Wend crawled gingerly through the cabin door. Her feet were wingless, her eyes and mouth wide in terror. She saw Booce, gathered herself, and leapt toward him, into the sky.

The water tank ruptured.

Booce saw Wend blown outward in a wind of live steam laced with boiling water. He flapped to catch her, hearing his own howl. She was flying past him. He stretched impossibly and caught her bare ankle, and felt the scalded skin slide loose beneath his hand.

There were comforting hands on Booce, on his shoulders and arm and ankle, for touching was the way of Citizens Tree. Rather hung back, uncertain, reluctant to take such liberties. Booce was a mature adult.

Where was Carlot?

Booce was hoarse, for he had been shouting, howling; but he sounded almost calm now. “Everything’s blurred after that…Lawri the Scientist was feeding me foliage and I couldn’t remember anything. It all came back a bit at a time.”

Rather eased away from the cookfire and flew toward Voy. Behind him Booce was speaking mostly to Debby, who was rubbing his temples.

“It never happened before…not to us. Sometimes a logging concern just disappears. We wonder why. We never find out. For Ryllin, for the girls, I should give it up. But logging’s all I know…”

The memories must have been too much for Carlot. If she wanted to hide…a crack in the bark? Bark walls would muffle the agony in her father’s voice. She might have gone in any direction…but the cracks ran out and in. Try in.

Rather coasted above the bark. He didn’t mind being seen. She’d have kept going until she couldn’t hear the words.

“Go away.”

He somersaulted and kicked air to stop himself. “Carlot?”

No answer. It had come from his left, from the north. There: scarlet showed in a crack. He said, “I wouldn’t have found you if you’d kept your mouth shut.”

She was pulled into herself, like the shellbirds around the ice pond. Her wings were on her back. He fluttered into the crack beside her but didn’t touch her. “It must have been bad.”

“It was bad.”

He tried again. “Want a hug?”

“I want Wend back.”

“You have to learn to think of her as a lost one.”

“She was fifteen!”

(“She wasn’t even two!” Jill had wailed after a sister sickened and died. Ilsa had hugged her daughter frequently. When Ilsa died at thirty-one, it had been no better for Jill.)

(Age didn’t matter. Touching helped.) Rather worked his fingers into her hair and began a scalp massage. She didn’t move. He said, “I’ve had brothers and sisters die. We all have. You forget.”

She’d removed her sleeves after the fluff died. The skin of her arms was smooth and richly dark, and she suddenly wriggled about and had him in a deathgrip.

Rotating, they drifted in the sky. Rather still wore his wings; his instincts told him to return to the tree. He held her.

She wasn’t sobbing. Presently she pulled her chin off his shoulder and kissed him.

He asked, “Better?”

“Yes. I don’t want to go back.”

“Will you be all right here? Shall I stay?” Half a dozen finger cacti drifted east, less than a klomter distant. A windborne finger cactus could be lethal. These were only drifting, and drifting away at that…but you never stopped looking for danger.

Carlot hadn’t answered. He said, “Your father might get upset if we stay here too long—”

“Father’s made mistakes before.”

“He tells you who to make babies with, though. Mishael had to ask, and she’s older than you.”

“Do you want to go?”

“…No.”

“I thought hard before I took my clothes off in front of you.”

He remembered swimming in the waterfall, and laughed. “I noticed. But Booce was there.”

She freed him, and all the muscles in his body jumped. Loose in the sky! But he had wings. Carlot drifted, rotating away from him…donning her wings? No: she pulled her tunic over her head, then rolled her pants off and balled them up together.

He looked. Now she was tying her wings to her ankles. Her clothes too. Nudity was not strange to him, but this was different. Carlot was long, one and a half times his own height. Her breasts were perfect cones, an abrupt break in the long smooth stretch of her torso. Rather resisted the urge to touch her. He spoke hurriedly, before he could lose that fight. “Now, what would happen if we really did make a baby? Could you still marry anyone you want to?”

She said, “It’s all right. We just have to watch what time we do this.”

“Yeah?” Rather had never heard anything about how not to make a baby. “When can you do it?”

“Now.”

“I’ve never done this before.” He swam toward her.

“I’ll show you. Take these off.”

Chapter Ten

Secrets

from the Citizens Tree cassettes, year 31 SM:

RATHER WOKE BECAUSE HIS EYES BURNED.

They were filled with tears. Blinking did no good. The tears were under his eyelids, filling them. The pain had him whimpering. He tried lifting his eyelids with his fingertips to let the water out. That hurt. Mopping his eyes with his tunic brought agony. He couldn’t see!

“Carlot?” He remembered that she wasn’t with him. They had not returned to the cookfire until all were asleep except Debby, on watch. She had winked at them… they had separated…

Sleep, then daggers in the eyes. He would not have wanted Carlot to see him like this. But he was alone, and blind!

“Clave? Debby? Anyone?”

Rather could feel bark surrounding him. Yell again?

He’d yelled when the silver suit’s jets gave out. The memory embarrassed him. He’d had gritty eyes before, when he was tired…but not like this! “Someone help me! I can’t see!”

“Rather?”

“Debby? My eyes are on fire and I don’t know why!”

Her hands were cool and rough on his cheeks. “Open them.”

“I can’t…” He got them open, just a slit for just a moment. The light was agony.

“They’re bright red. I’ll get Clave. Don’t loose your tether.”

“No way!”

The pain grew no worse and no better. It was a long time before he heard voices.

“Rather?”

“Clave! What’s wrong with me?”

Long fingers held his head still; thumbs lifted his eyelids. “You’re not blind. You’re not dying either. It’s an allergy attack. Your father used to get this way when Dalton-Quinn Tree was dying of the drought. We were too far in toward Voy. Dry, thin air and not enough sleep.”

“What do I do?”

“Gavving mostly suffered. In half a day he’d be over it. Don’t rub your eyes. Let me think.”

It seemed to hurt less now that he knew it would go away. It hadn’t killed Gavving. And if they both had the same allergy, then — He’s really my father! I should tell him! Mother too…and Mark? But the pain was more urgent. “Clave, if this happens when I don’t sleep, and I can’t sleep because it hurts too much…Clave?”

His line went slack. “I’ve thought of something. Just relax. I’ll tow you.”

“Kendy for the State—”

“Kendy? Treefodder! It’s been a long time.”

“That’s not my fault, Jeffer. Every time our orbits have matched, there has been someone else in the CARM. Where are they now? I don’t find them outside either.”