“Don’t you believe me, de-Etienne?”

“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 de-Lyra 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 city-states where one may make a fine life. In Po Rabi I have little chance to rise above my station. Trae, if the attack on your spirit boat were to succeed I would return home to a fine reward, but in you off-worlders 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 hard-shelled 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. “Now I believe you, Homat.” She added to Etienne in terranglo. “Typical power-wealth 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, Etienne—devoid 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 Four-B 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 fight 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 made up his mind how to handle the Changritites. “But if it comes to that, it’s self-defense. 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 all 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, de-Lyra. 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, de-Lyra.”

“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, de-Lyra, 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 heavy-duty 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 war cries 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, wide-eyed 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.