'We trained together,' Shoogar repeated. 'Poor Dorthi.'

'But how could a man fall from the sky and not be killed?'

'Purple is no ordinary man,' Gortik said, as if that were explanation enough.

'He's a demon,' said Shoogar, and that was explanation enough.

'It was my impact suit,' Purple said. He took a step forward and thumped himself hard in the belly with his fist. His belly was big and soft, so the blow should have made him wince. It did not. I thought for a moment that Purple had become as rigid as stone.

'My impact suit,' he repeated. 'Normally it flows like cloth, but under a sharp blow it becomes a single rigid unit. Lant, you remember that a boy threw a spear at me in your village.'

'I remember. You were not hurt.'

'The suit is skin tight. With the hood up it covers all of me but my eyes and mouth, and of course it holds my shape. It saved my life.

'I did not realize,' said Purple, 'that my flying egg was moving. You had painted thick gray goo over all the knobs and dials, so that I could see none of the settings on my-' he hesitated, then used the word, '-spellmakers.' The loss of his speakerspell must have taught him to think his words out more carefully.

To his own villagers, Purple explained, 'Somehow they had gained entrance to my flying egg - which I have told you about - and done terrible things to it.' To us, he continued, 'I was furious, Lant. I would have killed the pack of you.'

I shuddered. He still might. In fact, what was he waiting for?

'Later,' he continued, 'I realized that you had acted from ignorance. Perhaps you thought that the egg was alive and dangerous. Perhaps that was the reason for Shoogar's earlier attacks on me. I wanted to know why, why you had dirtied and broken implements in my flying home-

'Unfortunately, I did not realize how badly you had damaged it. There is a spell in any flying device that compensates for sudden, sharp motion. It also compensates for the lack of a world underfoot. Well, I did not know that I was in the air. The windows had been painted gray, the screens likewise, the dials had all been tampered with.

'When I opened the door to go looking for you, the wind of my passage picked me up and sucked me out. When I realized I was falling, I pulled my hood up and curled in a ball. My impact suit saved me by holding my shape - much as water in a vase does not change shape when you set it down hard.'

'I wish the vase had broken,' muttered Shoogar.

'The fall knocked me out,' continued Purple, 'but I broke no bones. But I saw very little of the landscape coming down. I still don't know just where here is - my flying egg does not respond to my signals. It has not answered me for months. I fear it may be beyond my scope.'

'True enough,' I answered. 'Shoogar's spells entirely destroyed it. It was over the mountain called Critics Tooth when Elcin's hammer struck it.'

'Elcin?'

'The small, but mighty, god of thunder.'

'Ah, yes. I know him. You say he struck my egg?'

'He struck it with a great flash, and a sound loud enough to shake the world and shatter the sky. I could neither hear nor see for many moments afterward.'

Purple made an odd strangled sound. Tell me, Lant, does the ground glow blue at night now?'

'In the old village, yes. And all the trees and grass have died. Villagers and animals as well. Look, Pilg and Ang have lost their fur, and Pilg is covered with sores.'

Purple looked, he stepped closer; Pilg, brave man that he was, did not shrink from Purple's feverish examination. Both their faces were pale. 'It's true,' Purple murmured, 'I am marooned.' He used a word from his own demon's tongue. 'Those are radiation sores.

'Radiation sores,' he repeated. 'You blew up the pile,' He was trailing off into gibberish in his excitement. He looked blindly around. 'You hairy half-humans have smashed my flying machine. I'll be lost here forever! Curse you, curse you all-'

We all shrank back, even Purple's own villagers. He was being too free with his curses. But Gortik and several of his Advisors stepped forward to comfort Purple. There, there,' they murmured, patting his shoulders with visible reluctance.

'Let me alone!' Purple cried, jerking loose from the hands that held him. He collided with Pilg who still stood forward baring his naked and festering chest. Purple hesitated.

'Can you cure me?' asked Pilg with a quaver.

Purple looked at Pilg's disease-ridden body as if for the first time, he looked into his eyes, then he stepped forward and took Pilg by the shoulders. 'Oh, my friend, my friend, my poor dear friend.' He released the shaken Pilg and turned to the rest of us. 'My friends, all of you-'

Again we shrank back. There was not a man in two villages who wanted to be the friend of a raving, hairless madman.

'My friends, I need you more than ever now. I have lost a major source of my power. My flying egg has been destroyed. All the wonderful things I said I would do for you when I recovered it, I can never do now.'

At that Shoogar straightened a bit. 'And I did it,' he re- minded us. There was a hint of pride in his voice. He was the only one smiling.

'And you did it,' Purple echoed, in such a way that two Advisors stepped up to take his arms.

Gortik glanced at me, at Purple, at Shoogar. He must have been thinking furiously. He had thought his magician better than ours; but now Purple had admitted to being hurt, and hurt badly, by Shoogar's dueling spells. Obviously both magicians were powers to be reckoned with.

How they must hate each other! It boded not well for either village.

Gortik, the Speaker, drew me aside. 'I think we had best break up this meeting.'

'Before our magicians do it for us,' I agreed.

'You take yours back to your encampment, we will return ours to his nest. You and I will meet later, privately, to discuss this situation. If either of our villages is to survive, there is much that we will have to work out.'

I nodded immediately. How much longer would Shoogar restrain himself? We had to get away from Purple's own dueling ground as fast as we could. I waved my hands frantically at my Advisors. 'Let's go, let's go.' All I wanted was to put as much distance between Shoogar and Purple as possible.

We hurried back up the slope. One thought was uppermost: we were trapped on an island with two mad magicians - Elcin's Wrath - what had we done to deserve such a fate? Could we have possibly angered the Gods that much?

-----

IT did not take long for the word to spread. The wave of dismay was a visible thing as it washed across the encampment. Women began wailing, strong men trembled, children bawled in confusion. Dogs barked.

Many began tugging at their tent ropes, pulling them down. Exhausted as they were, they were ready to move on, so great was their fear of Purple.

Incredible! - that these few pitiful families had once been a strong and fruitful village. Yet so we had been before the coming of Purple. We had seen that village reduced to rubble, seen our friends and neighbours dead, and our property obliterated because of the feud between Shoogar and the mad magician.

And the duel was not yet over.

Purple still lived. He had followed us, and he would destroy us.

No. He had flown here in a single night. For a quarter of a cycle, he had been waiting for our arrival!

Shoogar was unapproachable. That Purple still lived, was indication of his failure. He had cast his finest spell, and the other held not even a grudge. Angrily, Shoogar shook off his two escorts and stamped off across the already sea-dampened field. The crowd parted before him like goats from a pool of defiled water. Anxious mothers herded their children safely out of sight.

All over the camp tents were falling now as the word spread. The people were ready to flee; they did not know where they would go, but they were willing to die trying, so great was their fear of Purple.

Here and there, sobbing women were loading their packs. Children tugged at their skirts. Many of the men I passed were putting extra sets of hobbles on their wives - there is no telling what a hysterical woman will do.

Several members of the Guild of Advisors were standing and arguing. They broke apart when they saw me. 'Ah, Lant, we were just discussing whether to go east or south - or perhaps west, into the hills-'

'What foolishness are you babbling, Pilg?'

'The journey, the journey - we cannot possibly stay here?'

'We cannot possibly go anywhere else - unless you have learned how to walk on water-'

'This is not the only spot on the island, Lant,' said Hinc. 'You heard Gortik. There are others.'

'You heard him too,' I snapped back. 'This is a small island. Four villages and the Heights of Idiocy.'

Hinc shrugged, 'If we must flee to the Heights, then so be it. We can be a renegade tribe, moving by night-'

'That way we'll have every village on the island after our necks.'

'We have no choice. Shoogar is going to start a duel!'

'Has Shoogar said so?'

'Hah! We don't need to talk to Shoogar to know he's planning a duel - he's sworn to kill Purple, remember?'

