Higher towns than
Turput have need of real gates. We do not."
The language of the Tsla was slow and languorous, a startling contrast to the
fastpaced singsong of the Mai. Etienne found himself impatient for the Keeper
to continue.
"Thee are welcome here. We hope that thy visit will honor us."
Polite, open, with none of the double meanings the Mai attached to such phrases
of greeting. Despite his initial reservations Etienne found himself developing a
fondness for the Tsla. There was a graciousness about this creature no Mai had
displayed, not even the obsequious Ambassador Ror deKelwhoang of Po Rabi.
"Follow me and I will take you to a place of rest. Thy friends," he added with a
barely perceptible hint of distaste as he indicated the porters, "are also
welcome."
"Most generous of thee," Lyra replied properly as the Tsla turned to lead them
into the town.
Their escort kept up a fair pace, moving with deliberation so as not to tire the
visitors. Instead of lifting each foot and then setting it ahead and down, the
Tsla moved with a gait more shuffle and slide. The cape covering the creature's
broad back was dark brown split by a single yellow stripe running down the
middle. This simple motif was present on the toga as well. Etienne found himself
unexpectedly pleased by the sight of another intelligent creature with hair.
Baldness was the norm not only among the Mai but the thranx as well.
After they entered the town, each Tsla they encountered marked their passage by
duplicating the Keeper's raising of hands, as if they were caressing the air.
The Mai muttered among themselves and packed into a tight knot behind the
humans. Etienne wondered at their paranoia, which was typically Mai. There was
no suggestion of treachery here.
Clusters of Tsla children followed a polite distance behind, wiggling curious
stubs of snouts as they took the scent of the peculiar strangers. Before too
long the Keeper halted outside a long barnlike building with a gently curving
roof. It resembled a broken olla set on its side against the earth.
"This is the Trade Place," one of the porters said. "I was here once before,
though I did not stay long."
The Keeper beckoned them to enter. Inside it was dark and cool. Off to the right
they found a row of interconnected chambers with skylights set into the curving
ceiling. The glass was wellfashioned, with few bubbles. It was a good twenty
degrees warmer in the room than it had been out in the hallway.
"For thy friends," the Keeper announced, "and for thee as well if you so
desire."
"No, thanks." Etienne watched the Mai pile joyfully into the big room and stand
with their faces turned up to the sunlight. They divested themselves of their
burdens without being told. "I think we'd prefer the type of room you use
yourselves."
"As thee wish." The Keeper took them back out into the hall and led them farther
into the building to a smaller room full of the aroma of fresh incense.
"If this suits thee, I must leave now."
"It suits," Etienne said.
Lyra was running a hand over the near wall. "Look at this, Etienne. The entire
inside wall is glazed, like a big pot!"
He let his fingers touch the slick surface. "Watertight and cool in summer,
reflects the heat of a fire in winter." The single skylight did not trap the
heat as did those in the porters' room. A window at eyelevel allowed a view
outside to the paved street.
After a time a second Tsla joined them. He was taller than the Keeper and stood
a little straighter while still displaying the curved upper spine. He wore a
similar toga and cape arrangement, but this one was black with two gold stripes
dividing it.
"I am Tyl. I have the honor to be thy host and guide during thy visit to
Turput." He made no secret of his own curiosity regarding the strangers.
"Anything thee wish thee have but to ask and if it can be provided it will."
"We can't stay long," Etienne replied, chosing to ignore his wife's radiant
expression. She was in xenosociological heaven. "We left our boat down on the
Skar and we have to return there soon."
"Never mind that now. Tyl, we want to see everything we can. It's true we have
little time, but I want to learn as much as possible about thy people and their
customs, their way of life. That is my job."
"Worthy scholarship," said Tyl. He had an unexpectedly deep voice that came
rolling out in breathy, rounded syllables from beneath the flexible snout. "If
thy time is constrained thee must listen close as well as look. Tomorrow, if
arrangements can be made, I will take thee to the temple of Moraung Motau."
"Maybe we'd like to see something else first."
"Etienne! Don't be impolite. You've been too long among the Mai. I swear, you're
starting to act like a riverfront merchant."
He was too tired to bicker with her, simply turned away and examined the wall
while she continued to converse with Tyl.
"If thee prefer," their host said, "there is a little time left to the day. We
could begin now."
"Not on your thylife." Etienne headed for a padded bench that obviously was
designed to serve as a couch or bed or both. "I'm worn out."
"Well I'm not," Lyra snapped. "You may show me around if thee wish, Tyl."
"My greatest honor."
Etienne thought of a suitably sarcastic rejoinder but found it hard to find a
reason for spiting the Tsla's courtesy. He said nothing as they departed. The
sound of chimes and bells was like a sedative and the couchbed surprisingly
comfortable. Before he knew it he was sound asleep.
Light from a candle set in a glass dish on a high shelf awakened him. No doubt
it had been lit carefully while he slept by some conscientious servitor.
"Wake up, I said."
He rolled over, found himself staring up at his wife's excited face. He rubbed
tiredly at his heavy eyes. "What is it?"
"Etienne, Tyl took me through half the town, by torchlight. The system of
government these people have developed is unique to sentients in this
technological classification! These Tsla are a xenological wonder. Do you know
that the spiritual administratorsand they're not priests, more the equivalent
of primitive psychoanalystsactually hold half the seats of government?"
"That's interesting." He began to roll over but she put a hand out to restrain
him. He looked irritatedly back over his shoulder.
"Etienne, listen to me! This social structure is unprecedented. This is a
presteam civilization, yet the people are socially advanced enough to pay
extraordinary attention to something as sophisticated as mental health. They
don't define it quite like that, of course, but it comes out the same. They may
be the stablest primitive alien society yet encountered, and they do this
without holding any unwarranted illusions about themselves.
"No wonder the Mai fear and suspect them! The Tsla are so much better balanced.
The Tsla have come to terms with the health of their minds earlier than most
peoples do with the condition of their bodies. Even Martinson's work on Alaspin
is proof of it. This discovery, Etienne, it's worth all the trouble of making
the expedition." She stood and began to pace the room.
"The Tsla are special, unique. There's more than a chip monograph here, there's
an entire volume."
"I'm thrilled for you." He let out a helpless yawn. "Do keep in mind that we
have half a river left to explore."
She started to comment, changed her mind in midthought.
"You're exhausted, Etienne. We'll discuss this in the morning."
"You should be exhausted too."
"I know, but I can't hold back the enthusiasm. I'm running on adrenalin,
Etienne, and I have to share this with someone. Who else if not you?" She
hesitated and added in an odd tone of voice, "Tyl would be interested."
"Tyl strikes me as a good listener." Etienne pulled the light blanket up around
his neck.
"He is, and a good talker as well. From all I was able to discern he's regarded
very well by his fellow Tsla. I watched him perform his evening prann. Beneath
all those robes and cloaks they wear, some of these people are very impressive
physical specimens, Etienne. Much more impressive than the Mai."
"Makes sense. The climate up here's less benign and working steep terraces
requires more strength than tending to a floodplain."
"Yes. Much more in the way of physical strength," she murmured.
I'll in glad you had such a profitable evening. Now if you don't mind, I really
was enjoying my sleep."
"Sorry. Inconsiderate of me." She tiptoed backward from the room. "I'll leave
you now, Etienne, and I'll try not to wake you when I return. I have to find
Tyl."
"Sure," he mumbled, already halfconscious again, "go find Tyl."
He felt much refreshed the next morning. The sun was shining brightly through
the skylight and window and a basin of clear cold water was waiting for him by
the foot of his bed. It was the best night's sleep he'd had since leaving
Steamer Station.
He splashed water off his face, dried himself with his shirt, and looked around.
"Lyra?" The other couchbed was empty. He raised his voice a little. "Lyra!"
She entered through the arched doorway a moment later, already fully dressed and
wide awake. He frowned at her.
"Didn't you get any sleep?"
"Sure did. Slept like Lazarus, got up at dawn. This is such a wonderful place,
Etienne. I know it's an unprofessional thing to say, but there's no comparing
these people to the Mai, Homat being an exception. From what Tyl tells me
there's next to no crime among the Tsla. We can leave our possessions anywhere
in town without fear they'll be stolen. That's another byproduct of their
concern for mental health. They've learned to cope with their baser instincts
not only better than the Mai, but better than many people I know."
"That's quite a judgment to make on the basis of half a night's conversation
with one native, Isn't it an unwritten rule that all primitive cultures have
their hidden eccentricities? I'm sure the Tsla's will appear in due course." He
hunted for his lederhosen.
"Maybe so, but I haven't seen any evidence of it yet and I've been looking.
Hurry up. Tyl's waiting for us."
"Waiting for us? Why?"
She didn't try to mute her exasperation. "To guide us to the temple of Moraung
Motau, remember?"
"Sorry. Still full of sleep. What about something to eat?"
"That's waiting too. I've already sampled the local cooking. It's blander than
the Mai's but perfectly palatable. Don't worry about Homat and the others.
They've already eaten and they're stretched out under their skylights, soaking
up the ultraviolet."
The meal that was brought to their room was simple but ample. Tyl joined them,
watching while they ate and sharing their enjoyment if not their table.
Etienne muttered a terse thank you, asked, "How far is it to this temple?"
"A day's journey. We will spend the night near there."
Etienne searched his memory, was unable to conjure up the sight of any large
structures at the far end of the valley and told Tyl so.
"You did not miss seeing it, friend Etienne. I perhaps should have said it lies
a day's ride from Turput. We will not use our own feet."
"Lowagons?" Etienne inquired, thankful for his feet.
"No. Those are tools of the Mai. We will ride lekkas. When thee are ready, I
will take thee."
In the stable area behind the hospitality building they encountered their first
lekka, a furry thinlegged creature with an incongruously rotund body and a
double tail that switched nervously from side to side. Blunt fury faces turned
to glance curiously at the bearers of strange new smells. They waited with
placid expressions and chewed their cuds as Tsla handlers attached reins to the
base of high, forward curving ears. The forelegs were longer than the hind, an
unusual arrangement for an animal built to run. Etienne thought of hyenas and
giraffes, though the lekka was bulkier than either.
In consequence, there was no pommel on the woven cloth saddles. Instead, each
boasted a high backrest designed to keep the rider from sliding backward down
the sloping spine. It was heavily padded. There were no stirrups. The handlers
brought stepstools to assist in mounting.
The reins were simple and straightforward and both Redowls were mounted in
minutes. Tyl turned his own steed, spoke comfortingly.
"One thing to be careful of. The lekka stands quietly, but they love to run. So
be prepared." A stable yard gate was swung open ahead and he swung his lekka
around.
As their guide shouted an indecipherable Tsla word, Etienne's mount made a
sudden rush for the gap, reaching out with those long forelegs and nearly
throwing its rider feet over head despite the saddle's solid backbrace. As it
was he almost kicked himself in the mouth. Lyra's deep, vibrant laugh didn't
make him feel any better. He threw her a murderous look which she ignored as
she smoothly followed Tyl out the gate.
Etienne brought up the rear, furious at his own clumsiness and determined to
master his animal. Before too long his hips adjusted to the odd reaching gallop
and he was speeding up the wide dirt road as comfortably as Lyra.
The track ran parallel to the river. The Aurang here was some six kilometers
wide, a mighty torrent but only a trickle compared to the Skar. At the far end
of the hanging valley the river fell to earth in a broad waterfall, sparkling
and most impressive. It was a good hundred meters high and reminded him of the
great waterfalls trideed on the tropical thranx worlds that they some day hoped
to visit.
He nudged his mount nearer Lyra and Tyl, called across to their guide.
"It is called the Visautik," Tyl informed him. "We will reach it by midday."
Etienne was studying the sheer wall that seemed to mark the end of the valley.
"Then what?"
"There is a trail not visible from here, a trading road that climbs a rockfall
on this side of the Visautik. It rises to the next valley. Many legats beyond
lies the temple of Moraung Motau. And the Cuparaggai."
"What's that?" Lyra asked, simultaneously noting that the Tsla used the same
unit to measure distance as did the Mai.
There was no way of telling if their guide smiled, since his mouth was hidden by
the weaving proboscis, but Tyl nonetheless managed to convey a feeling of
anticipation as well as delighted amusement as he said, "Thee will see."
Chapter Eight
They heard the Cuparaggai long before they saw it, and felt it before they heard
it. It announced itself as a buzzing in the ears, a vibration in the bones. Its
roar drowned out the rush of Visautik Falls before they crested the canyon wall.
The temple valley was not as large as the one in which Turput lay, and it
appeared narrower and smaller still because of the height of the walls that
enclosed it. Jewellike fields filled the valley, nourished by the Aurang's flow.
At the far end of the valley lay the still unseen source of steady thunder,
marked only by sunlit mist.
They paused atop the ridge and had an interesting lunch that consisted of some
kind of local rolled meat and thick, sweet breadsticks. Then they remounted and
rode on. Several hours later Tyl paused and extracted a handful of small round
cottony pads.
Lyra examined the pair he handed to her. "What are these for?"
Tyl pointed to the small shapes atop his head, then pushed one of the pads
inside.
"Oh!" Lyra hadn't noticed that they now had to shout in order to be heard over
the nearing roar, but she was made aware of it as soon as she inserted the pads
and silence returned.
Despite these precautions they were quite unprepared for the sight that greeted
them when they turned a sharp bend in the canyon.
Several kilometers ahead, sheer rock walls met to form a vertical defile no more
than four kilometers wide. For the first time since they'd left the Skar,
Etienne forgot his irritation with Lyra. He was enveloped by wonder.
"How high?" she shouted at him, leaning close so that he could hear her through
his earplugs. He'd already taken a sighting with the instrumentation on his
wrist.
"Twentyfive hundred meters!" Only the fact that the spray did not rise half as
high as the falls themselves enabled them to see the cliff where the Aurang
River flowed over the edge of the Guntali Plateau. It was a frightening,
magnificent drop and the result was a cascade of unmatched proportions,
fittingly located on a world of geological superlatives.
It seemed impossible that the stone at the base of that torrent could withstand
the impact of so much water falling from such a height without turning to
powder. Just as it seemed impossible for the ancient multistorey edifice that
clung to the cliff face just to the right of the waterfall to remain in place
without having been shaken to pieces hundreds of years ago.
Tyl pointed. "Moraung Motau."
"How old?" Lyra shouted as they raced toward it.
"A thousand years, two thousand, who can say?" Tyl spurred his lekka on.
Hundreds of windows threw back the sun from the rambling, rockclimbing
structure, which appeared more than large enough to shelter the whole population
of Turput. Huge basreliefs covered the facade with writhing figures and
decorative motifs. Only the fact that the building had been hewn from the raw
stone of the cliff face enabled it to withstand the steady vibration produced by
the immense waterfall nearby.
Several thousand years, Tyl had said, and Etienne had no reason to doubt the
Tsla's veracity. He had shown himself to be truthful in everything else.
As they drew near he saw that the thick green lines that covered the lower part
of the cliff on both sides of the Cuparaggai were not sculpted and painted
decorations but enormous vines, unlike anything they had observed growing on
Tslamaina before. Tsla toiled among them, tending to roots and leaves. They wore
longer capes of some shiny material which kept them from being soaked by the
omnipresent spray.
Tyl reined in his lekka and the two humans slowed accordingly.
"Aren't we going any farther?" Lyra asked, shouting to make herself heard over
the Cuparaggai's thunder. "Aren't we going inside the temple?"
Tyl gestured negatively and looked apologetic. "I am sorry, but it is not
permitted. Thee are not initiates. Nor could thee stand it for very long. The
monks who live and work at Moraung Motau are attuned to the old books and
ancient ways. They are also quite deaf. It has always been so."
He led them through the gate of a nearby farm. Etienne could not tell if the
stop had been prearranged, but the farmer and his two mates were as cordial and
relaxed as if they'd known their guests for years.
There they stayed and spent the remainder of the day talking, or rather,
everyone listened politely and attempted to answer Lyra's unending questions.
She inquired about division of labor in the valley, family structure, monkish
ritual, about trading procedure and education and what the Tsla expected of an
afterlife until the poor farmer and his mates were exhausted. Eventually Tyl
intervened.
"Much of what thee request of this family they can not provide for reasons of
ignorance, inhibition, custom, or uncertainty. Nor can I. There is one who might
sate thy endless curiosity."
"Then that's who I want to meet."
"Miian is Chief Consoler and First Scholar of Turput. His time he gives of but
sparingly, for he is old and tired. But I believe he will consent to share
himself with thee."
"That would be wonderful." Lyra put a hand on her husband's arm. "Wouldn't that
be wonderful, Etienne?"
"Wonderful. You won't mind if I don't tag along?"
She looked shocked. "Etienne, this is a special opportunity. How can you?..."
She caught herself, coughed. "You'd rather look at the rocks, wouldn't you?"
"That's right. I'd rather look at the rocks. You go ahead and sit at the feet of
this Consoler." He glanced past her, to Tyl. "Provided it's no imposition."
"Friend Etienne, the sharing of knowledge is never an imposition, just like the
sharing of self. It gives pleasure."
On their way back down to Turput, Etienne let his lekka fall behind Tyl's so
that he could talk to his wife without shouting.
"Lyra, don't you think you're starting to view these people with something less
than scientific detachment? Of all people, you ought to know better than to
idealize a primitive race, no matter how superficially attractive their
philosophy may seem."
"It's not superficial. You put too high a premium on technology, Etienne. There
are other definitions of advancement, other kinds of higher knowledge."
He found himself growing angry. "Come on now, Lyra. The Tsla are nice enough,
and they seem content within themselves, but that's hardly reason enough to go
overboard about them. I never thought I'd see you romanticizing a bunch of
elephantnosed aborigines."
"I would not use the word `aborigine' to describe them," she replied coldly.
"They have advanced far beyond that stage. As for `romanticizing' them, I don't
consider you qualified to use the word."
Her whole attitude struck him as so absurd that the putdown missed its intended
effect. "This is supposed to be a scientific expedition," he told her, "and
we've been more than a little occupied with business. I'm sorry if I haven't
found much time for romance, but I'm not used to strumming guitars beneath four
moons, let alone one. Besides which it's a twoway street. A little
encouragement on a second party's part might be in order."
She bridled at that. "I've given you ample opportunity."
"You don't say? How exactly do you define ample opportunity, and how does that
have anything to do with encouragement? They're two different things, you know."
"If you don't know," she snapped, "I certainly can't tell you." She spurred her
lekka forward until she was cantering alongside their guide.
Etienne watched as the pair of them began an animated discussion of some obscure
aspect of Tsla behavior. Infatuated, he told himself. A good scientist like
Lyra, infatuated with a bunch of furry primitives. It was hard to believe.
Well, she'd get over it soon enough. Everything about Tsla culture was new to
her, each bit of information a surprise and contrast to what they'd learned
about the Mai. As soon as she worked it out of her system they'd head back down
into the Barshajagad and life would return to normal. Let her rhapsodize about
her work. He had plenty of his own to do for a change. If she tried to draw him
into her discussions all he had to do was start talking enthusiastically about
the amount of pyroxine in the local metamorphics and she'd leave him alone
quickly enough.
True to his word as always, Tyl succeeded in obtaining permission for Lyra to
have an audience with the Chief Consoler. From then on Etienne saw very little
of his wife save at mealtimes. He lost himself in his own field studies, making
as complete a record of the canyon of the Aurang and its formations as possible,
estimating the age of various strata and returning several times to marvel at
the power and majesty of Cuparaggai Falls.
It was only several weeks later, during one of their increasingly infrequent
meetings in their room, that he remarked again on the amount of time she was
spending among their hosts, and it was not something she said that prompted his
comments it was her appearance.
"Where did you get that outfit?" He stared at her and tried to withhold his
laughter.
Lyra executed a slow pirouette for him. The brilliantly striped freeflowing
gown and cape swirled loosely around her.
"Tyl gave it to me. Miian ordered it. It seems that he thinks very highly of
me. We've been exchanging information, you see. He teaches me, I teach him.
Miian lives for the sharing of knowledge."
"Clad the two of you are getting along so well. But really, Lyranative dress?"
"What's wrong with it? It keeps off the wind, it's as warm during the night as
my long sleeves and cooler during the day. Eminently practical. They had to
modify the shoulder area for me. We don't have that curvature of the upper
spine, and my arms are longer, but it's such a tentlike garment little work was
necessary. Miian insisted."
"Nice of the old boy. What enlightening discoveries have you made?"
"Everything I've learned to date only confirms what I originally suspected. The
Tsla are the most sociologically advanced race of their class yet discovered.
They have no standing army, no police force, and all citizens bear arms on the
rare occasions when it's necessary."
"No crime at all, in a society this primitive?"
"There you go with your preconceived notions of what's primitive, Etienne.
There's some crime, naturally. It's handled by the Consolers and Advisors. They
treat the culprit like a patient, not a criminal. Cure and not punishment.
According to the First Scholar there is perfection in everyone."
"You included, naturally."
"Me included." The sarcasm went right past her. "You included. The Mai and the
Na included." Then she said something which made him sit up and take notice.
"Etienne, I believe the Tsla may be mildly telepathic."
"Now that would be a discovery worth shouting about. There are no known
telepathic races, only mutant individuals. What makes you think so?"
"Their remarkable perceptivity. They seem to have an instinctive grasp of what
I'm going to say before I say it."
His initial excitement faded. "What makes you think it's anything more than
that?"
She suddenly looked uncomfortable. "For one thing, Tyl has commented on more
than one occasion that he doesn't believe you and I are getting along too well."
The sharp laugh that filled the room was wholly spontaneous.
"And you're basing your assumption on evidence like that? You don't have to be a
telepathic native to see that you and I aren't exactly acting like the ideal
couple. I'm sure you've shared that knowledge with this Miian also and he
passed it on to Tyl."
"You just don't want to consider the possibility, do you?" "Possibility? Show me
some real evidence for telepathic ability and I'll consider the possibility. I'm
starting to worry about you, Lyra."
"Save yourself the trouble." She turned to leave. "I should have known better
than to confide in you."
"Lyra..." She hesitated. "Lyra, we've only been here a few weeks. The Tsla
aren't natural wonders any more than they're living examples of Rousseau's
natural man. They're simply a nicer group of folks than the Mai. For all we know
they may make mass sacrifices every six months."
"I don't understand your hostility. Why this sudden antipathy toward the Tsla?
They've been perfect hosts."
"There's no antipathy and what I'm saying has nothing to do with the Tsla. All
I'm saying is that no conscientious researcher should jump to conclusions, much
less make value judgments about an entire race on the basis of a few weeks spent
among one group of villagers."
"I can agree with that, Etienne. A lot more study is needed to confirm my
findings. There are several volumes to be composed. I haven't even had time to
examine how the Tsla's position as middlemen between the Mai and the Na has
affected their outlook on life and their social development."
"I'm sure someone will resolve all the loose xenological ends neatly some day."
She said nothing and a sudden thought changed his tone. "Lyra, are you trying to
tell me something?"
"Yes. I'm not ready to go Upriver again yet, Etienne. My work here is barely
under way."
"When will you be ready to go Upriver again, my love?"
"Maybe in a couple of months. Certainly no sooner."
"That takes us into local winter. That wouldn't cause us any problems here, but
up near the arctic circle the Skar may freeze solid. The hydrofoil's not
equipped for ice skimming, Lyra. We can't wait two months."
She turned again, a swirl of brightly striped cottonlike folds. "I'm sorry,
Etienne, but I can't abandon my work here. As you so aptly pointed out, I don't
have sufficient evidence to support my numerous conclusions."
"Where are you going?"
"Evening meditation. I've been invited to watch and to participate if I desire.
I'd ask you along but you wouldn't find a bunch of aborigines sitting around
attempting to get in touch with their inner selves very interesting, would you?"
And she was gone. He stared after her for a long minute.
"Well, damn!" He would have kicked his bed if it hadn't been constructed of
solid rock. He settled instead for slamming one fist into an open palm until the
latter was sore.
Of one thing he was certain. No matter how vital Lyra considered her work here,
they had to return to the Skar. That was the agreement. Similar agreements had
kept their marriage together for twenty years and he was damned if he was going
to alter that relationship because of a sudden infatuation on her part for a
race of pseudol amaistic anteaters with soulful eyes.
She didn't come to the room that night. It wasn't the first time she'd stayed
away all night, but it was the first time he'd lain awake long enough to notice
it. It was very early the next morning when he strode purposefully down the hall
toward the porters' quarters.
Like his companions, Homat lay asleep beneath a half dozen heavy woven blankets.
Etienne estimated the room temperature at seventy degrees. He nudged the Mai
hard.
"What is it, deEtienne?" Homat inquired as he tried to clear his vision.
"Get up. Get everyone up. We're leaving."
"Leaving, deEtienne? I thoughtyou did not say, and it is very early."
"There's been a sudden change of plans. You'll find out that we humans have a
tendency to do things on the spur of the moment."
"I understand that, deEtienne, but-"
"I'll be in the courtyard if you need me. Tell them to hurry it up." He left a
very puzzled Mai behind him.
Evidently meditation was over, or else someone had roused his wife from her
contemplation. She stormed out into the open courtyard, ignoring the strained
singing of several lizardlike puouts on the main gate. Etienne didn't look up
from his work. He was checking the supplies several somber Tsla were providing.
"Etienne, this is childish. You know how I hate it when you turn childish."
"Yes, I know, and you hate ultimatums even worse."
"That's because ultimatums are the worst manifestation of childishness. I
thought everything had been settled last night."
"Settled to your satisfaction. Not to mine. I'm leaving." He tugged brutally on
a backpack's straps.
She sighed deeply. "I told you that my work here is just getting under way, that
I'm only beginning to make some real progress in understanding this culture,
these people."
"Fine. I understand that." He moved to check another pack. Homat and the rest of
the porters began filing sleepily out of the hospitality building, shivering in
the early morning cold. Few Tsla were about this early and the sun was just
peeking over the eastern wall of the canyon.
"You stay here, Lyra. You don't have to come down with me. If all goes as
intended I'll be back in six months to pick you up. Stay and meditate like mad."
"You can't go north alone," she argued. "Two is the absolute minimum authorized
for an expedition .dike this."
"Then from this point on the expedition advances without authorization, I guess.
Homat's learned enough to assist me. Haven't you, Homat?"
The Mai guide's gaze shifted warily from one tall alien to the other and he
found reason to work on the pack farthest away from them both.
Etienne started toward another bundle and Lyra rushed to confront him, blocking
his path. "Stop it, Etienne. Stop it right now. I'm not in the mood for a
fight."
"Why not?" he asked sarcastically. "Did I upset your morning devotions? And as
long as we're on the subject of childish acts, how would you define someone who
forgets eight years of higher education and goes native despite twenty years of
arduous fieldwork that consistently proves such activities are counterproductive
to good research?"
"I've explained before that the Tsla are a unique race deserving of special
study. Sometimes to obtain the best results it's necessary to bend the rules."
"Not as far as I'm concerned it isn't." He waved expansively at the surrounding
buildings. "But you go ahead. Stay and have yourself a deliriously good time.
Bury yourself in native customs and habits. Inhale primitive wisdom, join the
local religion, become a Tsla nun if they have such institutionsI don't care.
I never put restraints on you, Lyra, despite all your talk of ultimatums.
"As for me, I intend to locate the source of the river Skar and study its
history and geology from there to the morass of the Skatandah. Halfway along
that journey of discovery I will make it a point to stop back here and pick you
up."
"Etienne."
"What?" He stepped around her and bent to the pack with a will.
"Etienne, you know I can't let you go without me."
"Why not? What about your carefully timed research program?"
"We're a team, Etienne. We complement each other. Neither of us does our best
work solitaire."
"We'll just have to adapt somehow, won't we?"
"No," said a new voice. Etienne frowned, looked toward the hallway. He and Lyra
had been arguing in Tsla, using the local language out of habit.
The Chief Consoler and First Scholar of Turput stood in the portal. It was the
first time Etienne had seen him and the Tsla's advanced age manifested itself in
the streaks of silver that dominated his face, the wrinkled flesh of exposed
forearms. Tyl stood at his right shoulder to lend support should it be needed.
Miian leaned on a twisted cane.
"I was told of the disturbance," he said in a surprisingly strong voice.
"No disturbance," Etienne muttered, inspecting the packs. "Just a friendly
domestic conversation, that's all."
"We do not mean to intrude," Tyl said. "It would give me much unhappiness if I
thought that we-
"Oh far heaven's sake." Etienne turned sharply to confront the newcomers. "Must
you people always be so damned polite?"
"We're sorry," said Miian. "It is our nature."
Etienne threw up his hands.
"Such a disturbance cannot be allowed," Miian said.
"What do you mean it can't be allowed?" Etienne asked him.
"Discord among guests is not to be tolerated."
"Really? And what do you propose as a solution?"
Miian shambled across the paving to stand close to Lyra. He took her left hand
in some strange alien grip Etienne hadn't observed in use before.
"Thee must go with thy mate. If thy duality is to be the price of thy studies, I
cannot allow thee to continue. When all is resolved, return to study with us
another time."
"But it was already settled," she protested. "I was to remain here and continue
my research, learn your ways and"
The Chief Consoler raised a sixfingered hand. "We will miss thee, for thou has
a thirst for learning that all but matches our own. If thee could bring thy
mate's work here all would be simplified, but mountains are difficult to move.
It is more sensible for thee to accompany him. Besides, thee may still continue
thy studies, for some of thy work can go with thee, a boon for which we would be
most thankful."
"I don't understand, Miian." Etienne listened without looking. Apparently the
First Scholar was taking his side and he was embarrassed by his early display of
anger.
"Beyond the lands that lie Upriver from Turput are many that are unknown to thy
Mai companions." He gestured to his right. "If thee will permit it, Tyl and four
bearers will accompany thee. He has traveled extensively, knows many Upriver
dialects and peoples. When you pass beyond his realm of knowledge, he will be
there to see and to study for all Turput. And When not guiding thee he can
continue to instruct you in our ways."
"You said you'd do that yourself."
"The instructor is not important. All that matters is the knowledge."
"It's not that simple." She glanced at Etienne, who carefully avoided her
stare. "Looks like you win after all. I can argue with you but not with Tsla
logic. That is, if you have no objection to Tyl joining us."
"I've no objection, but it's not entirely up to us." He rose from the pack he'd
been inspecting so intently. "Homat?"
"You already have a guide, deEtienne," he replied slowly.
"We do, and a fine one, but what the old Tsla says makes good sense. Haven't you
said that the river beyond this point is new to you?"
"Yes, yes." Homat was still reluctant to surrender any of his hardwon
authority. "I see that you are right, deEtienne. A Tsla who knows the way would
be welcome." He tugged at the hood of his coat. "Anything would be welcomed that
takes us quickly out of this cold country."
Etienne grinned. "I apologize. I guess I did kind of drag all of you out of a
warm bed on your equivalent of an icy morning." He turned to the First Scholar.
"We accept your kind offer. Tyl's been nothing but helpful since we got here and
I see no reason not to share his company. How do you feel about this, Tyl? You
haven't said anything."
"It is Miian's place to say, but I look forward to it. I will gain much
knowledge. It is a unique opportunity for me."
"It's settled then, I expect." Lyra started for the hallway. "I'll go get ready.
See what I mean about Tsla judgment, Etienne? They have enough sense to see that
we're a team even when we don't."
He left the Mai to make final preparations and hurried to catch up with her. She
was resigned to leaving, which was very different from being agreed.
"I'm sorry I had to force the issue like this, Lyra, but I was at my wits' end.
I couldn't think of anything else."
"I accept that." She slowed and some of the hardness drained from her
expression. "Maybe you're right, Etienne. Maybe I've gotten a little too close
to my work here. The soul of a good working team is its ability to compromise.
