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bbles showed that river creatures； feeding on the scraps； weren't so finicky。 Sara didn't mind the tangy taste； though most Earthlings wound up defecating bright colors after too many days of shipboard fare。
When Prity later brought a pair of blankets； Sara chose the plushest to tuck over the Stranger； sleeping near the main hold with its neatly stacked crates of dross。 His brow bore a sheen of perspiration； which she wiped with a dry cloth。 Since early yesterday； he had shown none of the lucidity so briefly displayed when the ill…omened bolide split the sky。
Sara had misgivings about hauling the wounded man on a hurried； stressful trek。 Still； there was a good clinic in Tarek Town。 And this way she might keep an eye on him while performing her other duty…one rudely dropped in her lap last night； after that frenzied conclave in the Meeting Tree。
Pzora stood nearby； a dark tower； dormant but ever…vigilant over the patient's condition。 The pharmacist vented steamy puffs from the specialized ring that routinely performed ad hoc chemistry beyond the understanding of Jijo's best scholars or even the traeki themselves。
Wrapping her shoulders in another soft g'Kek…spun blanket； Sara turned and watched her fellow passengers。
Jomah； the young son of Henrik； the exploser； lay curled nearby； snoring softly after the excitement of leaving home for the first time。 Closer to the mast sat Jop； the bristle…cheeked delegate of Dolo's farmers and crofters； peering in the half…light at a leather…bound copy of some Scroll。 Over by the starboard rail； Ulgor； the urrish tinker who had spoken at the village meeting； knelt facing a qheuenish woodcarver named Blade； one of many sons of the matriarch； Log Biter。 Blade had lived for years among the sophisticated Gray Qheuens of Tarek Town； so his choice as representative of Dolo Hive seemed natural。
From a moss…lined pouch； Ulgor drew a quivering rewq symbiont； of the type suited for lean urrish heads。 The trembling membrane crawled over each of her triple eyes； creating the Mask…That…Reveals。 Meanwhile； Blade's rewq wrapped itself around the seeing…strip bisecting his melonlike cupola。 The qheuen's legs retracted； leaving only the armored claws exposed。
The pair conversed in a bastard dialect of Galactic Two； at best a difficult tongue for humans。 Moreover； the breeze carried off the treble whistle…tones； leaving just the lower track of syncopated clicks。 Perhaps for those reasons the two travelers seemed unconcerned anyone might listen。
Maybe； as often happened； they underrated the reach of human hearing。
Or else they're counting on something called mon courtesy； she thought ironically。 Lately Sara had bee quite an eavesdropper； an unlikely habit for a normally shy； private young woman。 Her recent fascination with language was the cause。 This time though； fatigue overcame curiosity。
Leave them alone。 You'll have plenty of chances to study dialects in Tarek Town。
Sara took her blanket over to a spot between two crates marked with Nelo's seal； exuding the homey scents of Dolo's paper mill。 There had been little time for rest since that frenetic town meeting。 Only a few miduras after adjournment； the village elders had sent a herald to wake Sara with this assignment…to lead a delegation downriver in search of answers and guidance。 She was chosen both as one with intimate knowledge of Biblos and also to represent the Dolo craft workers…as Jop would speak for the farmers； and Blade for the upriver qheuens。 Other envoys included Ulgor； Pzora； and Fakoon； a g'Kek scriven…dancer。 Since each was already billeted aboard the Hauph…woa； with business in Tarek Town； they could hardly refuse。 Together with the ship's captain； that made at least one representative from all Six exile races。 A good omen； the elders hoped。
Sara still wondered about Jomah。 Why would Henrik dispatch the boy on a trip that promised danger； even in quiet times？
〃He will know what to do；〃 the taciturn exploser had said； putting his son in Sara's nominal care。 〃Once you reach Tarek Town。〃
If only I could say as much for myself； Sara worried。 It had been impossible to turn down this assignment； much as she wanted to。
It's been a year since Joshu died…since shame and grief made a hermit of you。 Besides； who is going to care that you made a fool of yourself over a man who could never be yours？ That all seems a small matter； now that the world we know is ing to an end。
Alone in the dark； Sara worried。
Are Dwer and Lark safe？ Or has something dreadful already happened at Gathering？
She felt Prity curl up alongside in her own blanket； sharing warmth。 The hoonish helmsman rumbled a crooning melody； with no words in any language Sara knew； yet conveying a sense of muzzy serenity； endlessly forbearing。
Things work out； the hoonish umble seemed to say。
Sleep finally climbed out of her body's fatigue to claim Sara as she thought…
I。。。 sure。。。 hope。。。 so。
Later； in the middle of the night； a dream yanked her bolt upright； clutching the blanket close。 Her eyes stared over the peaceful river； lit by two moons； but Sara's heart pounded as she quailed from an awful nightmare image。
Flames。
Moonlight flickered on the water； and to her eyes it became fire； licking the Biblos roof…of…stone； blackening it with the heat and soot of half a million burning books。
The Stranger
Unconscious； he is helpless to control dark images roiling across the closed universe of his mind。 It is a tight universe…narrow and confined…yet teeming with stars and confusion。 With galaxies and remorse。 With nebulae and pain。
And water。 Always water…from dense black ice fields all the way to space…clouds so diffuse； you might never know they thronged with beings the size of planets。 Living things as slow and thin as vapor； swimming through a near…vacuum sea。
Sometimes he thinks water will never leave him alone。 Nor will it let him simply die。