'Now, listen,' I said, 'you are making foolish conclusions. This is what we are going to do. First, there is not going to be a duel. Second, I am going back to the lower village and dicker privately with Gortik. I am going to try to stick to our original plan of trading our services for their food and land. It is the only way.'

'Hah!' snorted Hinc. 'Do you think you can stop Shoogar from planning a duel?'

'I am the Speaker now,' I said. 'That gives me the authority-'

'Just a minute, Lant-' Hinc said. 'When we let you be Speaker, it was only to talk to the villagers down below. We had no intention of letting you - only a bonemonger -assume any of the other rights and privileges of Speaker.'

There was a murmur of agreement from the others.

'You are right, of course, Hinc. And I did not want to be Speaker in the first place. But you insisted - you were one of the loudest - and now that you have taken me as your Speaker in dealings with other men, you must also accept the fact that I represent you in your dealings with the Gods.'

'Huh?'

'Well, think about it. Obviously, we are being tested by them. This set of tribulations that has been thrust upon us is nothing more than a test of our faith and our worship. The Gods wish to see if we will continue to believe in them despite our troubles and pray to them for relief, or if instead we will forsake them in our despair.'

'What does that have to do with whether or not you should be allowed to give orders?' demanded Hinc's half-brother, Lesser Hinc. They shared the same father, of course, but were of different mothers.

I fixed him with my best angry stare. 'Certainly it should be obvious, even to a frog brain like you! If you deny the traditions and the ancient ways, you are denying the Gods themselves. Our whole way of life is based upon the whims of the Gods we serve. Only a magician can control the Gods, and only the village speaker can control the village magician. Shoogar engraves his secret name into the Speaking Token, so that only the owner of that token has power over him.

'But you don't have a token,' Lesser Hinc said.

'Right!' snapped Greater Hinc. 'We owe you nothing! Come, let's go.' They started to turn away. 'We can choose another Speaker. Shoogar can just as easily make a token for him.'

'Wait!' I cried. I had to think fast. 'You have forgotten one thing.'

There was something about my tone. They stopped. 'You have forgotten about Gortik, the Speaker of the new village. He does not know how new I am to the art of Speaking - as far as he is concerned, I am as experienced as he. But if you introduce another man to him as your Speaker, he will know just how inexperienced that man is - and he will wonder why you have elected a new Speaker at such a crucial time for the village. All of the villages on this island would be able to take advantage of us, knowing that they were dealing with an unskilled Speaker.'

They muttered among themselves. They moved a bit away and discussed the subject heatedly. 'Better no Speaker than-' 'But there is this new village-' 'We don't need another inept Speaker-' 'But we are already committed to-'

'And there is one more thing,' I called. They paused, looked over at me. There is Shoogar. How do you think he will react when you tell him that his best friend is no longer Speaker? Is there one among you who thinks he can control an angry magician?'

There wasn't. They looked at each other warily. At last, Hinc nodded his assent, and the others nodded with him. 'All right, Lant - you win. Next time we will be more careful who we push forward.'

'It certainly won't be anyone with such a fast tongue,' muttered Lesser Hinc.

'Let's just hope he can use it against Gortik,' said Snarg.

'Don't worry,' said Greater Hinc. 'If he can't, we can always strangle him with it.'

'I am more concerned that he use it on Shoogar,' babbled Pilg. 'And quickly. He is probably planning a duel right this minute.'

'Nonsense,' I said, 'he can't be planning a duel! It's the darkless season. There are no moons.'

'Oh, you know your seasons well enough, Lant - but I don't think you know Shoogar.'

'I am a bonemonger,' I said with dignity. 'I have to have a good layman's grasp of magic to make bone implements. Believe me, Shoogar cannot possibly be planning a duel.'

-----

SHOOGAR was alone with his shelter and his bicycle. I found him staring up into the sky and muttering to himself. 'Goat kidneys, frog follicles, ant feathers - why did this have to come during the darkless season?'

'Shoogar,' I said. 'What is the matter?'

'The sky, you idiot - the sky!'

'I am not an idiot. I am the Speaker now.'

'Being a Speaker does not preclude you from being an idiot,' he snapped. His eyes were watery-red from peering so long into the sun. 'If only it weren't for that god-cursed sky!'

'What is the matter with the sky?'

'I can't see the moons,' He stood and gestured, 'Elcin's Wrath! How can I know what the configurations are if I can't see the moons? Red day, blue day, red day, and no darkness ever. I've stared and stared-'

A dreadful certainty was stealing over me. 'Shoogar, what are you doing?'

'I'm trying to plan a duel

- Gods protect us, Lant! How can I even hope to defend myself if I can't see what the configurations are?'

'It is unfortunate,' I agreed. Virn knows how I managed to keep my voice steady. 'But perhaps it is also auspicious.'

'Auspicious?' He whirled on me. 'Auspicious? How can it be auspicious? How can I plan a duel when all the auspices are hidden?'

'Maybe,' I said carefully. 'Maybe, it's a sign that you shouldn't duel.'

'Shouldn't duel? - Are you mad? Lant the Speaker-' he mocked, 'he only knows how to speak in circles.'

'I am not speaking in circles,' I said firmly. 'I mean that for once you won't be able to depend on your magic for an easy solution. Perhaps, for a change, you will have to think out the wisest course of action instead of just rashly casting a spell with dangerous side effects. Remember, whatever you do, we won't be able to flee the side effects of it until the waters recede.'

'Are you questioning my magic?' He peered at me, narrow-eyed.

'Me? Never! I am your staunchest supporter - but you have to admit, Shoogar, you do sometimes use your magic in situations where a little diplomacy might be better. You are too hasty to cast spells before you know how they will work out-'

'How else will I find out how they work??' he snapped.

I ignored the interruption. 'You must admit, Shoogar, that my skill with words is better than yours.'

'Yes,' he said. 'You use more of them than I do. You should be better.'

'Be that as it may - if you don't know how the moons are positioned, then you are unable to cast any kind of moon-dependent spell. Instead, you must depend on me, as Speaker, to avoid situations where your magic will be needed.'

'It's too late, Lant. We're already in a situation where my magic is necessary. I have to protect us from Purple. Obviously, he's going to try to kill me - and you - and the rest of the villagers! If only to retrieve these!' He held aloft the trophy that he had picked up when he vanquished the black egg: Purple's quartz lenses, their black bone frame glistening in the blue light.

'Nonsense,' I snapped back at him, surprising even myself with my audacity. I was already beginning to feel like a Speaker. 'Obviously, you don't remember Purple as well as I do. I don't recall that he ever once used violence, or ever once tried to cast a spell against you. In fact, all of the spell-casting done at the old village was done by you. Purple has yet to retaliate for any of your attacks.'

'All the more reason to beware. We're in his village now - when he does retaliate, it will be a moon-destroyer, Lant.'

'Again, nonsense. Purple is a talker, not a doer.'

'My magic is necessary to protect us, Lant-'

'Granted, that you should protect us, but that does not mean that you must attack Purple right off-'

'The only good defense is a strong offense-'

'And you will have the moons falling out of the sky on top of us! Why don't you wait to see what he is planning? You forget that you have power over him, Shoogar - you have his lenses. He'll want them back. He'll do anything to get them back, perhaps even swear an oath of truce.'

'Truce?' exploded Shoogar. 'Truce?!! Lant, you have the mind of a flea! There can be no truce with magicians. I ought to know!'

'And you have the temper of a goat!' I snapped back. 'If it weren't for me, you would have killed yourself long ago attempting to hurl fire balls at Elcin!'

This stopped Shoogar for a moment. He looked at me speechlessly. 'Lant,' he said quietly. 'You surprise me. I had no idea you were so violent.'

'It's been a long hard journey, Shoogar - I'm tired. Most of all, I'm tired of suffering because of poor judgment on the part of a magician. Now use your brain for once - or if you haven't one, let me use mine for you.'

'What is it you are suggesting...?' he sighed.

'Wait - that's all. Wait. Swear an oath of truce, if necessary. It is too soon to duel with Purple, much too soon. If you attempt to duel with him on his home ground you are doomed to lose. Wait until you are on equal terms at least.'

