“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 ensure the safety of the boat.”

“Granted that we can, I’m still not sure I’m ready for a three-thousand-meter 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 de-Etienne should have argued more powerfully with his mate, and if that had failed, given her orders. But it would seem that male-female relationships among the off-worlders 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 shiny-skinned 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, de-Lyra. 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.

“Aib 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 ensure 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, de-Lyra.”

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 porter-driven 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?”