I'm compromising. Just remember, you owe me one."
"I promise, Lyra. On the way back you can spend as much time as you want. But we
must make it to the turnaround point, the source of the Skar, before winter
sets in up north. We've no idea what to expect, since the southern winters are
moderated by the Groalamasan."
"So you keep telling me."
"What about this Tyl?" he asked, changing the subject. "You've been working with
these people. He's a scholar. Do you think he's up to a difficult, dangerous
journey? Physically, I mean. Mentally I know that he's ready."
"Don't worry about his stamina, Etienne. The Tsla are as adaptable as we are,
not at all like the Mai. He'll be able to handle the heat down in the
Barshajagad. We'll make space for him inside. There's plenty o f room. He and his
companions will manage."
"Companions?"
"You didn't hear the First Scholar's last words?" Etienne shook his head.
"Milan doesn't want to send Tyl by himself. He wants to send him with four
porters, to replace the Mai who will leave as soon as we reach the river."
"We don't need porters on the river."
"Milan has told me several times these past days that there will come a point
where we'll have to leave the river, leave our boat."
"We can't leave the boat. You know that."
"I know it, yes, but Miian insists that without porters we'll have to turn back
at a place somewhere a couple of thousand legats Upriver."
"It's true." They turned around, saw Homat standing behind them. "I listen and
hear many things, deEtienne. The Tsla speak of this after you have come
inside." He eyed Lyra with great interest. "Why do they say such things?"
"Milan talks about a spot far Upriver where the Skar undergoes ... he called it
a dramatic change of personality. It's like the Tsla to ascribe such traits to
inanimate objects, and he was very clear in his description of this place. It's
called the Topapasirut."
Homat's extreme reaction was unexpected. His eyes went very wide as he executed
a half dozen powerful signs designed to ward off dangerous spirits.
"It means," Lyra told her husband, "Cleansing Place of all the Waters."
"That doesn't sound very threatening."
"I agree, but Miian insists we can't pass beyond it with the boat. Hence his
insistence that we accept porters."
"Another waterfall? Satellite topographics don't show any large waterfalls in
the northern region of the Barshajagad, though admittedly pictures are less than
perfect."
"No, not a waterfall. Something else."
"Five Tsla, Homat?"
"I dislike the presence of so many strangers on board the spirit boat,
deEtienne, but it seems we must tolerate all to gain the knowledge of one."
Etienne Redowl considered, said finally, "Tell the one called Miian we accept
his generous offer, but that all the porters are to be under your command." The
Mai seemed to grow several centimeters.
"They won't stand for that," Lyra argued.
"Won't they? Surely your high and mighty Tsla can take orders from a mere Mai.
Don't tell me they'll argue about it."
"Tyl is an important scholar."
"I said that the four porters would act at Homat's direction, not Tyl. You'll
just have to explain to Miian that Homat's been with us a long time, that he's
familiar with our boat and its workings, and that he's our right arm. Or left,
whichever they accord more weight to."
"Neither. They're physically as well as mentally ambidextrous."
"We need a chain of command. It's going to be crowded on the boat. As for
letting them inside the cabin with us, I understand the need but are you sure we
can trust them?"
"I trust Tyl completely Etienne. And the porters will look on their work as the
Buddhaistic equivalent of making a pilgrimage for merit. So they'll work their
hardest to make sure the expedition's a success."
"Tell them to hurry themselves along then, Homat. We have a long way to go."
"To the river, deEtienne, and to real weather! I will hurry them with
delightment!"
Chapter Nine
Compared to the long climb up from the shore of the Skar, the descent was as
pleasurable as an afternoon stroll through the gardens of New Riviera. In
addition, the loads had been distributed among twice as many porters, the Tsla
shouldering their new burdens alongside but separate from their Mai
counterparts.
The Tsla joked amiably among themselves, their evident good spirits proof enough
of Lyras claim that all were willing volunteers. Whenever Tyl moved among them
they deferred to him as they would a superior, but without any of the bowing
and scraping common among the Mai. The porters recognized and honored him as
their mental and spiritual superior. He, in turn, did not use his position to
lord it over his fellows.
There was something of a subtle hierarchy among the porters, however, as if each
one knew his place without having to be reminded of it. At the bottom of the
pecking order was one exceptionally large, powerful, and mentally slow
individual named Yulour. He hardly spoke at all and was often the butt of
gentle, nonmalicious humor on the part of his companions, to which he invariably
responded with a smile. It took a while for Yulour's slowness to manifest itself
beyond a doubt, at which point Etienne slipped back from the head of the party
to take Tyl aside.
"Yulour?" Etienne wished he could see if Tyl was smiling, but that weaving
flexible snout concealed the lower half of his expression. "He was orphaned in
the mountains, his parents slain by some carnivore he could not well describe to
us. Perhaps the terror of that moment stopped his mind from growing." Tyl made a
gesture Etienne did not recognize.
"He was raised a part of Miian's extended family, but it did not help him
here." Tyl tapped the side of his head. "For all that he is a goodly soul, with
a kind heart, and his back is strong if his mind weak. He will gain much merit
from this journey, perhaps even enough to admit him to the afterlife."
"It's not my specialty, more my wife's province, but I didn't know that the Tsla
believed in an afterlife."
"Not all of us do. I do not know if Yulour does, so I try to believe for him. He
appears content with his lot, unfair as life has been to him. There are many I
know who envy him his unshakable contentment. On this journey of discovery he
is my greatest responsibilitysave for thee and thy mate, of course." There was
no guile in those warm brown eyes.
"If he were to wander away from us he would never find his way back. Indeed,
though he has lived there all his life, he could not find his way back to Turput
from this spot. He would not have enough sense to follow the road." Tyl waited
and when no more questions were forthcoming, fell back among his fellows.
Everything Lyra claimed for the Tsla was borne out by each new experience. They
were a kind, likable people. So why did he persist in trying to find a reason
for disliking them?
He knew the answer to that one. Lyra was not fond of the Tsla. She was
absolutely infatuated with them. But was that the root of his problem? He
pressed on with his internal argument. No, it was something else. There was one
Tsla in particular, one she spent all her spare time with, one she looked up to
and turned to with every new question Tyl.
Now there was a bizarre thought, he told himself. No question about it, Tyl was
an impressive specimen of mammalian life. It wasn't the first time Lyra had
grown personally fond of some object of study.
Patrick O'Morion's space, I'm jealous of an alien aborigine, he told himself.
The shock of realization so numbed him he nearly wandered off the road toward a
hundredmeter drop. Lyra noticed the dazed look in his eyes.
"Etienne? Are you okay?"
"Sure. Yeah, I'm okay." He blinked, extended his stride until he once more
assumed the lead. Lyra stared at his back, shook her head in puzzlement and
hurried to catch up with him.
The Tsla brought up the rear. Tyl stood next to Yulour, dwarfed by the porter's
bulk. "Yulour?"
"Yes, Learned One?"
"What is the sign made by crossing the Oo and the Strike?"
The porter's brow did not furrow. There was no point in straining his capacity
over the mildly complex concept.
"I do not know, Learned One."
"That's all right, Yulour. It's not important. Tell me, what do you think of our
new friends?"
Yulour looked over the heads of his companions, at the two humans. "They are
very nice, Learned One, though they have so little fur. And when they talk among
themselves it is strange talk, neither like ours nor the Mai's. But they are
nice."
"Yes, they are. Thank thee for thy opinion, Yulour." The porter made a movement
with his trunk.
Tyl rejoined the objects of his interest. "Your curiosity induced me to chat
with Yulour, Etienne. I put to him a question simple enough for a cub to answer,
and he could not. It was beyond his simple powers of reason. Yet it struck me
that he may be happier than we. While he is free of intelligence, he is also
free of the pains and travails higher thought brings. Ignorance, frustration,
envy he is subject to none of these."
"You make him out to be a perfect saint."
"Sometimes I wonder. He is so content, and still there are times I do not
understand him."
"We have a saying among our people, Tyl." Etienne struggled to translate it into
Tsla. "Better a lucky idiot than an unlucky genius."
"Ali, this strange concept of `luck' again. Lyra mentioned it to me. We have no
such concept. You must explain it to me further." Etienne made an attempt to do
so as they plodded steadily downhill toward the ever widening streak of silver
that was the Skar.
Days passed and the heat intensified, rising past ninety degrees. As it did so
the Tsla began shedding their clothing, capes and togas vanishing into packs,
not to be used again until the climate of the far north was encountered.
It was the first time Etienne had seen a Tsla without the familiar capeandtoga
attire. They appeared quite comfortable without it, as if clothing was employed
for protection against the elements and possibly to signify social standing, but
not because of some primitive nudity taboo.
Not that they were naked in the human sense, since soft brown fur covered
everything except forearms and forelegs. The only surprise was the unexpected
presence of a tail, a short stub five to six centimeters in length. It made them
look animalistic, though several intelligent races retained tails. The AAnn, for
example, considered the retention of a tail as a sign of intellige nce, not vice
versa.
In other respects the Tsla were very human, if one discounted the sixfingered
hands, sixfingered toes, and myrmecophagous face. There was one other aspect of
their anatomy that interested him. He fully intended to question Lyra about it
as soon as he could be sure she wouldn't misinterpret his curiosity. Undoubtedly
she would have found his uncertainty amusing.
By the time the temperature touched one hundred degrees the Mai were shedding
their coldclimate attire, able for the first time in weeks to luxuriate in the
stifling heat and humidity.
They reached the bank of the Skar and turned toward Aib. Etienne was looking
forward to a cool shower on board the hydrofoil. As soon as they'd cleaned
themselves up they'd hand over the second half of the agreedupon payment to the
local Oyt and make preparations for resuming their journey Upriver.
That evening they were confronted by the leader of their Mai porters. So rapidly
did he talk that even Lyra had trouble following his words. It was left for
Homat to interpret.
"It has something to do with the season of sowing," he explained. "They are all
late to help and are anxious to be on their way. There is also talk of local
taxes. They come not from Aib itself but from the outlying farming district."
Lyra nodded knowingly. "I understand. They want to skip with their payment
before the local authorities can demand a cut. Perfectly Mai."
The porters organized a hasty ceremony of departure, took their payment, and
left in a rush. Only slightly discomfited by the heat, the Tsla assumed the
second half of the divided burdens. Larger and stronger than the Mai, they had
no difficulty with the full loads.
Two days later they were nearing the outskirts of Aib when Etienne's eyebrows
drew together. "That's funny."
"What is funny, Etienne?" Tyl asked uncertainly.
Etienne ignored the question. Impolite, but he was concerned with something
besides alien concepts of courtesy.
"I don't see the boat, Lyra."
She strained her eyes. "Neither do I. Your eyesight's better than mine, Etienne,
but you're right. I don't see it. Surely that's the dock where we left it
moored?"
"Has to be," he muttered. "See, there's the basaltic outcrop the local ruler
used for a dais."
"Something is wrong?" Tyi asked. "I feared as much. These Mai," he said evenly,
not caring whether Homat overheard him or not, "will steal anything left
unguarded for half an anal and consider it moral."
"We made an arrangement," Etienne explained even as his pace quickened, "with
the head of this town to watch our boat for us. We paid him half the set fee
prior to our departure."
Forbearing to say, "I told you so," Homat instead chose to put the best possible
light on the situation. "Perhaps the people of Aib are not responsible for the
disappearance of the spirit boat."
"You rationalize hopefully, Homat. What do you really think?"
The Mai's gaze shifted rapidly from one alien to the other. It was a look
Etienne had become familiar with and he hastened to reassure their guide.
"You have nothing to fear from us, Homat. We are your friends."
"You recall, deEtienne, how I warned you against this possibility?"
"All too clearly." They were almost running now. The dock was an empty gesture
protruding into the river.
"I cannot see, deEtienne, how the spirit boat could have vanished without the
Aibites knowing. If they did not take it themselves, they surely did little to
prevent its being taken. I thought you said that it could not be stolen, that it
would protect itself."
"That's what we thought," Etienne replied grimly. "It looks like we were wrong."
He looked toward the town. "Let's pay our good friend Gwattwe a visit, shall
we?"
The modest residence of the Oyt of Aib was guarded by a brace of wellarmed but
obviously nervous warriors. The Oyt, one of them explained, was not at home.
"Then you've no objection to our entering to lay tribute at his table?" Lyra
replied.
"I was told to admit no visitors." The soldier looked very unhappy.
Tyl spoke. "This refusal gains your master no grace, to flagrantly flout the
laws of hospitality concerning weary travelers."
"In addition to which if you don't let us inside, we'll call on our otherworldly
spirits to blow the place down." This was more bluff than promise, since an
asynapt wouldn't do more than scorch the stone wall before them, but the guard
didn't know that.
The guard looked askance at the pistol riding Etienne's hip, having already
assumed it was some sort of weapon. He had no desire to personally discover its
capabilities. "I will find out what best be done." He turned and vanished into
the domicile, reappearing after a lapse of a few minutes. A curious, hesitant
crowd had emerged from other nearby structures. They milled about well clear of
the travelers, staring at the pair of aliens and the five Tsla.
"You are to be admitted," the guard informed them, "but only if you leave your
spirit callers outside."
"Our spirits come with us," Lyra informed him in nononsense tones.
The guard sighed. "I was asked only to request it. Enter."
The stone and wood edifice was something more than a house and a good deal less
than a palace, but was no doubt the best a small town like Aib could afford.
Although the matter of their boat's whereabouts occupied most of his thoughts,
Etienne still managed to note the mixture of envy and distaste with which the
local Mai viewed the Tsla.
As Etienne had expected, Gwattwe had been there all along. Etienne thought he
looked unwell, as if all the traditional bravado had been knocked out of him.
Strange. If he intended to bargain for the missing hydrofoil he was beginning
badly.
"Where is it?" he snapped at the Oyt, in no mood for protocol.
"I do not have to guess to what you refer," said the Oyt tiredly. "Your spirit
boat is not here."
"You stole it," Etienne growled. "We trusted you, we left payment as security
for that trust which you betrayed. You promised that our property would come to
no harm."
"I lied," said Gwattwe.
Venerable mastery of diplomacy, Etienne mused sardonically. But this wasn't
what he'd anticipated when they'd entered the town. Something was wrong here.
"Where have you hidden it?"
"We do not have your spirit boat." Gwattwe executed a most profound gesture of
regret and helplessness. Tyl was watching him carefully.
"I believed you when you offered us assurances. Why should I believe you when
you offer disclaimers?"
"It matters not whether you believe me. We do not have your boat. We did not
steal it. Oh, we tried to." His expression turned sour. "Most assuredly we
tried. Your spirits slew my advisor and several of his students, one at a time."
He paused, but if he was expecting some word of contrition from Etienne he was
going to have a long wait. He continued.
"We tried everything that we could think of, but we never had a glimpse of the
spirits that watched over your vessel, nor of how they slew." He rose from his
couch and balding houris rolled clear of his feet.
"Then where's our boat?"
"It pains me to have to tell you that it was stolen."
"But not by you?"
"Not by us. Why do you think it pains me?" Clearly Gwattwe of Aib was distressed
only because another had succeeded where he had failed.
"When I lost my best advisors in matters spiritwise I finally resolved to
contact the renowned Davahassi, who is head advisor to Langai of Hochac."
Tyl leaned close to Etienne and spoke in Mai. "Hochac is a very bad place. It
lies a few legats north of the place where the Aurang flows into the Skar. We
rarely trade with them, for the people there are mean of spirit and sometimes
prefer to kill for what they want rather than pay for it as many Mai are wont to
do."
Etienne saw Homat stiffen, but the guide held his tongue. He would have to
convince Tyl to be a little more circumspect in his comments concerning the Mai
whenever Homat was around.
"It was hoped that Davahassi might solve the secret of your spirit boat as he
has traveled widely and gained much knowledge. He came down by boat with Langai
himself and a large escort of advisors. I was suspicious then but didn't know
what else to do.
"They studied your spirit boat for many days and buried three advisors of their
own in the river before Davahassi hit upon his plan. The secret, he announced,
was to leave the spirits that protected your vessel in place and not to intrude
on their privacy, for clearly the craft was their home and they defended it as
such from any intruder. But that did not mean that the home itself could not be
moved, provided the spirits within were left undisturbed.
"Therefore at his instructions Langai had a great wooden cage constructed. Many
spells were then placed upon the spirit boat as the cage was placed around it
and bound in place. It was then dragged from its home, the water, and placed on
a platform whence it was transported to the center of Aib. It sat right there
while we all celebrated." He pointed toward the town square outside the official
residence.
"During the celebration our spirits were high. All would share in the profit
from this action. We relaxed with our good `friends.' Davahassi, may his
entrails entice parasites, drugged our fine wine. When we awoke the next day it
was found that Langai and his advisors had slipped the spirit boat back into the
river. The wooden platform on which it had been placed apparently made a most
delighted raft that they used to carry their booty homeward, like carrion
eaters.
"We pursued, but too late, and Langai had stationed soldiers in the hills
between here and Hochac. Certainly we could not have approached by water in time
to intercept them." He concluded his tale of woe and lost opport unity with the
Mai equivalent of a disgruntled shrug.
"You see, we did not steal your boat, but it was not for want of trying."
"How noble of you to say so."
"A wooden cage," Lyra murmured. "Wood's a rotten conductor. Once out of the
water they'd be safe enough so long as they didn't make contact with the hull."
"`Left the spirits in peace,"' Etienne repeated. "That explains what happened.
Nothing's wrong with the ship's defensive systems. They just avoided provoking
them. I never thought the locals would have enough sense to move the whole boat
without trying to get aboard and at the controls or contents." He turned back to
Gwattwe.
"We'd like your help in recovering our property. You can compensate for your own
attempted thievery and earn your fee by providing us with a troop of soldiers to
help us assault Hochac."
"Would that such a thing were feasible," Gwattwe murmured. "I would do it for
the chance at revenge alone, but Hochac is not Aib, hairy one. It is not much
larger but it is far stronger. It would take many more soldiers than Aib could
provide to overcome it, for Hochac is a walled town and heavily defended.
Otherwise it could not withstand the attentions of its neighbors, whom it makes
a practice of bullying and defrauding. The Hochacites are known for their love
of battle. We of Aib are a peaceful folk."
"Sticky fingers and now sticky feet." A hand came down gently on his shoulder.
"Perhaps," Tyl whispered to him in Tsla so that Gwattwe could not understand,
"it might be better for us just to go. The Hochacites may be expecting a big
attack. If we approach with patience and caution, we may surprise them. But do
not inform this one of our intentions. Like all his kind, he may yet find profit
in selling such information to those who have already stolen from him. Feuds are
like chap' to the Mai, and as permanent as their promises."
Etienne turned back to the waiting Oyt. "As we apparently have lost our craft
and cannot recover it, we must return Downriver to the Groalamasan and our base
in order to obtain another. You owe us for what we already have paid you."
"I do not deny that. Business is business," Gwattwe readily admitted.
"We will accept recompense in the form of a couple of riverworthy sailing craft
so that we may safely return Downriver."
Gwattwe looked relieved, if not downright pleased. "That is fair," he said
quickly. "The craft you wish will be provided. And may you have a safe journey
Downriver."
Safe it would be, Etienne mused, but they had no intention of heading south.
Having no reason to ply the Skar, the Tsla were not very good sailors. But Homat
felt right at home. With his help, both small boats managed to make their way
slowly Upriver.
They anchored well out in the river away from the walled harbor of Hochac.
Occasional fishing boats drifted past and their crews hailed the newcomers.
Etienne and Lyra stayed out of sight belowdecks while Homat fielded the passing
inquiries. The sight of the Tsla raised curious stares, but many of the drifting
fisherfolk were from farther Upriver. Their questions were not threatening. Only
a few of the curious called Hochac home port. To them the sight of Tsla on the
river was unusual, but hardly cause for alarm.
Langai of Hochac and his advisor Davahassi might know that the alien owners of
the stolen spirit boat had gone to visit with the Tsla, but that wasn't reason
enough to connect the offworlders to these furry fishermen. As far as Langai
and the rest of Hochac knew, Etienne and Lyra Redowl were far away.
So no soldiers rowed out to inspect the fishermen and the two boats were able to
move safely inshore on the heels of nightfall. As soon as it was dark, Etienne
and Lyra crept out on the upper deck and produced daynight scopes from their
kits.
"Must be used to attacks." Etienne squinted through his monocular. "The
stockade's made of wood instead of stone, but its good and high. Too high to
scale easily. You can see places where the individual logs have been scarred by
fire. The top is flat and lined with broken glass. Cute."
"What sign of thy spirit boat?" Tyl asked softly.
"I can't see a thing besides the stockade, but there's a helluva lot of light
from the center of town." He touched a switch on the side of the scope and the
tiny longrange microphone amplified sound along with the light. Homat jumped
at the unexpected rush of noise while the Tsla drew back and made signs. Lyra
reassured them.
As soon as Homat had overcome his initial suspicion of the scope, Etienne asked
him, "What do you make of this?"
The Mai moved hesitantly nearer the source of the sounds. "Drums, pipes, flutes,
high chanting they sound as if they are celebrating." His face lit with
recognition of a particular chant. "That is what it is. A gathering to celebrate
their great triumph over the Aibites and their successful theft. I did not
recognize it at first. Many of the words here are different from in Po Rabi."
"Then we have a chance to surprise them while they're partying."
"I don't think so, deEtienne. They will have the spirit boat carefully watched,
lest some of their own fellows try to steal it and sell it Downriver. Anyone
clever enough to steal the spirit boat would not be so stupid as to trust his
own people."
Etienne touched the asynaptic pistol riding his hip. "Then we'll just have to
walk in and make a polite request for the return of our property." He glanced at
his wife but this time Lyra had nothing to say about the prospect of wreaking
havoc on the natives.
Another source did, however. "The taking of lives would be most regrettable."
Tyl wore his most soulful expression.
"I'm sorry too, Tyl, but we have to get our boat back and I'm in no mood to be
nice about it. Not only would its loss mean the end of our expedition, but there
are devices on board that could be a real danger to the Mai themselves if they
ever managed to figure them out." He wiped sweat from his forehead. The
temperature was still over a hundred and ten and the humidity hovered around
ninety percent.
"There's another factor to consider. Lyra and I could probably obtain
transportation back down to the Skatandah Delta, but we couldn't take months of
this heat."
"I do not dispute the need to recover thy property, Etienne. I only abhor the
necessity of taking lives through violence."
"We'll do as little shooting as possible."
"A very exuberant celebration." Homat was still listening intently to the
amplified sounds coming from beyond the stockade as the two boats slipped into
the harbor. "Siask!" he suddenly snapped, dropping to the gunwale. Etienne and
Lyra immediately flattened themselves below the seats.
"What is it? What's the matter?"
"A patrol, I think. What do we do now?"
"If I may be permitted?"
Etienne glanced down toward Tyl. "You have something in mind?"
"You and thy Lyra must remain concealed, for on sight of thee the alarm will
surely be raised, but thy friend Homat will only be questioned, especially if we
show ourselves. It is unusual, as you know, for we of the Tsla to come down to
the river. These warriors should be intrigued by our presence but not alarmed,
for it is well known that we love peace and harm no one."
"Good idea, Tyl. You put them off their guard long enough for Lyra and me to get
close enough to bring them down."
Tyl's proboscis twitched with amusement. "That would be too risky, would it
not?" He gestured toward his companions. "We will undertake the necessary
action."
"Wait a minute." Lyra looked confused. "What about what you just said, Tyl,
about loving peace and not harming anyone?"
Etienne shushed her. "Don't confuse our guests. Let's see what these pacifists
can do when they want to, shall we? Think of it as an interesting footnote to
your research."
She gave him an angry stare, but said nothing. They hid themselves beneath a
section of sail as the Tsla rowed the boats into shore. He had a sudden crazy
urge to pinch her but managed to suppress it.
At first the patrol ordered both boats to stand off, but on sight of the Tsla
they allowed them to dock. Etienne listened hard. At any moment he expected the
sail to be thrown aside and to find himself eye to eye with a long spear.
Then there was the sound of muffled struggling and he and Lyra emerged from
their temporary cocoon with pistols at the ready. They might as well have
relaxed beneath the cloth.
Tyl and the porters had no trouble with the patrol. Yulour in particular
distinguished himself, exercising his great strength with a caution that was
frightening to see. Etienne made a mental note to leave the teasing to Yulour's
companions.
The entire patrol had been neatly silenced. Etienne was full of newfound respect
for their philosopherguide as he helped him and the other Tsla slip the guards
into the river, but he couldn't help but wonder at this facile contravention of
established Tsla tenets. Time enough later for social analysis, he told himself
curtly. First order of business was to get their boat back, not discuss Tsla
motivation.
Having gone ahead to scout out the approach, Homat now beckoned them forward.
Soon they were standing next to the impressive palisade of logs that girdled the
town. There were plenty of slots cut in the wood through which archers could aim
and fire on attackers. The openings near the harbor showed only the backsides of
buildings, but as they made their way around the stockade, gaps appeared which
permitted a view deeper into the community.
Eventually they located a small pedestrian gate. It was unguarded and swung wide
at Homat's touch and they stepped inside, concealing themselves behind a square
storage building.
From the slurred shouts they could now hear clearly, it was evident tha t plenty
of drinking and drugtaking was going on. As they moved toward the center of the
town they had a glimpse of unsteady revelers falling down in unexpected places,
and nearly tripped over several who had celebrated themselves into
unconsciousness.
Ahead lay the town square, a place of ceremony and moneymaking among the Mai.
Smack in the center of the paved square, surrounded by celebratory bonfires, was
the Redowls' hydrofoil. The fires were maintained at a reasonable distance from
the boat, not out of any fear of harming it but to ensure the safety of the
wooden cage in which it rested. The chanting was loud now and terribly offkey.
Etienne looked to his wife, saw with disgust but not surprise that she was
furiously whispering a description of the celebration into her notetaker. That
was his Lyra if the locals ended up boiling her in fish fat she'd spend her
last moments jotting down the recipe for posterity.
"What now, Learned One?" Apparently Tyl had exhausted his limited store of
strategic knowledge. Etienne felt a perverse satisfaction over the Tsla's use of
the honorific.
"How can we free thy boat, Learned One?" asked one of the porters. "It seems
secured most strongly."
"Doesn't matter," Etienne told him. "All we have to do is get within shouting
distance. We're close enough now, but I'm worried that ail this loud chanting
might drown us out."
"I understand," said Homat confidently. "You plan to call upon the spirits that
watch over your boat."
Tyl eyed him distastefully. The Tsla were not heir to the plethora of
superstitions that infected Mai culture.
"How will thee regain control of thy craft, Etienne? And more important,
perhaps, how are we to transport it from the center of this unfriendly village
to the water's edge?"
"You'll see," Etienne told him. "Homat's not far from the truth." Their Mai
guide chose not to look down his nose at the skeptical Tsla, probably because in
any such exchange he was bound to come off second best.
Etienne idly noted the architecture as they worked their way closer to the
central square. No grand stone towers here. This wasn't Po Rabi. Most of the
buildings were of wood, thatch, mud, and adobe, though several did soar to the
impressive height of three stories. He did not admire them, however. Hochac's
prosperity was tainted and it throve by taking from its neighbors. Perhaps
tonight they could redress a few of those wrongs, make the inhabitants
reconsider their methods. He hoped he'd be given that opportunity. Lyra would
disapprove of his attitude, he knew, but right now he didn't much care. He
watched her coolly making notes and couldn't help but admire her. If they died
here tonight, no one could say they'd neglected their research right up to the
final moment.
They were halfway to the central square when they stumbled into a pair of sober
locals. They looked very young and Etienne regretted having to pull his pistol.
He was too slow and could have saved his regrets. Once again Tyl and his
companions did their work with quiet efficiency. There were no screams and no
deaths, though a single brief warning shout was lost in the shouting and
chanting.
They were surprised when the arrow thudded into Swd's side. The short thick fur
absorbed some of the arrow's force, but not enough to keep the porter from
staggering up against Tyl. He struggled with the shaft as they sought cover
beneath the overhang of a large house.
The archer stood on the porch of a building across the street. He was waving his
bow toward the square now, jumping up and down and screaming high and steady.
To Etienne's chagrin, Homat stepped out into clear sight to return the local's
steady stream of expletives. While personally gratifying, this was a lousy
tactical move. The celebrants in the square heard the row, turned to see the odd
assortment of intruders, and had enough presence of mind left to scatter and
sound the warning throughout the village.
A few located their own weapons and began to advance. Bows and arrows and spears
might be primitive, but as the unfortunate Swd could attest, they were often as
effective as any modern weapon. The differences between asynapt and arrow were
neatness and convenience, not lethality. Add to that the fact that in seconds
they were likely to be heavily outnumbered and there was little humor to be
found in Homat's foolhardy posturing.
Wishing he was closer, Etienne cupped hands to mouth and yelled at the top of
his lungs, "Execute Command RedTen!" Then he lowered the muzzle of his asynapt
and fired at the feet of the nearest onrushing Hochacite. The Mai let out a yelp
and fell on his face, paralyzed from the knees down.
That halted the charge for a few seconds, long enough for an answering rumble to
rise from the central square. The rest of the attacking villagers turned and
stared over their shoulders.
Lit from beneath by the dancing bonfires, the hydrofoil made a most impressive
sight as it rose four meters into the air on activated repellers, lifting the
wooden cage with it. It executed a slow pirouette until it was facing the
direction from which the command had been given, locked in on Etienne's eyes,
and started to move toward them. As it did so the downward facing air jets on
which it hovered blasted flaming fagots of wood in all directions, scattering
fire and natives alike. The movement caused the wooden cage to begin to break
up, showering logs and planks down on the scurrying Mai.
Chapter Ten
Those Hochacites who were sober started screaming about spirits and devils as
they flung their weapons aside and bolted for the nearest cover. Homat retreated
to rejoin his companions, his eyes wide and locked on the hovering bulk of the
spirit boat as it drifted toward them.
Lyra had to give him a shove to start him back toward the stockade gate. "Back
to the harbor, everybody, before they get over the shock!"
Moving as fast as possible without conveying the impression of a hasty retreat,
the intruders fled with studied dignity. Now and then a face would peek out at
them as they passed along the street, but a burst from an asynaptic pistol would
cause doors and windows to slam shut quickly.
They reached the narrow gate and filed quickly through it. Unable to quite clear
the crest of the palisade, the hydrofoil made a satisfyingly loud smashing and
crackling as it splintered several of the massive logs.
Etienne and the Tsla remained behind to guard the landward end of a pier while
Lyra directed the boat over the water before retracting her husband's order. The
hydrofoil settled gently into the Skar. Bending low to avoid an intact section
of wooden cage, she stepped aboard.
From his position facing the town wall, Etienne was grated to hear the startup
growl of the engine as power was transferred from repellers to jet. A few armed
Mai had pushed through the gap in the stockade, but hadn't gained the courage to
charge. As soon as word came that the boat was acting like a boat once more,
some of the initial terror of its unboatlike behavior would fade and the
Hochacites would try to recover it. Etienne had no intention of giving them that
kind of time. "Now, Tyl! Get your people on board before the Mai have tine to
regroup!" Even as Etienne backpedaled to cover the Tsla's retreat, the bolder
villagers slowly advanced.
Lyra made a quick head count and spun the wheel as she nudged the accelerator.
The hydrofoil varoomed out into the safety of the Skar, but not as fast as
Etienne wanted. The unwieldy remnants of the cage prevented the boat from rising
up on its hydrofoils. Distant shouts sounded from Hochac's harbor; pursuit was
being organized.
Among the ship's tools was a heat stitch that could cut and weld. It made short
work of the leather thongs that bound the sections of the wooden cage together.