Shoogar didn't say anything. He examined his fingernails thoughtfully, and scratched at his thin fur.

'Well...?' I asked.

He didn't answer. He continued to scratch.

'There is one other thing you should consider, Shoogar. Purple always claimed that his spells did not depend on the gods or on the configurations of the moons. You've always thought that he was lying. But if he is not, then the endless sunlight does not hamper him.'

He didn't answer - but at least he stopped scratching.

'Well? Will you wait? Or will you at least agree not to do anything until you talk it over with me?'

He looked up. I'll talk it over with you before I do any-thing.'

'Fine.'

When I left he was still cursing the sky - but at least he was packing away his spellcasting equipment.

-----

THAT settled, I went back to Hinc and the others and reported that we had nothing to fear from an immediate duel. Shoogar would not move without consulting me first. I told them we would stay here.

There was again some grumbling, but we were committed to this course of action - if not by my authority as Speaker, then certainly by the authority of the all-encompassing sea. Clearly, they had not expected me to fare so well with Shoogar, but since I had, they were left with no choice but to honor my claim to the office. It was as if the Gods themselves were backing me up.

As they wandered back to their tents I called my two sons, Wilville and Orbur, to me. Wilville, noticing my smile, asked, 'Why are you so eager to stay here? This area teems with trouble. That Purple is still alive bodes not well for us.'

'Oh, I think that situation can be handled. The advantages of staying here far outweigh the disadvantages.'

'Advantages?' asked Orbur incredulously. He was the darker of the two.

'Certainly - you're a bicycle builder - you must have noticed the quality and variety of woods around here. Fine bambooze shoots, spirit-pine, sparkling aspen, birts, vampire-oaks - also fibertrees, nevergreens and cranials. One can build fine bicycles with the materials at hand here. In fact, one could probably build anything with the materials here. Did you not notice there are no bicycles or bicycle builders at all in the lower village? You will have the market all to yourselves.'

Wilville nodded eagerly. 'Our father is right, Orbur. There is much work here.'

'You are thinking right, Wilville - there is. You can start by contacting the neighboring villages for me. I want you to locate the nearest sources of dry bone, wet bone, petrified bone and so on. It seems they don't have a good bonemonger here either ...'

-----

NOW I headed down toward the lower village and my meeting with Gortik.

This time it would be just the two of us, without our squabbling councils to hinder us. We had finished with the formalities of the greetings, and now we could get down to the real business of negotiating.

Of course, we had no choice in the matter. I and my fellow villagers were here for the duration of the wading season. Gortik and I had to come to some sort of agreement on how our two villages could survive till the onset of the next conjunction.

To tell the truth, I was uneasy. This would be the first time I would have to Speak for my whole village and make decisions for them. It was one thing to browbeat one's own people for their own good - quite another to attempt it with a perfect stranger.

I carried with me a token of luck in lieu of the new Speaking Token which Shoogar had not yet begun to build. (One of the most important ingredients he still had not located - a stone the weight of a small child. Indeed, we had not even selected the small child yet, whose weight was to be the standard of the token.)

I felt unsure of myself without a proper Speaking Token - and worried that I might not do a proper job. 'A token, a token,' I mumbled, 'my village for a token.' But I tottered down the slope, determined to do the best Speaking I could without it.

There was a shout from behind me. I paused. My first wife came running down the hillside, her skirt flapping, her breasts bouncing, her hobbles giving her a peculiar short-gaited run. 'Lant, oh brave Lant, wait!'

I waited.

She hurried up to me, 'My brave Speaker, you have forgotten your amulet of shrewd mongering.'

'But I don't need it, woman,' I admonished her. 'I am going to Speak. I have a token of skillful language as well as one of luck. What do I need with a monger's token?'

She looked crestfallen. 'I am sorry, my brave one. You are right. It is just that I wanted to do something to help you - I wanted to give you something to aid your Speaking and all I could think of was your monger's amulet. I thought perhaps it might help - a little bit anyway.'

'How could it?' I scoffed. 'I am not going there as a monger, but as a Speaker.'

'You are right, my wise master.' She began kissing and stroking my feet. 'I do not know what it is that Speakers do -but I thought it was something like mongering, so I - I'm sorry. I take up your time. I will go and flog myself.'

She looked so unhappy and woebegone: her hair had fallen out in patches and lost its once-proud sleekness, her shape was heavy with child; I felt a surge of pity for her. 'Here, woman, wait. Give me the amulet. It could not hurt to carry it. It will not help, of course, but I will take it because you thought it important.'

Trivial words, of course, easy enough for me to say - but they cheered her immensely. She smiled gratefully and threw herself at my feet in gratitude.

'Here now, here now - that's enough kissing. You want the other wife to think I am favoring you with an inordinate amount of affection?' I bade her rise, took the amulet and sent her back to the encampment.

I continued downward to the lower village.

The wide river swept through it on its surging course to the sea. Great black housetrees lined both sides of its banks. There were many frog-tending ponds and dams, and there were terraced riceblossom pools along the river banks. Off to one side, well away from the village proper was a tree so misshapen that had it been human, it surely would have been stillborn. Clearly, that was the nest of Purple the Magician.

But that was not my destination. Not yet. First I would speak to Gortik.

As I entered the village proper, a curious ragtag of villagers and children began to follow me. Some of the children tried to taunt me, but were hushed by their elders. All followed curiously as I strode between the shady trunks. The blackgrass crunched under my feet.

I could not help but admire the size of the trees and the skillfull weaving of the nests hanging from them. They spoke of prosperity. It takes extensive care to make a tree grow as big as it must to support a house. That this village had so many spoke well of the wealth of its inhabitants.

The Speaker's glade was a shady area lined with gentle birts and yellow aspen. Here no women, no children and no villagers outside the first circle were allowed.

I held a rank which allowed me to enter, but in the interests of politics I gave Gortik the courtesy of officially granting me the right. He stepped forward, bade me enter -but not before he had first chased away a by now sizable crowd of onlookers. The arrival of my village must have been the most exciting thing to happen here for some time.

Gortik and I sat in the glade and exchanged formalities. We chewed raba-root and talked about the Gods and the weather. We each traded two syllables of our respective names, more an indication of a growing - and necessary -mutual trust than a sign of respect.

We traded our histories as well. I did not go into much detail in the telling of mine - merely that I had been chosen Speaker by acclamation of my fellow villagers because of my bravery and courage.

Gortik was impressed. He told me how he had become Speaker for his tribe - how he had fought for the honor many times, and how each time he had been defeated - but only narrowly, mind you - how his village had had a succession of terrible Speakers one after the other, how one had been killed for his audacity, how a second had been disgraced and a third laughed out of power. At last these gentle villagers had realized that Gortik had been right all along, and they hailed him as their new Speaker.

It was an impressive story, all right. I didn't believe him any more than he believed me; but I was thoroughly impressed with Gortik's skill as Speaker.

'It is no secret,' Gortik said then, 'that your tribe needs a place to settle permanently.'

I nodded. 'You are right, it is no secret. One can get tired of traveling.'

'I find that hard to believe. Why, the excitement, the ad-venture!'

'Yes,' I admitted, 'we love to sit and talk about them. We were a brave people to have faced the dangers of such a migration. It was the dangers behind us that helped to make us brave.' Then, changing the subject, This is a rich area you have here.'

'Oh, no,' Gortik protested. 'We are really quite poor. Quite poor. We go hungry throughout much of the ungrowing season.'

'Then you have not been exploiting the land properly,' I countered. 'Our tribe could grow enough on this land to feed both villages.'

'Ah, you exaggerate again. We have trouble feeding our-selves. There is not space enough for a good crop, let alone room to plant a decent number of housetrees.'

'Your village belies that - there are more than enough housetrees in your village. Many are empty. And there are other housetrees high on the slope, unused as well. There is room for us there, above the aspenwood.'

