“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.
Villages crowded the shores of tiny tree-covered islets. Astonished children barely had time to shout before the hydrofoil had raced past their disbelieving elders. The boat’s scanner picked out fishing craft ahead, enabling Etienne to steer safely around them long before they came into view.
Larger islands appeared as they moved farther Upriver. There the water had receded from the floods sufficient to permit planting of grains and other foodstuffs. Some villagers were engaged in crude but effective aquaculture, from the raising of crustaceans to the gathering of waterfowl. All looked askance at the spirit boat that roared past their homes and scattered birds and amphibians in its wake.
There seemed no end to the villages. According to the initial satellite surveys, the Skatandah Delta was the most densely populated section of Tslamaina, which was why it had been chosen as the site of the first Commonwealth outpost.
As they traveled toward the equator the temperature intensified, if that was possible, and no occasional sea breeze battled the humidity. Despite months of acclimatization, the Redowls spent the majority of their time sequestered in the air-conditioned interior of their craft. Merely to step out on deck risked a shock to the system. Homat and Irquit were right at home on the stern deck, however, and readily exchanged muted comments about the fragility of the human system.
Homat made a game of trying to outguess the scanner, sitting on the bow and staring at the water in search of submerged rocks or other obstacles. He always lost, but the acuity of his eyesight impressed both Etienne and Lyra.
By analyzing the current and the debris the water carried, the hydrofoil’s computer could make a decision on which branch to take, but it was still nice to have Irquit confirm the choice. Without the computer or their guides they could have spent years wandering through the Skatandah in a futile attempt to locate the main course of the Skar.
As the days slid past in superheated study, the Redowls found themselves more and more grateful for the presence of their two passengers. Having completely overcome their fear of the boat, the Mai had revealed themselves as efficient, helpful, and good company. Lyra derived an added benefit from being able to study their reactions to new discoveries, additional information on Mai society which she regularly entered into her scientific log.
They also turned out to be excellent cooks as well as sharp bargainers at the villages where they stopped to purchase supplies, and except for periodic raids on the salt tablet and vitamin stores, the humans’ stock of packaged food remained nearly untouched.
Irquit and Homat didn’t try to hide their delight. Not only were they enjoying themselves, but Lyra knew they must be anticipating the honors that would come their way after they returned home. Their careers were made. She was pleased for both of them.
It was clear that those Mai fortunate enough to make their homes in the delta were more content than their urbanized relations. Government control so far from Po Rabi was lax, food was abundant, and there was little to inspire conflict. The social setup would change, Lyra suspected, once they left the lush Skatandah region behind and emerged into the main channel of the Skar. Farming above the delta would require more effort and extensive irrigation. Competition would be tough, as it was within the city-state boundaries.
