Jory shrugged. “It was one of those times we weren’t … available. Cafferty and Latibor couldn’t reach us. We didn’t even know they’d had a child—it wasn’t the smartest thing to have done, under the circumstances.”
“It wasn’t,” agreed Cafferty. “The threat to Danivon happened very suddenly. We did what we thought was best.”
“And it all worked out,” said Asner. “Sometimes things do work out.”
The sailors came down the plank, carrying the last of their baggage. Those ashore scarcely had time to say farewell before the ship had pushed off again and was out in midriver, moving downstream, the men at the sweeps crying their ceaseless “Hauu-lah, hauu-lah.”
“It seems I am to stay awhile,” Curvis muttered.
“As our guest,” said Jory. “Come, be our guest. Everyone be our guest.”
“Do I have a choice?” He stared around him, at the great trees—larger than any he had seen heretofore on Elsewhere—at the simple tile-roofed buildings clustered beneath them, at the grassy slope stretching up to a summit crowned with other structures: temples, perhaps, or monuments. The acropolis had a certain formality about it, a reasoned arrangement that spoke of ritual purposes: flights of wide stairs, pillars, porticos, and domes, each calling to each in a simplicity of completion. Above the building rose trees even larger than those at the riverside, looming giants whose enormous branches stretched over the structures like verdant clouds.
A human person came from the shade of these trees and moved rapidly down the hill toward them.
“What is that?” Curvis gestured toward the buildings on the hilltop.
“That is their center of government,” said Jory. “Such as it is.”
“Ah. Then I suggest we go there now and arrange for reinforcements to be sent to the aid of Danivon and Zasper.”
Jory shook her head slowly, ruefully. “You may ask, if you like, but it will do no good.”
“You mean they’re unfriendly?”
“They’re not at all unfriendly. They just won’t intervene in anything beyond the wall.”
Curvis considered this. Though he couldn’t find it in himself to care greatly about Zasper or Fringe or the twins, he cared a good deal about Danivon.
“I was a fool to let him go with the old man. I should have gone with him!” He turned a suspicious face on the surrounding crowd, receiving untroubled glances in return. It was obvious these people felt no awe for Enforcers, and this merely added to his irritation. “I’ll go to these Arbai and demand …”
The person, reaching the bottom of the hill, came toward them, hugged Jory briefly, then whispered rapidly into her ear.
Jory sighed. “It seems the Arbai are aware of your intent, Curvis, and they wish to forestall it. The current deciders are sending us a formal message.”
“Current deciders?” asked Curvis.
Jory said, “They are not a numerous people, and each of them takes a turn at the duty of deciding things. They’ll send one of our people as messenger.”
“What’s to keep us from going to them?”
“The fact they’ve told us to await a message. It means they don’t want to talk to us. Maybe they’re tired of hearing about it. Or possibly they’re annoyed with me.”
“Because of Thrasis,” said Asner. “Well, you knew they would be. You pushed the limits there, Jory.”
She shrugged, again with that rueful smile. “No doubt. Well, I think Asner and I will go home. You’re welcome to come with us.” She led the way across the open riverside into the trees, through the narrow neck of woodland, and out onto an open meadow where a small brown house crouched low to the ground. It seemed too small to house them all, but as they came closer, they saw a long wing extending from the far side.
“You’ll find rooms in the guest wing,” said Jory. “You, Curvis. And Cafferty and Latibor, and Alouez, of course.”
“In the guest wing,” said Cafferty with a glance at Latibor. “Of course.”
They went in through an open door, across wide-planked floors strewn with woven rugs, through the door in the corner and down a shining corridor where doors stood open into rooms for each of them, as though the house had known how many guests to prepare for.
“We’ll have lunch when you’re ready,” Jory called after them. “Have a wash, or a rest.”
Obediently, they went into their rooms. Curvis paused in the room only long enough to note that it held a bed large enough for even his giant frame. He dropped his baggage and went out the window, telling himself he would not be penned up in any structure until he knew what lay around it, how it could be defended, and how attacked.
Horses raised their heads and whickered at him as he passed, then went back to grazing. Behind the house a small building was home to the flock of birds that clucked and muttered, pecking at invisibilities in the soil. A little farther back, at the top of the rounded hill, he found two carved stones.
He read the inscriptions: “Jory, born Marjorie Westriding, Planet Earth, Sol system, twenty-second century of the common era. Master of the Hunt. Far-traveler. Prophetess emeritus.”
“Asner, born Samasnier Girat, Planet Ahabar, Bogar system, thirty-seventh century of the common era. Myth-eater. Missionary. Fellow far-traveler. Retired.”
Almost four thousand years had elapsed since Jory’s century and the current one. During most of that time she must have been in stasis between Doors. Like the twins. And Asner too. Curvis ran his fingers across the stones. He had seen such monuments before, prepared by old folks or their families, so the old ones could be assured of their own memorials. It was custom in a dozen provinces he knew of.
He returned to find food set out on a terrace-cum-porch, where Jory rocked slowly in her chair, a large black-and-white cat in her lap and a clutter of kittens at her feet.
Later they all went with Cafferty to pick fruit from the tiny orchard and sat eating it on the sun-warmed wall of the terrace.