'That is our migration ground. We will need it later when the waters rise.'

'It is still a roomy area - there are a great many housetrees there.'

'Hardly enough,' he shook his head. 'Hardly enough - and in poor repair. Poor repair.'

'Nonsense. My villagers could put those trees m shape within a hand of days and have decent nests hanging from every one within a second hand.'

'I find that hard to believe.'

'We could show you. As I said, we have many skills that your village obviously must not have, or you would be living better than you do now.'

'We live as well as we can.'

'Do you have a decent bonemonger among you?'

'Bonemongering is a northern trade. We do not - honor 'it here.'

'More's the pity - you are missing out on much that would make your life easier. We have other trades as well, which you lack.'

'And suppose we did let you demonstrate your vastly superior talents and abilities - what would you expect in return?'

'The right to settle - say, on that piece of land above the woods.'

Gortik shook his head slowly. 'That is not living land. That land is unusable for men.'

'It is unusable for you, you mean. We are not cropmongers as you people are. We do not need to live near the rivers, nor do we need to migrate every year to avoid the swelling waters. We are mountain folk and make our living off the sheep, the goats, the high pastures. We do not go hungry during the time of ungrowing, the season of sweat.'

'Humph, Lant, I doubt much of what you say - your clothes are rude, badly woven to say the least. And animal skins do not indicate the quality of spells you claim to have. One who is civilized no longer needs to wear animal skins.'

'That's true for your village.' I said, 'because you are weavers. We are not. We are craftsmen - have you any bicycle makers?'

'Bicycles-?'

'Ah ha, you do not. It is a vehicle with wheels which enables its rider to travel great distances in one day.'

'And I suppose you use scavenger pigs and dogs to pull it in the manner of the western barbarians?'

'Ah, you show your ignorance, Gortik. The bicycle requires no animals at all - it moves by magic alone.'

'By magic alone?' He was incredulous.

'Of course,' I said, not without some small tone of superiority. If these people did not know even of bicycles, they must be stupid indeed. 'One sits astride it and chants and pedals - the harder one chants, the faster he goes. You must chant hard, of course, to get up a hill; but that stores so much magic in the machine that one need hardly chant at all on the way down.'

'I would like to see one of these fabulous devices.'

'Shoogar has one now - he has had it since his duel with Purple. It used to be mine, but I would not dare ask Shoogar for its return - it would be an insult. It is no matter. My sons can build others.'

'Could they build one for me?'

'Quite probably.'

'I would be the only one in my village with such a device, wouldn't I?'

'You are the Speaker here,' I said. 'If you felt that the magic of a bicycle was too dangerous for the rest of your people, your word would be law.'

His eyes narrowed shrewdly, 'Do you think I could get away with it?'

I nodded reluctantly. It was obvious what Gortik wanted. Being the only owner of a bicycle would enhance his mana greatly. I did not want to do such a thing, nor did I want to limit the market for my son's devices - but if it was the only thing which I could offer him in return for the right to stay, then I had no choice. He still had the right to demand we move on when the wading season ended. I sighed and nodded again.

He beamed. 'Then it is settled, Lant. You and your village will give me a bicycle, in return for which I will allow you to demonstrate your supposedly very great housemaking skills by clearing and cleaning our migration ground for us.'

'Ah, Gortik, my friend,' I answered, 'you are correct in your manner, but you have misstated the terms of the agreement. We are lending you a bicycle for your use. In return you are granting us your migration area for our use. As a sign of our goodwill we will offer to teach your people what skills they will need to survive the season of ungrowing.'

'Ah, Lant, my devoted friend, my lifelong companion, you are the one who misstates the agreement. You have forgotten the bounty of ten sheep which you have offered me for a great feast in my honor.'

'Ah, Gortik, my faithful brother, my generous colleague, I have not forgotten them - indeed, I have not thought of them at all. Such a feast is an honor intended only for those Gods who have wrought mighty miracles.'

'Lant, you are the playmate of my spratling years. Have I not earned such an honor?'

'Ah, Gortik, we are more than playmates - we are sucklings at the same breast. I would deny you nothing. You need only ask and it is yours. I offer you, out of the boundless affection of my own heart, six sheep so that your people may start a flock of their own.'

'Ah, but Lant, my illustrious advisor - my people are not shepherds. The animals would die.'

'Gortik, Gortik, your wisdom is unsurpassed. Of course we cannot give the sheep to the untrained shepherd. You will grant us three young men to watch them. We will keep your sheep with ours and teach your men how to be shepherds. Shoogar will teach them the necessary spells.'

'I have not the men to spare.'

'Boys, then. Boys love sheep. Our shepherds will teach any three of your boys how to properly care for sheep and keep them from grazing too long in one spot.'

'Sheep have much magic in their bones, do they not? Is that where your magician gets so much of his power? From sheep?'

'I do not know the source of Shoogar's power,' I said. 'But you are right that sheep are powerful.'

Then what guarantee do we have that you will not use that power against us?'

'Your village is not without its strength. What guarantee do we have that you will not use your power against us?'

'You have your magician,' he said.

'And you have yours,' I countered.

'Yes, there is that,' he said.

There was silence for a moment.

'We must decide what they are going to do - before they decide for themselves,' I said. 'A feud between them would not augur well for either of our clans.'

'Yes,' he nodded. 'It would tear the two villages apart.'

'And much of the surrounding countryside too.' I added.

He looked startled.

'I have already spoken to Shoogar,' I said quickly, 'and I know that he is not planning to attack Purple - that is, not without sufficient provocation. I have convinced Shoogar that it is important enough for us to settle here for him to swear a truce with Purple. In return, of course, he - and all of us - would like some guarantees from Purple.'

'Well,' said Gortik, 'I cannot speak for Purple. No one speaks for Purple but Purple. To tell the truth, I do not like the idea of having two hostile magicians in the same village - but just as much, I do not like the idea of having even one magician in this village - one particular magician, that is. There is little love between myself and Purple. Dorthi and I were good friends. Dorthi's strength supported me as Speaker; but since Purple has replaced him, he has done nothing.'

'H'm,' I said thoughtfully, 'is it not said that a land with two magicians will soon have only one.'

He nodded. 'There is only so much magic in an area - enough for one magician, not for two. It is inevitable that one of them will die.'

'I know. Shoogar has thought long on that.'

'So have I. If we have our magicians swear a truce, it will be a very artificial situation. It cannot last long.'

I nodded. He was right, of course. 'But perhaps it will at least buy us time until the oceans again recede.'

'Ah, but then what? You want a permanent village site. I want a permanent magician.'

'Purple is planning to leave you?'

'He has been talking that way ever since he first fell into our midst. At the moment he is forced by circumstance to stay - like you - but if that were not the case, there are many in this village who would be happy to speed him on his way.'

'Are you suggesting that you would like to see Purple re-moved?' I asked.

'Of course I wouldn't suggest such a thing,' he replied. 'A Speaker must never question his magician. But - if a duel were to occur between our two warlocks, I would not be disappointed if Purple lost'

'But you have said that you do not wish a duel.'

'Oh, yes - I did, didn't I. To be quite honest, Lant, I would prefer to see him leave of his own free will - quietly, if possible - but by force, if necessary.'

'I see,' I said. And I did. Purple was not aiding Gortik as a magician should. Gortik wanted him gone. Even no magician at all might be better than a bad one. I could understand it. 'Let me suggest this to you, Gortik: if there is some way that we can remove Purple from your village, we will do that for you.'

'And replace him with Shoogar?'

'Uh-' I asked cautiously, 'Is that what you want?' I did not want to lose Shoogar to another village.

'Definitely not!' he said.

'Fine. Then we will keep Shoogar.'

'One thing, Lant,' said Gortik. 'Yes, I would like to be rid of Purple, but not if it means devastating this land. I do not wish to be a migrant like you.'

'H'm,' I said. 'That makes the problem a little more difficult. We will have to take things one at a time. First, we will secure an oath of truce from both our magicians. This will give Shoogar time to acquaint himself with the local spells.'

