The cave entrance was the other way, a narrow slit facing west where a red fire of sun hung above a glistening sea. The cave entrance was midway up a sheer drop of stone that ended below us in a tree-edged clearing with a road running across it and upward to the right.
“Without wings, we won’t get much farther,” said Gloriana.
“That’s what the rope’s for,” Bamber Joy explained. “Though I don’t know how the Gibbekot knew about it.”
Falija said, “They probably use this way-gate all the time. We have people here on Thairy.”
“Of course,” I said, in a falsely pleased voice. “Isn’t it nice to have one thing make some sense!”
“Tie the rope to that rock pillar,” Falija directed. “We can lower Grandma and Mar-agern, then we’ll knot the rope so Glory and Bamber can climb down.”
“I do not need to be lowered,” said Mar-agern, rather offended. “I can climb down the rope.”
“Well then, you can help the children lower me,” I said crisply. “I do need lowering.”
When all of us but Falija had reached the clearing, she untied the rope and leapt from one invisible foothold to another, joining Bamber and Glory, who had already penetrated the thin line of trees at the edge of the clearing to look down another precipice to the sea.
“Town down there,” cried Glory. “Looks like the road goes all the way down.”
Falija was staring longingly at the upward road, as though trying to find some excuse to go in that direction. Her people, at least her kind of people, were up there, but I could tell she was being urged away from them just as she had been on Fajnard. With a tiny whine of frustration, she turned toward the downward road. I put my hand on the little person’s shoulder. “You must be as confused as we are.”
“It would be nice to rest,” Falija said. “It would be nicer to talk to someone who really knows what’s happening.”
“Perhaps no one knows, and we have to figure it out for ourselves. At the moment, I’m thankful there’s a town down there. Maybe we can sleep in beds tonight.”
“If the people there are hospitable,” said Mar-agern. “I haven’t any money. We don’t even know what’s used for money here.”
I exchanged glances with Gloriana, who felt for the money bag in the lining of her jacket, and said, “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
The road rose to a shallow crest, and from there went steadily downward in an easy, curving, unwearying slope that turned sharply to the right at the bottom. From there it went only a short, straight distance toward a pair of open gates guarded by uniformed young men, stiff as broom handles. Nearby stood a cluster of older people, three men and two women, talking among themselves.
As we came closer we heard one of the women crying out, “Look there.” She was pointing upward along the coast at a far-off speck against the now-crimson clouds. “That must be Ferni’s flier! He’ll be here very soon, Naumi.”
“Now me?” I said. “Naumi? Wasn’t that what we called…”
Mar-agern nodded. “I remember. It was indeed.”
The two of us walked toward the group, I called out, “Naumi! Is that your name?”
The person I was hailing turned with a polite smile and froze, as though he were seeing a ghost. “My name is Naumi Rastarong.” He paused, swallowed. “And yours and your sister’s, ma’am?”
“Margaret,” I said. “This is Mar-agern.”
“Are we related in some way?” Naumi asked.
One of his friends came up beside him, and Naumi said, “Caspor, they look like family, don’t they?”
Caspor said, “I could work up the odds on their not being, but the resemblance is astonishing. That dip in the upper lip, and the slant of the eyebrows!”
“And their noses,” said another friend. “Even the same color eyes!”
Naumi said, “Jaker, let’s introduce you four. Flek, Jaker, Caspor, Poul.”
We all nodded somewhat distractedly at the two men and two women, and I asked, “Do you remember coming from Earth?”
Naumi cocked his head, obviously wondering at this. “No. As a matter of fact, my earliest memories start at about age twelve, when I survived some kind of accident and was put in the care of my foster father, here on Thairy.”
“Age twelve,” said Mar-agern. “When the proctor came.”
“And nothing happened,” I replied, “but I…that is, we always felt something had.”
“Maybe something did happen,” Falija offered, “and you just didn’t know about it.” She looked up to find five pairs of eyes staring at her as though she had grown another head. “Did I say something odd?” she asked.
Flek stammered, “It’s just…we’ve never seen…we thought you were…I mean…”
“They thought you were somebody’s pet,” said Gloriana indignantly. “This is Falija, our guide. Her people are called the Gibbekot. A great many of them live up there, on the heights, or so she tells me.”
“We thought that’s where the Gentherans live,” said Jaker. “And we’ve never seen any of them. We have no idea what they look like.”
“Rather like me,” said Falija. “Only larger.” She turned toward Naumi. “Excuse me if I am impolite in not using your correct title, but you must be one of the people we’re looking for.”
“What people are those?” Naumi asked.
“The people who began life as Margaret Bain, who were split off from her in some way, at some time in her life, and who seem to be scattered across a sizable chunk of the galaxy. Margaret and Mar-agern were split at age twenty-two. You, Naumi, were evidently split off at twelve.”
“But he’s male!” Mar-agern snapped.
Falija said soothingly, “My mother-mind tells me that in all gendered races, one sex always shares some of the traits of the opposite sex. Perhaps he, Naumi, was split off from among the most male traits Margaret Bain possessed. Or maybe it really doesn’t matter very much.”
“This all seems very unlikely,” I growled peevishly. “Just when I get used to something, the ground shifts.”
A noise from above attracted our attention to the flier, which was approaching a landing pad
