But it wasn’t the form of the pendant but its material which was causing her to stare. It was carved of a substance she’d never seen before. Not wood, certainly; it looked too smooth, too heavy for that. What, then? Carved bone? Or…

Mixxax seemed to become aware of her gazing at the pendant; with a start, oddly guilty, he masked the device in the palm of his hand and tucked it inside the neck of his jacket, out of sight.

She decided to puzzle over this later. One more mystery among many…

“Dura,” Toba said. His voice sounded a lot better than the distorted croak she’d heard through the walls of the car.

“Thank you for helping us.”

He frowned, his fat cheeks pulling down. “Don’t thank me until we find out if there’s anything to be done. Even if he survives the trip back to Parz, there’s no guarantee I’ll find a doctor to treat an upfluxer like him.”

Upfluxer?

“And even if I do I don’t know how you’re going to pay…”

She dismissed this with a wave of her hand. “Toba Mixxax, I’d rather deal with these mysterious problems when I come to them. For now, we should concentrate on getting Adda into your box… your car.”

He nodded, and grinned. “Yes. And that’s not going to be so easy.”

With a few brisk Waves, and with Mixxax clumsily following, Dura crossed to the little group of Human Beings. Farr’s eyes swiveled between Dura’s face, Mixxax’s hat, and back again; and his mouth gaped like a third, huge eyecup. Dura tried not to smile. “All right, Farr. Don’t stare.”

Philas was cradling Adda’s battered head. Adda turned his blinded face to them. “Clear off, Parz man.” His voice was a bubbling croak.

Mixxax ignored the words and bent over the old man. Dura seemed to see Adda’s wounds through the stranger’s eyes — the splayed right arm, the crushed feet, the imploded chest — and she felt a knife twist in her heart.

Mixxax straightened up. His expression was obscured by his veil. “I was right. It’s not going to be easy, even getting him as far as the car,” he said quietly.

“Then don’t bother,” Adda hissed. “Dura, you bloody fool…”

“Shut up,” Dura said. She tried to think her way through the situation. “Maybe,” she said slowly, “if we could bind him up — tie him closely to splints made out of our spears — it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Yes.” Mixxax looked around. “But those ropes you have, and the nets, would just cut into him.”

“I know.” She looked appraisingly at Mixxax’s clothes. “So maybe…”

After a while, he grasped what she was asking; and with a resigned sigh he started to peel off his trousers and jacket. “Why me?” he muttered, almost too quietly for her to hear.

He wore clothes even under his clothes. His chest, arms and legs were bare, but he wore substantial shorts of leather which covered his crotch and lower stomach. He kept his hat on.

He looked even scrawnier of limb, flabbier of belly, without his clothes. In fact, he looked ridiculous. Dura forbore to comment.

The Human Beings wore simple garments sometimes, of course — ponchos and capes, if the Air blew especially cold. But clothes under clothes?

Adda swore violently as they strapped him — with knotted trouser legs and sleeves — to a makeshift frame of spears. But he was too weak to resist, and within a few minutes he was encased in a cocoon of soft leather, his blind face twisting to and fro as if in search of escape.

Dura and Mixxax, with a scared Philas still cradling Adda’s fragile head, slid Adda’s cocoon carefully into the pig-car. Mixxax climbed in after it and set to work fixing it in place at the rear of the cabin with lengths of rope. Even now, Dura could hear from outside the car, Adda continued to curse his savior.

Dura smiled at Philas, tired. “Old devil.”

Philas did not respond. Her eyes, as she stared at the car, were wide… in fact, Dura slowly realized, her fear now was the strongest emotion the woman had shown since the death of Esk.

Dura reached out and took Philas’s hand. It trembled against her palm, like a small animal. “Philas,” she said carefully. “I need your help.”

Philas turned her face, long, grief-lined, toward Dura.

Dura went on, “I need to return to the Human Beings. To organize another hunt… You see that, don’t you? But someone has to go with Adda, in the car, to this — Parz City.”

Philas almost spat the word. “No.”

“Philas, you must. I…”

“Farr. Send him.”

Dura stared at the woman’s hard, empty-eyed expression; anger and fear radiated out, shocking her. “Farr’s just a kid. You can’t be serious, Philas.”

“Not me.” Philas shook her head stiffly, the muscles of her neck stiff with rage. “I’m not getting in that thing, to be taken away. No. I’d rather die.”

And Dura, despairing, realized that the widow meant it. She tried for some while to persuade Philas, but there was no chink in the younger woman’s resolution.

“All right, Philas.” Problems revolved in her head: the tribe, Farr… Her brother would have to come with her, in the car, of course. Adda had been correct in intuiting that Dura would never be able to relax if Farr were out of her sight for long. She said to Philas, “Here is what you must do.” She squeezed the woman’s hand, hard. “Go back to the Human Beings. Tell them what has happened. That we are safe, and that we’re going to get help for Adda. And we’ll return if we can.”

Philas, her transfixing terror abating, nodded carefully.

“They must hunt again. Tell them that, Philas; try to make them understand. Despite what’s befallen us. Otherwise they’ll starve. Do you understand? You must tell them all this, Philas, and make them hear.”

“I will. I’m sorry, Dura.”

Dura felt an impulse to embrace the woman then; but Philas held herself away. The two women hovered in the Air, unspeaking, awkward, for a few heartbeats.

Dura turned away from Philas to face the door of the car. It was dark in there, like a mouth.

Terror spurted in her, sudden and unexpected. She fought to move forward, to keep from shivering.

She was scared of the car, of Parz City, of the unknown. Of course she was. She wondered now if that fear, lurking darkly at the back of her head, was truly what had impelled her to order Philas to go with Toba, regardless of any other justification. And she wondered if Philas had perceived that, too.

Here was another layer, she thought tiredly, to add to an already overcomplex relationship. Well, maybe that was the nature of life.

Dura turned and climbed slowly into the car; Farr, wordless, meek, followed.

The man from the Pole, much less impressive without his outer garments, watched them climb aboard. The car proved to be cramped with the four of them — plus Adda’s improvised cocoon and an expansive seat for Mixxax before an array of controls. Mixxax pulled off his hat and veil with every expression of relief. He pulled a lever; the heavy door swung outward.

Just before she was sealed away from the forest, Dura called out: “And Philas! Give them our love…”

The door settled into its frame with a dull impact. Mixxax pulled another lever: a hiss, startlingly loud, erupted from the walls around them.

Air flooded the cabin. It was sweet, invigorating, and it filled Dura’s head — but it was, she reminded herself, alien. She found a corner and huddled into it, pulling her knees to her chest.

Mixxax looked around. He seemed puzzled. “Are you all right? You look — ill.”

Dura fought the urge to lunge at him, to batter at the clear panels of wood set in the walls. “Toba Mixxax, we are Human Beings,” she hissed. “We have never, in our lives, been confined inside a box before. Try to understand how it feels.”

Toba seemed baffled. Then he turned away and, looking self-conscious, hauled on reins that passed through the wooden walls.