That will be a simple task,' said Gortik. 'Most of the spell-charts were destroyed with Dorthi when he was killed. There are few local spells left, and Purple has not renewed any of them.'

'Shoogar can do that,' I said expansively. 'He knows all one hundred and eleven spells of village tending.'

'Good. We can make good use of them. Perhaps you have noticed that we have many empty housetrees? Many of our most religious people have fled since Purple's arrival - they fear to live in a village with an inept magician.'

'I know exactly how they feel,' I said.

'Of course, of course; a good Speaker always empathizes with the people.'

'You must be one of the finest then,' I said.

'And you as well, Lant. You are a veritable fountainhead of faith.' , , . ,

'Ah, Gortik, I am but a shadow compared to the brightness that is you.'

'Ah, would you compare one sun to the other?'

'No, of course not - there can be no comparison. One is bright, but small; the other is huge, but dim - and yet, both light up the world equally well.'

'Both are necessary, and both are beautiful,' said Gortik.

'Like ourselves,' I added.

'Of course, of course. It is well that we agree on so many things, Lant. It will not be difficult at all to make an agreement which is fair to both of us and our villages.'

'How could it be difficult when each of us is thinking more of the other than of himself?'

'Ah, Lant, you have such a way with words, such a beautiful way. Now about those sheep - six is not enough-'

'Ah, Gortik, it is more than enough if all you are planning to send is three boys-'

And so it went.

-----

WE stayed and chewed raba-root till well into the blue afternoon. There was much to discuss, and much root to be chewed.

And when we finished what we had, we staggered off in search of more. We were thoroughly under its influence by now. It was good root. Jark could make a fine Quaff from it.

'Purple!' said Gortik. 'Purple has some raba-root. He chews it whenever he gets depressed - which is often these days.'

'Ah, good. Let's pay him a visit And while we are there, we can inform him of our agreement.'

'Again you are thinking, Lant. I am continually amazed by your prowess.'

We found Purple tending his small patch of herbs and plants. Raba-root was not the only fermentable spice he had. He had several others that I recognized, and many more that I did not. Jark would be overjoyed at the news.

'Purple, ahoy,' we hailed him. He looked up, squinting in our direction in the blue light.

'It sounds like my old friend, Lant,' he said.

I shuddered - friend? I gritted my teeth and said, 'Yes, it's Lant. Gortik and I have come to speak with you.' I tried to sound as stern and formal as I could.

'Uh-' Purple hesitated. He seemed to be uneasy at something. 'How are you, Lant. How is your family, your wife?'

What a strange question to ask. Why would anyone want to know about the condition of a wife? But then, Purple always had been a strange one. 'My wives are fine,' I said. 'My number one wife is expecting a child soon. Shoogar says it will be a daughter, but as she has already presented me with two sons, I cannot fault her.'

Purple looked startled, 'Expecting a child?' He counted hurriedly on his fingers, 'It's been almost nine- He looked at me, 'When is it due?'

'In another three hands of hands of days.'

He counted again, Three times five times five - seventy five. That would be blue days, of course; now let's see, convert that into standard - that would be four and a half months from now.' He exhaled loudly and looked relieved. 'Whew! For a moment there I thought it could have been-'

'Could have been what?'

'Uh, never mind. I'm just glad that there's no such thing as a thirteen-and-a-half-month gestation period.'

He was talking gibberish again - a pregnancy lasts no longer than two hundred and fifteen blue days. What a month was, I had no idea, although he used the term as I might discuss a hand of days. Purple had once mentioned that his days - 'standard days' he had called them - were only half as long as ours.

Our days, of course, are measured by the passage of the blue sun, regardless of where the red is. Gortik had told me how Purple had once been confused - he could not believe it was midnight because the red sun was still high in the sky. How odd - why should the periods of light and dark have to correspond with the concepts of night and day? Only during conjunctions did such a thing occur.

In any case, I could not understand his concern with the child. I said, 'Why should you care, Purple?'

'Uh - uh-'

'Is it because you did the family-making thing with my wife on the day of the last conjunction?'

Purple went pale. 'I -I - forgive me, Lant. I-'

'Forgive you? How can I forgive you?'

He took a startled step backward and held up a hand as if to ward me off.

I said, 'Shoogar had scattered a dust of yearning around your nest. You could not help yourself.'

'You mean, you think I did it because of a spell?'

'Of course, it was a spell. It was part of the duel.'

He looked relieved again. The color flowed back into his face. 'Then I have been worrying needlessly - and I do not need to worry about the child either.'

'Why should you? Shoogar knows when the child was conceived and when she will be born.'

Purple nodded, 'Yes, Shoogar is probably quite good at those things.'

'He is,' I confirmed. 'The child is your daughter, all right.'

He went pale again. This time I thought he would faint altogether. The blood had been flowing into and out of his head at such a rate that he was having trouble standing.

I continued, 'When we first realized that the child was yours, I almost killed my wife-'

'Oh, no, Lant - not just because I-'

I looked at him oddly. 'I told you, Purple, you could not help yourself. And she is only a woman. A woman doesn't know how to refuse a kindness. No, we would have killed her because she was carrying a demon child, but Shoogar forbade it. The child must be carried to term and born as any other. At that time we will determine if the child is a good demon or a bad demon. Shoogar thinks she will be a bearer of much magic - and if so, he thinks he can control her.'

'Humph,' snorted Gortik, 'it sounds like Shoogar wants to emulate the legend of the poor fisher and the demon tailor. The demon demanded three wishes-'

I shrugged. 'It is of little concern to me. If the child is a demon, then Shoogar will have to pay me for the right to destroy or control her. If she is not, then at least I gain another bride price. Why else would one allow a woman to breed indiscriminately? Another son is always a pride and a strength. A daughter is at least a price of a drink. One offers one's wife to guests as a matter of course. Now that our two villages are going to live peacefully together, the child's birth will be of no importance at all. It will be as if I had offered you the guest privilege to insure good relations between our two groups. That she is a magician's daughter will add somewhat to her value when I sell her on her seventh yearday, but a daughter is only a daughter and not worth the air wasted discussing her.'

'Uh, yes,' said Purple. He was obviously disturbed about something. 'Just one question. Are all your women's pregnancies so long?'

'What do you mean "so long"? Two hundred and fifteen days is the proper length of a pregnancy.'

'Two hundred and fifteen-' Purple began counting again.

Thirteen and a half months,' he said. 'Oh.' He began mumbling to himself. 'Well, I guess such a thing is not impractical - probably the extra four and a half months are needed because conditions here are so unstable. It gives the developing infant an extra length of time to grow and be more ready for a hostile world. Yes, yes, I can see why such a thing-'

Gortik and I exchanged a glance. I said, 'I see he still talks gibberish to himself.'

'Not as much as he used to,' Gortik replied. 'He hardly uses the demon tongue any more.'

'Ah, that's good. How can a man be civilized if he does not speak a civilized language?'

To Purple, I said, 'Actually, we have come here to talk about something much more important.'

'Yes,' put in Gortik. 'Have you any ripe raba-root?' I could see that this other Speaker was one who did not waste words - he got right down to the subject at hand.

Purple scratched his hairless chin, which was gray with many tiny black dots. How odd. He said, 'I think I might be . able to spare some.' He rummaged through his herb patch, then decided against it and disappeared up into his nest in-stead.

He returned almost immediately with a basket of tubers.

'Here, these have already been cured. Take what you need.'

Gortik slung the whole basket under one arm. 'Thank you, Purple. This will do nicely.'

Purple looked a bit askance, but said nothing. I found myself wondering what kind of a magician this was who was treated little better than a common cropmonger. Did Gortik have some strange kind of power over Purple? No such a thing was not possible - or was it instead that Gortik knew that Purple would not use his vast powers against him. But why?

The thought crossed my mind - perhaps the only reason Purple was allowed to endure here was because he was unkillable. Otherwise they would be rid of him in a minute if they could. No wonder Gortik was so eager to accept my offer to remove their magician for them. Purple was worse than inept - he was a dangerous fool.