As Etienne sliced the thongs the Tsla heaved the heavy timbers over the side,
and a few arrows thunked against the rear of the boat. Finally, with a loud
splash the undersection of the cage gave way and drifted astern. The pursuing
Mai were still within insult range but by now even Homat was too tired to
respond.
Etienne stumbled to the intercom. "We're clear, Lyra. Raise her up."
The rumble of the electric jet became a whine as the boat rose above the surface
on its twin foils and rocketed Upriver at a leisurely sixty kph, leaving the
Tsla whispering their wonderment to one another and the frustrated Hochacites
far behind.
"Wonderful, delicious," Tyl muttered as he peeked hesitantly over the side.
"The boat flies over the water. You must explain to me how it works."
Etienne stiffened, relaxed almost as quickly. Tyl's words had sparked bad
memories of Irquit and the ease with which she'd mastered the hydrofoil's
security system. But there was no deception in this philosopherteacher. Etienne
felt guilty at his instinctive suspicion.
"Be happy to, Tyl. You're entitled to learn about what you've just rescued. I'll
try and explain the principles to you and you must tell me more about what we're
likely to encounter Upriver, especially this Topapasirut that has you so
concerned."
"I will gladly do so, Etienne. But as for the Topapasirut there is little to
say. It must be seen to be understood."
"Still certain we can't surmount it?"
"I still think so, yes, but after seeing what you have achieved tonight I am
less certain than I was before."
That is faintly encouraging, Etienne mused. Further discussion would have to
wait until morning. He longed desperately for the softness of his
airconditioned bunk. Lyra could drive for another half hour. Then they'd be far
enough Upriver from any lingering pursuit to put the boat on autopilot.
At last they were on their way again, though he felt no pride in the thoroughly
unprofessional but necessary diversion for which the inhabitants of Hochac were
responsible. With any luck that would be the first and last interruption of its
kind.
As for allowing the Tsla into the cabin, that was a necessity. They would be
much more comfortable inside, where the temperature approximated that of their
home. There was no fear in him. For one thing he was too tired. For another,
he'd slept peacefully among the Tsla for weeks. They'd earned his trust.
Besides, he and Lyra could always lock themselves in their cabin, and no curious
Tsla could disengage a locked autopilot.
The morning dawned bright, hot, and stinking humid but Etienne sat comfortably
alongside Lyra in the little dining nook. Tyl squatted on the floor nearby. The
porters ate farther astern, in the storage area that had been turned into their
living quarters. They could have joined the humans but chose not to. Etienne
asked why, confident it would have some bearing on his question.
"They're ashamed," Tyl explained.
"Ah." Lyra looked satisfied. Apparently she'd been thinking along similar
lines. "Because they had to fight?"
"Oh no." Tyl nibbled at his bowl, his stubby sixfingered hands probing for
solid morsels. The Redowls had already overcome their distaste at seeing a Tsla
rummage for food with its long snout. "They are ashamed because they were not
permitted to fulfill their intentions."
"But they did," Etienne argued. "We're safe and we recovered our boat."
"Yes, but no thanks to us."
"You dispatched that patrol at the harbor."
"It was our intention to assist thee during the entire process, Etienne. Yet we
could only stand helplessly by and watch while this wondrous craft," and he
tapped the metal floor, "did more to save itself than did we."
"But you couldn't have done more than you did," Lyra told him. "We barely had
enough time to activate the voice pickup."
"That is not the point. We know we could not have carried this boat to the river
on our shoulders, but we did not have the chance to try. Therefore merit was
lost because we did not have the opportunity to vanquish our enemy."
Lyra looked uncomfortable. "It's my understanding that your society is a
pacifistic one."
"Of course, that is true."
"Then how can you talk of gaining merit by fighting?"
"Like a storm or rockfall, a declared enemy is an agent of nature. As an enemy
it removes itself from the considerations of civilization."
Etienne was enjoying his wife's discomfiture enormously. "But your enemy is only
acting in what he considers a civilized manner."
"He must be judged by civilized standards."
"You mean, by Tsla standards."
"Naturally. You do not think that we would adopt the standards of the Mai?" He
sounded politely outraged. "A truly civilized people instinctively know what
constitutes civilized behavior."
"Sounds like expediency to me."
"Not at all. Our moral standards are not nearly so flexible."
"Then you feel remorse when you kill an enemy?"
"Naturally. An enemy is one who has freely abjured his soul. How else could we
feel but sorry for him?"
"That wouldn't, however, have prevented you from killing every Mai in Hochac
who opposed you?"
"No, it would not. By opposing us in the recovery of your property they would
have demonstrated disregard for civilized behavior, thus removing themselves
from consideration by those who adhere to such behavior. I see no contradiction
in this."
"No contradiction at all." He glanced at his wife. Lyra's notetaker was running
and she didn't look up at Tyl. "Just wanted the point clarified."
"I thought," Lyra said quietly, "that the Tsla considered it sinful to kill."
"To kill any civilized person, yes, a terrible sin. But there is no moral
restraint against defending oneself from the hostility of an uncivilized person
any more than it is sinful to raise a roof to keep out the rain."
"All perfectly clear," Etienne agreed. He was content. It was clear that his
initial worries about the safety of the Tsla were unfounded. For all their
vaunted pacifism they were quite capable of taking care of themselves should the
need arise. Killing a civilized person is a sin. Anyone who assaults me is
uncivilized. Very neat.
Neat enough to quash Lyra's romanticized notions of Tsla society. Her beloved
mystics were no more or less bloodthirsty than any other primitive folk. Well,
that wasn't quite fair. But it was evident they could slaughter with a clear
conscience so long as their victims fell below civilized standards. When you
set those standards yourself it gave you considerable flexibility in
establishing a defense.
Lyra continued to press Tyl for information, hoping to bolster her fading thesis
of Tsla nobility. Etienne left to check the autopilot and then to see what the
other Tsla and Homat were up to. He also wanted to tell the porters that, in his
eyes at least, they'd acquired a great deal of merit for what they'd done in
Hochac.
They were more than three thousand kilometers north northwest of Steamer Station
and the distant Skatandah Delta. Cloud cover was increasing daily though it
brought little relief from the heat and humidity. The Barshajagad was beginning
to narrow sharply, towering walls shortening the daylight on the river. Both
sides of the canyon could be seen now though the edge of the Guntali Plateau was
still faint with distance. But for the first time it felt like they were sailing
up a canyon.
Ahead lay another major tributary of the Skar, the river Gaja. Beyond this
confluence, according to Tyl, the Barshajagad's walls drew toward one another
with breathtaking suddenness, closing in to seal off the place where river
devils were born, the Topapasirut. Beyond the Topapasirut lay lands unknown even
to the wise men of Turput.
One thing Etienne no longer had to concern himself about was Lyra's tendency to
adopt Tsla habits. After Tyl's breakfast explanation of adaptable battlefield
philosophy he never again saw her in Tsla cape and toga.
They reached the place where the Gaja flowed thick and muddy into the clear
Skar. The Tsla records were accurate. It was immensely wide and tinged a pale
rust in color. The Gaja was another Amazon, just another tributary. He felt no
amazement. Tslamaina had already exhausted his store of geological superlatives.
Beyond the Gaja the Skar narrowed rapidly. As it did so the current intensified.
Submerged mountains and hills began to produce some white water, the first
they'd encountered in their long journey Upriver. The cloud cover was thick
overhead and Etienne saw why that section of the river had not been accurately
mapped by the single orbiting satellite.
Seven thousand meters overhead, the edge of the Guntali glistened with ice and
snow. The rim was now a mere two hundred and fifty kilometers distant to east or
west, descending toward the bottom of the canyon in a series of steps and
escarpments. Through the telescope Etienne examined one sheer wall some four
thousand meters high.
One day they were cruising slowly so that Etienne could check the standard
subsurface water samples. Lyra sat at the controls while Etienne was working in
the lab astern. Several Tsla were watching the logging procedure with interest
while Homat lay half asleep on his mat on the rear deck. Suddenly the boat
tipped wildly, almost knocking Etienne from his feet. Something had bumped the
right side of the hull.
"What the hell was that?" Etienne yelled forward.
"I don't know. Something hit us from below."
"What's with the scanner?"
"Nothing. It didn't come from Upriver."
He did some fast thinking. Whatever had nudged them ungently hadn't shown up on
the scanner. Therefore it hadn't slipped down toward them. Therefore it must
have come up behind them.
Therefore it sure as hell wasn't a rock.
Homat was shouting hysterically from astern and Etienne and the Tsla piled out
through the rear door into the hot, damp air. Even as he emerged Etienne caught
himself wishing for his pistol.
Not that it would have done him any good. He was staring at a slowly rising
cliff black as polished obsidian. Within the cliff was a cavern, filled with
acres of dripping blueblack streamers like baleen, only thicker and more widely
spaced.
"Lacoti!" Homat was blubbering in fear. Etienne immediately understood how
they'd missed the creature on the scanner, since it was programed only to
acknowledge submerged objects which might be dangerous to the boat. The device
would blithely ignore anything organic flattened out along the river bottom. The
current provided food for the Lacoti, which doubtless rested contentedly in the
mud of the Skar, mouth agape to receive whatever nourishment the river chose to
provide.
Unless something disturbed it, of course.
If the Lacoti had eyes, they were hidden somewhere back of that vast cavernous
maw. It was moving toward them, a fact that he perceived right away. He shouted
toward the intercom, unafraid but having no wish for a closer view of Lacoti
gut. It might be a slow swimmer but it might also be capable of a last second
burst of speed. "Lyra, there's something back here that's about half the size
of a starship. Move us out of here."
"What do you think I'm trying to do? I can see it on the rear screen!" Her voice
was frantic. "We've got a short or something. I can't get any speed up."
"Oh hell," he muttered. "Tyl?"
The Tsla wore a fatalistic expression. "We are not river dwellers and have no
experience of such creatures. We can pray."
Etienne let out a curse and dove into the cabin. Behind him the towering gullet
was drawing slowly nearer. Part of the problem stemmed from the fact that it was
sucking in water at an enormous rate, creating a suction the hydr ofoil was hard
put to counter. If they didn't lift up on foils and make some speed they were
going to go down the Lacoti's throat like a cork in a sewer. He had no idea what
had prodded it out of its bottom lair. Maybe the hydrofoil's engine produced a
discomfiting vibration. No time now for study.
He reached the cockpit and shoved Lyra aside. She didn't protest.
"Emergency override?"
"I tried it already!"
He fumbled at the instrumentation. The stern screens were dark now and he could
hear the echo of water rushing down a monstrous throat.
The familiar high whine of the jet filled the air. Lyra was thrown against a
wall and the backrest of the pilot's seat pressed hard into Etienne's back. For
an instant Etienne was sure he could see a thick black lip overhead as the boat
slid down that endless throat. Then they were out in the light again and the
stern screen showed the immense mouth receding behind them. It closed and the
Lacoti sank like an island. A quick check of the scanner showed it was not
pursuing, just as it revealed rocky outcrops, mudpoles, and vegetation growing
atop the massive back. The thought that something the size of the Lacoti
required camouflage was sobering. The sooner they reached shallower water the
better he'd like it.
He rechecked the readouts before allowing himself along, relieved sigh. "Go
check our passengers."
"Don't give me orders," she snapped as she pushed back her hair and adjusted one
fallen halter strap. "I know what to do. I'm just not as mechanically inclined
as you, that's all."
He spoke very carefully, conscious that she was treading a fine line between
anger and hysteria. "When you tried the accelerator you forgot to disengage the
secondary lock on the autopilot. That's why the emergency override didn't work
either."
"I know that," she murmured. She was mad at herself, he saw, not at him. "I saw
that thing in the screen and I got scared. I guess ... I panicked a little."
"It could have happened to anyone," he said softly. He didn't want to say that.
What he wanted to do was let off tension by calling her a stupid, senseless
little fool. But he didn't. He was gentle and understanding. It was possibly the
most intelligent thing he'd done since they'd stepped off the shuttle at Steamer
Station many months ago.
What really confused him was that he didn't know why he did it.
"I'm going to run a complete checkout," he told her. "That thing corning up
underneath our keel gave us a pretty good jolt. I want to make sure it didn't
bust something loose."
She nodded. "I'll have a look in the hold."
She was gone for several minutes, returned sooner than expected. Her expression
was grim.
"Etienne, we've suffered a fatality."
"What?" He spun the seat around and stared at her in disbelief. "How'? We made
it clear in time."
"One of the porters. Her name was Uon. When you hit the accelerator I was thrown
against the wall. Everyone out back was knocked to the deck. But Uon was
standing up top, near the mast. When we shot forward she lost her footing and
fell. Cracked her skull, looks like. She's dead."
Fingers tightened on the back of the seat. "I didn't have any choice," he
growled. "Another second's delay and we'd have become a meal."
"I already explained that to Tyl and the others. They understand completely.
They've ... made a request."
He didn't look up. "What do they want?"
"They'd appreciate it if we could stop hereabouts for the night so they can give
Uon a proper sendoff. I didn't get the details but apparently there's a lot of
ritual involved. They want to anchor somewhere inshore."
"I suppose we can find a quiet place. Least we can do. I'm really sorry, Lyra."
"It was my fault as much as anyone's." She smiled slightly. "They've accepted it
with somber grace. They adjust to death very well."
Now he looked up. "Maybe better than we? If that's a sign of social maturity I'm
willing to concede the point."
But his concession didn't make her feel any better.
They found a small cove, no more than an oversized pothole that the Skar's
swirls and eddies had etched into the riverbank. The night sky was a dull
starless gray thanks to the solid cover of clouds that stretched like a fluffy
awning from one rim of the Guntali to the other.
Lyra overcame her sorrow by burying herself in her studies, trying to record
every slightest nuance of the Tsla funeral ceremony which was performed on the
open rear deck of the hydrofoil. This involved the use of torches, some special
powder carried by Tyl, and much chanting and singing. Having no desire to
participate or watch, Homat had relinquished his bedmat for the privacy of the
bow. He lay there murmuring spirit rhymes as he leaned over the side to watch
the phosphorescent motocrullers, tiny, superfast clamlike bivalves that made
whirlpools of light beneath the shade afforded by the ship.
Having considerably less interest in native rituals than his wife, Etienne had
retired to the comfort of their cabin. The expression on her face when she burst
in on him startled him out of his reading. She stumbled against him and he put
both hands on her shoulders to steady her. She looked ill.
"What's wrong, Lyra, what's the matter?" She'd left the door open behind her and
the steady chant of the Tsla filtered in to the bedchamber.
"Sendoff ritual," she whispered, choking on the words. She pushed past him,
toward the head. The recorder dangling from her neck bounced against her chest.
Curiosity overcame his apprehension as he left the cabin and headed astern. The
rear deck was lit by the flicker of torchlight, illuminating the source of
Lyra's distress. His reaction was less violent than hers. Not that he was
delighted by the sight, but since he held no high hopes for the Tsla he was far
less disgusted and disappointed than his wife.
The Tsla were deeply engaged in the funeral ritual and only Tyl broke away long
enough to greet him. He looked concerned. This was mitigated somewhat by the
blood dripping from his mouth and snout.
"Lyra left us in a hurry. I hope we did not offend her."
Etienne summoned unsuspected reserves of diplomacy. "My wife sees you and your
people as being nobler than any of us have a right to be. It's a failing many
humans are heir to."
Tyl's nose twitched and those big soulful eyes turned toward the doorway. "I
see. But you feel differently?"
"After a fashion. I don't approve, but neither do I condemn. Neither would
Lyra, if she hadn't lost sight of her scientific training."
"I am sorrowed," Tyl continued. "It is part of the ritual. It must be done the
same day, as soon after death as possible, because otherwise..."
Etienne cut him off. "The reasons are selfexplanatory, Tyl." He was unable to
keep his eyes from the scene on the deck. "It's only that the customs are very
different among my own folk."
"I can sympathize." He gestured backward with a hand. "Uon was much loved by her
friends. We could not think of sending her soul on to eternity without properly
displaying that affection."
"We feel likewise, only among our kind we choose to express such love for the
departed in more metaphysical and less immediate terms."
"Customs are different among all peoples. Now if you will excuse me, I must
participate or Uon's soul will not count me among its friends."
Etienne pointed. "You have blood on your face."
Tyl wiped at it. "The result of ritual contact. She struck the deck very hard."
Etienne left the ceremony to return to the cabin, closing the door behind him.
Lyra sat on the bed, staring blankly at a xenological chip unscrolling on the
viewer. He doubted she saw the words. He sat down behind her and put both hands
on her shoulders.
"I know how you feel," he said helplessly. "It's never pleasant to have one's
illusions shattered."
"Such hopes," she muttered disconsolately. "I had such hopes for them. They
seemed to have progressed so far without the corresponding technological
traumas."
"They have progressed far," he found himself saying, to his own considerable
surprise. "But it's still an alien culture, Lyra. You can't let yourself lose
sight of that, let your scientific observations be compromised by your feelings
for them personally. You can't anthropomorphize their culture any more than you
can their physiognomy."
"If I did that," she replied, "it was out of hope."
"I realize that, which is why you're going to make your report on Tsla funeral
custom as detailed and informative as any other part of your records. The
balance it will provide is important. It will help confirm your objectivity.
Otherwise all the rest of your work among these people will be disregarded."
"You're right, of course." She put the chip reader aside, fiddled with her
recorder as she leaned back against him. "I don't have any choice, do I?"
"As Lyra Redowl you do. As visiting xenologist representing the interests of
every xenologist who couldn't make this trip, you do not."
She nodded, then stood. "It was unprofessional of me to run away like that. I
know better. Among the new one must always expect a shock or two."
"It's easier for me. Rocks are rarely shocking."
She smiled, not because his sally was funny but because he bothered to try and
make it so.
"We're only human, Lyra."
"Yes, and the Tsla are not. For a moment I'd forgotten that. I won't forget
again."
"Don't let this push you too far in the other direction. Whatever you think
personally about their customs, they're still good people, and our friends. Tyl
is what he's always been a learned and compassionate friend."
"Among his own kind, yes. Etienne, you've been right and I've been wrong."
He turned away, embarrassed by her admission as he often was when he won some
small portion of their private war. There was a contradiction there he didn't
und erstand.
She started toward the hall and the stern deck, muttering as she went. "After
all, one can make the argument that ceremonial necrophilia is no more barbaric
than any of a half dozen other funeral rituals observed among pristine primitive
cultures. Among the Canuh, for example.. ." Her voice faded as she slipped
further into scholarly preoccupation.
He felt sorry for her at the same time that he was glad he hadn't chosen to
share her discipline. He made a mental note to inform Tyl sometime soon that in
the event he and Lyra should meet with a fatal accident, they were to be buried
in accordance with human custom only.
Still, several days passed before Lyra could bring herself to talk with Tyl or
any of the surviving porters. They sensed her distress and kept their distance,
no easy thing to accomplish within the confines of the hydrofoil. They busied
themselves with learning the art of trolling, something they could not do on the
unnavigable waters of the upper Aurang.
They were now five thousand kilometers north of Steamer Station, with an unknown
distance yet to cover. Unknown because the satellite responsible for the
photogrammetric mapping of Tslamaina had rather neglected this portion of the
northern hemisphere in favor of detailing the much more heavily populated areas
around the equator and the Groalamasan Sea.
The temperature had fallen to the point where Homat was obliged to don long
clothing in order to be comfortable in the ninety degree heat of midday. Of
greater concern was the sharp narrowing of the Barshajagad. Towering walls had
closed in on the river, compressing its volume into a much smaller channel, and
the increasingly swift current was becoming powerful enough to slow their
progress even though the water could gain a grip only on the two submerged
hydrofoils. They encountered no white water, however, and the scanner indicated
the river bottom still lay far below their keel.
But Etienne found it difficult to concentrate on such things; he was hypnotized
by the canyon walls, seven thousand meters that dropped in places sheer to the
river, a gorge unmatched even on gas giants with surfaces solid enough to
withstand continual erosion by high winds. All that remained of the sky was a
narrow strip directly overhead, masked by perpetual cloud cover, a faint gray
band delineating the limits of the real world.
Each time the river bent, the rock cliffs seemed to swallow any hope of retreat.
The hydrofoil seemed very small indeed as it fought that steadily intensifying
current. The Redowls worked in relays now, unable to trust navigation to the
autopilot. If they lost speed while they both slept and the river caught hold
of them, it would crush the duralloy hull against one of the granite walls as
easily as eggshell.
Chapter Eleven
Two days of this saw their speed dangerously reduced. Lyra entered the cockpit
rubbing her eyes, took one clear look at her husband's and said, "Etienne, we
can't keep this up. We're both exhausted and we've no way of knowing how much
longer this stretch is."
He coughed into his fist. "I thought the damn track would start widening out
again by now. It doesn't make sense. This much water moving downstream at this
speed ought to have worn a broader canyon. But it hasn't."
"What's the current reading currently?" She half smiled, half yawned as she
squinted toward the instrumentation, wishing it could produce a cup of
postEthiopian katfe. Unfortunately the nearest cup of real hot stimulant was
lightyears distant.
"Have a look for yourself." He touched a button without taking his eyes off the
river.
She blinked at the readout. "That's incredible," she said quietly.
"Yes, incredible. No boat was ever designed to travel against such a current."
"What about continuing on repellers?"
"Don't tempt me. Sweet of you to suggest it, but it's too risky. We could try it
for a few hours, but that's all they're designed for. Hopping rapids and
avoiding waterfalls, not steady travel. We'd run down the batteries and probably
find ourselves stuck in an identical position farther Upriver. Can't chance it."
He muttered an obscenity.
"We can't quit here! We've come too far."
She leaned against the console. "I know how much this meant to you, Etienne. But
it's not worth risking our lives for."
He looked at her then. "You think we have a life?"
A new voice interrupted them. "I overhear. There may yet be a way. I have had
long to think on it and would not have thought it possible, had I not seen what
thy spirit boat can accomplish."
Etienne didn't turn to confront their visitor. "What way, Tyl?
"Do thee remember the crevice splitting the east wall, that we passed the
previous day?"
"No. I was too busy looking over the bow to do any sightseeing."
"I was working on my notes," Lyra added.
"I have been watching the Barshajagad, marveling long, but always watching.
There was a trail along the east wall. It terminates at this crevice. I have
been this way once before. I saw no reason to mention the trail, to distract
thee from thy work. We were to travel by boat, not by foot. But now I see that I
must mention this other possibility or all will end."
"A trail? I didn't ... no, wait a minute," Lyra murmured. "I did see something.
I thought it was an old highwater line."
"It is a trail, Learned Lyra. A trading trail."
"Where does it go?" she asked him.
"Up. Up to a high plateau. Not the Guntali. Higher than Turput but lower than
that. High enough so that Tsla can live upon it. Up above the Topapasirut. The
trail is steeper and more dangerous than the one that climbs to Turput."
"How much more dangerous?"
"Enough to restrict travel. But it rises beyond the Topapasirut."
Etienne gestured ahead, at the narrow, impossibly deep canyon. "I thought that
this place was the Topapasirut."
Tyl executed a gesture full of amused negativity. "No. If you would take the
measure of the adversary that still lies ahead, thee must climb beyond its
reach. That is, if thee think thy spirit boat can go no farther."
"Point of diminishing returns, Etienne," Lyra reminded him. "Every hour we're
using more power to cover less distance. Can't you calculate how long it will be
before we reach the breakeven point and find ourselves making no progress even
at full power?"
"Soon enough. You say there's a way to get around this Topapasirut, Tyl?"
"Above, yes. Beyond, I do not know. I have not been to that place. But I have
gazed on the Topapasirut. If thee would do likewise, thee must leave thy boat
behind, at least until thee see for thyselves."
"Leave it where?"
"Turn back to the trail end. I would not have thought there was a place, but thy
boat can rise like a bird from the water. "
Etienne looked at Lyra.
"It's your decision, Etienne. You're the geologist."
"Hydrology's not my specialty, though. But it's starting to look more and more
like we've come to a dead end, at least as far as this section of the river is
concerned." He looked back at Tyl. "The east wall, you said?"
The Tsla nodded. Etienne turned back to the instruments. Unwilling to risk
turning the boat broadside to the current, he lifted it on repellers and turned
it neatly in midair before setting it gently back into the water.
There was a sharp lurch as the river caught the hull. He used only enough power
to maneuver, letting the cells recharge as they raced back downstream.
"This is our best chance, Etienne. We have to see what we're up against."
"I know that, dammit. The canyon has to widen out somewhere above this. It
can't be like this all the way to the arctic line. Too much erosion. There's a
geological anomaly somewhere ahead of us."
"And it has a name, apparently. Could it be another big waterfall, like the
Cuparaggai above Turput?"
"No. I'm sure of that much, anyway. The water here isn't acting like that and
there's no indication of a sharp rise in elevation at this point. The
photogrammetrics are solid enough on that score. That's why I don't understand
this intensified flow. But if this Topapasirut's only the narrowest part of the
canyon, we'll see how much farther Upriver it lies. Maybe we can pass above it
on repellers."
By midday they had returned to the section of cliff Tyl had spotted. Etienne
again lifted the hydrofoil on its repellers, set it down on an exposed beach
out of reach of the river's grasp.
The crevice to which Tyl had alluded turned out to be much more than thatit was
a break in the Barshajagad wall, a sizable side canyon rising toward the sky.
And the winding line against the rocks that Lyra had thought was a highwater
mark did indeed show signs of use. It snaked along the granitic wall and started
up the side passage.
"Now we climb," said Tyl confidently.
"For how long?"
"Several days, at least." He turned his gaze upward.
"Homat won't be glad to hear that," Etienne murmured.
"Why not leave him to watch over the boat?" Lyra suggested.
"Sensible. We'll leave one of the porters with him anal carry our own supplies.
I don't imagine he'll regret missing the chance to view the `birthplace of all
river devils."'
"I will come with thee and leave the others behind, for I do not share thy trust
of the Mai," Tyl said.
"Homat's been invaluable," Etienne replied. "Without his aid we wouldn't be here
now."
"His kind are not to be trusted."
"In this instance I think you're wrong, Tyl," Lyra said. It was the first time
Etienne had seen her openly dispute the Tsla's opinion.
Tyl responded with a gesture of indifference. "Then I will direct Swd to remain
behind by himself. While recuperating, he will keep watch over thy propertyand
its other guard."
A small stream trickled down the branch canyon, which was indeed steeper than
anything they'd climbed thus far. As the meters dropped behind and below them,
so did the temperature. The Redowls were obliged to wear their longsleeved and
longlegged attire while Tyl and the porters redonned their capes and togas.
Since they didn't expect to find any villagers to trade with, they carried a
full stock of rations.
They ascended to the cloud. At five thousand meters Lyra was having some trouble
breathing, though this was due more to the unaccustomed exertion than the
altitude. Due to the denser atmosphere, five thousand meters on Tslamaina was
equivalent to thirtyfive hundred meters or so on Terra.
As they crested the trail head, the clouds momentarily parted. Ahead rose the
peak of a steepsided mountain that towered above them and the nearby edge of
the Guntali. As they rested, Etienne took a sighting on the peak.
"Eleven thousand meters, most of it frozen."
"Aracunga," Tyl said. Etienne noticed that all the Tsla now wore their sturdiest
clothing. They stood some two thousand meters higher than Turput, at the upper
limit of the Tsla ecological zone. They could climb higher still, but not
comfortably.
After several days of climbing to the east, they set off northward. Etienne
expected Tyl to continue in that direction, but he was wrong. On the second day
they turned slightly to the west, and by that evening the Redowls could feel
thunder again.
They expected another waterfall, perhaps one that plunged the full five thousand
meters to the river below. But it was no waterfall Tyl led them toward. It was,
the Topapasirut.
Must be the father of all waterfalls, Etienne mused, still unconvinced by Tyl's
denials. By the fourth day the thunder had become so loud they could communicate
only by signs.
The Redowls could tap out messages on their wrist computers, but the Tsla
possessed no such wondrous devices and had to make their intentions known
through gestures. It grew damp around them, the rocks treacherous and slick. Yet
as they hiked now through the perpetual mist, the sky overhead remained clear.
Etienne searched in vain for signs of the expected cascade. When they finally
reached the lip of the abyss, all was explained.
It was raining upward. Forced into a narrow throat of the Barshajagad, the
entire volume of the Skar suddenly made a sharp and unexpected bend from south
to west. As a result, the swiftly flowing river cannonaded into the north cliff
face that formed the base of the mountain Aracunga, five thousand meters below
their feet.
This produced a spray that rose on disturbed air to drench the puny observers
clinging to a granite overhang. The solid bedrock trembled under the river's
impact. Tyl communicated with gestures, but any description was superfluous
before the stupendous sight below.
Etienne knew that this was the Topapasirut, the birthplace of all river devils.
He knew that Tyl had been more than right when he'd insisted no boat could pass
through this place. The hydrofoil could not rise high enough on its repellers
to clear the maelstrom.
Across the canyon, rising from the opposite side of the abyss, was a metamorphic
mass that dwarfed even Aracunga.
"The Prompaj!" Tyl screamed into Etienne's ear. He took another sighting.
"Fourteen thousand two hundred meters," he informed Lyra via wrist computer. "An
impossible mountain. I think the two peaks were once closer than now. See how
the river bends sharply to the west before turning south again? Tslamaina's
seismically stable now, but a few eons back there must have been one hell of an
earthquake in this part of the world. See the signs of slippage?" He pointed to
particular strata down in the roaring canyon.
"This section of the surface slipped eastward. South of here the land went west.
The result was the displacement of the northern third of the Skar several
kilometers to the east. I'm glad I wasn't around then."
Lyra tapped out a reply. "I'm not real happy to be here now. Let's get away. I'm
cold and wet."
They lingered a few moments longer so he could chip a few more pictures, take
some final measurements. Then they headed back toward the trail head, leaving
the clouds and hillsides to swallow up the Topapasirut, its thunder, and the
brooding massif that was called Prompaj.
They made camp that night in a small cave, drying themselves and their clothes
before a large fire. Etienne watched with interest as the porters groomed each
other's fur.
The Redowls said little. There was no point in belaboring the obvious. Their
expedition had reached its end. They'd run up against not a brick wall but a
watery one.
When the porters had finished and dressed themselves once more they gathered
close around the warmth of the fire. Tyl spoke while his companions ate.
"What will thee do now, Learned Etienne? Does the spirit boat possess some
magical power we have not seen that would enable it to pass through the
Topapasirut?"
"It does not," Etienne replied glumly. "We do have other machines which can fly
through the air and put any bird to shame, but we don't have one here. We chose
to travel by boat. It's all we have. You were right, Tyl. I apologize for
doubting you."
"You had not seen the Topapasirut, Etienne. No one believes until they have
seen."
"That's it, then." Lyra was not as disappointed as her husband, though she
strove to sound as sympathetic as possible. If they could no longer go onward,
they would have to go back, and she still had work to do among the Tsla.
"You've been stopped by a geological phenomenon, Etienne. What better way to
conclude your report? Think of the reaction among your colleagues when you
describe this place. Maybe some day we can come back up here with an aircar."
He'd been staring at the floor of the cave. Now he looked up, determined.
"They'll be fascinated, but it won't be the end of my report."
"Etienne," she said gently, "we can't get through that chute. You've already
acknowledged that."
"I won't be stopped by the very river I've come to survey."
She sighed, leaned back against the inflated sleeping pad. "Maybe you'll accept
it by morning."
Maybe."
He did not, nor did he admit defeat during the long descent to the Skar. He kept
to himself and brooded, causing Tyl to move next to Lyra.
"What ails Etienne?"
"He's unhappy because he knows we can`t go on. F hat means he'll have to leave
his work here unfinished."
