“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, de-Etienne, 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 note-taking. “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, de-Lyra, 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 de-Etienne 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 barter 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 wide-eyed 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.

“I—I must talk with you, de-Etienne.”

“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, de-Etienne. You and de-Lyra 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, de-Etienne. 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 de-Lyra 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. “Mai-with-Hair, remember that what I am about to tell you is worth my life—Irquit 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, de-Etienne, 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, de-Etienne,” Homat replied somberly. “Tell me: on those other worlds did she ever encounter any assassins?”

V

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 impossible-to-understand spirits, de-Etienne, but it seems to me not so difficult to command them.”

“Operation is highly simplified for users not technically oriented, yes.”