skins of wine before hoisting the pack to her back. Reiho tugged at the ropes, tying them across her chest. The pack felt heavier than she had expected. She hesitated, then tucked her knife into her belt.
"Are you sure you should go alone?" Reiho asked. "I could take you there in a shuttle."
"The walk will do me good." She went to Daiya and kissed her aunt on the cheek. Reiho could never give the woman a child of her own, and perhaps Chal would now fill the gap Anra would leave in her aunt's life.
"Don't stay away too long," Daiya said. "If you need us, call to us through the Minds."
She walked south through a field of wheat, not wanting to pass near Cerwen's grave. Light glowed at the edge of the field. A large tent had been pitched; shadows flitted along its sides. Near the tent, three shuttlecraft stood in a row; only two had been there yesterday. She was about to turn east, toward the mountains, when the tent flap was lifted.
"Anra!" Jerod called out. The bald man had shed his silver suit and wore only a white loincloth and belt; a bracelet of colored gems glittered on his wrist. "Do come in. An old friend of yours has returned." He spoke in the skydwellers' slurred, melodic tongue, giving each word a lilting flourish.
She was about to refuse, then changed her mind. Jerod, at least, would not probe her mind. Even the skydwellers who had visited Earth frequently kept most of their thoughts to themselves.
Jerod held the flap open as she entered, then let it fall. Anra slipped off her pack, dropping it to the ground. The tent was filled with a soft, rosy light. Two women and a man were reclining on red cushions; a silver platform in front of them held crystal flagons and silver bowls filled with various foods.
At least they were not dreaming. Anra hated to see skydwellers dreaming, losing themselves in the vivid images and sensations provided by their links. She had once asked Homesmind why It allowed such dreaming, and It had argued that dreaming was no worse than wine or games. At any rate, the cometdwellers' Mind had little to say about the matter; Its people had created It and their directives had been built into Homesmind. The skydwellers' lives were so peaceful and pleasant that their escapes into dreams were only intermittent, but Anra had wondered what they might do if life became harder and more uncertain; dreaming might tempt them more then. One might lose a lifetime in a dream.
Jerod's three friends were wearing their protective silver suits, which clung to their bodies like skin; they were not as reckless as he. Anra gazed toward one corner; another woman sat there with a flat, rectangular reader on her lap.
The woman looked up and smiled. "Anra?" Her voice sounded uncertain. "You've grown." She drew her thin brows together. "Don't you remember me?"
"Of course I do, Etey." Anra was about to walk toward the woman, then halted, suddenly conscious of her worn, soiled tunic, her frayed pants, and the odors of dirt and sweat that still clung to her.
Etey rose and went to the group, settling herself on one cushion. "Sit down," she said, patting the cushion next to her. "You used to be such a chubby child, and now you're so slender. I thought you might be stocky, like your aunts." She said the last word in Earth's language, having no such expression in her own tongue.
Anra sat down. The blond woman next to Jerod wrinkled her nose.
Etey had not changed. Her short, frizzy red hair barely covered her skull; her brown, perfect face was unlined. Only her dark, tilted eyes betrayed her age; they were ancient eyes that gazed out calmly at the world.
"Etey would have come to see you immediately after her arrival," Jerod said as he draped an arm over his knee, "but she is in the process of readapting."
"You were away a long time," Anra said to Etey in the skydwellers' tongue. Her speech seemed dull and flat. Skydwellers often seemed to play with their words; one word, in their mouths, often seemed to mean many
"Are you sure you should go alone?" Reiho asked. "I could take you there in a shuttle."
"The walk will do me good." She went to Daiya and kissed her aunt on the cheek. Reiho could never give the woman a child of her own, and perhaps Chal would now fill the gap Anra would leave in her aunt's life.
"Don't stay away too long," Daiya said. "If you need us, call to us through the Minds."
She walked south through a field of wheat, not wanting to pass near Cerwen's grave. Light glowed at the edge of the field. A large tent had been pitched; shadows flitted along its sides. Near the tent, three shuttlecraft stood in a row; only two had been there yesterday. She was about to turn east, toward the mountains, when the tent flap was lifted.
"Anra!" Jerod called out. The bald man had shed his silver suit and wore only a white loincloth and belt; a bracelet of colored gems glittered on his wrist. "Do come in. An old friend of yours has returned." He spoke in the skydwellers' slurred, melodic tongue, giving each word a lilting flourish.
She was about to refuse, then changed her mind. Jerod, at least, would not probe her mind. Even the skydwellers who had visited Earth frequently kept most of their thoughts to themselves.
Jerod held the flap open as she entered, then let it fall. Anra slipped off her pack, dropping it to the ground. The tent was filled with a soft, rosy light. Two women and a man were reclining on red cushions; a silver platform in front of them held crystal flagons and silver bowls filled with various foods.
At least they were not dreaming. Anra hated to see skydwellers dreaming, losing themselves in the vivid images and sensations provided by their links. She had once asked Homesmind why It allowed such dreaming, and It had argued that dreaming was no worse than wine or games. At any rate, the cometdwellers' Mind had little to say about the matter; Its people had created It and their directives had been built into Homesmind. The skydwellers' lives were so peaceful and pleasant that their escapes into dreams were only intermittent, but Anra had wondered what they might do if life became harder and more uncertain; dreaming might tempt them more then. One might lose a lifetime in a dream.
Jerod's three friends were wearing their protective silver suits, which clung to their bodies like skin; they were not as reckless as he. Anra gazed toward one corner; another woman sat there with a flat, rectangular reader on her lap.
The woman looked up and smiled. "Anra?" Her voice sounded uncertain. "You've grown." She drew her thin brows together. "Don't you remember me?"
"Of course I do, Etey." Anra was about to walk toward the woman, then halted, suddenly conscious of her worn, soiled tunic, her frayed pants, and the odors of dirt and sweat that still clung to her.
Etey rose and went to the group, settling herself on one cushion. "Sit down," she said, patting the cushion next to her. "You used to be such a chubby child, and now you're so slender. I thought you might be stocky, like your aunts." She said the last word in Earth's language, having no such expression in her own tongue.
Anra sat down. The blond woman next to Jerod wrinkled her nose.
Etey had not changed. Her short, frizzy red hair barely covered her skull; her brown, perfect face was unlined. Only her dark, tilted eyes betrayed her age; they were ancient eyes that gazed out calmly at the world.
"Etey would have come to see you immediately after her arrival," Jerod said as he draped an arm over his knee, "but she is in the process of readapting."
"You were away a long time," Anra said to Etey in the skydwellers' tongue. Her speech seemed dull and flat. Skydwellers often seemed to play with their words; one word, in their mouths, often seemed to mean many
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