And they were stuck with him just as we had been a quarter of a cycle ago.

No wonder Gortik treated him so shabbily - he was hoping to drive Purple away with his rudeness.

H'm, he would not try that with Shoogar, I thought. Shoogar would curse him hairless without even blinking.

Gortik handed me a raba-root and I chewed it slowly, savoring its rich bitterness. Ah, that was nice. Its pungent smell filled the glade and saturated the air. I and my clothes would reek of it for days.

We started to wander back toward the village when abruptly I remembered something. I caught Gortik's arm and turned back. 'Oh, Purple,' I called.

He looked up, 'Yes? What is it, Lant?'

'I almost forgot to tell you. I and my tribe will be settling in this area - but we cannot do it if you and Shoogar intend to duel.'

Purple looked puzzled, 'I have no intention of dueling with Shoogar.'

You don't?'

'Of course not. Dueling never accomplished anything.'

I looked at Gortik, 'You see why we thought him mad?'

Gortik returned the look, 'You think you are pointing out something we have not already noticed?'

To Purple, I said, 'I am overjoyed to hear that. Shoogar will also be glad.'

Purple nodded thoughtfully. He said, 'Lant, it seemed to me that I saw my seeing pieces hanging from a string around Shoogar's neck when he came to the conference.'

'A trophy of the duel,' I explained. 'Although under the circumstances-'

'I will exchange an oath of peace for those devices, Lant. I need them to see.'

'Um,' I said. 'I don't know. Shoogar regards that trophy quite highly. He would not be eager to give it up-'

'No seeing pieces, Lant, no oath of peace.'

'-but since you put it that way, I'm sure he will be delighted.'

'Not half so much as I.' said Purple.

Well! It had been easier than I had thought. I was overjoyed. Expansively, I offered Purple a piece of raba-root to seal the deal. 'It is a more than reasonable request.'

His mouth full, Purple nodded his agreement.

'I don't think so,' said Gortik. 'You really should ask for more.'

I frowned at him.

'There is really nothing more that I need,' said Purple. 'except perhaps-'

'Perhaps what?'

'No, it is nothing. There is no way you could help me.'

'But if we at least knew, perhaps we could offer some suggestions-'

He looked at us as if we were children. 'Don't speak foolishness,' he said. 'There is no way either of you could help me get home.'

'Huh-!!' Gortik and I exchanged a glance. Why, he was asking for the very thing that both of us wanted. We practically tripped over each other in our eagerness to answer. 'But we will do anything to help you, Purple, anything! We only wish the same as you - that you can return to your home as soon as possible.'

He sighed, That is very generous of you, but I am afraid there is no way. My flying egg is destroyed. I have no way to lift into the sky.' He sighed again and fingered a device on his belt. 'I have the means to call down the mother-egg, but the call signal will not work this far south.'

'The mother-egg-?' I found myself choking on a piece of root.

'The egg that Shoogar - sank, that was only a small vehicle for exploring the contours of a world. I left the larger vehicle in the sky.'

Nervously, I looked upward.

Purple laughed, 'No, you need not fear, Lant It will not fall - not unless I call it down. But I am too far south to do that. If there were some way I could return to the north-'

'You mean you would leave us?' Gortik was astounded.

Purple misinterpreted it. 'Oh, my friend Gortik, I know how it must hurt you, but please try to realize - I yearn to return to my home in the sky, to converse, confer and otherwise hobnob with my brother wizards.'

Gortik danced a little jig of grief.

Purple continued, 'But, alas, there is no way. I cannot travel north overland because the sea already covers everything. And I dare not attempt it by boat. I am told that it will be all whirlpools and dangerous uncharted reefs. There is no path by land, and there is no path by sea. I am marooned, marooned.' Purple sighed and sat down.

I sighed with him. 'If only there were a path through the air - but nothing goes through the air but birds and eggs.' He sighed again and nodded. 'If you had been willing to teach Shoogar your flying spell,' I pointed out, 'perhaps today you might not be in this predicament.'

'Flying spell?' he said. A strange look came over his face.

Gortik looked at him curiously, looked at me, looked at Purple again. 'What are the two of you talking about?' The magician was muttering curiously to himself.

'No, no - the whole idea is preposterous. It would never work. Yes, it would-' He trailed off into the demon's tongue. He shook his head impatiently as if trying to thrust that thought away. But it wouldn't go - that peculiar look kept returning to his eyes, and he argued frantically with himself in words not know to men.

Suddenly he leapt to his feet. Yes, it must be tried,' he shouted. 'It must be! It must be! It is the only way!'

He leapt at me. I jumped back, but he grabbed my robe. 'Tell me, Lant - does Shoogar still want to fly?"

'Is the sky red and blue?' I asked in reply. 'Of course, Shoogar still wants to fly.'

He was delighted. 'Oh, yes, yes - what a -wonderful idea.'

He began capering around his housetree. 'Go - go tell him, tell him - go, go! I'm going home - I'm going to fly!'

'Tell him?' I echoed. 'Tell him what?'

'Tell him I'm going to build a flying machine - no, we're going to build a flying machine - and I'm going to fly north for the winter!' And he laughed hysterically.

Gortik and I exchanged another look. We shook our heads sadly. I did not know who to feel sorrier for - Purple for being deranged, or Gortik for being his Speaker.

When we left, Purple was still dancing about his housetree and singing at the top of his lungs.

-----

WHEN he heard the news, Shoogar was neither pleased nor angered, merely curious. 'So, now he wants to build a flying machine. Before, he would not tell me how to do such a thing - that was why I fought him - now he wants to.' He shook his head. 'I don't like it, Lant. I don't like it:

'But Shoogar, don't you see what it means? You win after all - you fought him because he wouldn't show you how to fly - you didn't kill him, but you put him into a position where he has to show you how, or he can't go home.'

Shoogar remained unexcited. 'So what? Why should I help him build a flying machine? He will leave in it and I will still have no flying spell.'

'But he won't be taking it with him-' I said. '-only to the north country.'

'He lives in the north country? I thought he lived on the other side of the sky.'

'No - he has to go to the north country to get to the other side of the sky.'

'Lant, you're talking in circles again. The north country is not the other side of the sky - it's not even anywhere near it. I ought to know; Dorthi and I trained there.'

'The north country is not his destination,' I explained. 'But he has to go there to call down his mother-egg.'

'Mother-egg? You mean he has another one?'

'Apparently so - at least that's what he says.'

'pfah!' said Shoogar. He didn't believe it.

'He showed me a spell device - it's attached to his belt. It's a calling thing, but he can't use it here because his mother- egg isn't in this sky, it's in the northern sky. So he has to go to the north country to use it. For that he needs a flying machine.'

'H'm,' said Shoogar. 'And what happens to the machine afterward?'

'After what?'

'After he leaves in it'

I shrugged. 'I don't know. I guess he will leave it in the north country - after all, once he calls down his mother-egg, he won't need it any more.'

'H'm,' said Shoogar again.

'You could probably have it for the taking,' I suggested.

'Pfah! You're not thinking, Lant. If I wanted it, I would have to go north to get it. Or go there with Purple in order to bring it back. No, I don't like the idea.'

'But if he builds a flying machine, obviously he will need help. You and Wilville and Orbur can help him - and if you can build one flying machine for him, you should certainly be able to build another for yourself.'

'H'm,' said Shoogar for a third time. His eyes lit up as he considered the possibilities. In fact, his whole face took on that same peculiar expression that I had seen on Purple's when he had been thinking of flying machines.

'Then it is decided?' I asked.

He fingered the lenses on the string around his neck. To co-operate with him on the flying machine means first securing an oath of peace, doesn't it?'

I nodded.

'And that means giving up my trophy, doesn't it?'

I nodded again.

'Um,' he said. He continued to finger the lenses.

'But a flying machine, Shoogar-' I suggested softly. 'Think of it! A flying machine!'