"But it is not his fault. Nothing passes Upriver beyond the Topapasirut. He has
no control over that. It is not as if he were beaten by something in himself."
"He knows all that, Tyl, but he is persistent, Etienne is. Always has been."
"I see. A Tsla teacher would accept the inevitable; such constant worry is
harmful to the mind."
"True, but sometimes it can lead to solutions where none seem possible. I've
seen him do it before. Within our fields, Etienne and I are well respected.
We've achieved success where others have failed. It's one of the reasons we were
allowed to make this expedition while other applicants were rejected. Sometimes,
Tyl, blind persistence can succeed where everything else has failed."
"I still do not understand why you would sacrifice peace of mind. I can admire
such tenacity, but I cannot empathize with it."
Down on the river there was a brief but joyful reunion with those left behind.
Homat didn't try to conceal his relief over the safe return of his human
protectors.
"AII these days," he whispered to Lyra later, "trapped with that Tsla, and him
mumbling and chanting to himself all the time. It was enough to drive a sane
person crazy. Did you find a way to pass this Topapasirut?"
"No, we did not." To her surprise Homat looked downcast. "I thought you'd be
pleased. That means we have to go back Downriver row, back to the warm lands of
One Skatandah. Don't you miss them?"
"Very much so, but I have joined myself to your purposes and therefore am
disappointed for you."
"That's a very nice thing to say, Homat." She hadn't expected such depth of
feeling from the Mai. Nor was it a ruse. He was genuinely distressed that their
journey had come to an end.
She looked past him, frowned. Etienne was deep in discussion with Tyl and
looking more animated than he had in many days. She strolled over to join them.
"What's all the excitement about?"
"You tell her," Etienne suggested to Tyl, his features alive with enthusiasm.
"On the eastern flank of Aracunga Mountain," Tyl explained, "lies the Tsla
trading town of Jakaie. I have not visited it myself but it is known to Turput.
It is said that beyond Jakaie and the mass of the mountain, the Barshajagad
once more becomes a navigable river. If thee could but convey thy craft to that
place, thee might safely resume thy journeyif the story is accurate."
"An impossible if."
"Maybe not," Etienne murmured. He was tense with possibilities. "Maybe we could
portage around."
For a long moment she just stared at him. Then she let her gaze trace the lower
section of the steep trail that wound its torturous course up the side canyon.
"Sure we could. We'll just hoist the boat onto our shoulders and haul it five
thousand meters straight up. Lost your mind?"
Her skepticism didn't even slow him down. "No, I've just found it. Look, the
hydrofoil's made of ultralight material. The hull's a carbon filament honeycomb.
And we can surmount the rough spots on the repellers."
"With what power?" she argued. "We'd burn out the cells."
"We would not. You're not listening. We'd only use the repellers to get over
real steep places. The rest of the time we'd rely on muscle power. Porters,
Lyra! Mount the boat on some kind of platform and pull it up and over."
She did some quick figuring. "I admit the hydrofoil's light, but it's a relative
lightness. You'd still need a thousand Mai or Tsla to drag it up a thousand
meters."
He looked back at Tyl. "Tell her."
"There is a draft animal," the Tsla explained, "that the Mai use all along the
river. It is called a vroqupii. The Mai use them in teams to pull trading boats
Upriver against the current. They are strong." He eyed Homat. "Well, Mai?"
The guide looked thoughtful. "We passed many trading villages below this place.
Each should be home to a few vroqupii. The animals used hereabouts must be
unusually powerful because the current is so fast."
"Do you think we could find enough to do it?" Etienne asked.
"I do not know." Homat gazed at the intimidating trail.
Lyra's dreams of returning to tranquil Turput were slipping away. "Assuming we
could find enough animals to do the job, could we hire enough? Would their
owners consent to such an undertaking?"
"If they were promised enough money, certainly," Homat replied, looking at her
as if she'd just disputed a fundamental law of nature.
"What would we pay them with?"
"Our trade goods," Etienne said. "We have some left."
"If we use up our remaining supplies we won't have anything to give any natives
we meet beyond this point."
"If we don't get beyond this point the question becomes moot." She had no
comeback for that. Etienne turned to Homat. "Would these vroqupii be able to
climb as high as Jakaie?" He translated the relevant measurements into Mai
terms.
Homat looked uneasy. "We go that much higher than the home of these Tsla who
accompany us?" Etienne nodded. "I am not sure. But these Upriver tribes are
proud. They might see such a proposal as a challenge."
"They wouldn't freeze. It's not that high," Etienne said.
Tyl agreed. "Many Mai hunters hike beyond Turput in search of prey, and their
blood continues to flow."
"How many vroqupii might we need?" Homat wondered. An intense discussion of
weight versus capabilities ensued, before the Mai felt comfortable in announcing
a figure.
"Thirty at least. Forty would be better, fifty best, and sixty delightful, but I
do not think we can find that many willing to try, not even for a share of
offworld treasure."
"We must try," Etienne told him.
"Then I will do my best to convince the Brul, as they who handle the vroqupii
are called." His bald skull glistened in the reflected cloudglare of afternoon
and he smiled ingenuously. "That is my job, is it not?"
Etienne nodded once. "Let's get started. Lyra, are you sure you're willing to go
along with this?"
She shrugged. "If you're determined I couldn't stop you anyway, Etienne. I think
it's a mistake to sacrifice the rest of our trade goods on a scheme that has a
good chance of failing, but I can't argue that it's your last chance to go on.
Our last chance," she added with a faint smile.
"I promise," he told her, "if it looks like we're not going to make it, we'll
turn back and return to Turput. I know that's what you want."
She almost said, "I want what you want, Etienne," but did not. Their
relationship was based on more powerful bonds than artificial acquiescence. They
did not give in to each other; they agreed on things. She agreed now and having
agreed, considered how best to help.
"Tyl, do you think it can be done with thirty vroqupii?"
"I have watched them pull heavily laden ships Upriver," the Tsla replied
thoughtfully. "They are very strong. But it will require more than mere strength
to achieve this thing. It will take cooperation among the Mai who are involved.
The vroqupii can, I think, pull thy spirit boat up to Jakaie, but not if the
Brul fall to quarreling among themselves."
"They'll cooperate!" Homat declared angrily. "I'll see to it that they do."
"And why should they listen to thee?" Tyl replied without malice. "Thee are a
runaway from one of the far citystates that border the Groalamasan. The river
folk do not trust those who come from the lands that lie against the Sea."
"I am not of the citystates," Homat said proudly. "Not anymore. I am of," he
hesitated to glance sideways at Etienne and Lyra, "I am of these folk." Etienne
suddenly felt very good.
"Don't include me in that mental family," Lyra said sardonically. "I'm going
along with this insanity but I don't believe in it. If Homat wants to consider
himself as one with Etienne, that's fine. Idiocy knows no species boundaries."
Everyone smiled.
"We'll do it, Lyra," Etienne told her, putting an arm around her shoulders.
"You'll see. We'll do it! We'll get the hydrofoil up to Jakaie, around the
Topapasirut, and down to the river on the far side. Then we'll be on our way
again."
"Sure we will," she said softly. She inhaled deeply. "Well, I guess we'd better
get on with it. The sooner this is begun, the sooner it will end."
"That's right," he replied with a grin, "but not the way you think it will."
Word was passed down the river, the call going out for the bravest of Brul
mahouting only the strongest of mounts. Meanwhile the carpenters of the village
of Taranau, which was the last sizable town near the narrowing of the
Barshajagad, set about under Etienne's and Lyra's instructions building a
platform to hold the hydrofoil. It was to be light and strong, with
doublewheeled axles fore and aft. These could be bound to the platform which in
turn could be attached to the two hydrofoils. Not only would the skeleton frame
provide a maximum of support with a minimum of weight, the open woodwork also
would not block the downward exhausts of the repellers.
Though they talked as rapidly as their brethren, the Brul turned out to be less
loquacious and argumentative than their urbanized relatives. They formed a
tightly knit society with rules all their own and wore their pride on their
faces. It was not quite group arrogance.
Lyra learned from Homat that most of the Brul lived outside the villages in
isolated clusters or in single dwellings with only the immediate family for
company. Their lives were devoted to the care and handling of their vroqupii.
As it turned out the Redowls did not have to exhaust their store of trade goods.
Once the nature of the enterprise became widely known, Brul arrived from distant
locations not to serve for pay but simply to pit the strength and endurance of
their animals against those of their competitors.
Still, the expedition was fortunate in engaging forty of the massive animals and
their owners. After some discussion among the Brul the vroqupii were yoked to
the boat in ten ranks of four abreast. They walked on piledriver legs and their
bellies scraped the earth. The vroqupii was all traction and muscle, its short
square head set on a bull neck. A line of horny plates ran along the upper jaw
and swept back to form a low ridge above each eye, downcurving to shield the
throat.
It was a startling assembly, not the least because with a few faintly yellow
exceptions, the vroqupii were clad in short, bristly, rosehued fur. They
grunted and heaved against their harnesses, anxious to get moving. The Brul sat
on the soft saddle behind the neck frill, alternately joking with and taunting
his fellow drovers.
With the rushing roar of the Skar for counterpoint, the expedition finally got
under way. At first there was nothing but goodnatured jostling for position as
each Brul strove to prove that his animal was the strongest. Eventually the
drovers settled down to work, conversation fading as each concentrated on the
task at hand.
The vroqupii plodded onward in comparative silence, even when they reached the
branch canyon and the way turned steep and difficult. They were used to pulling
against the constant pressure of the river, and the incline did not seem to
cause them any unusual problems. Etienne knew the real test would come during
the final thousand meters, when the air turned cold and thin.
Days passed and their speed slowed only slightly. What did drop off considerably
was the amount of joking among the Brul, as the difficulty of what they were
attempting began to sink in. Etienne had Homat weaving in and out among the Mai
every night, listening for talk of discouragement or dissent.
The tension was hard on everyone, and when they finally passed the
fourthousandmeter mark, fourfifths of the way to the top, humans, Tsla, and
Mai were as tired as the patient vroqupf. It had been days since any joking had
passed among the Brul, and the increasingly cold air was beginning to bother
them if not their animals.
A few quit under the strain. One was killed when, shivering from the chill, he
fell from his mount and was crushed under the heavy feet of the team behind him
before it could be halted. But even those Brul who gave up left their animals in
the care of friends, admonished them to return the precious creatures in good
condition when the final goal was achievedif it ever was. Forlorn and
disappointed, they straggled back down the trail by ones and twos.
It was the cold that discouraged them more than anything else. By the time the
temperature had fallen to sixty degrees the Brut were so wrapped up in heavy
clothing it was all they could do to cling to their saddles. A steady breeze
tumbled from the flanks of nearby Aracunga, and soon even Etienne and Lyra had
to bundle up.
"Do you think we'll make it?" Lyra asked her husband one day as she finished the
latest count of the remaining Brul. "It looks like we just might, if we don't
lose too many more drovers."
"Don't you go getting confident on me just when I'm starting to have doubts," he
told her. He blew into his hands. If the temperature fell much further they
would have to dig jackets out of the hydrofoil's storage lockers. The Tsla also
looked uncomfortable. It was chillier than it had been during their climb to the
Topapasirut.
As Tyl had explained, Jakaie lay at the uppermost limit of Tsla habitation.
Above that level even the hardiest Tsla crops withered and died, though one
could survive by foraging and hunting. Or so it was said.
Fortyfive hundred meters, fortysix, and as Etienne's nervousness increased,
Lyra's spirits rose.
"We're going to make it, Etienne. You were right all the time. We're going to
make it."
"I'll believe it when the boat's sitting in Jakaie's central square," he told
her. "I wish I knew why you get more enthusiastic the closer we come to a crisis
point, while I get more and more worried."
"We complement each other, remember? When I'm down, you're up, and vice versa."
"I thought all you wanted was to get back to Turput."
"I never thought we'd get this far. Now that we have, I'm dying to see how the
Tsla of Jakaie have adapted to their harsh environment. There should be
different architecture, methods of farming, cooking, everything. Society as a
function of altitude. There's a whole paper in that."
"Must be a very closeknit population."
"I agree, but what makes you think so? You usually don't speculate in my field."
"They have to be close. It may be the only way to keep warm."
"Anytime you think it's getting a little chilly, Etienne, just consider the poor
Mai." She gestured toward the long team of vroqupii and Brul as she and Etienne
marched alongside the hydrofoil. "I wonder how low the temperature has to fall
before they become susceptible to frostbite?"
"To freezing, I'd expect, but you'd never know it to look at them now. Half of
them are so cold they can't shiver anymore. Too numb."
Not one Brut had quit for several days now, however. For those who remained the
climb had turned into a grim contest. None would give up so close to the goal
for fear of being derided by those who stayed on.
As for the vroqupii, they could not voice any complaints, but they seemed to
adjust to the colder weather much better than their masters. Their pace was
slower now, more measured, but none had fallen by the wayside. Undoubtedly
their short brightly colored fur afforded some protection against the changing
climate. It also helped that when a particularly steep spot was reached, they
were unhitched while one of the humans lifted the boat and its wheels to the
next level on repellers. The Brut looked forward to such respites with relief.
Fortyeight hundred meters. Fortynine.
"Tomorrow morning." Etienne spoke as he crouched across from the portable heater
they recharged every couple of days from the boat's batteries. He longed for the
comfort of their heated cabin. They slept outside at Homat's insistence. If
they did not, he warned them, they risked losing the respect of the Brut. "We'll
reach the top of the canyon tomorrow morning."
He put down his selfheating cup of tea and slid beneath the thermosensitive
blanket. The covering was warm but the ground beneath the sleeping pad very
hard. A glance showed the temperature to be fiftythree.
Tomorrow, vindication, he mused. After that, two days of steady travel overland
to Jakaie. There they would find friends, shelter, and fires large enough to
warm even the Brut.
Lyra still sat in front of the heater, stating at her husband. "You never would
know when to say no, would you, Etienne? A bad habit, one that'll be the death
of both of us one of these days." She smiled. "You dragged me all this way when
I'd just as soon have quit and turned back toward home."
"Home?" His eyebrows lifted.
"Well, back toward Turput. I've come to think of that as kind of a home away
from home."
"In spite of the inhabitants' unpleasant burial rituals?"
"I didn't spend much time consorting with the dead. I get to do that on the boat
every night."
"Very funny." But she was still smiling. Tyl sat nearby, leading his fellow Tsla
in their nighttime chant. Etienne watched her as she listened to them without
reaching for her recorder. Light from the porters' fare lit her profile, burning
away the years.
Ten years together. She'd been very beautiful a decade ago. Now she was
hardened, toughened by fieldwork, by adversity, by too many hours spent away
from the comforts of civilizationand still beautiful. All the poison in her
spirit, all the acid in her voice could not change that.
She grew conscious of his stare and turned back to him. "I owe you an apology
for wanting to turn back."
"How about a kiss instead? I haven't had a kiss in a long time. Apologies I can
live without."
She eyed him uncertainly for a moment, then walked around the heater to bend
next to him, touching her lips to his. They were warm against the night.
Then she pulled away, sooner than he wished. Too brief, too considered, not
spontaneous enough, he thought. But something, it was something. It had been a
long time since they'd lead even that.
He turned over beneath the blanket, feeling much warmed insideand not by the
heateranxious for morning to come.
Chapter Twelve
Screams, shouts of panic, and the hoarse trilling cries of the vroqupii woke
him, the latter a sound he hadn't heard since the start of the long climb up
from the Skar. Gesticulating silhouettes rushed past his sleepfilled eyes like
the shadows of ghosts. Only the heater was alive, a steady glow in the darkness.
Trying to force himself awake he sat up, hunting for the source of all the
disturbance. Suddenly he found himself rising from the ground. Something had
placed tight steel bands around his shoulders and the back of his neck. He
screwed his head around so he could look overhead, thinking how strange it was
to meet a denizen of hell five thousand meters away from the center of the
planet.
Four long wings beat at the air, protruding from a thick, flattened body. Wind
and a fetid, corrupt odor assailed his face. Not far from his eyes, altogether
too near, was a mouth full of sharp hooks. A pair of saucersized bright blue
eyes glared down at him. The pupils were huge and yellow.
The odor of carrion was overpowered by a sudden sharp smell of ozone. The
monstrosity shivered. Lyra fired again and Etienne found himself falling. He
landed heavily on his blanket and sleeping pad instead of the naked rock. With
two holes burned through one wing, the creature had had enough. It lifted
skyward, emitting a cry very like the sound the devil must make when gargling.
Etienne rolled over and clutched his right elbow, which had absorbed the brunt
of his fall. It throbbed painfully. He was fully awake now.
Lyra jostled him as she slid on her knees next to him. Her eyes were still on
the night sky. "Here," she said, handing him his pistol. "Others are still
around." She gave him a hand up.
Guarding each other's backs they stumbled through the confusion and screaming,
Etienne handling the asynapt with his left hand. The most immediate danger came
not from the nocturnal carnivores but from the bellowing, stampeding vroqupii.
Etienne fired and fired. Though there was no recoil, his fingers grew numb
simply from gripping the pistol. Eventually the night was scoured clean,
however, and he let the weapon fall to his side. The stars returned, except off
to the north where the air was filled with vast dark shapes, rapidly receding.
The Redowls returned to their campsite, set the heater back on its base, and sat
down. All around them panic was giving way to muttered curses and exclamations
in excited Mai.
Homat joined them, almost invisible in his coldweather gear.
"What were they?" Lyra asked him. Etienne massaged his elbow, still looking to
the north where a last straggler fled after its companions on tenmeterwide
wings.
"Monsters." Homat was shivering despite his bulky attire. "Very rarely do they
come down to the river. They must be more common up here, where the land is
better suited to monsters and Tsla!"
Other eyes joined the conference. If Tyl had overheard Homat's last words, he
chose not to comment. "Strepanong," he declared, gesturing heavenward with his
flexible proboscis. "Scavengers and killers." He paused. "They took two of the
Brui. They rarely bother us in the fields, and never in the towns. Never have I
seen so many in one place at the same time. The presence of so much meat must
have drawn them."
"A bad omen, bad omen," Homat was muttering. "Perhaps we should turn back,
deEtienne."
A small invisible needle pricked his elbow and he winced. "Not after making it
this far, Homat. I'm not turning back now."
"The Brul may grumble once they restore calm among their animals," Homat warned
him. "They do not come this far to fight with monsters."
"Tyl, repeat what you said about never having seen so many in one place before.
The chances of this happening again before we reach Jakaie are insignificant,
aren't they? Tyl ,y
The Tsla spoke mournfully. "I can guarantee nothing, Learned Etienne, though it
would be most unlikely."
"One strepanong is too many," Homat argued.
"We drove them off," Lyra reminded him, gesturing with her pistol. "We injured
several of them, maybe fatally, threw a real scare into the entire flock. I
don't imagine they'll come after us again. You tell the Bzul that. And from now
on Etienne and I will alternate standing guard at night so we're not surprised
anymore. If there is a next time they'll feast on strepanong, not the other way
around."
"That is no consolation to the families of the two who were taken." Homat
shuddered at the thought.
"Their families will be compensated," she promised. "Tell the Brul that if they
turn back now because of a bunch of carrion eaters they're no better than
children, crying for their mothers. We're only a couple of days, maybe less,
from our goal, where there'll be warm shelter and safety for all. "
Tyl assumed an uncharacteristically haughty air. "That much can be assured. Tsla
hospitality refuses no one."
"You can also tell them," Lyra continued with a sudden burst of inspiration,
"that if they insist on turning back now, we'll have to find Tsla help to take
us the rest of the way."
Homat smiled at this slyness. Truly deLyra was becoming knowledgeable of Mai
ways. "Ail your assurances would not convince them, but an insult to their
reputations!yes, I will tell them that. I do not think we will have any
trouble." He turned and disappeared in the direction of the vroqupii corral.
The Redowls were left alone. Lyra indicated her husband's right arm. "What's
with your elbow?"
He forced a wry grin. "It thought it was a foot. I landed on it, but I don't
imagine it's broken. Just feels like it. Couldn't you have managed to shoot the
damned thing before it got me off the ground?"
"Sorry," she said dryly. "Be thankful we're camped on a relatively wide section
of trail. You might've been dumped over a precipice."
"Wouldn't that have made for an interesting dive? Time enough for fortyeight
twists with a couple dozen triple gainers thrown in. Unfortunately, I don't
think I would have survived long enough to enjoy the judging."
"I'll try and come to the rescue a little sooner next time."
He was suddenly solemn as he eyed the sky. "I hope there won't be a next time.
Insult to their professionalism or not, I don't imagine the Brul will stay if
we're attacked again. Did you get a good enough look at our visitors to classify
them? I wasn't much interested in their taxonomy myself, and I didn't have the
best view."
"It wasn't a bird. I'm not even sure it was mammalian. Looked like a cross
between a condor and a centipede."
"Sweet critter. I think we'll forgo any opportunities for upclose study." He
grimaced as he tried to straighten his arm. "I saw enough to know it spends most
if not all of its time in the air."
"I've never seen a quadruple wing arrangment like that before," she added,
"except on insects, and the strepanong's no insect despite its appearance. It
had feathers, and plenty of 'em."
"I know. I had to smell them." He looked toward the circle of Tsla. Tyl was
watching them, the fire bright in his wide, sad eyes. "You're positive we're not
more than a day or two march from this town?"
Tyl performed an elaborate gesture with his nose. "I am positive, Etienne. A
passing of the sun once or twice across the sky will see us in Jakaie. I look
forward to it myself, for I am curious to see how my brethren have adapted to so
isolated a home. Life must be harder than in Turput."
"But not so hard they won't be able to aid us?"
"Learned Etienne, the more difficult a Tsla's circumstances, the more generous
he is with his hospitality."
Lyra confirmed this declaration, as Etienne knew she would.
There was much grumbling and many more complaints than usual among the Brul the
next morning as they mounted their vroqupii. That was only to be expected.
Etienne thought he saw several expressions of hatred directed at himself or his
wife, but Homat assured him it didn't matter whether the drovers disliked them
or not. Only that they respected them.
Several of the vroqupii displayed new scars, evidence of attempts by the
marauding strepanong to carry them off. At least the weather had decided to
cooperate, and the grumbling rapidly died down. It was almost warm as they set
out up the trail.
They reached the top of the canyon and paused for a brief celebration, which
helped to raise the drovers' spirits considerably. That night they slept easy,
reassured by the sight of one of the Redowls patrolling alertly with asynaptic
pistol in hand.
By the following day nearly all dissension had faded away. The trail now crossed
level ground and the Brul paused in their shivering long enough to study a land
they'd never visited before. They realized they were pioneers of a sort and a
few found they were enjoying the journey.
They were two days in from the trail head. The vroqupii surmounted the
occasional ridge with ease. The beauty of the lower plateau captivated the
travelers, from the rushing streams beginning their long race down to the Skar
to the stunted but widespreading evergreens.
Lyra was particularly interested in a convoluted pile of brush that Tyl called
an aroyt. Covering as much as half an acre, the aroyt was a single growth that
defended its highly edible trunk with an impenetrable armor of centimeterlong
thorns. There were also clumps of high mossy fungi that rose to their knees and
held melt water like a sponge. Not that water underfoot was a problem. Most of
the trail had been cut from solid rock. Soil was a precious rarity at this
height.
They were approaching a saddle between a finger of Aracunga and a low hill when
the two lead Brul who had disengaged themselves from the team to serve as
advance scouts returned at a gallop. That in itself was extraordinary, since it
was the first time the Redowls had seen a vroqupii move at anything faster than
a walk.
Homat hurried to meet the outriders as the procession slowed. The scouts were
clattering loudly to their companions as they traveled down the line.
"Maybe they've spotted Jakaie over the ridge line," Lyra suggested hopefully.
Too hopefully.
Homat rejoined them quickly, his fright apparent in his expression. "The Brul
are taking their animals out of harness."
"What?" Etienne looked toward the front of the team, could see the drovers
working with the harness. "What the devil's wrong?"
"Exactly," Homat replied. "Many devils. Demons." Ibis eyes were wide.
"More strepanong? Or some other animal?"
"Not animal, not animal," Homat insisted. "Demons!" Etienne could see he was far
more terrified than he'd been the night of the scavenger attack.
Etienne started up the line. "They can't unhitch and quit now! We're almost
there." As he spoke, several vroqupii were already moving out of file. "You've
got to make them stop, Homat."
"They won't stop, deEtienne. The strepanong they can understand, but no one can
fight demons."
Desperately, Etienne turned to Tyl. "What's going on? What are they so
frightened of?"
"I am not sure," Tyl murmured, "but I fear what I may know."
"Demons are in Jakaie," Homat went on. He turned to point toward the saddle just
ahead. "Jakaie lies just over that ridge, but the demons are there. The Brul
will go no further, deEtienne. They say they are going back to their homes as
fast as their mounts will carry them. They complain that nothing was said in the
contracts about dealing with demons."
"What kind of demons?" Lyra asked, trying to make some sense of the Mai's panic.
"Ice demons!"
"Ali, it is as I fear." Tyl turned and began talking rapidfire to his
companions, the words flying almost as fast as if he were speaking Mai.
"Not the Tsla too," Etienne snapped angrily. The first retreating vroqupii were
passing the boat now, heading back toward the Barshajagad. He stepped toward the
nearest.
"You must stay!" he shouted in Mai. The Brul ignored him. He walked to the next
in line. "You can't leave us here like this. We have a contract, an agreement."
He struggled to recall the words Lyra had used to hold the drovers the night of
the strepanong. "What of your commercial honor?"
"To flee from devils is no disgrace," the Brul announced with dignity, even as
he looked back over his shoulder to make certain no demons pursued. And that was
all any of them would say.
In less than thirty minutes the last vroqupii had disappeared over the slope
behind them, its Brul urging it to greater speed. Etienne and Lyra considered
their boat, marooned on a rocky plain, yoked to nothing.
"Ice demons," Etienne grumbled. "Didn't they see how easily we drove off the
strepanong?"
"These are not strepanong," Tyl told him. "Thee must see to understand as thee
had to see the Topapasirut to understand it. I sorrow for thee, Learned One. As
for ourselves, we must go on to aid our brethren in Jakaie."
"Hey, what about us? Are we supposed to just sit here and wait for the next
flood?"
"Etienne," Lyra said gently, "you're not thinking clearly. You never do when you
lose your temper."
"So enlighten me."
"This town lies just over the ridge ahead." She stared meaningfully at the
hydrofoil.
Realization brought embarrassment with it, though the Tsla did not perceive it.
"Just ahead. We have plenty of battery power and we don't have to lift too
high." Lyra nodded, turned to the Tsla. "These ice demons. They wouldn't happen
to be the Na, would they?"
"What other demons of the ice are there? I thought thee knew." Tyl gestured
toward the boat with his snout. "Thee will use thy spirit boat to help us?"
"To help you, yes, and ourselves, since we have to get it into Jakaie somehow.
You know what to do?" Tyl nodded and moved with the porters to climb aboard. The
Redowls followed.
"You wanted to see this legendary third race, the one that inhabits the
Guntali," Etienne reminded her as they mounted the ladder. "Looks like you're
going to have your chance."
"I'm not sure I like the circumstances, but it doesn't appear we have much say
in the matter."
They checked out the boat's systems carefully. It had been several days since
the repellers had been used. But the hydrofoil lifted easily off the ground and
started forward on its cushion of air. The wooden platform hung beneath the
hull, the huge heavy wheels spinning aimlessly. Bindings groaned but held.
Jakaie had better be as close as the Brul had indicated, Lyra thought as she
guided them toward the notch in the rocks. Otherwise they'd have to squat down
somewhere until the cells recharged the batteries.
Jakaie was built into a flank of Ara cunga. The architecture was similar to
Turput's but much heavier construction seemed to be the rule. The buildings
boasted fewer windows. At that altitude the Tsla needed to conserve heat.
Off to the north lay irrigated fields filled with soil laboriously collected
from notches and arroyos where it had gathered. The wall was the most obvious
difference between Jakaie and Turput. It was an impressive wall; a good six or
seven meters high but not especially thick.
Apparently Jakaie was high enough for creatures of the Guntali to mix with those
of the Tsla ecological zone. Including, it seemed, the Na. He tried to visualize
the Na in his mind's eye, using variations of the MaiTsla patterna bipedal,
mammalian type. And that much was true. But the ways in which the new form
diverged from those previously encountered caused the small hairs on the back of
his neck to tense.
Several gates broke the town wall and no more than two dozen Na battered away at
the largest. That two dozen Na would take on an entire town said more for their
ferocity and disposition than all the fears expressed by the Brul.
Jakaie was large enough to harbor anywhere from five hundred to a thousand
inhabitants, all of whom not only were on the defensive but appeared to be
losing the battle. Tsla bodies were visible outside the wall. There was no sign
of dead Na though one individual did sit some distance away from the fight. A
big male, it was festooned with spears and arrows and was busily engaged in
plucking them from his body as if they were so many bee stings.
As they watched from the straining hydrofoil, the gate gave way under the steady
pounding from rocks and small trees. The Tsla inside scattered as the Na rushed
in among them, and screams of terror pierced the clear mountain air. "Thee must
hurry, Learned Ones, or many will die!" Swd called from the foredeck.
"We're moving as fast as we can," Etienne told him through the speaker membrane.
"This boat wasn't designed for rapid travel out of the water."
Many primitives would have paused at the sight of so alien an object as the
flying boat coming toward them. Not the Na. Either they did not possess
sufficient imagination to be fearful of strange new shapes or else they were too
confident in their own irresistible strength. A few bellowed in the hydrofoil's
direction as it crossed over the wall, but the assault continued.
The hydrofoil bucked and rolled uneasily as they began to pass over homes and
streets. It wasn't designed to compensate for such uneven terrain. Everyone
aboard was glad when Etienne finally set the boat down in a parklike area near
the center of Jakaie. A few anxious faces, flexible snouts aquiver, peeked out
at them from shuttered windows and portholes. The noise of fighting could be
heard clearly. Etienne checked his pistol as Lyra urged him to hurry. "What, in
a rush to shoot some more natives?" he chided her. "How are you going to justify
that in your report?"
"If this town's devastated we won't be able to find the help we'll need to get
us down to the river again."
"What makes you think the Tsla here have any interest in helping us? This isn't
Turput." He scrambled down the boarding ladder.
"Because we're going to endear ourselves to them by helping to repel this
attack. Not that I wouldn't help them anyway." She started toward the broken
gate and he had to hurry to keep up with her.
Anxious to protect her precious Tsla, he mused. But she was right about one
thing they'd do it if they had to or not. Tyl and the porters had become more
than natives during the journey Upriver from Turput. They'd become friends.
Tyl and the three porters were offered arms by oldsters and adolescents. Only
Homat did not accompany the reinforcements. He remained with the hydrofoil
because between his bulky clothing and the temperature he'd have been useless
in a fight.
It was not as if they hadn't encountered violence on Tslamaina before Jakaie,
but it was still a shock to stumble onto the decapitated body of a female Tsla
lying in the street. The head was nowhere around and the sounds of combat were
very close.
After the Na broke through, the Tsla retreated to their strong buildings to
harry the invaders with spears and arrows. Etienne and his party rounded the
side of one such structure and halted only a few meters from a cluster of ten or
twelve farmers who were trapped against the wall by a pair of Na. The farmers
were holding the attackers off with long pikes and sharp tools, yet it was
apparent that if something wasn't done quickly the Na would pick them apart one
by one.
Etienne had no time to admire Tyl's bravery as their guide darted forward,
weaving with the waddling gait of his kind, to cut at the leg of one Na with a
curved blade. It did not penetrate the leathery skin very deeply and he had to
retreat in a hurry, leaving his weapon behind.
