“No thank you,” Irquit said hastily. “If you do not object we would much prefer to remain outside.” She was staring with wide Mai eyes at the imposing alien structure. “If we are not to depart until tomorrow we can sleep outside, here, on mats.”

“Are you afraid?” Etienne asked thoughtlessly.

Lyra shot him an angry glance, snapped in terranglo, “Don’t you have any empathy for alien psychology? Can’t you see they’re trying to cover their fear gracefully?”

“I only thought that since these two are going to spend the next several months exploring strange country on a strange craft, they ought to start getting used to strangeness as soon as possible.”

“They are not afraid,” the ambassador said. He was picking his words with unusual care, Lyra thought. “There is something else.”

“What something else?” Lyra asked, still upset over her husband’s lack of sensitivity.

Ror de-Kelwhoang looked uncomfortable. “I would rather not say.”

“Don’t worry. We’re scientists, here to study and learn about your ways and your world. We’re just as interested in what you dislike as in what you like.”

De-Kelwhoang did not look in Porlezmozmith’s direction. “It is a question of appearances, you see. We place much value on appearance. There is truth in appearances. It is only that we have certain evil spirits cast in the form of …”

“There is no need for apology.” Porlezmozmith knew where the ambassador’s desperate circumlocutions were heading. “We are used to shape prejudice.” She spoke to the two guides. “Remain by yourselves outside, if it is your wish.”

Strange, Etienne thought. How could the Mai fear the thranx simply because of their shape? Lyra would have told him to read his history.

“We do not mean to give offense,” de-Kelwhoang said quickly.

“None taken,” the commander assured him. “This is something we are used to dealing with. I and my assistants will withdraw. It was a delight to meet you, Ambassador. You and your fellows are welcome anytime at Steamer Station. As are those,” she couldn’t help adding undiplomatically but with ill-concealed enjoyment, “of great Losithi.”

The ambassador stiffened at the mention of Po Rabi’s rival but, good tactician that he was, retained his composure.

“Thank you.”

Porlezmozmith and the rest of the thranx contingent departed, leaving the Redowls alone on the deck with the Mai.

“We wish you much delight and good fortune in your studies,” de-Kelwhoang said earnestly. He did not look at the two guides. “We of Po Rabi hold scholarship in high regard, unlike the rulers of certain other city-states. We hope you may see your way clear to sharing your knowledge with us after you return.”

“That is our intention,” Lyra told him. “This is your world and we are guests upon it, and we are thankful for your assistance.” She performed a gesture indicating great appreciation.

Reassured, de-Kelwhoang turned and walked slowly down the stairway ramp. Waiting hands helped him back into the boat. On command the oarsmen dipped their paddles and pushed away from the support pillar where they had tied up. The Redowls watched for a while as the boat turned eastward. Then their attention shifted to their unexpected guests. Homat and Irquit waited patiently, their small bundles of cooking utensils and personal effects looking humble indeed.

“You’re sure you want to sleep out here?”

“Please, de-Lyra,” said Irquit, “we would feel more comfortable and would be out of everyone’s way.” She ventured the Mai smile, a thin parting of the lips that barely revealed the small fine teeth beyond. The corners of the mouth did not turn up.

“As you prefer.”

“When are we to leave? We have heard so much of your wondrous boat and are most anxious to begin this great adventure with you.”

Homat smiled too but said nothing. Not the loquacious type, Etienne decided. Not that it mattered. The two Mai weren’t coming along to provide casual conversation.

“Tomorrow morning,” he informed them. “We’re almost ready and it’ll take just a few minutes to put our boat in the water.”

Irquit looked puzzled. “It is not in the water now?”

“No. It waits suspended by,” he tried to shape his thicker lips and less bulbous cheeks to form the correct expression, “you’ll see tomorrow. Showing is better than talking.”

“Yes, better than talking,” Irquit agreed. She looked nervously toward the dark building beyond, abode of grotesque bug-things. “We will be left alone out here?”

“Yes.” Lyra assured her. “Though our friends are used to a life beneath the ground and have a more flexible work-sleep cycle than we do, they still prefer to sleep during the hours of darkness. No one will disturb you out here and you won’t be in the way.”

Irquit smiled again. “I am much delighted that we are going with you.”

“And we are much delighted to have you along,” Lyra replied. “We’ll see you again in the morning.”

“Come morning.” The two females exchanged the palm-to-palm caress a second time, though Lyra was convinced she’d never be able to compensate properly for the lack of a sixth digit.

IV

The sun was barely aloft as the hydrofoil was lowered into the calm water beneath the station. The readout that indicated air temperature clung desperately to the hundred-degree mark, and there was no chance it would drop any lower. The Mai stood at the base of the loading ramp which had been dropped to the boat’s stern deck, looking chilled and uncomfortable.

Afire with excitement that had been lost during months of waiting, the Redowls ignored them. When the last supplies had been taken aboard and stowed, they thought to offer moral assistance to their suddenly reluctant passengers.

Homat and Irquit boarded warily, eyes darting anxiously about in search of sails and oars. When Etienne tested the engine, both dashed for the rail and clung tightly to the unyielding metal.

Lyra wiped morning sweat from beneath her sun visor and tried to comfort them. “It’s all right, it’s only our engine. The device that moves the boat. It’s loud, but harmless. The spirits within are fully contained.”

“There are no sails,” Irquit observed cautiously.

“Or oarsmen,” Homat added.

“No, there aren’t. We move by taking water in at the front of our craft and pushing it out the back much faster than we take it in.”

“What pushes the water?” Irquit asked, slowly releasing her grasp on the railing; it was undignified. Homat continued to hang on tightly.

“Our engine. It would take a long time to explain. Maybe once we’re on our way I’ll try.” She left Irquit with a reassuring smile and descended the ladder to the upper cabin.

“De-Lyra, I am fearful!” Irquit gave Homat a disapproving look, but Lyra paused and eyed him pityingly.

“All right then, come on inside. But you won’t like it.”

Homat followed her, Irquit tagging along because she didn’t want to miss anything. Once below, the truth of Lyra’s words became immediately apparent. At a cabin temperature of eighty degrees, both Mai found themselves shivering.

Etienne greeted them in the transparent bubble of the cockpit, left explanations to Lyra. Though she used simple terms and kept her science as basic as possible, it soon became clear that such concepts as electricity and light-emitting diodes were beyond the comprehension of their guests.

Before long Homat confessed, “I think I would rather be fearful than frozen,” and he led the retreat back toward the stern.

Once outside he hopped around for a few minutes until his system warmed, then busied himself arranging personal effects on the deck. The Mai would sleep where they cooked, away from the terrible arctic climate their hosts appeared to favor.

Reassurances and explanations notwithstanding, it took Lyra another hour of quiet coaxing to convince them that the boat wasn’t going to devour them if they let loose of the rail when Etienne raced the engine and sent the hydrofoil leaping forward. She showed them how the boat lifted clear of the surface on its twin metal blades, explained how that enabled them to move Upriver at seventy kilometers an hour.

As time passed and the smoothness and exhilaration of the ride overcame initial fears, both Mai not only relaxed but began to enjoy the journey, though from time to time Homat made signs designed to keep them from striking a submerged log or drifting helplessly toward the clouds.