'Umm,' he said. He was thinking of it.

'And there will be no other magician in this region either, after Purple leaves,' I whispered. 'Certainly not one who could compare with you. You will be without equal - you can be the magician of both the upper and lower villages.'

'Ummm,' said Shoogar.

'And think about this,' I added slowly. 'You will be able to accomplish all of this without a duel!'

'No, Lant - then I cannot do it.'

'Huh?!!'

'Not without a duel - if I am truly to earn my position here, then I must demonstrate that I am a better magician than Purple. I must best him in a duel.'

'Erk,' I said. I had talked myself out of a peaceful solution. 'Uh, well, uh-'

He shook his head firmly. 'I'm sorry, Lant, but you know how things are - a duel between two magicians in the same region is not only necessary, but proper.'

'Uh, but, Shoogar-' I said quickly, 'you have already bested him in a duel.'

'No, I haven't. I've only inconvenienced him by destroying his black egg. The duel is still to be fought.'

'But you said you wouldn't duel him right away-'

'No, I didn't. I only said I wouldn't duel him without talking it over with you first. I'm talking it over with you now.'

I felt like I was drowning. 'But the flying machine-'

'The duel,' he insisted.

'But - but-' I stammered helplessly, but it was hopeless. When Shoogar made up his mind, he was a solid lump of stubbornness. 'All right. Shoogar, I know when I am defeated. If you must, you must. I will go and warn the villagers.'

'You do that, Lant - but tell them not to be too alarmed.

'Why?' I asked bitterly. 'Are you planning to minimize the side effects again?'

'No,' he said. 'But there is no reason that the duel must be held today. We might build a flying machine first.'

My heart leapt. 'Then you'll do it! You'll co-operate with Purple?'

'Of course not. I am merely going to let him show me how to build a flying machine - if he can,' Shoogar said.

I relaxed.

'After he finishes,' he added, 'then I'll kill him.

-----

THE blue sun was at one side of the sky; the red sun was at the other. The world was bathed in red and blue light; shadows stretched in two directions. We waited in the meadow below the heights. All was still.

This would be the first meeting of the two magicians -would they be able to live up to their truce?

Purple, fat and paunchy, was already waddling up the slope, escorted by Gortik and his advisors. He was a bright figure in his suit of strange cloth. He paused and squinted up the hill.

I looked too. Shoogar was stumping imperiously toward us, magnificent in his shortness.

Shoogar caught sight of Purple then, and stopped. The two of them surveyed each other, one up the hill, one down. For a moment, all was still and silent. I held my breath and prayed.

And then Shoogar took a step forward, another. Purple did likewise. I exhaled loudly in relief; the two magicians carefully closed the remaining distance. They ended up facing each other, one standing to either side of me; Gortik was standing opposite my position, also between the two magicians. As Speakers for our villages, we had thought it best to place ourselves so. If the magicians should attack each other, we would be there to stop them (I hoped). If we couldn't stop them. ... Well, I would be in no position to worry about it.

Shoogar and Purple eyed each other warily, Shoogar looking Purple up and down. Purple only looking down.

The oath- I prompted.

'Him first,' they both said, pointing in unison.

'Both together!' Gortik and I cried.

Reluctantly, Shoogar and Purple reached out and took each other's right hand; then they joined left hands too. Now neither could reach his spellcasting equipment without first letting go, which would allow the other to reach for his. They glared at each other across their linked arms.

I looked at Gortik and nodded. He nodded back. Simultaneously, we each turned to our respective wizard and snipped off a lock of his hair, two fingernail clippings, and took a droplet of blood and a nasal dropping.

While the two magicians watched, we mixed these ingredients together in a bowl between them, then separated the result into two equal portions which we put into spell bags, one for Shoogar one for Purple.

'Here. Now neither will be able to cast a spell on the other without also affecting himself. Any harm that befalls one will befall the other, so it will be for the benefit of both to watch out for each other's welfare.'

They continued to scowl.

'Repeat after me,' I said, 'in unison, so that your oaths will be taken as one: 'I (state your full name, including the secret syllables) do solemnly swear ...'

'Do solemnly swear ...'

'To love, honor and cherish ...'

'To love, honor and cherish ...'

'My brother magician as myself.'

'My brother magician as myself/

I turned to Shoogar. 'Do you, Shoogar, agree to uphold the terms of this oath?' His eyes were fierce.

After a moment, I repeated, 'Do you, Shoogar, agree to uphold the terms of this oath?'

He muttered something.

'Louder.' I kicked him.

'I do!' he snapped.

Gortik leaned forward then and slid a leather-and-hair ring around the third finger of Shoogar's left hand.

I turned to Purple. 'Do you, Purple, agree to uphold the terms of this oath?'

He grumbled, 'I do.'

'Fine.' I slipped a ring around his finger. 'As long as either of you is on this island, that ring will remind you of your duty as a magician, and your duty to your brother magician. See that you use it well. Now, by the authority vested in me as Speaker for the upper village, and by the authority which each of you has seen fit to grant me by your presence here, and also by the authority which Gortik has given me in allowing me to perform this ceremony, I now pronounce the two of you magicians united in trust!'

Simultaneously, they let go of each others hands, and leapt apart, glaring angrily. I closed my eyes and waited. There were no explosions, no hissing fireballs.

I opened my eyes.

They were still standing there, looking at each other.

'An auspicious sign,' murmured Gortik. 'They haven't tried to kill each other.'

'Mm,' I said.

Purple drew himself up and took a step forward, hand outstretched. 'My seeing pieces?' he asked.

Shoogar slowly lifted them from around his neck. Reluctantly, he handed them over.

Purple took them reverently, carefully. Hands trembling, he wiped them with a soft cloth and placed them across his face. He squinted around at us, 'Lant, Shoogar, Gortik - it's good to see you. I mean, really see you!' He stepped impulsively forward and clasped Shoogar's right hand. 'Shoogar, thank you, thank you, for taking such care of my seeing pieces!' He was smiling - He actually meant it!

Shoogar was caught by surprise. He muttered, 'You're welcome,' without even realizing he had. 'Now we can build a flying machine?'

'Yes,' laughed Purple, 'now we can build a flying ma-chine!'

Gortik and I looked at each other. It was a start. If only they didn't kill each other trying.

-----

I WAS beginning to understand what old Thran had meant when he used to say, 'A man is not fit to be Speaker until he has first led a flock of goats through a forest of crazyfern.'

In fact, I was beginning to suspect that the goatherding task might be easier.

For instance, it appeared that I had to organize the flying machine construction. I appointed Wilville and Orbur as officials aides and instructed them never to leave Purple and Shoogar alone together - not for any reason whatever.

The boys nodded soberly. They understood all too well, but they were willing to accept the task - they were as eager to build the flying machine as Purple and Shoogar were.

Now if only the other men of the village would be as willing to accept my leadership.

I smiled bitterly at the thought. If only the seas were Quaff, we could all get drunk - I might as well wish for a moon to fall out of the sky and carry away all my problems. The way things were going, if the seas were to turn to Quaff, I would find only a bladder with a hole in it.

Hinc and the others had wanted to stay, then they wanted to migrate, then they wanted to stay - then they found out that staying meant they would have to clear the upperslopes, bind new housetrees, build extra nests and make the area livable - and they wanted to move on again. They wanted to do everything but work.

To tell the truth though, the woods here were wild - they were a savage tangle of red crabvines and scraggly blackbushes. Broken branches hung everywhere, and stingbee nests were a common sight. Graygauzes hung from almost every branch, and once we found a hollow of nesting vampire kites.

Everywhere else the woods seemed delightfully tame and well cared for - but here, where we were supposed to settle, here it was as if all the wildness had been stored for the rest of the forest.

Or perhaps we had not noticed these things until we began to work.

We all nursed stings and bites. The women were never less than exhausted.

We men ate badly - sometimes worse than on the trail - and lived in chaos. That the work was tiring was no secret.