But the Na had felt it, grunted, muttered something unintelligible, then
reached down to pluck the weapon from its ankle. The creature was four meters
tall and covered with a thick, shaggy pelt. Its clothing was crudeheavy sandals
of some unknown leather, a leathery vest and breastplate, and a kilt of some
similar material. A bone knife hung from a cord tied around the waist, the blade
almost as tall as Lyra. As its main weapon, the Na clutched a club which had
once been a tree of respectable size. It was panting heavily and a dark tongue
lolled from a corner of its mouth. That made sense. An inhabitant of the Guntali
would have little use for sweat glands.
Without a word Etienne moved to his left, Lyra to the right. As he ran he fired.
Thick hair was burned black on the back of a pillarlike thigh. The Na howled and
turned its attention away from the desperate farmers.
The creature's forehead was very low and its blunt snout seemed incapable of
advanced expression, but there was no mistaking that snarl of hatred. It
displayed four canines, two upper, two lower. The remaining front teeth appeared
to have been fled to sharp points. One did not have to be an experienced
biologist to realize the Na did not exist on a diet of vegetables.
It uttered something in words of single syllables as it brought the massive club
down faster than Etienne would have guessed possible. He dove wildly behind a
small wagon piled high with some kind of vegetation The club made kindling of
the wagon and splinters bit at Etienne's exposed face. As he rolled to his feet
he thought suddenly, What am I doing here? I should be behind a desk at a
university, grumbling over sophomoric student reports and wondering who's going
to show at the next faculty gettogether.
There was no time for regretful contemplation. The club swung parallel to the
pavement and he heard it whoosh as he ducked and it missed the top of his skull
by centimeters. Then a big hand was reaching for him, six treelike fingers with
hooked nails at the tips.
He stumbled backward, away from that menacing grasp, firing as he fell. The bolt
passed between the forefinger and first thumb to strike the Na in the left eye.
It let out a thunderous howl, dropped the club and fell to its knees, shaking
violently. The Na was dead by the time it hit the ground.
Etienne tried to rejoin his companions, only to find his path blocked by the
other Na. It charged forward and brought its own club down with both hands.
Etienne barely missed being pulped by diving behind a nearby wall.
Freed of the need to ward off two attackers, the farmers fanned out behind the
survivor. Pikes and spears and scythes stabbed and cut at muscles and tendons.
The Na roared and bellowed, frustrated in its attempt to locate the snoutless
Tsla who had slain his companion. As a great tendon was finally cut, the beast
fell to one knee swinging the club in a wide arc to kill a pair of Tsla who'd
closed too quickly.
But now that the Na was down it no longer seemed so massive or invulnerable.
Etienne took careful aim and fired at the base of the skull. The bone was so
thick that it prevented the charge from penetrating to the spine, but the shock
was sufficient to temporarily paralyze the creature and send it tumbling the
rest of the way to the street.
It did his heart good, though Lyra would surely not have approved, to watch the
peaceful, philosophic Tsla jump all over the body and start hacking it to
pieces. Knowing that his help was needed elsewhere, he left the surviving
farmers to their butchery.
He needn't have worried. The Na were in full retreat, harried by the persistent
townsfolk. He spotted Yulour atop a croploading ramp and climbed up beside him.
"You don't fight here, Yulour?"
"No, Learned One," said the slowwitted porter. "I want to help, but Teacher Tyl
tell me no. He say, I would only end up hurting myself."
Etienne nodded, commending Tyl's good sense. He picked his way back down the
ramp.
The fleeing Na carried huge bales of some kind of dried meat from a storehouse
they'd broken into, while others hauled off unknown booty in huge leathery
sacks. The Tsla pursued them only as far as the ruined gate.
Etienne saw only one other Na corpse. Perhaps word of the two deaths he'd had a
hand in had been enough to frighten the rest of the Na into giving up the
assault. Or perhaps they'd gained what they'd come for. He could speculate on
motivation later. Right now he was exhausted and more than glad to see them go.
Another folk might have pursued in an attempt to recover their stolen stores,
but not the Tsla. There was no room in their philosophy for active military
pursuit. And out on the open plain they would be at a disadvantage against their
opponents, whose size and maneuverability would not be restricted by stone walls
and narrow streets.
He slo wed as he approached the shattered gate, to stare after the retreating Na.
A group of curious locals began to gather around him. Smiling and making Tsla
gestures of friendship, he forced his way through them to find Tyl deep in
conversation with a silverfurred elder.
The guide introduced him. "This is Ruuan, First Scholar of Jakaie. Ruuan, make
greeting to the Learned Etienne, a scholar front a world other than ours. He
comes here to learn about us ... and as thee have observed, sometimes to help."
"I am gladdened by thy presence," the elder said. His accent differed from that
of Tyl and the other Tsla of Turput, but the words remained comprehensible.
"Also that thee saw fit to put aside thy studies long enough to aid us in a most
desperate time. I have been informed that thee helped to bring down two of the
Na and thereby to hasten their flight."
Etienne holstered his pistol. "Does this happen often? From what I saw of the
fight I don't see how you could survive repeated attacks."
"The Na assail us infrequently, and usually with less loss of life. Many times
we will simply fall back against the mountain and let them take what they will.
They are not indiscriminate thieves and never take more than they can carry.
But it has not been a good time for us and it was decided this time to resist. I
do not think the choice wise."
"They come to steal your food?"
"When the time is hard on us, it may also be hard on them. Nor do they know how
to grow food of their own. Despite their appearance, they have a hunger for the
fruit of the soil. When it is scarce on the Guntali they will sometimes come
down among us. I suppose they cannot be blamed. The life offered by the Guntali
must be very hard."
"You sound like you're ready to forgive them," Etienne said, eyeing the bodies
scattered both in front of and behind the ruined gate.
"We always do," the First Scholar told him. "Have they not souls just as we?
They are more to be pitied than hated for their ignorance and weaknesses."
"I didn't see many weaknesses, but I've already learned that you Tsla are more
forgiving than we humans." Already the townsfolk were busy removing the dead.
That sparked an unpleasant memory.
"After the ... funeral ceremonies ... are concluded, what do you do with the
bodies of your deceased?" He could not look at TyI as he said this. Sensing his
discomfort, the guide discreetly allowed the First Scholar to answer.
"Here we cremate the bodies and then scatter the ashes upon our fields, so that
as tillers of the soil those who pass on may help the next generation to grow
better crops."
"So they can be stolen again by the Na. You ought to put a stop to it."
"That would be a fine thing," the elder said, "but alas, a thing not possible.
We cannot chase the Na up to the Guntali. It is too cold for us and the air too
thin for us to fight in. Up there, they are the masters.
"Similarly, they cannot fight long down here. The thick hair which protects them
from the Guntali's cold soon causes them to grow too hot to exert their great
bodies, and they must retreat."
"I'm glad I don't have to depend on the weather for my defense," Etienne
replied. Not that ii was within his province to criticize the way these Tsla
managed their lives.
"Actually," the elder continued, surprising his human audience, "there are
times when we trade peacefully with the Na."
"I'd been told the Tsla served as a conduit between Mai and Na, but for some
reason it just slipped my memory."
"You must not judge them only by this unusual attack," Ruuan advised him.
"There are many times when the Mai also prefer to fight instead of to trade."
Etienne was glad Homat was still back at the boat. "Listen, I'm standing here
taking in all this information and it isn't even my department. Lyra's the one
who should be making a record of your ways." He looked past them, making a
perfunctory survey of the battlefield. "Where is she, anyway? I haven't seen
her since we split up to try and flank the two Na we first encountered."
"Ah, Learned Teacher Lyra," Tyl murmured.
"Yes. Didn't she stick with you, Tyl?" Suddenly he was very cold, the kind of
coldness that comes from inside the body and makes the muscles of one's arms and
legs start to cramp.
"No. We became separated during the fight. I have not seen her since. Perhaps we
ought to return to the place where we began the combat." He sounded concerned.
There was no sign of Lyra. Not where Etienne and the farmers had slain the two
Na, not in the streets nearby, not before the gate. The word was passed among
the townsfolk. Surely they'd know her whereabouts. An alien fighting among them
would stand out immediately.
When the word came it was, devastating in its finality.
Chapter Thirteen
The expedition's aims, his hopes for a personal rapprochement, the papers they
planned to present to various scientific societies, the acclaim and
acknowledgment and honors, all suddenly meant nothing beside the hollowness in
his heart. Ten years of hard work had been shattered like that gate which had so
ineffectively protected Jakaie.
Several of the townsfolk had seen the alien female disappear into a Na sack.
They were positive she was alive at the time. Two or three Tsla had been stuffed
in the sack with her.
Etienne and Tyl, accompanied by the First Scholar, rushed to the narrow street
near the gate, following the lead of two young Tsla. A quick search turned up
several raggedy fragments of Lyra's shirtand something more significant.
Battered but still functional, her pistol lay dark against the paving stones
where she'd dropped it.
Asking without wanting to ask, he looked despairingly at Ruuan. "Why would they
take her alive?"
The elder glanced at Tyl, who knew the strange creature better than he, but no
enlightenment was forthcoming. So he answered.
"I told thee, Learned Etienne, that when times on the Guntali are difficult the
Na come here to find food. They are not selective in their diet. Meat is meat to
them, whether recently killed on the Guntali or traded to them by some merchant
. . . or the merchant himself. They take live captives to prolong their supply
of fresh food, as we do with our domestic animals."
The sudden irony of it made Etienne want to laugh, but he couldn't, any more
than he could cry. All he could do was stare silently through the broker. gate
toward the rampart marking the rim of the Guntali, more than a thousand meters
higher than Jakaie.
Lyra was up there somewhere, no doubt occupying her thoughts with the
unprecedented opportunity granted her to study the culture of the Na at close
range. Probably she was bouncing around in her sack with her fellow captives and
cursing the lack of a recorder. She'd be doing exactly the same thing when they
slipped her on the spit. Her last notes would detail the eating habits of the
Na. He was sure it would be a paragon of scientific explication and his wife's
final thought would be regret over the fact no one else would be able to read
them.
"Damn them," he muttered. "Damn her!" He let all his anger and hate and
frustration flow out over the stones and an occasional curious onlooker and when
he finally concluded the tirade he was ashamed of himself, because there still
were no tears.
As he turned back to the patient Tyl he discovered he could speak with
extraordinary calmness. It was the peace of the resigned.
"Do you think they will eat her soon, or save her for a while?" How easily the
words came now, the absurd words.
Tyl looked to Ruuan instead of replying. "It is hard to say. Certainly they
have sense enough to wonder at the differences between her and us. If any among
this tribe has ever seen a Mai, they may think she is kin to them, albeit from a
larger tribe. They may want to sample this new food right away, but I think they
may choose to make a special feast around her. Thus they would save her for a
last meal."
"I have to proceed on that assumption."
Tyl eyed him curiously. "What can thee do, Learned Etienne? I am wounded for
thee. I was very fond of Learned Lyra. I learned much from her and enjoyed our
sharing of customs and knowledge. Both pupil and teacher she was, but there is
nothing to be done for her now."
"You and your damn fatalism! She's my wife, damn it, and as long as there's the
slimmest chance she's still alive I have to go after her. It's her own damn
fault for being so careless and putting me in this position, and she knows it.
She's probably laughing over my predicament right now knowing that I have to
come after her or risk everything going down the drain. Months of work, years of
preparation all at risk because she didn't have a care for her fat rear and let
some big dumb cretin of a native stuff her in his shopping bag. Lost her pistol,
too." He shoved the other asynapt into his belt.
"I'm going to go back to the boat for our cold weather gear. Lyra'll be lucky if
she doesn't freeze to death before she finds herself on the menu. Or maybe she
won't be lucky. It depends on how right your assumptions are and how fast I can
move up there." He scanned the rock wall.
"One thing I can tell from here; I'll have to hike it. No way the repellers will
last long enough to get me up that. What about trails? Are there foot trails
leading to the plateau, or do they just follow the easiest route down?"
"Always they follow the easiest," Ruuan said. "That is their way. They make no
attempt to hide themselves, for they have nothing to fear from us. But I do not
understand what thee intend, Learned Visitor. The captured are already lost.
Whether alive or dead this moment matters not. Thee saw how the Na fought here
in our homeland, constrained by our walls and overheated as their bodies were.
Think what they will be like to confront on the Guntali, where they are at home
and in comfort. I will meditate on thy mate's behalf."
"Thee meditate thy butt off. I'm still going after her." He turned to their
guide. "Tyl, you'll come with me, won't you?"
"As the First Scholar tells, the captured are already lost to us. In any case we
can do nothing against the Na in their own land. To do so would only be to add
to the rolls of the departed."
"How do you know you can't do anything if you've never tried?"
"Logic, Learned Etienne, anti common sense, dictate our actions. We are calm
because we are sensible, content because we understand our role in the scheme of
existence." He reached out to try and comfort his distraught hairless friend.
"Please, Etienne, friend, thee must continue with thy work. Thy Lyra would have
wished it. Thee must not grieve for her."
"I'm not grieving for her, you gutless wonder. I'm going after her because she
may still be alive." Then, more quietly, "I mean no insult, Tyl. I won't grieve
for her unless I know for a fact that she's dead."
"If thee wish to perish alongside her, why, that could be understood," said
Ruuan, attempting to make some sense of an alien reasoning that flew in the
face of all logic.
"I've no intention of committing suicide."
"That is what thee will do if thee persist in following the Na onto the
Guntali," Tyl insisted. "I am sorrowed, Etienne, but I cannot follow thee. My
teachings, my beliefs, will not allow it. You may ask of any others thee wish."
He did not add that such a request would be a waste of time.
Etienne forced himself to reply as courteously as possible. "I respect your
beliefs, Tyl. I don't understand them and I don't sympathize with them, I don't
even like them, but I can respect them. But I'm wasting tame standing here
trying to convince you." He wondered what Lyra would say if she could hear Tyl's
refusal.
"I'll go after her myself."
"Thee will not return," Tyi warned him.
"Oh, I'll come back. Look at it like this I'm going to acquire additional
knowledge. It will be a learning experience."
"Death is learned soon enough," Tyl said. "They who"
"I will go with thee."
So intent was he on his mental preparations and his frustration with the Tsla
that Etienne didn't hear the voice.
Again it said, "I will help thee."
"Who said that?" He turned, to find himself confronting one of the porters. The
last porter anyone expected to say anything Yulour.
"If thee will have me, Learned One."
"Have you, yes, and glad of it." He didn't think Yulour could think fast enough
to be of much help in a fight, but if supplies could be piled on that willing,
powerful back they would make much better time. And it would be good to have
company. In that respect the porter's slowness did not concern him. He doubted
he'd be much in the mood for extended conversation atop the Guntali.
"Why? Isn't it against your spiritual principles?"
"I have no spiritual principles, Learned One." Yulour fought with the large Tsla
words. "I do not have sense enough to have them." He looked hesitantly past the
human. "Teacher Tyl must allow. I am bound to him."
Tyl was staring curiously at the porter. "I cannot allow myself to go, nor would
thy companions, but if thy conscience is clear and committed."
"What is conscience?" Yulour asked innocently.
Tyl sighed. "No matter." He turned to Etienne. "He may accompany thee as he
wishes. I cannot stop him, though I would if it were in my power. All beings
have free will. Remember this, though thee will bear a heavy responsibility if
he dies. It will be on thy conscience."
"I'll remember that." Etienne faced his one volunteer. He'd had little personal
contact with Yulour, indeed, with any of the porters, preferring to give them
their instructions through Tyl.
"Thank you, Yulour. I accept your offer of help. It would be better understood
among my own people."
The porter shook his head sadly. "I do not understand, Learned One."
Etienne clapped the Tsla on one muscular shoulder. "It doesn't matter. All that
matters is that you're willing to help."
"I like Teacher Lyra," Yulour said with simple sincerity. "I want to help her."
"If we can, we will, Yulour."
They hurried back to the hydrofoil, ignoring the crowd of curious Tsla which had
gathered around it. Homat was waiting to greet them.
Etienne caught his breath as a blast of superhot air rushed out of the main
cabin. Inside the temperature reached for the hundreddegree line, forty degrees
warmer than the air outside. Homat's reaction was exactly the opposite of
Etienne's. As cold air poured inside he retreated to the pile of blankets he'd
assembled on the floor of the cockpit, curled up beneath them, and peered out
apologetically as Etienne strode in after him.
"Please do not be angry with me, deEtienne," he pleaded. "Only I was left
behind, and I remember how to work the device that makes the air inside the
spirit boat hot or cold. I could not resist. It's the first time in many times I
have been truly delightful warm."
Etienne had to smile. "Relax, Homat, it's all right. I'm not mad at you." The
smile quickly vanished, "DeLyra has been taken by the Na, by the ice demons."
Homat began to moan and Etienne hastened to cut him off. "Yulour and I are going
after her."
Homat's nearly bald head emerged from the smothering blankets. "After the
demons?"
"After the Na, yes."
"You will not come back."
"I really appreciate all the support I'm getting," he mumbled absently as he
started rummaging through a storage locker in search of needed supplies. "I
never thought I'd see the day when Mai and Tsla were in perfect agreement on
anything."
"After the demons," Homat whispered. "II would come with you if I could."
Etienne threw him a surprised look. "That's delightful of you, Homat, but you
know how much use you'd be. The temperature atop the Guntali's probably
somewhere just above the freezing mark. I don't think you could handle that for
very long. No Mai could. The climate here in Jakaie's at the upper limit of your
tolerance."
"I wish it were not so, deEtienne. It is wondrous that you can move so freely
between the comfortable weather of the Skatandah and the roof of the world."
"Our special clothing helps to make that possible, Homat." He held up a thermal
coat just excavated from storage. "I'm more concerned about the atmospheric
pressure above the sixthousandmeter line. The air will be thicker than at a
corresponding altitude on my home world, but thinner than I'd like. We have some
methods of compensating for that, too."
Into the large backpack went a half dozen supplementary breathers. Each
consisted of a facepiece designed to fit comfortably over mouth and nose and
flexible metal tubes that fit over the ears and behind the head to hold the
contraption in place. The tubes contained pure 02 under pressure and would serve
equally well under water. For high altitude use they'd last much longer, since
their full flow wouldn't be required.
Two ascents from the bottom of the Barshajagad had prepared him for the coming
climb. All that he feared was the possibility of having to do some running at
high altitude. He wondered how Lyra was handling the thin air and low
temperatures. She was wearing long clothing when the Na had attacked, but that
wouldn't suffice if the nighttime temperature dropped below freezing. It might
be that all that stood between her and freezing to death at night was the warm
presence of her fellow captives.
"Yulour, will you be warm enough?" he asked his sole companion when all was
ready. The porter wore several layers of toga and two capes, in addition to a
cloak pulled tight over his head.
"I will be fine, Teacher. Please not to worry about me. It upsets me when I see
anyone worrying about me."
Tyl and Ruuan waited at the main gate to see them off. With typical Tsla
matteroffactness, masons and carpenters were already hard at work repairing
the broken barrier. Ruu-an presented ore stocky villager who would guide them
to the base of the incline the Na usually employed for their travels.
"Do they ever leave a rear guard behind, or anything like that?" Etienne asked
the First Scholar.
Ruuan made a negative movement with his trunk. "They have nothing to fear from
us since we never pursue them."
That sense of invulnerability should be my greatest ally, Etienne mused. Once
safely back in their own territory atop the Guntali the Na would relax.
Counterattack would be the last thing they'd expect. The shock should be
considerable. But he didn't delude himself into thinking that they'd run off in
panic. The Na weren't the type to run.
No, he'd have to rely on surprise. Even with two fully charged pistols he
doubted he could hold off an entire tribe of the giants for more than a couple
of minutes.
"We're wasting time." He led their local guide toward the wall beckoning to the
east, moving as rapidly as practicable. Yulour fell in step behind, the big pack
bobbing easily on his broad shoulders.
Tyl and Ruuan watched them go.
"What a strange folk," the First Scholar declared. "I listen in amazement to the
accomplishments you tell me they have achieved, and then something like this is
done, something which a child of but a few years can see is useless."
"They are full of contradictions." Tyl's gaze was still on Etienne's retreating
back. "One moment they are very wise and the next, foolish as little Mai. I
think their souls must be in perpetual confusion."
"Thee believe they have souls, then?"
"I am convinced of it, though other teachers of Turput argue otherwise."
"It may be that their minds are variable, that they are adults one moment and
cubs the next. Very strange folk. I am glad I was able to meet and talk with one
of them before they died."
"Yes, I will miss them. The female came to me day after day and asked endless
questions, which allowed me to make a close study of her and her ways. Now that
they have left us we will have only that to remember."
He turned and helped the elderly Ruuan as they started back toward town,
continuing the discussion as they walked.
There were plenty of switchbacks which over the years the Na had developed into
a recognizable pathway, so the climb was not as difficult as Etienne first
feared. He still had to stop at regular intervals to catch his breath. Common
sense insisted on calling regular halts while his nerves tried to force him to
greater haste. The supplementary breathers wouldn't last forever and he tried to
ration the flow of the one clamped over his face.
Despite the frequent pauses they reached the plateau sooner than he'd dared to
hope. Gaps in the thick clouds afforded only an occasional glimpse of Jakaie and
its valley sitting far below and behind them. Above the rest of the real world
brooded the mountain called Aracunga. A thick cloud of ice crystals trailed
southward from its crest, looking like smoke flowing from a volcano. In the
distance rose a white ghost, the impossible bulk of the skyscraping Prompaj
Massif.
A few trees stood ready to greet their arrival, thin wispy branches applauding
their achievement at the behest of a steady wind. Nearby, greenbrown bushes
clung to the ground. Etienne bent to examine the nuts they produced, found them
hard to extract from the poor soil. They hugged the earth with hooks of wood.
In the light dusting of snow they saw tracks of animals that walked on broad but
delicate feet, with long strides. Etienne visualized something tall and thin
running fast. As they left the rim they encountered larger spoor, indication
that a large predator had recently passed.
Whenever their course was in doubt Yulour would drop his head toward the ground
and employ his oversized proboscis to sniff out the scent of the Na.
"Not far," he told Etienne by the end of the day.
"No reason for them to cover ground." Etienne squinted into the growing
darkness, an occasional snowflake tickling his skin. "Probably they've picked a
comfortable spot to relax and reminisce about their attack on Jakaie. If they
have that much sense, that is. We should come up on them soon, then?"
"Yes, soon." Yulour straightened. "Then what we do?"
"I'm not sure. Depends on how they set their camp."
They saw the glow from the earth before Yulour caught the scent of the tribe.
The fire itself wasn't visible because it lay in a depression. Heeding Etienne's
request for silence, Yulour followed the Teacher as they crept up the side of
the low ridge and found themselves looking down into a small crater in the
rocks. It was deep and offered excellent protection against the wind. On the
far side, stone overhung part of the depression, and the alcove was packed with
sleepy, sated Na. Only a few of the primitives were moving, mostly to tend to
the roaring fire. The odor from the burning chips was strong.
For the first time Etienne saw Na females, along with twometertall cubs.
Unlike the children of most species, the offspring of the Na were not cute. They
moved nervously in their sleep, their bare feet kicking toward the warmth of the
fire.
Vegetation was unusually abundant in the depression, not only due to the
presence of nutrients unintentionally supplied by Na but also because the hollow
served as a watertrap. The pool lay directly below Etienne, the fire on the far
side. A large pile of dried animal dung helped to reflect as well as freshen the
blaze.
Yulour pointed and whispered with childlike excitement. "Look there, Teacher,
look there
Etienne's gaze traveled to the right of the fire. Stone and bone had been heaped
together to create a crude kitchen. Attached to a long bone suspended over a
smoking fire was a shape that he didn't immediately recognize. It took him a
moment to see that it was a dead Tsla shorn of its fur. He glanced sideways at
his companion. There was no fury, no hatred in the porter's face.
"It doesn't bother you?"
"What bother me, Teacher?"
Etienne gestured toward the firepit. "They're cooking one of your own kind down
there."
"Everyone must eat," Yulour said ingenuously.
Etienne turned away. Obviously a great deal more research would have to be
performed before they could fully understand the Tsla.
Of more immediate interest was the cage that rested against the far righthand
base of the depression. It was made of the curving rib bones of some big
creature, lashed together with cured sinew. Fourno, fiveTsla were clustered
together within. Along with one figure clad in bright blue. His pulse raced,
threatening to set his fingers trembling.
Lyra was alive and apparently intact, from what he could see. The collar of her
shirt was buttoned all the way up over her neck and her long hair was wrapped
around her face. The Na had left their carrying sacks in with the prey, and Lyra
lay beneath one for further protection from the cold.
A single young male squatted sleepily in front of the cage, idly tossing pebbles
into the fire and ignoring his charges.
"Soon he may steep, Teacher," Yulour said of the guard.
"He'd better." Etienne checked to make sure both pistols were readily
accessible, along with the supplementary breathers. Then he backed carefully
down the slope and circled the depression.
When they climbed up again they topped the rise directly behind the cage. Then
they waited.
It was well after midnight when Etienne stirred himself for another look down
into the hollow. Tslamaina's moons were masked by cloud and most of the light in
the depression came from the central bonfire. He watched the motionless guard
for another half hour before he could be certain the Na was asleep.
"What must I do, Teacher?" asked Yulour.
"Just stay here and keep quiet, and wait for us."
"Be careful, Teacher."
"I will, Yulour."
"I will come down if thee need me," he added anxiously as Etienne slid on his
belly over the top.
"I know you will. You're a good friend, Yulour."
"I thank thee, Teacher," whispered the porter, overwhelmed by the compliment.
Etienne halfslid, halfcrawled down the incline. The tribe dozed like the dead
beneath the rocky overhang. He checked his wrist. It was twelve degrees below
freezing. He was quite comfortable but he worried about Lyra. If the temperature
fell much further she would have difficulty walking until he could get her into
her own thermal suit, which was stuffed into Yulour's copious backpack.
He reached for a purchase only to see the rock tumble down the slope. It came to
rest against the back of the cage. The guard did not stir. Etienne followed the
stone as rapidly as practicable, assuming a kneeling position behind the cage.
"Lyra," he whispered intently, shifting his gaze from her to the guard and back
again. Bodies stirred within the cave but no one rose from steep.
"Lyre!" Her head jerked around in the darkness and she shoved her hair aside.
"Etienne?"
"Who the hell else would it be?" He pulled one of the pistols and carefully
adjusted the setting after quickly inspecting the lashings holding the cage
together. "I'm going to try and burn through the material holding these bones.
Be ready, for God's sake!"
He started working, the pistol's faint hum absorbed by the wind overhead and the
crackle of the central fire. Lyre moved quietly to wake her fellow prisoners.
They had enough presence of mind to keep quiet, save for one who whispered in
surprise, "It is the mate of the stranger who is with us!" Lyre shushed him.
"Here, as Etienne cuts these loose, take them up and lay them somewhere aside."
The Tsla moved silently to comply.
He smiled to himself. Fatalistic in philosophy the Tsla might be, but clearly
that didn't extend to sitting dumbly by if the chance of escape presented
itself.
"Etienne, what the devil are you doing here?"
"Saving fair maiden from an incipient barbeque." Another lashing split and he
started on the bonds above it. One of the Tsla males gripped the base of the
loosened section to prevent its falling.
Lyre sat clear of the humming pistol, shook her head. "Somehow I never thought
you capable of the heroic gesture, Etienne."
"Lyre, shut up. I'm busy." Another series of sinews gave way and he started on
those holding a second bar as the Tsla carefully removed the first.
The second bone popped clear easily and again the Tsla moved it aside. Lyre was
first out and Etienne caught her as she stumbled. Her muscles were numb from
cold and confinement.
For an instant he thought she might have suffered some unseen injury. She
quickly dispelled that concern.
"I'm in one piece, though I thought I'd suffocate in that damn stuffsack." The
Tsla were filing out wordlessly behind her, looking around in bewilderment.
"We're up on the Guntali, aren't we? The sack was opaque, so I couldn't get any
bearings." He nodded. "No wonder I'm so cold."
"Fill me in on the details later," he advised her, looking anxiously past her
toward the dozing guard.
"We axe grateful," said the senior Tsla among the captives.
"Be grateful when we're safely back in Jakaie," Etienne admonished him. "Follow
me and stay low." He started up the slope on his belly, glancing back once to
make sure Lyra was on his heels. "You need any help?"
"No. It just feels good to be moving again."
As soon as they dropped over the dark side of the depression he extracted her
thermal suit from the supplies. She was so cold it took hex three times as long
as normal to climb inside.
"I am gla ddened to see thee, Teacher. We feared for thee."
She looked at Yulour in mild surprise, peering past him to see the others who
had come with her husband. Her disappointment in the darkness was evident.
"Etienne, you wouldn't believe the habits of these Na. Their cruelty isn't
studied, of course. It's simply their way. But their victims suffer needlessly.
As a matter of fact I'd have to say that based on preliminary studies which
admittedly were not carried out under the best of conditions, they have no
redeeming social characteristics whatsoever."
"You'll think of some as soon as you get warmed up. You'll end up with a
balanced report. You always do."
"Maybe, but I don't feel I'm in a very balanced mood right now."
Where the last of the Tsla captives reached bottom Etienne addressed them
hastily. "As you know, I am Learned One Lyre's mate. We're going back to Jakaie.
Stay together and no talking unless it's absolutely necessary. We have to travel
as rapidly as possible. If anyone gets lost or falls behind for any reason..."
"We know what we must do," said the senior Tsla. "But we do not know the way
back to our home."
"We do, so stay close by us." Holding Lyre's hand tightly in his own he turned
to follow Yulour. The rest of the Tsla trailed behind in perfect silence.
Chapter Fourteen
They shambled on through the cold and wind all the rest of that night, following
Etienne's lead. He glanced constantly at the instrumentation on his wrists, but
was glad he could rely on Yulour's sense of smell for confirmation of their
course. The rising sun was welcomed not only for the warmth it provided but as a
further aid to direction. Aracunga was a more reliable beacon than any readout
on a tiny screen.
They were well down the trail toward home when a boulder the size of a small
house fell past them in awesome silence, to pulverize a basaltic outcrop below.
It missed Etienne and Lyra by a few meters.
Instinctively he pressed his back against the cliff. "Landslide," he muttered.
Yulour made a quick, sharp gesture of disagreement, looked upward. "Na slide."
A glance toward the Guntali showed a single enormous hirsute shape leaping over
the edge, gesticulating angrily and stomping the ground. The mouth made sounds
that were swallowed by the wind. Then the figure vanished.
"Coming after us," Etienne commented with unexpected calm. "I'd hoped they
wouldn't. I wonder how many of them there are." He pulled on Lyra's hand. "Can
you run?"
She clutched her pistol firmly, nodded.
"Remember now, hon, we don't want to harm any more of the native population than
is absolutely necessary," he said dryly.
"Pardon my lack of objectivity. The rotten cannibalistic bastards."
"No time for gory details, love."
Trying to make as much speed as possible, they raced down the pathway. No more
small mountains crashed down around them, but by the time they reached the base
of the cliff they could hear bellows and roars behind them.
Twists and toms in the descending trail made it impossible to fell exactly how
near their pursuers were. Voices could carry a long way in the clear mountain
air. Then they broke out of the tales at the base of the cliff and found
themselves running along a wellbeaten road.
The Tsla who'd, joined Lyra ire escaping shouted warnings to the farmers who
toiled in the fields. Tools were flung aside, seedlings left in pans as everyone
ran for the safety of Jakaie.
Yulour poi a hand on Etienne's shoulder, bade him tom as he pointed with the
other. "There, 'feather!"
