“No.” He gave a shaky Mai smile. “I can imagine it was not very polite.”

“Not very. Enough to ensure 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, de-Etienne. 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 de-Lyra 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, de-Etienne. I have never been there but I know it thrives independent of any ocean-city’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 on-board 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, de-Lyra. 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.

VI

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. Lyra 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 that 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 forget 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 with age instead of lines.

“Only two hundred legats up the Skar,” the oldster declaimed, “lies the place where it is joined by the great Au-rang.”

“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 still mean a radical change in our plans,” he argued. “Lyra, 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 rapid-fire 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 decent-size 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?”