It was not their existence or location that shocked the travelers, but rather the population—Mai and Tsla traders and hunters mingled freely, working side by side with a lack of self-consciousness that was stunning when compared to the uneasy peace maintained by their southern relatives. The need to work together to survive in a harsh land had overwhelmed ancient suspicions and inhibitions. Homat and Tyl were startled as much by the implications as by the reality.
“It bodes well for the future,” Lyra commented. “Maybe when the Mai gain the technology that will enable them to live and work in colder climates and the Tsla the ability to move more freely through the humid river valleys, they’ll discover this living example of racial cooperation waiting up here to show them the way.”
“They cooperate here in order to survive,” Etienne argued. “Without that external pressure, technological advancement may only heighten ancient conflicts, not solve them.”
“You’re such a damn pessimist!” she said angrily.
He shrugged. “I look at things the way they are, not the way I want them to be.”
“And so do I, or are you making one of your frequent criticisms of my objectivity?”
“It’s just that it’s so much easier to be objective about this.” He hefted a sample of dark schist chipped from the riverbank where they had anchored inshore the day before. “On Earth this would be called precambrian or Vishnu schist. It’s much older than its terran equivalent, however. There’s nothing subjective about it.”
“Lucky you.”
“Nobody forced you into xenology. You chose it.”
“I sure did, because it’s a damn sight more exciting and interesting when the subjects of your studies can talk back to you and help you with your research. Better that than a life of drudgery and dirt. My work provides me with new revelations every day.”
“All well and good, so long as you don’t get personally involved with your revelations.” Too late to retract, he thought furiously. Once more his mouth had moved faster than his brain.
She eyed him strangely. “Now what’s that supposed to mean?”
He tried to escape into silence, stared at the rock walls about them. The cliffs on either side of the river were barely a thousand meters above the water now.
“When we first arrived in Turput,” he mumbled, concentrating on his instruments instead of looking at her, “you spent an awful lot of time,” he hesitated over the right word, “meditating with Tyl.”
“It was very instructive,” she replied. “I’m still not following you, Etienne.”
“I thought maybe you were diving a little too deeply into your work.”
“I don’t—” she broke off, gaping at him. Then her expression twisted into a smile. “Well I’ll be damned. You’re jealous of Tyl, aren’t you? Jealous of a primitive mammalian alien.”
“I didn’t say that,” he snapped quickly. “There you are, jumping to conclusions again, seeing things the way you want to see them.”
“Well you can relax, Etienne.” The smile grew wider. “Among the Tsla the length and shape of oversized proboscises are important sexual characteristics, but a flexible shnoz holds no attraction for me whatsoever.”
His head jerked ’round and he stared at her. “I just said you were spending a lot of time with him, I didn’t mean to imply that—you’ve got a dirty mind, Lyra.”
“You mean a dirty husband. Etienne, I can’t believe you. I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.”
“Oh hell,” he muttered, embarrassed to the soles of his feet, “be busy.” Footfalls sounded behind them. “Anyway, our passengers are coming in.”
“So what? They can’t understand terranglo.”
“Don’t be so sure. I’ll give the Tsla this; they’re quick on the uptake. Don’t be too surprised if we learn that they can draw a few inferences from our private conversations, especially when their names are mentioned.”
“Not just a dirty mind, a dirty paranoid mind,” she murmured, but she broke off when Tyl and his companions trundled in.
Homat was sandwiched between two of the porters, a ball of thick cloth and fur among which only eyes and mouth were visible. “I can’t go outside anymore, de-Etienne,” he whimpered. “No more.”
XV 
Days passed and the temperature fell slowly, but outside the hydrofoil the climate was working dramatic changes on the landscape. Though sheets of frozen water hung from the much reduced cliffs, hundreds of fast streams flowed into the Skar.
Homat was squatting in the main cabin behind the cockpit, heavily bundled and warm but far from comfortable.
Etienne had been mulling the problem for several days. Now he spoke to their Mai guide. “Maybe we can fix something up for you, Homat.”
“No matter, de-Etienne. I will not go outside anymore.”
“Lyra, what about trying to fit him with one of your spare thermal suits? You’ve got two backups. You two are about the same height, though you’re much more—”
“Watch it,” she said warningly from her seat.
“—Rubensesque. Homat would swim in a suit, but couldn’t you concoct some kind of strap so that the sensors would stay close enough to his skin to function, and adjust the thermostat for Mai comfort?”
“I’ll see what I can do.” She escorted the nervous Homat down to the lower deck.
Several hours later they reemerged. The thermal suit ballooned around Homat’s arms and legs but she’d managed to secure the fabric around his torso.
“It’s still a little loose. I had a hard time convincing him he couldn’t wear his furs inside because the thermal sensors had to have some skin contact. He finally gave in, but I thought he was going to turn blue before he finally got out of his old attire and into the suit. It wasn’t hard to adjust the circuitry.” She put a hand inside one sleeve, pushing back the elastic material. She drew her fingers back hastily.
“Are you sure you’re okay like this, Homat? It’s hot enough in there to burn.”
Their guide was jubilant. “For the first time in many many days I am truly comfortable,” he replied. “So delighted I am! Thank you, de-Lyra, thank you all much!”
“What about you, Tyl?” Etienne asked the Tsla who rested on the floor behind him. “Will you and the others be able to handle the weather here if it’s necessary to go outside?”