Etienne saw, no raiding party this time, but the entire tribe stumbling down the
cliff face in pursuit. Females and awkward adolescents brought up the rear.
Evidently the rescue was an outrage sufficient to infuriate the Na beyond
reason.
They ran slowly but with groundeasing strides. Out in front and much too close
behind were males hefting clubs bigger than a man.
"Come on, move it!" he shouted at the farmers who had begun to lag behind.
"We'll make ii with plenty of time, Etienne." As Lyra spoke her right foot
located the only hole in the road and she went down in a heap, immediately
rolling over on her back to clutch her ankle. Pain replaced confidence on her
face as she cursed her clumsiness.
"Not broken," she was finally able to gasp out.
"I know that, stupid," he said as felt gingerly of the already swelling knot. He
looked past her. He couldn't tell if the Na had seen her go down. The farmers
and escapees were nearing the town wall now.
"Hurry, Teacher," Yulour implored him. "There's little time."
"Get up, Lyra," Etienne ordered her. She threw him a look of anger mixed with
determination. Using his shoulder and an arm for support, she struggled to her
feet. They limped toward Jakaie. The agony in her ankle started her crying
silently, but she didn't stop.
Etienne did so, however. "Too slow. We'll never make it." He bent under her and
her pain gave way to startled surprise.
"Etienne!" She was across his shoulders. "Put me down! You'll end up killing
both of us."
"Lyra, you talk too much." She bounced awkwardly on his shoulders as he ran.
There was no pain, but the considerable weight soon had him panting heavily.
Without the supplementary breather's steady flow of pure oxygen he couldn't have
done it.
"Teacher, can I help thee?" Yulour waddled alongside them. Something went whomp!
against the earth off to their left, smashing a small bush to kindling. The Na
club was much larger than the unlucky shrub.
Etienne wanted to look back to see how close their pursuers were but he
couldn't spare the wind. The city gate was very near now, the repaired entrance
gaping invitingly. This time armed Tsla waited on the walls, waving and shouting
to urge him on. Encouragement was one thing he didn't need. Already his legs
felt like lead determined to sink toward the center of the planet and Lyra,
lovely sweet Lyra... if only she were a little less voluptuous.
Something struck the small of his back and he almost went down. But he
staggered, regained his balance and ran on. A dull flame began to bum just above
his coccyx as waiting hands reached out to relieve him of his burden.
They set Lyra down alongside him as he sucked at the last of the breather's air,
breathing like a man who'd just finished a long underwater swim. Shouts and
yells penetrated his exhaustion.
"I'm too tired to sit up," he wheezed. "What's happening?"
"Don't ask me. I'm the one with the sprained ankle, remember?"
"Pity you couldn't have sprained your mouth."
"Be of good cheer, Teacher," said the solicitous Yulour. "I will find out." He
moved toward the gate.
Long moments passed with Lyra massaging her ankle and Etienne slowly regaining
his strength.
"That was a dumb thing to do," she finally told him. "You could have gotten a
hernia."
"Excuse me," he said between gasps. "Next time I'll drop you."
"Next time I shoot myself before I let them take me." She saw the expression on
his face and looked away. "So it's bad xenology. I can't help it. I have
feelings too. What on earth made you try something like that, anyway?" When he
didn't reply she pushed at his shoulder. "Roll over. I want to see your back. I
saw the tail end of that club hit you."
With an effort he turned onto his side. Her fingers moved across his waist,
making him wince.
"Could have busted your spine," she murmured gently. "You've got a hell of a
bruise."
"I can tell. Where's Yulour?"
She looked toward the gate. "I don't see him, but so far it looks good. There's
still a lot of yelling and screaming on the walls, but the new gate looks much
stronger than the old one." Her eyes returned to him. "You're an idiot, Etienne.
You saved my life."
"That was the idea."
"Why?"
He slowly rolled back, stared blankly at the sky. "Damned if I know." His face
contorted as the fire in his back spread to new nerves.
"It never ceases to amaze me, Etienne, how often you can do the right thing and
then say just the opposite. Stay there. I'll get something from the boat." She
started to rise, flopped back heavily. "I forgot. I can't walk."
"What a sensible, always alert pair we make," he murmured. "If only our
sponsors could see us now." He would have laughed if he hadn't been so tired.
"Thank you for saving my life, Etienne, whatever your motives."
"Anytime. Don't mention it. Do you think you can help me sit up?"
"Be careful," she warned him.
Several faces were suddenly staring down at them. Ono was familiar.
"Hello, Tyl." Etienne clasped his knees toward his chest, trying to alleviate
some of the pain in his back. The nerves thorn argued with every millimeter of
effort.
Tyl executed a most profound sideways Tsla bow. "We did not expect thee to
return, Learned Etienne. Thee were in the right and we in the wrong, and most
grateful am I to be proven so. It was a grand thing thee did. Songs will
commemorate thy deed. And this one's, whose service is unprecedented." He
indicated Yulour, standing in front of the crowd.
"I don't understand, Teacher," Yulour said.
"Dear, sweat, brave Yulour," Lyra murmured. "I know thy customs and why thy
kinfolk did not come, but why did thee?"
"It seemed a good thing to do, so I did it." He looked embarrassed.
"I'll make it up to you," she told him.
"Make . . . up to me? I do not understand."
"I know you don't. Do you understand what I mean when I say that Etienne and I
thank thee very deep?"
"Thos are welcome," the porter replied gravely. "Now I must go and find my
friends."
Tyl watched him go. "A peculiar soul, but manytimes blessed, l think."
"He certainly has our blessings," said Lyra. She looked toward the wall. The
shouting had ceased and the Tsla wore leaving the top of the palisade, chatting
easily among themselves.
"It seems the Na have given up and gone away. Do you think they might attack
again?"
"They vented evil gestures and many shouts," Tyl informed them, "but I think
they will not come back for some time. They are not animals and know they cannot
break into Jakaie without first surprising its people. This time there was no
surprise, so they have gone."
"So we're safe?" Etienne mumbled.
"Yes, all are safe now. Jakaie owes thee a debt for the deadthee have restored
to them alive."
Etienne's back improved slowly under Lyra's ministering hands. The worst of it
was the body wrap she made him wear. It enveloped him from beneath the armpits
to below his waist and he walked like a recently resurrected mummy.
Among the prosaic Tsla the novelty of the rescue quickly wore off and they
returned to their daily chores. But there were frequent, shy visits from those
he'd saved and from their relatives and friends to thank him.
The debt they owed, they insisted, could never be repaid. Until Tyl came aboard
the hydrofoil one morning to see the patient.
"There was a mooting." The temperature in the main cabin was seventyfive and
Homat sat shivering off in a corner.
"What kind of mooting?" Lyra asked.
"A community meditation. I am sorry thee were not invited, but there was no
time. I have made the people aware of thy problem. Thy wooden undercarriage is
still serviceable, is it not?"
"The wheels haven't fallen off, if that's what you mean," Etienne replied.
"There are not here the large draft animals like the Mai have. No vroqupii.
There are lekkas, but they are for riding, not for pulling. Unlike Turput, here
the land is cultivated mostly by hand. But we are Tsla. The Tsla are strong." He
flexed both arms and they saw the muscles ripple beneath short fur.
"All Jakaie will assist. Will it not be easier to lower thy boat back to the
bottom of the Barshajagad than it was to bring it up?"
Etienne considered their guide's words, trying hard to restrain any excitement.
Excitement hurt his back.
"Sure it would be easier, but still a difficult descent."
"I have talked long with Ruuan and the other elders. Them is a way north of
here that descends to the Skar and bypasses the Topapasirut. They say also that
the way is longer and gentler than that which climbs the side canyon we used.
They say, Etienne and Lyra, that it can be done."
"Who am I to dispute Ruuan?" said Etienne. He felt like shouting but restrained
himself lest he strain something.
"When can we start down?"
"Soon. The families of those thee saved demand the honor of taking up the ropes
nearest the spirit boat, where the work will be the hardest."
"Our thanks go out to them," Etienne said.
"Thee can thank them thyself." Tyl readied himself to leave. "It will take some
time to organize provisions and find the rope sufficient to secure thy craft.
Thee will have ample time to thank thy new friends and repair thy back."
"Wait a minute," said Lyra, frowning. "What about the Na? What if they come back
when the town is nearly deserted, or catch everyone out in the open?"
"This too was discussed during meditation. They will not come near Jakaie for a
long time, so embarrassing to them was their defeat. And after a few days of
descent the temperature will grow much too hot for them to follow us."
"We won't argue with that, will we, dear?" He stared meaningfully at Lyra.
As usual, she wasn't intimidated. "If the townsfolk feel confident of their
security, I don't see why we shouldn't permit them to bounce you all the way
down to the river."
In contrast to the agonizingly difficult haul up from the bottom of the
Barshajagad, the descent to a rocky beach northwest of Jakaie and the bulk of
Aracunga mountain was almost relaxing. There were a few rough places, easily
surmounted by the hydrofoil's repellers, but as the Tsla promised the slope was
far gentler than the steep side canyon route on the southern side.
Chanting in unison as they leaned into the heavy ropes, the Tsla were able to
lower the boat on its wheeled cradle faster than the Redowls expected. It was
hard to imagine the vroqupii and their Brul doing the job any more efficiently
than the citizens of Jakaie. It helped that there was none of the sense of
competition among the townsfolk that there had been among the Mai. Homat
grudgingly conceded that sometimes cooperation was worth more than skill and
strength.
When at last the wooden cradle was removed from the hull and the boat bobbed
once more in the waters of the Skar, Etienne passed among the villagers trying
to thank personally each and every Tsla for their help.
Ruuan chided him. "Too many thanks. If thee would truly thank us, thee may
share thy knowledge with us when thee return this way. We will be waiting to
take you up and past the Topapasirut a second time."
No obstacles ahead to hold us back now, Etienne thought excitedly. No more blank
spaces on the topographics, no second Topapasirut. According to the Mai, the
Barshajagad began to widen once more north of that place. For the moment they
still floated between immense sheer walls, but now that the birthplace of river
devils lay behind them the stark cliffs no longer seemed quite so forbidding.
The seven of them reboarded and the Redowls settled into their boat with a sense
of relief. It had become their home and refuge, and it was good to be surrounded
once more by familiar objects and the comforts of an advanced technology.
As Etienne let the boat float free in the current, the townsfolk assembled on
the shoreline set up a plaintive, haunting chant of farewell, as different a
music from the whirling frenzy of the Mai as Ligeti is from Gregorian chant. The
swift current pushed the hydrofoil out into the center of the river.
Lyra stood on the foredeck alongside Tyl, executing with him the Tsla posture of
goodbye. The song of farewell was beginning to fade with distance when Lyra
turned and called to her husband. "Don't you think that's enough? Let's move."
He made a face up at her. Suddenly she was concerned.
"What do you think I'm trying to do?"
She pressed her face to the plexalloy. "What do you mean you're trying?" They
were accelerating steadily, but in the wrong direction. Only the boat's internal
stabilizers kept them from spinning in helpless circles like a leaf caught in a
flash flood.
"Everything's functioning except the intake feed."
"Dammit!" She rushed for the nearest gangway.
As she looked aft she saw the canyon narrowing further behind them, forming the
immense granitic funnel which Etienne had theorized constituted the upper limits
of the Topapasirut. In the distance and coming rapidly closer she could make
out thickening mist and the first faint, threatening rumble of water attacking
rock. She dropped through the gangway and in seconds stood alongside her
husband.
"Everything checks out, everything. Except the intake feed. Every time I try to
open her wide she locks shut on me.
"Emergency override?"
"Forget it. I'm still trying, though."
"Repellers?"
"No way. We used our stored power during the descent from Jakaie. We need time
to recharge or else we can recharge by moving Upriver. Of course, if we could
move Upriver we wouldn't hoed to recharge." He worked rapidly at the diagnostic
computer, canceling unhelpful replies to his queries. Unfortunately, those were
the only type of reply he could extract.
The rumbling astern was becoming thunder. Dense mist enveloped the narrow cleft
of the canyon. He switched the stern scanner to sonic and tridee blackandwhite
graphics appeared on the screen as ultrasound penetrated the obscuring mist. In
a very few minutes the currant would slam the helpless boat into the unyielding
sheer cliff that was the upsidedown waterfall, the Topapasirut. Fragments of
the hydrofoil would boil out of the orator Downriver, to be wondered at by any
Mai who encountered them on nameless beaches. Of the crew there would be only a
memory. Nothing so fragile as flush and blood would survive the coming
concussion.
The boat was enveloped ire a storm as the river rained toward the sky.
"Do something!" Lyra shouted above the crash of the water.
"Do something yourself!"
She eyed him a moment before turning to disappear below. Her voice reached him
via the engine room intercom.
"Everything looks okay. The fuel cells are produc
"I can see that on the readout!"
"Just letting you know what I see down here. The engine's quiet, andwait a
minute."
"That's about what we've got left." The boat vibrated anxiously beneath his
feet. Would they know when they hit the cliff? He couldn't begin to calculate
their velocity.
"Try it now!" Lyra ordered him.
He ran numbly through the restart procedure, was startled when the Function
light turned green. He stabbed the accelerator, bringing thrust up to maximum.
For an eternity they hung motionless in the vortex, suspended in fog between
open water and oblivion. Then very slowly the hydrofoil began to creep Upriver.
To Etienne their progress seemed infinitesimal. His anxiety was heightened by
the knowledge that whatever had shut down the flow of water to the jet once
could do so again at any moment. Gradually their velocity increased to the point
where the boat could rise up on its hydrofoils. As the river fell away beneath
the hull, relinquishing its grasp, they started to make some real speed. Thunder
faded behind them.
As they left the mist Lyra emerged from belowdecks. Her hair was strung like
paint across her face, alternating with rivulets of sweat. She stank of Skar.
"What did you do down there?" He spoke without looking at her, refusing to take
his eyes off the controls lest something else fail before they were out of
danger.
"Emergency surgery." She slumped int o a seat. "Very complicated." She held up
something in her right hand. As he turned to look he saw that she was wearing
heavyduty insulated work gloves.
A half dozen glistening worms twisted in her grip. They had dark heads.
"These were glued to the conduit just above the main feed to the jet. Watch
this." She hold up a small diagnostic probe with her left hand, touched it to
the tail of one worm. A loud buzzing filled the cockpit and the readout on the
front of the tool went berserk.
"Local relative of the terran gymnotids. Generates quite a current for its size.
They must have thought they'd found themselves a nice new home when they slipped
in through the mesh intake strainers on the foils. Every time you ordered the
boat to open the intake feed they responded with a corresponding jolt. No
wonder the computer couldn't locate the source of the shortout in the system.
It was external. You'd order the feed opened and these little cuties would short
it shut, countermanding the directive."
She rose and turned to open one of the ports in the cockpit. With great
deliberation she flung her slimy acquisitions as far out into the river as
possible. Then she closed the port and spoke toward the stem.
"You can come out now, Homat."
Hesitantly their Mai guide emerged from the heated storage locker in which he
had secreted himself. "We're not going to die, deLyra?"
"No, we're not going to die. Not today, anyway. The spirit boat is functioning
normally again."
He crept out to join them, still encased in his coldweather gear to combat the
cabin's air conditioning. Soon that air conditioning would no longer be
required. That would be no comfort to Homat, who would continue to pile on
clothing the nearer they drew to Tslamaina's arctic circle.
The population of Jakaie was still assembled along the riverbank. As the spirit
boat reemerged from the mouth of destruction, alien voices expressed relief. The
villagers lined up quickly and once more the occupants of the hydrofoil were
treated to the chant of farewell as Tyl and his companions performed the
gestures of goodbye.
"Calm acceptance," Lyra murmured, "no matter what our fate." She was standing on
the foredeck alongside their Tsla friends. "Tell me, Tyl, what would the
reaction have been if we hadn't come back out?"
"There would have been no reaction that thee could have seen, save that after a
suitable time they would have begun a funeral chant instead of one of farewell."
"There didn't seem to be any panic as we slipped downstream."
"Why should there be? There was nothing they could do to help us," he explained
patiently. "Thee should know, Lyra, that we are not given to violent displays of
emotion in public."
"I recall. Would any of them have grieved for us in private?"
"I imagine so. But they could do nothing to help us."
"Just as nothing could be done to help those who'd been taken by the Na."
Etienne spoke from inside the cockpit, addressing his wife in terranglo. "I
don't care what the level of mental serenity is among these people, they're not
going to make much progress until they dump this fatalism. If they don't watch
out, the Mai are going to push forward to develop a complete, advanced
technological civilization. The Tsla will end up becoming wards of the Mai, just
as it will be the Mai who will push out to tame the Na and the Guntali."
"Specious argument for radical change," Lyra shot back. "The Tsla are content as
they are, much happier than the Mai.
"Sure, and the ancient Polynesians were happier and more content than the
caucasoids who ministered among them, and we remember what happened to their
culture."
"Etienne, the analogy doesn't apply here. The Tsla are a different race,
occupying a radically different ecological niche. It's not the same thing at
all." And she launched wholeheartedly into a lengthy dissertation on history
and anthropology that both Homat and Tyl desperately wished they could
understand.
Upriver, according to the best information available to Ruuan and the elders of
Jakaie, two last immense tributaries fed into the Skar the Madauk and the
Rahaeng. Beyond that lay the far narrower but still impressive Upper Skar, and
unknown lands.
Several hundred kilometers above the Topapasirut the geology of the land altered
radically. The gorge of the Barshagajad widened and the river rose in frequent
steps, reducing the depth of the canyon. The Redowls were constantly being
wakened from sleep by the insistent beeping of the computer. Since the boat
could not negotiate rapids on autopilot, Etienne or Lyra would stagger sleepily
forward to run the whitewater or lift the hydrofoil past it on repellers.
The steady rumble of the rapids was in stark contrast to the silent river south
of Aib. At night Tslamaina's four moons transformed the streaks of white water
into thousands of pale crystalline tentacles. Not all was difficult, however.
There were quiet stretches of relatively calm water of great beauty.
They began to relax for the first time since leaving the Skatandah. As the
temperature grew chillier and the river climbed its ancient bed they encountered
fewer signs of settlement, as the land was fit only for Mai hunters and
gatherers. Occasionally they saw a few ramshackle houses clustered around
poorly irrigated plots. No elaborate terraces had been built there.
Shaped by a harsh land, the local Mai were a hardier breed than their southern
cousins. They were also open and much more honest. Or perhaps they were just so
startled by the appearance of the hydrofoil and its strange inhabitants that the
urge to thieve never crossed their minds.
"I'm not sure that's it at ail," Lyra theorized one day. "The truism seems to
hold among nonhuman primitives as well as among our own kind that the poorer the
people and the more isolated their homes, the more trustworthy and helpful they
are. Hardship seems to breed a need for companionship which extends to lending
assistance to any who come your way."
Etienne did not argue with her because he was more interested in the locals'
openness and lack of fear. They were startled but there was none of the fearful
paranoia or jealous awe the Redowls had encountered farther south. He surmised
it was because everything was new to these pioneers. For all they knew the
Redowls came not from another world but from some unknown distant citystate
bordering the Groalamasan. When one shares a world with two other intelligent
races it's not difficult to accept the existence of a third.
They expected to encounter a few Tsla villages, but Ruu-an told them to expect
none, and the information supplied by the elders of Jakaie turned out to be
accurate. Whether the abandonment of the northern latitudes by the Tsla was a
decision of choice or due to some unknown circumstances, Lyra could not
determine. Homat and Tyl argued about it long into the nights, with the Mai
staking a claim for greater adaptability among his kind and Tyl retreating into
calm conviction that a perfectly good reason existed for shunning such a barren
land.
A considerable surprise awaited everyone aboard the boat, however, when they
reached the confluence of the three great rivers. Where the Madauk and Rahaeng
joined their volume to that of the Skar, several small villages had grown,
trading posts, no more.
It was not their existence or location that shocked the travelers, but rather
the populationMai and Tsla traders and hunters mingled freely, working side by
side with a lack of selfconsciousness that was stunning when compared to the
uneasy peace maintained by their southern relatives. The need to work together
to survive in a harsh land had overwhelmed ancient suspicions and inhibitions.
Homat and Tyl were startled as much by the implications as by the reality.
"It bodes well for the future," Lyra commented. "Maybe when the Mai gain the
technology that will enable them to live and work in colder climates and the
Tsla the ability to move more freely through the humid river valleys, they'll
discover this living example of racial cooperation waiting up here to show them
the way."
"They cooperate here in order to survive," Etienne argued. "Without that
external pressure, technological advancement may only heighten ancient
conflicts, not solve them."
"You're such a damn pessimist!" she said angrily.
He shrugged. "I look at things the way they are, not the way I want them to be."
"And so do I, or are you making one of your frequent criticisms of my
objectivity?"
"It's just that it's so much easier to be objective about this." He hefted a
sample of dark schist chipped from the riverbank where they had anchored inshore
the day before. "On Earth this would be called precambrian or Vishnu schist.
It's much older than its terran equivalent, however. There's nothing subjective
about it."
"Lucky you."
"Nobody forced you into xenology. You chose it."
"I sure did, because it's a damn sight more exciting and interesting when the
subjects of your studies can talk back to you and help you with your research.
Better that than a life of drudgery and dirt. My work provides me with new
revelations every day."
"All well and good, so long as you don't get personally involved with your
revelations." Too late to retract, he thought furiously. Once more his mouth had
moved faster than his brain.
She eyed him strangely. "Now what's that supposed to mean?"
He tried to escape into silence, stared at the rock walls about them. The cliffs
on either side of the river were barely a thousand meters above the water now.
"When we first arrived in Turput," he mumbled, concentrating on his instruments
instead of looking at her, "you spent an awful lot of time," he hesitat ed over
the right word, "meditating with Tyl."
"It was very instructive," she replied. "I'm still not following you, Etienne."
"I thought maybe you were diving a little too deeply into your work."
"I don't-" she broke off, gaping at him. Then her expression twisted into a
smile. "Well I'll be damned. You're jealous of Tyl, aren't you? Jealous of a
primitive mammalian alien."
"I didn't say that," he snapped quickly. "There you are, jumping to conclusions
again, seeing things the way you want to see them."
"Well you can relax, Etienne." The smile grew wider. "Among the Tsla the length
and shape of oversized probosces are important sexual characteristics, but a
flexible shnoz holds no attraction for nee whatsoever."
His head jerked round and he stared at her. "I just said you were spending a lot
of time with him, I didn't mean to imply thatyou've got a dirty mind, Lyra."
"You mean a dirty husband. Etienne, I can't believe you. I don't know whether to
be tattered or insulted."
"Oh hell," he muttered, embarrassed to the soles of his feet, "be busy."
Footfalls sounded behind them. "Anyway, our passengers are coming in."
"So what? They can't understand terranglo."
"Don't be so sure. I'll give the Tsla this; they're quick on the uptake. Don't
be too surprised if we learn that they can draw a few inferences from our
private conversations, especially when their names are mentioned."
"Not just a dirty mind, a dirty paranoid mind," she murmured, but she broke off
when Tyl and his companions trundled in.
Homat was sandwiched between two of the porters, a ball of thick cloth and fur
among which only eyes and mouth were visible. "I can't go outside anymore,
deEtienne," he whimpered. "No more."
Chapter Fifteen
Days passed and the temperature fell slowly, but outside the hydrofoil the
climate was working dramatic changes on the landscape. Though sheets of frozen
water hung from the much reduced cliffs, hundreds of fast streams flowed into
the Skar.
Homat was squatting in the main cabin behind the cockpit, heavily bundled and
warm but far from comfortable.
Etienne had been mulling the problem for several days. Now he spoke to their Mai
guide. "Maybe we can fix something up for you, Homat."
"No matter, deEtienne. I will not go outside any more."
"Lyra, what about trying to ft him with one of your spare thermal suits? You've
got two backups. You two are about the same height, though you're much more"
"Watch it," she said warningly from her seat.
"Rubensesque. Homat would swim in a suit, but couldn't you concoct some kind of
strap so that the sensors would stay close enough to his skin to function, and
adjust the thermostat for Mai comfort?"
"I'll see what I can do." She escorted the nervous Homat down to the lower deck.
Several hours later they reemerged. The thermal suit ballooned around Homat's
arms and legs but she'd managed to secure the fabric around his torso.
"It's still a little base. I had a hard time convincing him he couldn't wear his
furs inside because the thermal sensors had to have some skin contact. He
finally gave in, but I thought he was going to turn blue before he finally got
out of his old attire and into the suit. It wasn't hard to adjust the
circuitry." She put a hand inside one sleeve, pushing back the elastic material.
She drew her fingers back hastily.
"Are you sure you're okay like this, Homat? It's hot enough in there to burn."
Their guide sues jubilant. "For the first time in many many days I am truly
comfortable," he replied. "So delighted I am! Thank you, deLyra, thank you all
much!"
"What about you, Tyl?" Etienne asked the Tsla who rested on the floor behind
him. "Will you and the others be able to handle the weather here if it's
necessary to go outside?"
"We have our double capes and hoods, Etienne, and we can tolerate colder climes
than thee. We will be all right, as long as it does not prove necessary to
remain outside for too long."
Etienne unexpectedly leaned forward and the hydrofoil lurched sharply to port.
"Sorry. Instinctive reaction." He pointed. "What's that?"
A small mountain stood in the shallow water by the riverbank. The mountain had
a half dozen legs, two of which were busy in the water. As they watched in
fascination the muftiton beast brought up a twisting hundredkilo fish in
hooked claws, transferred the catch to a long snout lined with sharp triangular
teeth. For so massive a creature it moved with blinding speed. Long black hair
covered the entire body and dragged in the water.
Eyes with narrow pupils peered out at them from beneath bony ridges. Etienne
edged the hydrofoil toward shore for a closer took. As he did the beast turned
with a deep grunt then galloped away on all six legs, its catch clutched firmly
between extended jaws.
"I have never seen anything like that before, de Etienne."As he spoke Homat
made rapid protective signs across his chest and stomach.
"I have," Tyl said softly. "A Hyral. I have seen only two such before and both
were dead, having fallen over the edge of the Guntali."
As they stared the hirsute fisher crested a slight slope, where it dropped its
catch between its mate and two massive rolypoly cubs before turning to throw a
penetrating, high pitched roar toward the boat.
Lyra was staring through her recorder as she committed the new discovery to
their records. "Family group. I wondered what else the Na ate."
"Speaking of the Na," Etienne said as he steered the hydrofoil back into the
middle of the river again, "it's cold enough here for them to come right down to
the water, but we haven't seen any."
"Perhaps they stay away from the river out of superstition, some kind of
taboo."
"I wouldn't think that. Not with all the fish to be had in these waters."
"Maybe the air's too thick here. We're not nearly as high as the Guntali near
Turput. It wouldn't matter. The river's still wide and deep enough to protect
us." She looked thoughtful.
"Something will have to be done about the Na, Etienne. We've seen proof that Mai
and Tsla can work together, but the Na appear too primitive and combative to be
brought into any worldwide interracial process without extensive education and
a great deal of care. Just because I'm not fond of them doesn't mean I want to
see the other two dominant races exterminate them.
"They're not animals. They're intelligent and have developed a rudimentary
society. If you consider the amount of territory they control then a case could
be made that they and not the Mai or Tsla are Tslamaina's dominant life form."
"I'm glad we don't have to make the ultimate decisions," he replied. "Someone
else will have to decide whether it's right to intervene in local affairs to
protect the future of the Na, and that's a long way down the road."
Though the Skar's course twisted in a steady curve farther eastward, they
continued to travel north toward the planet's sole ice cap. The occasional
appearance of the sun through the uneasy clouds did little to warm them. Despite
this Homat spent an inordinate amount of time out on deck, luxuriating in his
thermal suit and the freedom it provided, a freedom to laugh at temperatures
that would have frozen an unprotected Mai in minutes.
They saw evidence of the ice cap before they set eyes upon it. It announced
itself as a brightening ahead, where the ice reflected the sun back against the
undersides of scudding clouds. The next morning they lifted on repellers to
clear still another rapid, turned a bend in the river, and saw the southernmost
edge of the frozen rampart.
The once awesome canyon of the Barshajagad had been reduced to a meandering
river valley. Numerous waterfalls tumbled down the melting edge of the cap. They
would freeze solid again during the night.
They did not have to trace dozens of the streams to locale the source of the
river Skar. The much shrunken but still navigable stream emerged from a huge
hole in the wall of ice, having eroded a tunnel a hundred meters high at the
entrance. Etienne guided the hydrofoil it until it floated beneath the lip of
the vast cavern. Then he carefully nudged the boat ashore, scraping bottom
several times before beaching on the gravel.
Overhead the ice had thinned and sunlight poured through the translucent, frozen
ceiling, timing the ice a pale blue and illuminating the river for a distance of
several dozen meters from the entrance. Then it was swallowed by cold night.
Cold water dripped from smooth icy stalactites, stinging the upturned faces of
the crew as it stood on the deck to examine the surroundings.
"What a beautiful place," Lyra murmured. Somewhere a faint echo concurred with
her opinion.
The four Tsla kneeled in a circle, chanting and making signs. The Redowls
waited respectfully until the ceremony had concluded before Lyra inquired as to
its purpose.
"We give thanks," Tyl explained. "We feel in our souls a great warmth, as must
thee, for thy journey has been, far longer than ours."
"We couldn't have made it without your help," Etienne told him, "and without the
aid of your people."
"All given freely in the pursuit of knowledge. We were glad we could help." Swd
and Yij likewise expressed their feelings, while Yulour stood nearby and looked
on with bemused contentment.
"What do we do now'?" Homat inquired, peering out through the eyeslits in the
cloth that covered his face. "Do we begin our return tomorrow? A long journey."
"I know you're anxious to go home, Homat, but we've come all this way to see the
source of the Skar and we're not leaving until we do so."
Homat sounded puzzled. "But have done so, deEtienne." He gestured at the
spacious cavern and the distant darkness. "What other source can there be?"
Eti enne smiled as he turned to point into the blackness beneath the ice. "This
isn't the river's source. Somewhere back there it emerges from the mass of the
ice cap, probably in the form of a hot spring. I can't think of another
mechanism which could have bored so deep a cave in the body of the ice. I need
to record it."
Homat's eyes grew wide. "You can't mean to go back in there, deEtienne! This is
the top of the world. Who knows what devils and monsters lie in wait for us in
the night which lives throughout the day?"
"Why should any lie in wait," Lyra asked gently, "since no one ever comes here?
If any did live back in there they'd long since have given up hope of any meals
coming to visit them."
"You argue very plausibly, deLyra. My mind wishes to believe you, but my
insides are not convinced."
"If you'd feel safer you can camp on the shore here and wait for us to return. I
doubt the river runs very far back, hot springs or not."
"No, no, I will come with you," the Mai insisted bravely. "I would rather do
that than stay here alone. You are certain there is not far to go?"
"I can't be sure, but I'd be willing to bet we'll have less than an hour's
journey in the boat. If the water becomes too shallow, we'll travel the rest of
the way in on repellers."
"Why do your words not make me feel confident, deEtienne?"
"Relax, Homat." He turned to Lyra. "When we reach the source I want to take some
core samples. This must be very old ice and the geologic history of the planet
is stored here, conveniently waiting to be thawed out for study."
Lyra offered no objection. Their goal was within reach. Soon they would begin
the long journey back to warmer climes. Let Etienne enjoy his fieldwork for a
day or two. There was no reason to rush now that they'd arrived at their
intended and eventual destination.
He looked to his right, deeper into the cavern. "There's a nice wide spot. I'm
tired of rocking. The water them is gentle and shallow. I'll move us aver and
set the foils down on the gravel. Be nice to sleep without rocking for a
change."
