Muub, disturbed, reached out and grasped Hork’s fat-laden shoulder; he felt the tension in Hork’s massive muscles. “Sir, this is nonsense. The commoners know nothing. You must not…”

“Rubbish, Muub.” Again that wild look; but Muub, daring, kept his hand in place. “Everyone knows all about the Xeelee, it seems, even after all this time. So much for generations of suppression since the Reformation, eh? These superstitions are like weeds in my father’s fields, I’m starting to think. It’s the same with the damn Wheel cult — no matter how many of the bastards you Break, they keep coming back for more. Quite ineradicable. Even within the Court itself, Muub! Can you believe that?”

Muub felt himself stiffen. “Sir, a great disaster has befallen us. We must deal with the consequences of the Glitch. We cannot pay attention to the gossiping of ignorant folk. And…”

“Don’t tell me my duties, Muub,” Hork said. “Of course I have to deal with the impact of this Glitch. But I cannot ignore what has been seen, Physician.” Hork’s round face was stern, determined. “A huge ship, penetrating the Crust from the spaces beyond the Star. And appearing to fire some kind of weapon, a spear made of light, into the Quantum Sea. Muub, what if the ship is causing the Glitches? What then? Where would my duty lie?”

Muub pulled away from Hork. Despite his exhaustion and shock, he felt a thrill of awe run through him, deep and primitive. Hork was planning to challenge the Xeelee themselves.

“Now that my father’s gone the Court will be a nest of intrigues. In the chaos of this disaster, perhaps there’ll even be an assassination attempt… and I don’t have time to deal with any of it. We have to find a way to combat the threat of the Xeelee. We need knowledge, Muub; we need to understand the enemy before we can fight them.”

Muub frowned. “But so many generations after the Reformation our knowledge of the Xeelee mythos has been relegated to fragments of legend. I could consult scholars in the University, perhaps…”

Hork shook his heavy head. “All the books were fed into Harbor hoppers generations ago… And the heads of those ‘scholars’ are as empty as they are shaved of hair.”

Muub forced himself not to run a self-conscious hand over his own bare scalp.

“Muub, we have to think wider. Beyond the City, even. What about those weird upfluxers you told me about? The old man and his companions… curiosities from the wild. The upfluxers are Xeelee cultists, aren’t they? Maybe they could tell us something; maybe they have preserved the knowledge we have foolishly destroyed.”

“Perhaps,” Muub said dutifully.

“Bring them to Parz, Muub.” Hork glanced down at his father. “But first,” he said quietly, “you must attend to your patients.”

“Yes. I… excuse me, sir.”

Gathering his strength, Muub Waved away from the grisly little tableau and returned to his work.

Dura glided to a halt against the soft resistance of the Magfield. She let her limbs rest, loose, against the field; they ached after so many days’ Waving from the ruined ceiling-farm.

She stared around at the empty, yellow-gold sky. The Quantum Sea was a concave bruise far below her, and the new vortex lines arced around her, clean and undisturbed. It was as if the recent Glitch had never happened; the Star, having expelled its excess energy and angular momentum, had restored itself with astonishing speed.

It was a shame, Dura thought, that humans couldn’t do the same.

She sniffed the Air, trying to judge the spacing of the vortex lines, the depth of redness of the distant South Pole. This must be about the right latitude; surely the sky had looked much like this at the site of the Human Beings’ encampment. She dug her hand into the sack tied to the rope at her waist. The sack, massive and awkwardly full of bread when she had started this trek, was now depressingly easy to carry. She pulled out a small fistful of the sweet, belly-filling bread and began to chew. She could surely be no more than a centimeter or so from the Human Beings’ site; she ought to be able to see them by now. Unless they’d moved on, of course — or, she thought, her heart heavy, unless they’d been destroyed by the Glitch. But even so she’d surely find their artifacts, scattered here — or their bodies. And…

“Dura! Dura!”

The voice came from somewhere above her, toward the Crust-forest. Dura flipped back in the Air and peered upward. It was difficult to pick out movement against the misty, complex texture of the forest, but — there! A man, young, slim, naked, Waving alone — no, she saw, something was accompanying him: a slim, small form which buzzed around his legs as he Waved down toward her. She squinted. An Air-piglet? No, she quickly realized; it was a child, a human infant.

She surged through the Air, up toward the forest; she was still aware of the fatigue in her legs, but that felt distant, unimportant now.

The two adults came to a halt in the Air, perhaps a mansheight apart; the infant, no more than a few months old, clung to the man’s legs while the adults studied each other with an odd wariness. The man — no more than a boy himself, really — smiled cautiously. There seemed to be no fat in his face at all, and there were streaks of premature yellow in his hair; when he smiled his eyecups seemed huge, his teeth prominent. Under the superficial changes, wrought by hunger and fatigue, this face was as familiar as her own body, a face she had known for half her life. After the thousands of strangers to whom she’d been exposed in Parz, and later at the ceiling-farm, Dura found herself staring at this face as if rediscovering her own identity. It felt as if she’d never been away from the Human Beings, and she wanted to drink in this familiarity.

“Dura? We never thought we’d see you again.”

It was Mur, husband of Dia. And this must be Jai, the boy whom Dura had helped deliver, just after the Glitch which killed her father.

She moved toward Mur and folded him in her arms. The bones in Mur’s back were sharp under her fingers, and his skin was filthy, slick with fragments of Crust-tree leaves. The baby at his leg mewled, and she reached down an absent hand to stroke his head.

“We thought you must be dead. Lost. It’s been so long.”

“No.” Dura forced herself to smile. “I’ll tell you all about it. Farr and Adda are both well, though far from here.” She studied Mur more carefully now, trying to sort out the flood of her initial impressions. The signs of hunger, of poor living, were obvious. She ran her hand over the little boy’s scalp. Through the sparsely haired flesh she could feel the bones of the skull, the plates not yet locked together. The child was pawing at her bag now, his tiny fingers poking at the lumps of food contained there. Mur made to pull the infant away, but Dura pulled out a handful of bread, crumbled it, and presented it to the child. Jai grasped the bread fragments with both hands and shoved them into his mouth; his jaw scraped across his open hands, raking in bread, his eyes unseeing as he fed.

“What’s that?”

“Bread. Food… I’ll explain it all. Mur, what’s happening here?”

“We are — fewer.” His gaze shifted from her face, and he glanced down at his feeding son, as if in search of distraction. “The last Glitch…”

“The others?”

The child had finished the bread already. He reached up his hands wordlessly to Dura, imploring more; she could see the fragment he’d devoured as a distinct bulge, high in his empty stomach.

Mur pulled the child away from Dura, soothing him. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll take you to them.”

The Human Beings had established a crude camp in the fringes of the Crust-forest itself. The Air here was thin, unsatisfying in Dura’s lungs, and the Quantum Sea curved away from her, far below. Ropes had been slung between branches of the trees, and garments, half-finished tools and scraps of food were suspended from the ropes. Dura touched one of the bits of food gingerly. It was Air-pig flesh, so old it was tough and leathery between her fingertips. The tree-branches for some distance around had been stripped of leaves and bark, revealing how the people had been feeding.