He hears it right now； water's insistent music； piercing his delirium。 This time it es to him as a soft lapping sound…the sluicing of wooden boards through gentle liquid； like some vessel bearing him along from a place he can't remember； toward another whose name he'll never learn。 It sounds reassuring； this melody； not like the sucking clutch of that awful swamp； where he had thought he was about to drown at last…
…as he so nearly drowned once； long ago； when the Old Ones forced him； screaming； into a crystal globe they then filled with a fluid that dissolved everything it touched。
…or as he once fought for breath on that green…green…green world whose thick air refused to nourish while he stumbled on and on half…blind toward a fearsome glimmering Jophur tower。
…or the time his body and soul felt pummeled； squeezed； unable even to gasp as he threaded a narrow passage that seemed about to strip him to his spine。。。 before abruptly spilling him into a realm where shining light stretched on and on until…
His mind rebels； quailing from brief； incoherent images。 Fevered； he has no idea which of them are remembered； which are exaggerated； and which his damaged brain simply invented out of the pitchy stuff of nightmare…
…like a starship's vapor contrail （water！） cleaving a blue sky that reminded him of home。
…or the sight of beings like himself （more water！） living on a world where they clearly don't belong。
Amid the chaos of fevered hallucinations； another impression penetrates。 Somehow he knows that it es from beyond his delusion…from someplace real。 It feels like a touch； a stroke of softness on his brow。 A brush； acpanied by murmurs in a voice that soothes。 He can make no sense of the words； but still he weles the sensation； even knowing that it should not be。 Not here。 Not now。
It is a fort； that touch； making him feel just a little less alone。
Eventually； it even pushes back the fearsome images…the memories and dreams…and in time he slips from delirium into a quietude of sleep。
V。 THE BOOK OF THE SEA
When Judgment es； you will be asked about the dead。
What living species； beautiful and unique； exist no more because you squatters chose
a forbidden place to live？
And what of your own dead？
Your corpses； cadavers； and remains？
Your tools and cold…made things？
How have you disposed of them？
Be righteous； sooners of Jijo。
Show how hard you tried。
Make small the consequences of your crime。
＇The offense or living。＇
Felonies…and their punishment…
can be made smaller； by the simple fact
of doing less harm。
…The Scroll of Advice
Alvin's Tale
THE MOUNT GUENN TRAM CLIMBS A STEEP ROUTE from Wuphon Port all the way up to the workshops of Uriel the Smith。 The railway is small and hard to see； even when you're looking for it。 Still； it's allowed by the sages only because it's important for getting Uriel's forgings down to market。 Also； it uses no artificial power。 Water from a hot spring； high up on the mountain； pours into a tank aboard whichever car is waiting at the top station。 Meanwhile； the bottom car's tank is emptied； so it's much lighter； even with passengers aboard。 When the brake is cut； the heavier car starts down； pulling the cable； which in turn hauls the bottom car up。
It sounds gimmicky； but in fact it goes pretty fast and can even get scary for a few seconds in the middle； when the other car seems to be rushing right at you along the same set of slim wooden rails。 Then you reach a split section where that car streaks past in a blur。 What a thrill！
It's a trip of over forty arrowflights； but the water's still near boiling hot in the first car's tank when it reaches bottom…one reason folks like it when Uriel ships her wares down to port on laundry day。
Ur…ronn says one piece of salvaged Buyur cable is what makes it all possible。 A real treasure that can't ever be replaced。
Mount Guenn was behaving itself that day； so there wasn't much ash in the air and I didn't really need my cloak。 Huck wore her goggles anyway； one strapped over each eyebulb； and Pincer still had to spray his red cupola as the air got thinner； and Wuphon turned into a toy village under its blanket of camouflage greenery。 Thick stands of lowland boo soon gave way to hedgerows of multitrunked gorreby trees； followed by tufts of feathery shrubs that got sparser as we climbed。 This was not red…qheuen country。 Still； Pincer was excited over the news from Ur…ronn。
〃You see？ The window's done！ The last big piece we needed for the bathy。 A little more work an' it'll be ready…eady！〃
Huck sniffed disdainfully。 She did a good job of it； too； since that's one of those human gestures you read about that we actually get to see pretty often； whenever Mister Heinz； our local schoolmaster； hears an answer he doesn't like。
〃Great；〃 Huck remarked。 〃Whoever rides the thing can see whatever's about to eat him。〃
I had to laugh。 〃Hrrrm。 So now you admit there might be sea monsters after all？〃
Huck swiveled three stalks toward me in a look of surprise。 It's not often I can catch her like that。
〃I'll admit I'd want more than just a slab of urrish glass between me and whatever's down there； twenty thousand leagues under the sea！〃
I confess being puzzled by her attitude。 This bitterness wasn't like Huck at all。 I tried lightening the mood。
〃Say； I've always wondered。 Has anybody ever figured out exactly how long a league is？〃
Two of her eyes gazed at each other； then back at me with a glint of whimsy。
〃I looked in the dictionary once； but I couldn't fathom the answer。〃
Pincer plained； 〃Look； are you two about to start…〃
I interrupted； 〃If anyone does know the answer； I'd sure like to meter。〃
〃Heh！〃 Huck made a thrumming sound with her spokes。 〃That's assuming you could parsec what she says。〃
〃Hrrrm。 I don't know if I can take this furlong。〃
〃Oh…oh…oh…oh…oh！〃 Pincer plained； feigning agony with all five mouths at once。
That's how we passed the time while climbing into chilly badlands bare of life； and I guess it shows my dad's right about us being humickers。 But GalTwo and GalSix aren't any fun for word games。 You can't pun in them at all！ You