"Second the motion," Lyra said. "It should be safe enough. There's no sign of
carnivores about, no bones or dung on the beach, and the water should keep any
small vermin clear of the boat, assuming this enviroment is benign enough to
permit their existence."
"I'll run a good charge through the hull. That ought to keep off any latenight
visitors."
"It would be delighted to sleep so quietly," Tyl agreed.
"Then it's settled. We owe ourselves the rest," Etienne declared. "First thing
tomorrow morning we'll go Upriver to the source so I can get my samples. With
luck this ice may predate the collision that created the Groalamasan. That will
give me plenty to do on the way back Downriver."
"You did enough griping about the heat down south to fill a book, and now you
can't wait to get back to it," Lyra chided.
"I've always been coldnatured, Lyra, you know that. It doesn't mean I enjoy
sweating down to skin and bones, though." For a change the argument was
friendly. In its own way that was as great an accomplishment for the two of them
as was reaching the head of the Skar.
Lyra was sound asleep when the muffled scream woke her. She blinked as her head
lifted from the pillow and she stared across the cabin. Soft green lights from
ship's instrumentation lit the darkness. A soft wheeze alongside indicated that
her husband still slept.
The scream had barely faded and she was beginning to wander if she'd dreamed it
when suddenly a cluster of the green tights changed to red and a warning horn
started to blare. Etienne woke instantly, slid off the bed and struggled with
his pants.
"False alarm?"
"I don't know," she told him, still straining to hear. "I thought I heard
something yell." The barn continued its racket as a soft knocking sounded at the
door. Lyre opened it as she fought with the seals of leer blouse.
"What is happening?" Tyl asked sleepily. The remaining Tsla clustered in the
corridor behind him. "There are strange noises outside and Swd thinks he smells
something even though we know we are protected from the air outside."
"Noises and smells and you think you hard something," Etienne muttered as he
sealed his coat. "'that settles it." He pushed past Tyl on his way to the
cockpit.
The light of three of Tslamaina"s four moons poured through the transparent
plexalloy. The horn continued to shout as Etienne strained to check the
instruments. "Don't see anything outside. No abnormal readings. We haven't moved
from where I parked us yesterday evening and the hull's still electrified."
"I'll check astern," Lyra told him. She removed her pistol from its charging
slot.
"Watch yourself," Etienne admonished her.
With the Tsla following curiously she worked her way aft. There was no sign of
Homat, but that didn't worry her. Anything less than a complete upset of the
boat would not be enough to pry him from the comfort of his overheated cubicle.
Cautiously she cracked the stern doorway. Freezing air brought her all the way
awake. The rumble and gurgle of the shallow river was the only sound as she
stepped out onto the rear deck.
A glance forward showed only darkness. There was no movement in the upper
reaches of the cavern. Outside only the moons moved in patient procession
against the sky. Something shorted out, she thought, wondering if some other
strange local critter was somehow playing havoc with their instrumentation.
A heavy weight landed on her right shoulder. She went down hard. The asyrrapt
went flying across the deck. A big chunk of dead log lay next to her.
The Na who had thrown it now peered over the gunwale, eyes glittering in the
moonlight. Several similar hairy faces joined the first. One huge, muscular arm,
reached over the top of the railing and Yij disappeared over the side.
Tyl and Yulour took Lyra under the arms and hauled her toward the doorway. A
second club flew toward them. It landed short, booming across the metal deck.
Through the wash of pain that radiated from her shoulder Lyre gasped, "The gun .
. . get my gun!" The source of the scream must have been a Na who'd made contact
with the electrified hull as it tried to board the hydrofoil.
Careful not to touch the metal another Na took aim with an axe. The bane blade
was a meter across. At the last instant Swd lunged into its path, to fall
gushing blood and life back against Lyra, the weapon's intended target. Yulour
had to kick the nearly split body aside as they fell inside.
Etienne was there to help, his eyes on Lyre's shoulder where the club had
struck. She moaned when he touched her.
He closed the hatch, then ordered her to move her right arm.
"Hurts like hell, but it works," she told him.
"Rotate," he said curtly. She did so, turning the arm palm up, then palm dawn.
"Lucky you."
"Not so lucky," she told him painfully. "My pistol's outside. That's twice I've
lost it when I needed it most. Going to have to work on my grip." She glanced at
Tyl. "Did you see where it landed?"
"The lightning thrower flew through the air. I saw not where it landed."
"The little metal tool, Yulour mumbled frantically, trying to keep abreast of
what was happening, "I saw where it is."
"Why didn't you go after it?" Lyra asked him. "I told yore to go after it."
Yulour looked away, hurt. "We were more concerned with saving thee, Lyra," Tyl
told her. He looked at the porter and said gently. "It's all right, Yulour. Tell
us where the lightning thrower landed."
"In the water," he said brightly.
"Oh hell!" Lyra looked up at her husband. "I'm sorry, Etienne, I'm sorry. I
never saw them. We went out on deck, everything seemed normal, and then
something landed on me like back taxes."
"Never mind that now. Just take it easy with that shoulder."
Something went whang atop the cabin and everyone looked upward, but the metal
held. Thin as it was, the alloy was far too tough to yield to mere bone and
stone.
"What will we fight them with?" Tyl wondered. "It is dark and they are very
close."
"We don't have to fight them with anything, Tyl. Help Lyra forward."
Outside the cockpit was a choice scene from Dante. The hydrofoil was surrounded
by at least thirty of the towering aborigines, who were jumping up and down,
howling and spitting and gesturing angrily at the boat. The Na carefully avoided
all contact with the hull and when one of them attempted to express his feelings
by urinating on it, they no longer tried that either. They did use long spears
and the ubiquitous clubs to hammer on the sides. The wood and stone were poor
conductors and the Na had discovered they could flail away at the hull without
risk to themselves.
As the Redowls watched, one especially massive warrior tried to vault over the
railing. He didn't quite make it and grabbed a hold with his hands. His lower
body slammed into the hull and he lit up in a shower of blue sparks. When the
thick fingers finally let loose the huge body splashed into the river.
Etienne assumed the pilot's chair, his fingers flying over the controls. A
muffled roar sounded aft as the engine came to life. The hydrofoil lifted half a
meter on its repellers and shot forward, scattering Na. One didn't dodge quickly
enough, and a sickening thud sounded from the bow as the aborigine was knocked
aside.
Nightscope screens came alive, revealing the rest of the war party falling
astern. Several bathes bobbed in the shallow water together with pieces of the
individual run over by the boat and a smaller silhouette Yij. Angrily Etienne
spun the hydrofoil on its axis and sent it roaring down on their attackers,
plowing through the now panicky Na and sending several additional bodies flying.
The sound of metal meeting flesh momentarily filled him with an unholy del ight
and he damned himself even as he pivoted for another run.
As the Na threw their weapons aside and scrambled onto the beach he bashed
through the survivors two more times. By then they were in full retreat outside
the cavern, not even turning to hurl an occasional insult back at their intended
prey. Etienne slowed as he beached the boat on the far side of the Skar.
"The middle of the river's still deep enough here to prevent them from crossing
after us," he muttered. "Stay here." He took his pistol as Lyra assumed the
pilot's seat, favoring her injured shoulder.
"One nighttime stroll on deck's enough for this little lady." He smiled thinly
at her by way of reply.
Tyl and Yulour followed him aft. The doorway opened easily, readmitting the
night. He had a sudden thought, closed the door immediately and directed the
Tsla to wait for him as he disappeared belowdecks.
He reappeared carrying a pair of long metal rods, showed one to Tyl. "These are
for making seismic soundings in spots inaccessible from the boat. Never mind
what I mean, just take them." The Tsla did so.
"Those are explosive charges on the tips. Small lightnings. There are five
charges on each pole. You press this here," and he showed the fire buttons to
his companions, "after you've touched the end of the pole to your target.
They're difficult to use, but they were not designed as weapons. They'll be
effective if you have to use them, though."
"I understand, Etienne,"' Tyl told him, lightly fingering the fire button.
Etienne turned to the other Tsla.
"How about you, Yulour? Do you understand? See, you press there after you touch
whatever you want to stop with the other end of the pole."
The porter eyed him blankly, his expression a bovine mixture of sadness and
confusion. Sighing, Etienne carefully set the second pole to one side.
"Never mind. Stay close as we go outside."
He cracked the doorway to the deck for the second time. Outside it was silent as
the departed, an unfortunate simile. Holding the asynapt out in front of his
body he edged out, keeping low and nearly stumbling over the cleaved corpse of
Swd. The porter had been a faithful worker, obedient and always ready to lend a
hand. Now he was only a lesson in Tsla anatomy. Etienne found he was too mad to
be sickened by the sight.
Tyl and Yulour stayed tight on his heels. Three Na bodies lay draped over the
stern rail where they'd perished in a last-ditch attempt to board the boat. They
looked even bigger up close than they did from a distance. Etienne inspected the
shore. Nothing moved on the gravel. The river itself and the mouth of the ice
cavern were equally devoid of life.
"Shouldn't have let them surprise us like that. Always underestimating. You'd
think we'd have learned our lesson by now."
"I am sorrowed," Tyl said solemnly.
"Nothing for you to be sorry about, Tyl. The responsibility's ours. We're the
`masters of superior technology."' He let out a rueful laugh. "Some joke. It's
just that we haven't seen Na or signs of Na since that day back in Turput and I
didn't expect to encounter them this far north. Shows how adaptable they are. I
didn't think. I'm the one who should be sorrowed." He gestured at Swd's body.
"Now two more of your people have died."
"Death comes to all of us eventually," Tyl replied. "You ask that I not sorrow
for thee. Now I ask that thee sorrow not for us. Swd and Yij achieved what they
could not have in a dozen lifetimes, because of thee and thy mate. Their souls
are grateful to thee, not angry."
"Well I'm angry! Damned angry. Angry at myself, angry at..." the wind went out
of him with a rush as Yulour struck him in the midsection and drove him
backwards. As a result the small spear passed beneath his arm and pierced his
side instead of his spine.
Tyl whirled and leaped to jab the end of the seismic probe against the neck of
the Na who had thrown the spear. He pressed the fire button. With a sharp
report, the Na's head blew off its wide shoulders, arching into the darkness in
a spray of blood and bone fragments. Ii landed in the water with a splash.
Yulour was rolling away from Etienne, who lay on his back, staring up at the
roof of the ice cave. With great care the porter extracted the spear. Blood
quickly rushed from the wound. Tyl rose to alert Lyra but she'd heard the
explosion and now joined them on deck.
Her eyes widened as she saw the extent and depth of the wound. She vanished
belowdecks again and reemerged moments later carrying the boat's firstaid kit.
Etienne was breathing raggedly as she worked to halt the flow of blood. His
pulse was racing and uneven.
"What happened?" she asked the Tsla as she worked.
Tyl explained while Yulour looked on helplessly. "That one," and he indicated
the decapitated body of the Na who had thrown the spear, "was not dead but only
pretending."
Lyre saw that the headless corpse was spraddled across the two other bodies. "It
was shielded from the full charge. It lay still, waiting for its chance. They
have that much intelligence, anyway. Too damn much intelligence by half, the
hairy bastards." She glanced up at Yulour. "Throw them over the side, and be
careful not to touch the metal outside. It's still holding a charge, a spirit
death."
"Yes, Teacher."
Yulour showed his considerable strength by disengaging each corpse in turn and
shoving the dead weight into the water. Then he returned to carry Etienne into
the Redowls' cabin.
Both Tsla looked on respectfully as Lyra ministered to her husband. A third
figure joined them later.
"I didn't know what to do, or how to help." Homat looked very small alongside
the two Tsla.
"Be quiet, Homat." To his credit the Mai said nothing more, remaining silent
alongside his taller companions.
They watched as Lyra slowly passed a small plastic device over Etienne's side
and chest. When she finished and put it aside her expression was grim. Etienne
tried to reassure her by smiling, but the pain made it difficult.
"Well . . . doctor?"
"You're bleeding internally. I can stop it temporarily. I'm afraid it may be an
arterial lesion. I have to stop it, Etienne, or you'll bleed to death. I wish I
knew more surgery."
"Thank God you don't," he whispered. "You've spent twenty years messing up any
nsand. I don't need you fouling up my insides as well."
"We've got to get you back to Steamer Station where they can fix you properly.
You know how geed the thranx physicians are."
"I know. It's funny when you think that they're better than human surgeons, them
net having any bones and all. How long can you 'temporarily' stop the bleeding?"
She didn't look at him. "I don't knew. The spear went a long way in, Etienne. I
can seal the break and step the bleeding and close you up, but there's no
guarantee it won't break open again anytime. If it does, I don't know if your
circulatory system will accept another heat patch.
"The computer says you should rest as much as possible. Some medication will
help. But you car. forget about jumping around boulders and cliff sides or
you'll tear your guts open again."
"I'll be a good little boy." Despite the mild sarcasm his ready acquiescence
confirmed the seriousness of the damage. Normally she had to strap him dawn to
get him to take a vitamin pill.
She tried to take his mind off the injury by explaining how the surviving Nz had
lived long enough to fling the spear.
"We won't be that careless again," she finished. "Not that I think we've
anything more to fear from this particular band. First thing in the morning
we'll start back Downriver. As soon as we get within reception range of the
Station we. . ."
"No, he said sharply.
"No? No what?
"No we can't start home first thing in the morning. We're not finished."
"Maybe we aren't, but you are. We've came all the way."
"Not quite, Lyra. We go an to the end of the river first, then we can turn hack.
Nat before then. I'm not leaving until we reach our last goal. If you try to
stop me I'll throw a tantrum and kill myself."
"Listen to me closely, Etienne, because I may only be able to say this once,"
she said softly. "You are an utterly impossible man. You have no more sense in
you than a sponge. You would try the patience of .lob, let alone a tired little
woman like myself."
He squeezed her hand tightly. "I love you, too."
"That's what I said. Who would I shout at if you weren't around?"
"I know. A good target is hard to find."
"I agree." Angrily she rubbed at the moisture welling up in her eyes. "Which is
why I'd like to keep you around for another couple of days or so. My shoulder
still hurts. That we can keep joking about. There's nothing funny about the hole
in your ribs."
"You're telling me? He let loose of her hand. "Lyre, you have to do this for
me. I'll be very careful. No climbing, no quarrying. If I can help it I won't
even bend over. Yulour can help me get around, can't you, Yulour?"
"Yes. Yulour is strong, Teacher. I can carry thee wherever thee wishes to go."
"Too risky, Etienne. You must let that side heal as best it can."
"On the way back I promise I'll stay in the cabin for months. It can heal then.
But it would be insane to turn around and head back when we're only a few hours
from the end of our journey. I want those ice samples! We don't have anything
else to compare to them and taking them from the edge of the ice cap want mean
nearly as much. If you insist, you and Tyl can take the corings and I'll just
watch." He paused, added quietly, "Resides, if this turns out to be my last
expedition I'm damned if I want anything left undone."
"Don't tally tike that," she said quietly. "I'll kill you if you talk like
that."
Somehow he manufactured another smile. "Then we'll go on?"
"All right. No more than half a day. I don't want to spend a night in glacia l
darkness. Whether we come to the hot springs or whatever, we go on for half a
day and then we turn around."
"Fair enough. I wouldn't want the repellers to fail in here, anyway. And I
promise to let you do all the heavy work."
"You're so good to me." Twenty years, she mused. Twenty years of performing in
the same play together and they each had their lines down pat.
She prayed she would be allowed to keep acting opposite the same male lead.
Chapter Sixteen
He slept soundly the remainder of the night. Lyra knew because she stayed awake
at his bedside monitoring his condition. The computer's diagnostic program
indicated that the internal bleeding had been halted. Getting the arterial wall
and surrounding flesh to heal would be a much slower and more difficult process.
The machine assured her of an eightyfive percent probability of survival for
her husband, provided that he adhered to all instructions, took his medication
and ultrasound treatments regularly, and received proper surgery within six
months. There would be no permanent damage except possibly to some tom lemnisci
in the area. That would keep him out of any gymnastic competitions. She greeted
the evaluation with relief.
They would have to be exceedingly cautious during the return journey. No chances
could be taken, no more violent encounters with belligerent life forms,
intelligent or otherwise. Her studies among the elders of Turput would have to
wait.
One half of a component whole was useless, and it took at least two to make a
team.
Exhaustion and darkness finally conspired during the early hours of the morning
to send her into a deep sleep. When she awoke it was to discover that most of
the morning was gone. He was upset when she woke him for his breakfast but
didn't argue very strenuously. Instead he sought refuge from his discomfort and
fear by making delicious wisecracks about her cooking and waiting on him. She
enjoyed every criticism.
At Etienne's insistence Yulour carried him forward and they installed him on a
raised pallet so he could see out through the cockpit bubble. Lyra settled
herself behind the controls.
The hydrofoil hummed as it lifted above the water. She turned inward and sent
the boat toward the black maw that was the rear of the cavern. There was no sign
of the night's attack. The current had mercifully carried off the three bodies
Yulour had shoved ever the side.
Lyra would have been gratified to learn that her husband's opinion of the Tsla
had risen several notches. Not because
cif their calm acceptance of their fates or their precocious knowledge of the
intricate workings of the mind, but because of the way in which they handled
themselves through one crisis after another.
Ice swallowed distance and daylight until the mouth of the cavern had been
reduced to a distant dab of white ink. Lyra switched on the hydrofoil's running
lights and fore and aft search beams, bringing gasps of surprise and admiration
from Tyl and Homat. From the pilot's chair she used the two beams to scan the
opposite shore. The river continued to narrow beneath them. Fish fled from the
intruding illumination.
Surprisingly, the ceiling of the cavern remained far overhead, testament to the
length of time the Skar had been flowing. They flew slowly along the winding
tunnel beneath millions of tons of permanent, ancient ice.
"Spirits live here," Homat murmured nervously. "This is the top of the world.
Spirits live here." Beneath the roof of the planet even the thermal suit was
hard pressed to keep him warm.
"We should be taking periodic samples from the shore gravel," Etienne told Lyra.
She eyed him uncertainly. "Think you can handle the controls?"
He grinned. "They're no heavier than the breakfast you fed me. Yulour, give me a
hand up, will you?"
After making sure Etienne wasn't working in pain, she donned her own thermal
suit and a longhandled scoop and went out on deck. She gathered samples for
another thirty minutes before she was obliged to scream at him.
"Stop the boat, stop the boat!" Her tone was urgent, not alarmed. He nudged the
requisite controls and the whine of the hydrofoil's repellers died as it settled
into a meter of frigid water.
"What is it?" he called toward the speaker membrane in the bubble wall. His
first concern was that she had spotted signs of Na, but that didn't jibe with
her attitude. She was standing by the railing, staring off to port.
At the shout, Tyl had bundled up and rushed out to join her, with Yulour close
behind. Homat crowded close to Etienne.
"Come out on deck, if you think you can make it without hurting yourself." Now
she sounded funny, he thought.
"What is it, what's wrong?"
"Everything's wrong. You'll see." That was all he could get out of her as he
painfully worked his body into his own cold gear.
As he started for the gangway Homat reached out with a delicate hand. "Don't go,
deEtienne. Spirits live here."
Gently he disengaged himself from the Mai. "Lyra's nod confronting any spirits,
Homat. We don't believe in spirits."
"No one does, until the spirits come for them."
"A good point, but I'm willing to bet they're not coming for us here."
Yet when he stood on deck and stared at the cause of his wife's excitement he
found himself seriously considering Homat's warning. For while the spirits did
not present themselves for inspection, they had left ample evidence of their
presence.
The Redowls gazed quietly at the shore until Tyl broke the silence. "What is it,
Learned Etienne?"
"I'm not sure, Tyl. I think they're machines of some kind. At least, they look
like machines."
Using the tiny remote control he'd brought from the cockpit he aimed both
searchlights. The powerful beams swept into the side cavern Lyra had discovered,
illuminating unpredictable metallic blue forms and piles of twisting, curving
gray shininess. Yellowishwhite coils of tubing connected separate structures
and smaller adjuncts of green and deeper yellow protruded from the larger
shapes.
"You don't know what this place could be?" he asked the Tsla.
"I have never heard of it, Etienne. No Tsla has ever visited here, to my
knowledge."
Lyra's breath congealed in the cold still air of the cave. "We've got to have a
closer look." She glanced over at her husband, her companion in discovery. "If
the Tsla didn't build them it's almost certain the Mai didn't."
"Then who? Surely not the NO"
"You ask the simplest questions. Get back to the controls and move us over
before you fail down."
He nodded, returned to the cockpit. As those on deck steadied themselves the
hydrofoil lifted out of the water once more. Etienne pivoted the craft and moved
inshore, setting down halfway between river and revelation.
Lyra broke out hand beams from the ship's stores and distributed one to each of
their three companions so that even Homat, who had to be half dragged from the
cabin, had his own source of light. In addition they could control the
spotlights mounted atop the boat by means of two remotes. Thus armed against the
dark they climbed the polished gravel toward the alien construct.
It was clear that the facility had nut escaped the ice intact. Bits and pieces
of metaloceramic matrix littered the ground. But the damage seemed minor.
"Wonder how old this place is?" Lyra whispered.
"No telling 'til I can run some analyses." He bent carefully at the knees and
picked up a section of some tubular material. Tiny strands of opaque metal were
embedded in the core and protruded slightly from the ragged end. He ran a finger
along one of the flexible filaments.
"Not glass."
"Poured quartz?"
"Silicabased, anyway. That's not all." He handed it over.
Her arm dropped a centimeter before she could recover from the initial surprise.
"My god, that's heavy. Any ideas?" She turned it slowly in her hands, examining
the metal.
"Alloy of iridium; something in the platinum group, anyhow. Hard to say for
certain just looking at it."
Homat could not understand tine strange alien words, nor was he sufficiently
versed in metallurgy to comprehend even if the Redowls had spoken in his own
language. It did not matter, because regardless of what the humans decided, he
know what this spirit home was constructed of.
Solid sunit.
More sunit than jreal addicts saw while lying dazed and doped on their
dreamcouches. More sunit than the most avaricious philosophers could conjure up
in their imaginations. More sunit than even Moyts possessed.
Tile old merchant's story was true, his dying admonition to the Zanur of Po Rabi
founded on fact. He had been to this place of spirits and had returned with the
proof of his tale. Homat swelled with pride. No Tsla had visited the spot
before, but an old Mai had done so. IIts travels had killed him, but not before
he had made truth his tombstone. And of all the Mai only he, Homat, had
duplicated that epic journey.
Not all the strange shapes and terrifying forms were pure sunit, but there was
more than enough laying about to shock the members of the Zanur who had sent him
on the journey in the guise of a scout. Here was wealth enough to buy more than
businesses and trading vessels, storehouses of grain or gems or the services of
others. Here were riches sufficient to buy a citystate entire, to purchase all
of Suphum or Ko Phisi or both.
Enough wealth to purchase the world.
Stunned by the visions before him, he wandered among the spirit buildings,
hardly daring to touch the solid gray masses of the precious metal. Lyra warned
him not to stray too far. She was concerned by the obvious effect the discovery
was having on their Mai guide, though she did not realize its source.
Some of the constructions towered two hundred meters toward the ceiling of the
cavern, where the ice cap had drawn away from the metal. The reason for such
spaciousness was selfevident, revealed by mere touch. Much of the metal
surrounding them was comfortably warm.
"Not a great deal of heat," Etienne commented, "but a lot of energy is involved.
Some kind of mechanism is still functioning here, protecting this place from
encroachment by the ice."
"No sound," she replied.
"Insulation. Makes sense in a cold place."
"It's more than that," she said, running her fingers over the smooth frost free
flank of a contorted metal ellipse. "There's nothing moving anywhere, no
vibration from within. I think the heat may be a characteristic of the alloy."
Removing one of her gloves, she searched the ground until she found a short
thick chunk of the yellowish material.
"This has broken away. See the ragged edge?" She leaned back. "Probably fell
from somewhere higher up. There's no telling how long it's lain here, but it's
just as warm as the intact stuff. Generation of heat's a property of the metal.
The damn stuff's exothermic."
"All right, I'm convinced. And not only is it exothermic, I think the property's
variable. The temperature of the metal is just high enough to hold back the ice
without melting a big hole in the ice cap."
"Maybe," she said quietly, "this installation was built before the ice cap
moved so far south. Maybe the glaciers moved over and around it, burying it
here."
"That would make this place a minimum of ten thousand years old, given what
little we know of Tslamaina's geological history." She said nothing.
They continued their examination, but they found nothing to suggest the nature
of the builders. Everything was a solid mass, seemingly formed whole from molds.
They found no doorways and no windows, nothing to hint at the builders' size or
shape. Only smoothsided featureless geometric forms. Equally striking was the
absence of visible controls.
"If this is a fully automated installation," Lyra pointed out, "designed to
function for a long period of time without supervision, there would be no reason
to expose sensitive controls to the cold."
"Possible. We'd have a better idea if we could tell whether it's operating now,
or dormant, or kaput."
"Instruments," she murmured. "Sit down and rest, Etienne. I'll be back in a
minute." She turned and jogged toward the hydrofoil, gathering up the two Tsla
as she ran.
With their help she set up several sensitive probes next to the hull, aimed them
at their discovery, and began to take readings. Some of the instruments operated
efficiently from a distance while others required her to pass among the
structures with remote sensors.
Except for the heat emanating directly from the metal, from the standpoint of
radiant energy the enigmatic erections were dormant. The residual readings that
appeared on the instrumentation matched the output of their flashlights and the
hydrofoil's batteries. Though the examination could hardly be considered
exhaustive, considering the limitations of their equipment, the Redowls agreed
that regardless of what the constructs had been designed to do, they weren't
doing anything now.
A library search informed them that selfexciting exothermic metal alloys had
existed only in theoryuntil then. As for the machines themselves, their design
did not match the technological architecture of any known civilization.
However old it was, most of the alien technology seemed to be in excellent
condition. Though fragments littered the ground, there was no evidence of
extensive degeneration within the metal or ceramics themselves.
While they couldn't give a date to the installation or a name to its builders,
they could determine the composition of the materials used. In addition to
iridium, Etienne noted the presence of two dozen alloys that defied chemical and
spectroscopic analysis, including one thin metallic whip that the computer
insisted was an alloy of metallic sodium, despite the fact that in the damp air
of the cavern there wasn't the slightest evidence of oxidation on its shiny
surface. When they dipped it in the, river and nothing happened, the Redowls
thought they could hear Homat's beloved spirits move a little closer.
Much of the spirit boat was still strange to Tyl, and he was having trouble
finding the fresh lightning pack that Lyra called a battery cell. He rummaged
carefully through the storage bay, trying to disturb as little as possible. A
noise overhead caused him to pause.
Curious, the Tsla climbed the walkway. His snout was extended, the tip probing
the air. The sounds drew him up from the hull, through the second deck grad onto
the upper. He walked past the humans' sleeping quarters, past the place of food
they called the galley, until he was standing in the passage that opened into
the open bubble of the cockpit. He stared for a long moment before speaking.
"What do thee here, Mai?"
Startled, Homat spun around. When he saw who confronted him he relaxed. "I am
simply curious. We Mai are always curious about new things."
Tyl gestured with his snout, a mildly insulting display. "Thee should be outside
helping our friends."
"I know, I know. I'll be there again soon. But it's so cold out there, so cold."
He shivered.
"I am cold outside also, but the coldness is settling now inside me."
"I don't understand you, meditator."
Thee linger too long and too frequently over the important places of this
craft. For several days now I have noticed this. Thee have always stared as our
friends worked here, but never mare so since the attack by the Na. I think that
this interest has escaped the attention of our friends, who though sophisticated
in many ways are childishly naive in others. They are preoccupied with their
study of our world and ways. But I am not so occupied, nor so naive. This
unnatural interest of thee must be remarked upon." He turned to leave.
"Stop there, meditator!" The chill had suddenly slipped from Homat's body into
his voice.
Slowly Tyl turned. His gaze fell to the device the Mai clutched firmly in his
left hand. It was heavy for the sixfingered grip and Homat had to support part
of it with his other hand. But the correct end was pointed at Tyl. He had seen
the device in operation often enough to know that much.
"Mai," he whispered, managing to combine a whole paragraph of insults into the
inflection he wrapped around that single noun.
Homat was neither impressed nor intimidated. The Tsla usually overawed the Mai,
but not him, not Homat. The hairy ones were bigger and stronger, but not
necessarily smarter. No, size was no indication of intelligence, as he fully
planned to prove.
"Do you know what this is?" he said, enjoying himself thoroughly as he gestured
with the device he held. "This is the humans' lightning thrower. I have seen it
operate many times. It may be difficult to build, but it is very simple to use."
He pointed toward the clip holsters attached to the lower part of the control
console.
"They sit there in their little homes, drawing strength from the spirit world
until they are ready to serve the humans. These spirits are stupid. They do not
respond to sacrifices or prayers or offerings, but will serve any who learn the
rituals of operation. I have made an extensive study of such rituals these past
many months."
"To what end?" Tyl inquired softly even as he estimated the distance between
them.
"You have seen the sunit that sleeps here, and the other metals. Enough wealth
to buy half the world."
"I am sure," Tyl said carefully, "that the humans would not object to thee
returning with enough of the gray metal to make thee wealthy until thy passing."
"I'm sure they would allow me to bring a small amount, but not any more than
would interfere with the plain rocks deEtienne has already collected, for
example. Why should I bow and scrape for a beggar's pouchful when I can have all
that the spirit boat can carry?" He produced a thin Mai smile. "I can have the
spirit boat itself. The sunit will make me master of Mai. This vessel can make
me master of the Groalamasan."
Tyl's initial anger dissolved into sadness and pity. "Poor Mai. Thy dreams are
so much larger than thy body."
"Are they?" said Homat hoarsely. "I planned to wait, but you push me toward
delightenment. The Tsla have always pushed the Mai. In the end we will overwhelm
you. See, how simple the humans' spirit devices are to work? You just touch this
little round thing here..."
Etienne looked up from the base of the metallic mass he was studying, using the
crutch Lyra had fashioned for him from a scoop net, and glanced back toward the
boat. The glare from the two powerful spotlights made him squint.
"Did you hear something, hon?"
Lyre lifted her eyes from her work. She was trying to decide if some scratches
they'd discovered on one wall might be writing. "Hear what?"
"The boat. I thought I heard something arc."
She shrugged. "Missed my ears."
He thought a moment, glanced to his right. "Yulour. Did thee hear anything from
the spirit boat?"
The patient Tsla was sitting on the ground, playing with some colored stones. "I
heard nothing, Teacher."
Just then Etienne saw a shape approaching them. "Here's Homat. Maybe he heard
something."
Lyre returned to her studies and Etienne waited until their guide emerged from
the glare. "Homat, you were near the boat. Did you hear something?"
"Yes, Etienne." He sounded odd, Etienne thought, though he couldn't define the
difference. "I heard. It was your lightning thrower dealing spirits."
Lyre heard that, slowly rose from where she'd been silting.
Etienne spoke precisely. "The lightning thrower? You mean it went off? How did
that happen?'
"The way it always happens." The Mai was careful to keep his distance fr om
Etienne, despite the severity of the man's injury. He removed the pistol from
the pocket of his thermal suit. Etienne stiffened and Lyra backed toward the
metal wall behind her.
"it happened," Homat continued, his confidence starting to build, "when I
touched this place you call the trigger. I touched it and called upon the
lightning spirits. I, Homat, did this."
Etienne struggled to choose the right words. "That's a very dangerous thing to
do, Homat. You don't know what you're doing. The lightning spirits can be very
unpredictable. You could hurt yourself."
Homat laughed softly. "You clever humans. You come here from another world, with
your wonderful magical devices, and you try to make us think none but you can
make them work." He shook the asynapt at them. "Well, I can make them work!
