“Be quiet, Homat.” To his credit the Mai said nothing more, remaining silent alongside his taller companions.

They watched as Lyra slowly passed a small plastic device over Etienne’s side and chest. When she finished and put it aside her expression was grim. Etienne tried to reassure her by smiling, but the pain made it difficult.

“Well … doctor?”

“You’re bleeding internally. I can stop it temporarily. I’m afraid it may be an arterial lesion. I have to stop it, Etienne, or you’ll bleed to death. I wish I knew more surgery.”

“Thank God you don’t,” he whispered. “You’ve spent twenty years messing up my mind. I don’t need you fouling up my insides as well.”

“We’ve got to get you back to Steamer Station where they can fix you properly. You know how good the thranx physicians are.”

“I know. It’s funny when you think that they’re better than human surgeons, them not having any bones and all. How long can you ‘temporarily’ stop the bleeding?”

She didn’t look at him. “I don’t know. The spear went a long way in, Etienne. I can seal the break and stop the bleeding and close you up, but there’s no guarantee it won’t break open again anytime. If it does, I don’t know if your circulatory system will accept another heat patch.

“The computer says you should rest as much as possible. Some medication will help. But you can forget about jumping around boulders and cliff sides or you’ll tear your guts open again.”

“I’ll be a good little boy.” Despite the mild sarcasm his ready acquiescence confirmed the seriousness of the damage. Normally she had to strap him down to get him to take a vitamin pill.

She tried to take his mind off the injury by explaining how the surviving Na had lived long enough to fling the spear.

“We won’t be that careless again,” she finished. “Not that I think we’ve anything more to fear from this particular band. First thing in the morning we’ll start back Downriver. As soon as we get within reception range of the Station we …”

“No,” he said sharply.

“No? No what?”

“No we can’t start home first thing in the morning. We’re not finished.”

“Maybe we aren’t, but you are. We’ve come all the way.”

“Not quite, Lyra. We go on to the end of the river first, then we can turn back. Not before then. I’m not leaving until we reach our last goal. If you try to stop me I’ll throw a tantrum and kill myself.”

“Listen to me closely, Etienne, because I may only be able to say this once,” she said softly. “You are an utterly impossible man. You have no more sense in you than a sponge. You would try the patience of Job, let alone a tired little woman like myself.”

He squeezed her hand tightly. “I love you, too.”

“That’s what I said. Who would I shout at if you weren’t around?”

“I know. A good target is hard to find.”

“I agree.” Angrily she rubbed at the moisture welling up in her eyes. “Which is why I’d like to keep you around for another couple of days or so. My shoulder still hurts. That we can keep joking about. There’s nothing funny about the hole in your ribs.”

“You’re telling me?” He let loose of her hand. “Lyra, you have to do this for me. I’ll be very careful. No climbing, no quarrying. If I can help it I won’t even bend over. Yulour can help me get around, can’t you, Yulour?”

“Yes. Yulour is strong, Teacher. I can carry thee wherever thee wishes to go.”

“Too risky, Etienne. You must let that side heal as best it can.”

“On the way back I promise I’ll stay in the cabin for months. It can heal then. But it would be insane to turn around and head back when we’re only a few hours from the end of our journey. I want those ice samples! We don’t have anything else to compare to them and taking them from the edge of the ice cap won’t mean nearly as much. If you insist, you and Tyl can take the corings and I’ll just watch.” He paused, added quietly, “Besides, if this turns out to be my last expedition I’m damned if I want anything left undone.”

“Don’t talk like that,” she said quietly. “I’ll kill you if you talk like that.”

Somehow he manufactured another smile. “Then we’ll go on?”

“All right. No more than half a day. I don’t want to spend a night in glacial darkness. Whether we come to the hot springs or whatever, we go on for half a day and then we turn around.”

“Fair enough. I wouldn’t want the repellers to fail in here, anyway. And I promise to let you do all the heavy work.”

“You’re so good to me.” Twenty years, she mused. Twenty years of performing in the same play together and they each had their lines down pat.

She prayed she would be allowed to keep acting opposite the same male lead.

XVI

He slept soundly the remainder of the night. Lyra knew because she stayed awake at his bedside monitoring his condition. The computer’s diagnostic program indicated that the internal bleeding had been halted. Getting the arterial wall and surrounding flesh to heal would be a much slower and more difficult process.

The machine assured her of an eighty-five percent probability of survival for her husband, provided that he adhered to all instructions, took his medication and ultrasound treatments regularly, and received proper surgery within six months. There would be no permanent damage except possibly to some torn lemnisci in the area. That would keep him out of any gymnastic competitions. She greeted the evaluation with relief.

They would have to be exceedingly cautious during the return journey. No chances could be taken, no more violent encounters with belligerent life forms, intelligent or otherwise. Her studies among the elders of Turput would have to wait.

One half of a component whole was useless, and it took at least two to make a team.

Exhaustion and darkness finally conspired during the early hours of the morning to send her into a deep sleep. When she awoke it was to discover that most of the morning was gone. He was upset when she woke him for his breakfast but didn’t argue very strenuously. Instead he sought refuge from his discomfort and fear by making delicious wisecracks about her cooking and waiting on him. She enjoyed every criticism.

At Etienne’s insistence Yulour carried him forward and they installed him on a raised pallet so he could see out through the cockpit bubble. Lyra settled herself behind the controls.

The hydrofoil hummed as it lifted above the water. She turned inward and sent the boat toward the black maw that was the rear of the cavern. There was no sign of the night’s attack. The current had mercifully carried off the three bodies Yulour had shoved over the side.

Lyra would have been gratified to learn that her husband’s opinion of the Tsla had risen several notches. Not because of their calm acceptance of their fates or their precocious knowledge of the intricate workings of the mind, but because of the way in which they handled themselves through one crisis after another.

Ice swallowed distance and daylight until the mouth of the cavern had been reduced to a distant dab of white ink. Lyra switched on the hydrofoil’s running lights and fore and aft search beams, bringing gasps of surprise and admiration from Tyl and Homat. From the pilot’s chair she used the two beams to scan the opposite shore. The river continued to narrow beneath them. Fish fled from the intruding illumination.

Surprisingly, the ceiling of the cavern remained far overhead, testament to the length of time the Skar had been flowing. They flew slowly along the winding tunnel beneath millions of tons of permanent, ancient ice.

“Spirits live here,” Homat murmured nervously. “This is the top of the world. Spirits live here.” Beneath the roof of the planet even the thermal suit was hard pressed to keep him warm.

“We should be taking periodic samples from the shore gravel,” Etienne told Lyra.

She eyed him uncertainly. “Think you can handle the controls?”

He grinned. “They’re no heavier than the breakfast you fed me. Yulour, give me a hand up, will you?”

After making sure Etienne wasn’t working in pain, she donned her own thermal suit and a long-handled scoop and went out on deck. She gathered samples for another thirty minutes before she was obliged to scream at him.

“Stop the boat, stop the boat!” Her tone was urgent, not alarmed. He nudged the requisite controls and the whine of the hydrofoil’s repellers died as it settled into a meter of frigid water.

“What is it?” he called toward the speaker membrane in the bubble wall. His first concern was that she had spotted signs of Na, but that didn’t jibe with her attitude. She was standing by the railing, staring off to port.