"Where is Teacher Tyl?" Yulour asked uncertainly, looking past the Mai toward
the hydrofoil.
"Be quiet, simpleton. The meditator is dead. I killed him, with this." He shook
the pistol again.
"But why?" Lyra cried as she looked toward the boat.
Homat's voice was as icy as the air around them. "To make certain that I did
know how to call upon the lightning spirits. Truly it is very easy. You just
touch this trigger place here." Cane finger eased toward the firing button.
Etienne negotiated a couple of awkward steps backward, leaning on the crutch.
"Don't be frightened, Homat told him. "I don't think I have to kill you.
Besides, I need your arms and your backs."
"what for?"
Homat looked past him, his eyes afire. "To load the spirit boat with the gray
metal, the sunit.
"The iridium alloy? Your people value it too?"
"More than any other thing of this world. It will make me master over much of
it."
"We don't care if you take some sunit back with you," Lyre said. "Enough to make
you rich, if you wish. We promised you a reward for helping us."
"The meditator said much the same thing. I take my own reward, Lyra. I want to
take back as much sunit as the spirit boat will hold. We will make room by
throwing out the useless things you have gathered during this journey, bits of
plants and rocks and clothing and cheap trinkets."
"Homat, you can't! We need to take samples of your world back for study."
"You don't listen, Lyra. What is important to you does not matter now. It
doesn't matter that your civilization is smarter than that of the Mai. It
doesn't matter that you are smarter than me, though i am not so sure of that
anymore. It does not matter that you are larger and stronger. This is all that
matters now." He gestured with the asynaptic pistol. "I have not touched it
since we fought the Na. It slew the meditator. I am certain it can slay you.
This is something even we simple Mai can understand."
"Irquit wasn't the Zanur's representative," Etienne said accusingly, "It was you
all the time."
"Oh, no, Etienne, she was a representative of the Zanur. We both were. But she
was in charge over me, and I couldn't have that. I did not need her around,
watching as I made careful study of your magic. I knew we would fail at
Changrit."
"So you're a traitor then. To your citystate of Po Rabi, to your Zanur, to your
Najoke demeHalmur."
Homat dug his toes into the ground, a sign of disrespectful disgust. "From this
moment on Najoke demeHalmur is nothing. He is become less than the grains of
grave! that roll from the mouth of this cave, less than the droppings of the
prewq upon the fields. The Zanur is become nothing. Po Rabi itself is as nothing
beside the wealth that lies here. If I choose I will buy Po Rabi for a winter
home. I will be Moyt over all."
Lyra fought to restrain her temper. "Now listen, Homat. Maybe you can operate
that pistol without burning your foot off, but running the spirit boat is
another matter entirely."
"Is it so? I have watched for a long time now while you thought me shivering and
cowering behind you for protection. Already I have steered the spirit boat
once. I think truly it is not so complicated to use. A very few controls run it
mostly, and one allows the spirits within to run by themselves."
"Even an autopilot needs occasional instructions."
"Does it? I think you try to deceive me. We will see."
"And what happens," Etienne pressed him, "if we don't return and our friends
come looking for us? They'll find the boat and they'll find you."
"Perhaps. If they do I will shiver and cower some delighted more and explain
that you were slain by the Na and that I, Homat, not knowing what else to do,
was returning the spirit boat to its rightful owners. I think they will lei me
keep the sunit and award me honors for my bravery and dedication."
"Even assuming you could run the boat," Lyra said, "how can you get it past the
Topapasirut without the help of the Tsla of Jakaie?"
"I think they will believe my story also. If they are reluctant to believe,
there are other ways." He gestured past them toward the mountain of metal. "The
Tsla are also traders. They are not immune to the promise of great wealth. Not
all the hairy ones sit and meditate their lives away. They work hard in their
shops and fields and when they come down to the Skar, wealth changes hands. And
there is another reason why I know this can be done."
"Another reason?
"An elderly merchant of Po Rabi preceded us to this place. Without lightning
throwers, without this wondrous delighted clothing you have given me, without a
spirit boat, he came to this place, stood perhaps on this same spot, and
returned to Po Rabi with proof that he had done so. With all your wonders at my
command, I cannot fail to do as well.
"But why this talk of your spot returning? I bear you no malice, and I need your
strength to load the sonic into the spirit boat. Then we will see. It would be
easier if you agreed to help me return to the Skatandaho Perhaps I will even let
you keep your boat. You will not have the useless rocks and weeds that you have
gathered, but you will still have the magic images you make of them.
"One thing is certain you have no other choice but to help me. If you do not,
it will take longer to load the sonic with the help of only this simple one," he
gestured toward Yulour, "but it will be done nonetheless. And I will surely kill
you."
"Yulour and I will help load your precious sunit," Lyra said bitterly, "but
Etienne cannot. If he does much lifting he stands a good chance of reopening the
wound inside him."
"If he does that you can fix it again."
"I don't think it cap be axed again, at least not in the same way with the cools
we have on the boat."
"He works like you and the Tsla or he dies now. I cannot spare the attention to
let him sit and watch for a chance to surprise me."
Etienne limped forward. "I'll watch myself, Lyra, don't worry. I can rig a sling
and work with my left arm."
"Our specimens," she muttered disconsolately. "Everything we've worked so hard
to assemble, the first pieces of the puzzle that would enable us to start
bolding a picture of this world's ecology, all thrown away."
"They won't do us any good if we don't live to deliver them."
"Not so stupid," Homat said approvingly. "I didn't think you were that stupid."
He gestured again with the muzzle of the asynapt. "I do not like this place. Let
us hurry."
Though he worked very carefully, the pain in Etienne's side never let him alone.
The internal bleeding didn't start again, but Lyra ached in her own heart as she
watched him struggle to load the heavy alloy.
Homat supervised the loading silently and displayed not a twinge of remorse. The
lower hold was filled and they began stacking piles of broken metal on the
second deck. Yulour carried twice his share of the toad as he toiled quietly
next to his human friends.
Several days later an exhausted Lyra, sweating inside her absorptive thermal
suit, slumped to the ground and spoke sullenly to Homat.
"That's all she'll carry."
"No, there is yet room," Homat insisted. "Much more room. You must continue."
"Listen to me, Homat. The sunit, the metal, is very heavy. If you stack any more
on the upper decks you'll ruin the boat's stability. All the sunit in the world
won't do you any good if you turn over in the middle of the Skar." She held her
breath as she dropped her gaze to the ground. Actually the hydrofoil could carry
another ton or so in comparative safety, but she doubted Etienne would last
another day.
Homat looked uncertain. "Very well. That is enough. Enough to buy two cities,
and I can always come back for more."
"Fine," Etienne commented. "Now let us help you deliver your damned fortune so
we can go our separate ways, which won't happen soon enough for me."
"Or if you insist on trying to take the hydrofoil back by yourself," Lyra added,
"at least let us go with you as far as Tmput. We can find transportation back to
Steamer Station from there, and by the time we reached our outpost you could be
halfway around the Groalamasan."
"And then what'?" Homat inquired suspiciously, his inherent Mai paranoia
surging to the fore. "Then you'll organize your friends and come looking for
poor Homat with more of your strange weapons, to punish him and steal his
glory." His grip on the asynapt tightened.
Slowly Lyra got to her feet. "Homat, don't be a fool."
"Truly that is not my intention."
Etienne was backing toward the silent mass of alien metal. He stumbled and Lyra
rushed to help him, her eyes never leaving the pistol.
"There's no need for you to do this, Homat. We won't come after you. It's not
worth it to us. It's not worth the spirit boat. We can always get another."
"Can you?" She knew enough of Mai psychology to see that he was working himself
up good and proper, trying to excite himself to the point of pushing the
trigger. Killing Tyl was one thing. Mai and Ts la disliked one another and
sometimes fought. But the thought of slaying them was something new. There were
powerful spirits involved, strange alien spirits, and he was still unsure of
himself.
He was going to do it, though. She could see it in his eyes, read it in the way
he stood, hear it in his voice. The scrawny bald little humanoid primitive was
going to kill the two of them in cold blood there at the top of his world,
beneath a ceiling of ancient ice, their backs to an enigma that would now never
be properly studied.
"I will keep the slave," Homat said solemnly. He gestured toward Yulour, who
stood nearby looking worried and confused. "I will make use of his strength on
the homeward journey. Him I do not fear, but I do not trust you. I cannot stay
awake all the time to watch you. As soon as I slept you would forget all your
promises, set aside your assurances, and toss poor Homat into the Skar to take
his chances with the fish.
"It is not I who is destined to be food for fishes. Not Homat the brave, Homat
the great." He took aim with the heavy pistol.
"When he settles on me," Etienne whispered as he took a step forward, "run for
it. I'll take the shot and if you can get beyond the ship's lights you'll have a
chance."
"No, I won't..."
"Don't be an idiot!" he said huskily, taking another step forward. "Now of all
times." The muzzle was shifting to cover him, Homat's finger moving toward the
trigger. "Use your legs, Lyra. For both of us."
The tears were coming again, blinding her worse than the glare from the
spotlights. She didn't know what to do and there was no time to make careful
decisions. If only Etienne wouldn't be so damn logical! But he was right. If she
could hide in the darkness of the cavern there was an outside chance she could
slip aboard the hydrofoil without Homat seeing her. She was bigger and stronger
than the Mai.
Homat saw her start to back away and moved the muzzle back to cover her instead
of Etienne. It was impossible to outrun the charge, but the heavy weapon was
awkward in Homat's grasp. Etienne saw that he was anticipating Lyra's flight and
steadied himself to leap between them to take the shot.
He didn't have to. The same thought had occurred to someone else. Certainly no
one, least of all Homat, expected Yulour to interpose himself between the pistol
and its intended targets.
Etienne didn't have time to wonder at the Tsla's unaccustomed assertion. He was
shoving at Lyra with his left hand.
"Now, run now."
Lyra was gaping at the Tsla. "I don't understand. Yulour doesn't act on his
own."
"Don't worry about it now, shut up and run!"
She left him leaning on his crutch as she whirled and bolted for the blackness
to their left. Homat turned to aim at her, but once more Yulour made certain his
body was between hers and the gun.
"Get out of the way, moron!" Homat shouted. Yulour stood quietly, holding his
ground. "I said get out of the way! I need you for the journey Downriver."
He could hear the gravel flying from beneath the human female's boots. Of
course, he could abandon both of them, leave them to die slowly, but he was
furious that his carefully rehearsed triumph might be spoiled by a simpleminded
Tsla. He stared over the barrel of the lightning thrower.
"You brought this on yourself, idiot. I'll just have to get along without you.
Downriver I'll find plenty of willing backs with sensible heads atop them." He
touched the trigger.
There was a bright, crisp flash of light as the asynapt fired, accompanied by a
familiar faint crackling sound. Etienne shouted, "No!" and tried to throw
himself at Homat. Given the distance that still separated him from the Mai, it
was a futile gesture. A sharp pain ran from his side down his left leg and he
crumpled despite the support provided by his crutch.
Dust stung his eyes as he lay staring dumbly across the gravel. Yulour had not
fallen under the impact of the charge. He hadn't fallen because he was no longer
there.
But something else was.
Chapter Seventeen
For an instant Etienne was positive that the charge had struck him instead. That
would explain the illusion. Or perhaps the silent Yulour possessed the power of
old. He blinked, and the illusion remained. His side still flamed. His nose was
running. It was real.
Where Yulour had been, what Yulour had been rose four meters toward the roof of
the cavern. It was slim and silvery. The coldly viscous sides twisted and flowed
like the ripples that spread out from a pebble dropped in a pond. Indeed, what
had been Yulour looked a lot like a tower of opaque water. Where an internal
ripple reached its apex the silvery hue became suffused with other colors gray
and white, blue and purple. They spread in irregular chromatic blotches across
portions of the unstable tower, fading gradually back info the silver.
Homat stood motionless, the asynapt still clutched convulsively in both hands.
Probably he could not have dropped it had he wanted to. Suddenly all the
terrors, all the childhood fears, all the old Mai stories of demons and devils
and evil spirits that he had automatically absorbed as he had matured had
solidified before his bulging eyes. He started to tremble and lost control of
his bowels. He was trying to scream but only a thin whispery whine passed
between his parted lips.
Through his pain Etienne thought he heard Lyra shout from her hiding place back
in the artifacts. She wasn't trying to maneuver behind Homat now. All she could
do was stare in wonder at the tower of pulsating quicksilver that had been
Yulour. Of the three who saw, it might have been that she was the most stupefied
of all, for only Lyra Redowl was familiar with the folklore anti mythologies of
half a hundred worlds, and thus only she knew that what stood before them in the
cavern had a basis in hypothesized reality.
It had been seen beforeor had it? No one was certain because no reputable
evidence was ever presented to conclusively prove the existence of such a
creature. Rumors gave it different names, of which the one that stuck was more
hopefully descriptive than verifiable.
"I'll be damned," she murmured in awe, "a Mutable."
Etienne heard and the word sailed through his numbed brain. A Mutable. Folktales
spoke of them not only on commonwealth worlds but on the worlds of the AAnn
empire and the inhabited globes that turned in emptiness outside the boundaries
of the principal political entities. Every space traversing civilization had
legends of encounters with true shapechangers, silhouette shifters, metamorphs.
Mutables.
But myths and fraud dissolved in the dank cavern before the glittering reality
that had been Yulour the slowwilted Tsla. Legend or folktale or hallucination
made real, whatever it was it had saved Lyra's life. Its intentions beyond that
were shrouded in speculation.
As Etienne lay there staring at the rippling silvery shape, it occurred to him
that he and Lyra were likely the first lawman beings ever to see a Mutable in
its natural state.
It had protected Lyra. That was all that really mattered.
He wondered if the body's constant movement might be an indication of some
permanent instability. As he wondered, the tower turned slightly, showing a
suggestion of what might be an eye near the top. The deep gray oval swam in a
sea of silver. A second might drift alongside the first, beyond his sight. It
might have a half dozen hidden duplicates.
Traveling like a tree on greased treads, the Mutable moved toward the hydrofoil.
The motion was silent. A single pseudopod emerged from the center of the tower,
formed tentacles that reached for the asynapt in Homat's shaking fingers. As he
watched, Etienne wondered hove the creature had shaken off the effects of the
burst from the pistol.
He wasn't given the opportunity to observe the result of a second shot, because
the Mai let out a single final massive shudder, then fell sideways onto the
gravel. The gun fell from limp fingers.
At this the tentacles withdrew. It mattered not to Homat, whose crumpled form
lay motionless now near one of the boat's hydrofoils, knees drawn tight against
the thin chest, all hint of aggression fled along with the life force. The cause
of death was clear and no autopsy could have made it any clearer Homat had died
of fright, murdered where he'd stood by his own guilt and thousands of years of
accumulated racial fears.
The Mutable inclined forward over the Mai's body. Then it straightened, pivoted
slowly, and moved away. Rocks and gravel were depressed where it had passed, as
if a large, heavy ball had rolled across the ground where the Mutable moved.
Despite its size the creature traveled with ease and a graceful fluidity. Lyra
kept her eyes on it as she helped Etienne back to his feet and handed him his
crutch. She could recall no legend of a Mutable's harming anything, but that was
small comfort as she stood in that cold, dark place supporting her badly injured
husband.
Though no pupils were visible, Lyra thought the pair of large gray spots atop
the silvery mass were focused on her.
"Please do not be afraid," the Mutable said. It spoke clearly, in Yulour's
familiar voice, though without that Tsla's slowness. "Yes, I am what you call a
Mutable. I am the native you knew as Yulour. Please do not be alarmed." The
upper portion of the tower inclined toward the hydrofoil. "I did not mean for
that one to expire, but as are all his people he was a prisoner of his own
private terrors. You, however, are more mature and not subject to such."
"Don't give us too much credit just yet," Etienne found himself mumbling. "I'm
scared as hell."
"You must not be frightened." The Mutable's voice was almost painfully gentle.
"Mutables don't exist except as rumors," Lyra murmured.
"That is how we prefer to exist. It simplifies much."
Lyra left Etienne to stand on his own and stepped forward, extending a hesitant
hand. "I don't want to offend, butcould I touch you'?"
"If it is required to establish my existence in your mind."
"It's not. I know you're here. It's just something I'd like to do."
"Then please do so."
She lightly pressed against the silvery flank, discovered that it felt like warm
vinyl. It took an effort of will not to jerk her fingers away, not because it
was too hot but because the surface was in constant motion. She stepped back,
her palm tingling.
"If you two don't mind," Etienne said, "I'm a little tired. I think I'd better
sit down." It was a measure of his exhaustion that he allowed Lyra to help
without his uttering a single wisecrack.
"You said, `it simplifies much,"' Lyra repeated. "What does it simplify?"
"Our work. We are caretakers, we Mutables."
"Caretakers? For whom?"
"For the Xunca."
Lyra frowned. "Never heard of 'em."
"But you know of the TarAiym and of the Hur'rikku, who dominated this grouping
of stars, this galaxy, until they destroyed each other in a great war."
"Yes, I know the histories," Lyra replied. "Both races have been gone, from this
portion of the galaxy, anyway, for at least a hundred millennia."
"The Xunca predate both. They are so ancient little more than their memory
remains. We are their caretakers. Whether we are an independently evolved race
or machines fashioned by them, we ourselves do not know. We know only our work."
"These Xunca lived and ruled before both the TarAiym and the Hur'rikku?"
"They did not rule. They simply were. Their probings reached regions that can be
expressed only 'ay pure mathematics. Reached beyond this galaxy, beyond the
satellite clusters of stars you call the Magellanic Clouds. They went such
places."
"You imply a technology capable of traversing an intergalactic gap," Etienne
observed. "Such technology is not possible."
The Mutable admonished him gently. "Did not your own kind once say the same of
fasterthanlight travel, before they learned of spaceplus and nullspace? I
say to you that they the Xunca did this thing.
"This world you call Horseye and that the dominants call Tslamaina is itself a
product of Xunca technology."
"This planet is a construct?"
"No." Thoughtfully the Mutable moved to its right so they could observe it free
of the glare from the hydrofoil's lights. It was a gesture of courtesy and
Etienne lot himself relax further.
"The Xunca did not build this world, they modified it to suit their needs. The
asteroidal collision which produced the oceanic basin now filled by the
(Broalamasan's waters was not an astronomical accident."
"Why do that?"
"The Xunca required a large body of water which would circulate only in one
direction, whose currents would never change. The positioning of the four small
moons assures this. Here the oceanic currents flow eternally in the direction
you call clockwise.
"This perpetual motion, driven by lunar gravity, never needs refueling or
maintenance. It exists and was designed to drive great engines buried in the
ocean floor. Since Tslamaina is tectonically stable and has been for eons save
for one regrettable massive earth tremor, there is no danger of the machinery's
being destroyed by subduction. It sits and waits, ready to be driven by the
mechanism of the ocean currents. The currents that scour the bottom of the
Crroalamasan are very powerful by the standards of most worlds. This
construction was necessary because there are no other stable oceanic worlds in
this area. The machinery is shielded against detection by spacegoing peoples.
It has lain dormant far tens of thousands of your years."
"How many tens of thousands?" Lyra wondered aloud.
"Enough to total several hundred millions."
"And you've been `caretaking' the facilities all that time?"
"We are longlived or welldesigned," the Mutable explained matteroffactly.
"I don't care," Lyra argued. "Nothing lives for a hundred million years?"
"The rocks beneath your feet do. Our internal structure resembles them more than
it does yours. You may be interested to know that a smaller installation,
similar to that which sleeps beneath the ocean of this world, exists on yours."
Lyre started. "On Earth'? Nothing hike what you describe has ever been found. Is
the shielding against detection that effective?"
"Yes, but that installation was destroyed by your world's continental drift. It
was emplaced when your continents were one large land mass and there was a
single, much larger, world ocean like that on Tslamaina. The Xunca were not
omnipotent. They could not plan for every eventuality.
"But that was only a small relay and its loss not vital to the system. The main
transmitter was constructed on this world. The three local intelligent life
forms evolved independently long after its emplacement. They do not suspect its
existence. None do." He gestured past them.
"This is a tiny portion of the transmitter's antenna system. )Most of it lies
beneath your feet. It is our task to see that it remains in operating condition,
together with the extensive relay network to which it can be linked."
"Can it operate through the ice cap?"
"No. In the event that the transmitter system becomes active, a portion if not
all of this ice will be melted."
Etienne's thoughts moved rapidly. "That would raise the level of the Groalamasan
enough to flood every major city on Tslamaina."
The Mutable sounded apologetic. "As I have said, all this was designed a very
tong time ago, and the Xunca could not foresee everything. However, it is
possible this will never occur. The system has not become active in all the
hundreds of millions of years since it was fashioned. Who knows how many
millions more will pass before anything happens`? Nothing may ever happen."
"Nobody builds something like this," Etienne muttered, "thinking it will never
be used."
"Why not, Etienne?" Lyra said with disarming calmness. "What about the security
alarms people put in their homes?" She looked startled. "Is that what this is?"
"We do not know what the system is for," the Mutable replied sadly. "Not one of
us knows. We are only caretakers, net operators or builders. We do what we were
instructed to do eons ago. Watch over the system and insure that it remains
intact.
"Do not think that we merely sit and wonder. We discuss and debate. We have our
own culture. Now and then we assume one of tine shapes of the spacegoing races
and visit each other, for only one of us is assigned to each world. We assist
one another in diagnosing and solving problems, but generally there is little to
do. The Xunca built for the ages. But as to the purpose of the system, only the
Xunca themselves know that."
"What happened to them?" Etienne asked. "If they were such masters of science,
why did they let the TarAiym and the Yur'rikku usurp their place?"
"The TarAiym and the Hur'rikku usurped nothing. Both races rose to power in the
vacuum left by the departure of the Xunca. They Oid not force the Xunca to
leave. The Xunca were never forced to do anything. They departed because they
found something their technology could not cope with."
"Then why leave this elaborate system behind"? To let them know when it was safe
far them to return? You must know something about it?"
"Only that it will become active if whatever it was intended to react to
manifests itself." The Mutable hesitated. "We do know that it involves one
particular section of space."
"fan you be any more specific?"
"It lies in the direction of the constellation you call Boozes, as seen from
your Earth, but farther out. It is an area of modest size, some three hundred
million lightyears across, encompassing a volume of approximately one million
cubic megaparsecs."
Etienne frowned for a moment until the figures quoted by the Mutable linked up
wish something in his memory.
"The Great Emptiness. We've known of it for hundreds of years. It's a `modest'
region, all right. It ought to be as filled with galaxies and nebulae as any
other section of space, but it's not. There's nothing there, astronomically
speaking. Some free hydrogen and a few isolated stellar masses of uncertain
composition."
"This we know," the Mutable admitted. "What we do not know is how the Xunca
transmitter is involved."
"I'd rather it were connected to something simpler to explain," Etienne
muttered. "We humans are a gregarious bunch. We like crowds, not big
emptinesses."
"You are concerned."
"It seems the Xunca were. Don't you sense some kind of threat?"
"We do not worry, nor should you. Too much time has passed without anything
happening."
"Then you do think a threat of some sort is involved."
"We have had much time in which to evaluate possibilities. When one's entire
existence is devoted to a single task, there is a fair amount of time to devote
to idle speculation. I must admit that some of us believe the Xunca system to be
a warning device."
"Strange, but your words don't give me much comfort," Lyre muttered.
"I wish that I could allay all concerns. We wish no less for ourselves. You
should know that. We have had to content ourselves with a saying `the Xunca
moved in mysterious ways."'
Etienne forced himself to think of more immediate matters. All the talk of vast
empty sections of space, of alien devices lying dormant for incalculable eons
waiting for some unknown problem to manifest itself, of caretakers who could
change their shape moving unobserved among different civilizations, was making
him dizzy.
He needed to talk about something he could relate to. "Your task, then, is to
ensure the inviolability of the Xunca system."
"That is so."
Etienne drew Lyra close to him. "Then that means you must have decided by now
what you're going to do with us."
"It has been a very long time since this transmitter was checked," the Mutable
said quietly. "In that time this river has enlarged the cavern considerably
around it and opened a wide entrance. That must be sealed with ice."
"You're avoiding my question. What about us?"
"I have enjoyed the opportunity to study you for many days, Etienne Redowl man.
It would have been simple to let the native dispose of you or to do so myself."
Lyra's arm tightened against her husband's back. "But after hundreds of millions
of years of dedication to a single task, one develops a high respect for
indigenous life forms that have succeeded in developing intelligence without
destroying themselves in the process. When one is governed by insights that may
be more than a billion years old, one develops laws and insights of one's own.
And there is one thing more."
Etienne allowed himself to hope, wondering what ancient philosophical conclusion
might stay the executioner. "What's that?"
"I like you. You are simple, uncomplicated, primitive. But you are likeable.
Many peoples do not place likeability high on the list of survival traits. We
do. I do. I like you for yourselves and for what you are, what you represent. We
are not merely components of a carefully constructed machine. We are also
individuals. As such we can admire individuality in others. Your persistence
and dedication, your"was that a smile atop the silvery column?"immutable
devotion to your chosen professions reminds me of our own."
"I'm glad you tike us," Lyra said. "I think we like you. But how do you plan to
insure that we don't bring others of our kind back to this place, to tell them
the story and show them the tip of the transmitter?"
"I will see to it not only that this cavern is sealed, but that the transmitter
is movedand shielded so that your most sensitive instruments cannot relocate it
no matter if they spend years scanning the northern hemisphere of this world.
"As for relating what I have told you to your colleagues, we have observed
enough of humankind for me to believe that you would not be taken seriously. And
there is a third protection. You will give me your word."
Lyra glanced at her husband, then back at the Mutable. "I hope to live a while
longer yet, but I never expect to be flattered like this again. For what it's
worth you have our word."
"Thank you, woman. It is done, and I am much relieved."
"I only wish," she added, "that Tyl could be here to give his word also."
"I am sorry. Revealing my true nature is not something done lightly. I held back
in the hope that the Mai would spare you and I could then help you return safely
without exposing myself. I could do nothing for the Tsla."
As they stared the Mutable's exoderm began to flow and ripple violently. They
stepped back as the silvery skin started to cloud over with patches of dark
gray. These changed to white, pale yellow, and then became a rich hazel color.
Simultaneously the sentient tower began to collapse, the internal structure
shrinking and compacting. The transformation was accomplished in utter silence.
Once more Yulour the Tsla stood before them.
"I thought you would find my company during the return journey less unsettling
in this guise. I hope my company will not upset you. I have already set in
motion the machinery necessary to conceal the transmitter from potential prying
minds." Indeed, as she stood there listening Lyra was certain she could detect a
rising hum from behind them, and a slight vibration beneath her feet.
"I enjoy your company," the Mutable went on, "and have not had the opportunity
to spend much time among your kind since I have never been assigned to a
humanoccupied world. You are an interesting adolescent race."
"You're certainly welcome to our interesting adolescent company," Etienne
replied dryly. As if they could prevent the creature from accompanying them if
it so desired. "Whatever your motives, you did save our lives, even if you did
compel us to share a mystery that we know won't be solved in our lifetime, let
alone your lifetime."
"Myself," Lyra said dreamily, "I prefer to think the Xunca went away for
personal reasons and that they left this relay system behind to help whatever
intelligences might arise in their absence. That's a nice thought, anyway. I'd
rather think of any people chat brilliant as altruistic rather than
indifferent."
They started down the slight slope toward the hydrofoil. Yulour moved to help
Etienne, who flinched, but only for a moment; the fur against his arm was real,
the smell pure Tsla.
They gave Tyl a formal farewell, and Lyra restored some lightness to a situation
weighty with solemnity by suggesting Etienne carry out the standard Tsla funeral
ritual. That sparked an affectionate exchange of insults to which Yulour
listened with interest.
Etienne finished it by doing something he hadn't dons in quite a while. He took
Lyra in his arms and kissed her long and hard. They stood enfolded in each other
for a long time, and Yulour watched that with equal interest. Such mayfly
relationships were not for his kind, but there was a decided poignancy to them
that forever escaped those condemned to near immortality. The Mutable sighed an
ancient, silent sigh, no louder than the winds that move the hydrogen between
the stars. Existence for these people was a brief explosive flash of
consciousness, then limbo. A breath of life blown by in a rush of emotion and a
few hasty thoughts.
The Mutable could only empathize. For it life was an infinite march toward an
unknown end. Besides, there was work to do.
Etienne assumed the pilot's chair, nudged several touchplates, looked uneasy.
Lyre moved next to him.
"Trouble
"Looks like it. We've had these spotlights on for a lot longer than we planned.
The batteries are drawn down too low to power the engine, much less the
repellers. We're going to have to drift out until the current and the sun can
recharge us."
Yulour studied the control console for an instant. "I think I can help. No
reason not to, now."
The unTsla's right arm began to change. Fur and muscle became a single thin
strand of faintly radiant metallic silver. The tendril slipped through the small
opening of a power socket. A tremor ran through the boat as a half dozen
readouts suddenly flared brightly.
"Sorry. The resistance was less than I thought," Yulour explained as the silver
tendril was withdrawn and became an area again. "It is not only that a Mutable
is powerful. A Mutable is power."
"Also handy to have around for a difficult trip. Nothing like a couple of
hundred million years of specialized evolution to give you an effective
jumpStart, though it does seem a bit disrespectful somehow." Lyra seemed
bemused.
Etienne tried again and the engine whined to life. The hydrofoil rose two meters
above the gravel and pivoted toward the river. Spotlights illuminating their
way, they commenced the long journey down the Skar toward Turput, Steamer
Station, and eventually, home.
There they would take a long sabbatical to write their official report, one
which would be haunted by memories. Somehow that report no longer seemed as
important as it had when they'd started their expedition up the Barshajagad.
Very little seemed important anymore, beyond the way Lyra clung tightly to
Etienne and how he played with strands of her hair.
Behind them the visible tip of the Xunca transmitter was engulfed by arctic
dark. It brooded motionless now but soon it would move. Within the seemingly
solid mass pimesons and goons and bits of matter and bits of stuff that wasn't
matter traveled their assigned pathways at speeds approaching that of lightas
they had for uncounted centuries.
Unnoticed by uncomprehending humans or caretaking Mutables, one tiny section
suddenly showed signs of activity where for ages there had been none. The
unusual movement at the subatomic level within might intensify or it might shut
down again.
But something was happening. Something had triggered a minute portion of the
machinery beyond that which was responsible for normal maintenance. How soon the
something might require attention, not even a watching Mutable might have said.
"Soon" was a relevant term, an abstract, a precession through infinity. For a
more specific explanation of what it meant in this instance the Xunca would
have to be consulted.
Wherever they were.
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Note Map of the Commonwealth and its Chronology Published in 05 Flinx in Flux
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in New York City in 1946, Alan Dean Foster was raised in Los Angeles,
California. After receiving a bachelor's degree in political science and a
Master of Fine Arts in motion pictures from UCLA in 196869, he worked for two
years as a public relations copywriter in a small Studio City, California,
firm.
His writing career began in 1968 when August Derleth bought a long letter of
Foster's and published it as a short story in his biannual Arkham Collector
Magazine. Sales of short fiction to other magazines followed. His first try at a
novel, The TarAiym Krang, was published by Ballantine Books in 1972.
Foster has toured extensively through Asia and the isles of the Pacific. Besides
traveling, he enjoys classical and rock music, old films, basketball, body
surfing, and karate. He has taught screenwriting, literature, and film history
at UCLA and Los Angeles City College.
Currently, he resides in Arizona with his wife, JoAnn (who is reputed to have
t he only extant recipe for Barbarian Cream Pie).