For once even the women were allowed to grumble. The children helped or hindered as suited their whims, and in general had a fine time.

Shoogar appeared each morning at the rising of the blue sun and blessed the day with a hasty chant: 'blessed art Thou, Ouells, father and mother of all the gods, who hast commanded our women to work for us.' Then he disappeared back into his nest to sleep until noon.

Meanwhile the shepherds had located several excellent pastures on which to graze the sheep. And they were delighted - at first - with the workforce sent up from the lower village. One of the lads was identical twins - so that though he was counted only as one, he did the work of two. In effect we had four novice shepherds to pick the burrs out of the wool and comb the sheep.

That, of course, freed several of the more experienced novices to work alongside the rest of us in the sloping wood. They appreciated that not at all.

Life in the sloping wood gradually became more pleasant than wandering across the deserts - that is, once we had housetrees and nest enough for our own needs. Hinc began to talk of weaving again, and began testing various fiber-plants and trees. Jark was daily to be seen testing some new and exotic kind of root or herb as a flavoring for Quaff. Ang, faced by an absence of frogs, changed his vocation and set up fishing rods along the stream. And I-

Now that I had settled the affairs of two villages and their magicians, I was ready to return to bonemongering.

-----

TRONE the Coppersmith was a dealer in metals and a member of the Guild of Advisors of the Lower Village. He was a broad scowling man who spoke in monosyllables. The hair of his head and torso was brown and coarse. He seemed to regard my wares with disfavor.

I was at a loss to understand his hostility. At the beginning of our trek I had taken only the most valuable pieces of petrified bone from the ruins of the village. Later, on the trek, I had increased my store from a desert trove, an ancient runforit skeleton, dry and hard as stone. Trone should have been impressed, but he wasn't.

'What's the matter?' I asked him. 'Do you fear the competition?'

'Hah!' he snapped. 'Bone is no competition for metal. It is not strong enough. A copper hammer will not break, a bone hammer will.'

'There are other uses for bone. I can carve out ceremonial bowls and ritual ornaments.'

'True,' the coppersmith admitted, 'but why don't you discuss this matter with Bellis the Potter - he might have something to say about that.'

Bellis the Potter. What was a potter?

I learned that by watching him at work. He took clay from the bottom of the river and worked it into the shapes of bowls. When it dried, it was as hard as any bone though far more brittle. Bellis had worked this into a high art, baking the clay ornaments in the hot sunlight until they would not go soft in the water, and could be used to carry water, soup, stews. He had even learned ways to paint and decorate the bowls and harden them by fire.

It was possible to make other things as well out of clay. Bellis was considered one of the best workers of his craft in the region. Indeed, he could do things with his clay that I could not do with my bone.

'But,' I suggested, 'you cannot use these devices for rituals and festives. Surely the Gods would be offended by the use of a bowl or ornament without a soul. Only bone has a soul.'

Bellis was a squat man, short and bent, almost deformed. He looked up at me through wizened eyes. 'My father used clay bowls to consecrate the births of all of his children, and my family has used clay bowls for as long as there has been either family or clay to make bowls out of. If there were Gods who would be offended by such use, we would have heard from them by now.'

Which might account for his twisted shape, I thought. But since I had no wish to quarrel with him, I said only, 'But clay has no soul.'

'All the more reason to use it. You can cast a spell without having to allow for or nullify the powers and attitudes latent in your utensils.' Like a bonemonger in my own region, Bellis the Potter understood some rudimentary magic, at least enough to discuss his needs with a magician. 'Your trade is outmoded, Lant the Speaker. You will soon find that there is little market for bone here.'

'Oh, I will always have a trade,' I said. 'Shoogar will not easily abandon the old ways - at least, he will always have a need for my craft.'

'Oh?' said Bellis. 'You see that pile of bowls and pots over there? You see this one that I am making now? All of these are for Shoogar. I can make clay bowls faster and easier than you can carve them out of bone, and Shoogar can use them right away. There are no latent influences to neutralize.'

I felt betrayed. Bellis was right, of course. To a magician at least, the advantages of clay over bone were enormous. And to the average person as well - one need not say a prayer of sorrow if one broke a clay bowl, one need only throw away the pieces - and that was that.

I knew it instinctively - there was no market for bone here. Probably there never would be, for the best bone is petrified bone and bone would not, could not, petrify here - the climate was too wet. I should have realized it earlier.

I could understand now why Hinc and the others had wanted to move on. Hinc was a weaver - but there were better weavers here. Jark was a Quaff-maker - but there was such an abundance of fermentable plants here, everybody made their own Quaff or chewed raba-root. And I was a bonemonger - but nobody used bone at all.

Even though we wanted to move on, we could not do so until the seas receded - and that time was a long way off. And I doubted that anyone would want to migrate then -already many had announced themselves satisfied with their new homes.

During the dry seasons, Gortik had told me, when the seas were down, this island was actually a peninsula off the main southern continent. We could see the larger mass of it across the swollen channel, some twenty-odd miles away. But for all the good it could do us, it might have been beyond the world's edge.

There was just our double village and four others on the island. All were near the shoreline. Every second hand of days, a trading caravan came round bringing the news and goods of the other towns and taking away the news and goods of ours. I soon found out that they had no use for a bonemonger either.

No wonder I had seen no bonemonger here - they had all starved to death. When the local villagers wanted to indicate futility, they said, 'You might as well go carve bone.'

It was a fine time to find that out, I thought bitterly.

Well, so I had no trade I must concentrate instead on Speaking for my village. I wondered if I dared tithe my people to pay me for the labor of Speaking for them. I had heard of villages where the Speaker collected a toll from each fully grown man. But I sensed that my tribe would object strongly. My control was still too weak for me to risk such a test of power.

Then Wilville and Orbur would have to support me, that was all there was to it. But no, Wilville and Orbur were working for Shoogar and Purple in the lower village. Shoogar and Purple were accepting responsibility for the two of them.

Mm. If they were taking care of my sons, they could easily accept the care of the rest of my family, including me.

After all, it was the two villages that supported the magicians. If they were to support me too, they would in effect be paying my tithe without ever knowing it.

Yes, it would work. I could tell Gortik that I had decided not to ply my trade until after the affair with Purple and Shoogar was settled. My skill as a diplomat would be required to help them work together in order to speed Purple's ultimate departure.

Yes, Gortik would accept that.

I went to tell them what I had decided.

-----

I FOUND Purple and Shoogar wrangling over a writingskin with complicated markings all over it. Wilville was sitting on a stone crying in frustration. Orbur was patting him on the back.

The source of the trouble was a perplexing one. Purple was trying to convince Shoogar that the lines on the skin were a flying machine. Shoogar didn't understand and neither did I.

'Listen, lizardhead,' he was saying, 'animal skins don't fly. They need animals in them even to move.'

The skin doesn't fly!' Purple screamed. 'It's only something to put the flying machine lines on!'

'Oh? Then the lines fly?'

'No - these lines don't, but they are a flying machine. That is, they are a-' He paused, having trouble choosing the right word,'-simulacrum.'

'Nonsense,' said Shoogar, 'if this were a simulacrum, it would be a flying machine in itself. How can it be a simulacrum and not be a flying machine?'

'It's a nonworking simulacrum-' insisted Purple.

'Don't be silly - the two terms are contradictory. It's like saying it is a nonworking spell.'

Purple muttered something in his demon tongue. 'It's like a doll, Shoogar, it's-'

'That's what I mean!' Shoogar cut him off. 'A doll is the person and the person is the doll. What more do you need to know?'

'The doll isn't the person. The doll is a doll!' snapped Purple.

'And you are a frognose,' Shoogar snapped back.

'Hah! You would be honored if a sheep emptied his bladder upon you!'

'And you would be honored to be that bladder!'

As one, they both rolled up their sleeves, preparatory to hurling curses.

Without thinking, I stepped between them. Had I thought about it, I'm sure I would have been moving in the ' opposite direction. 'Now stop this, you two - do you want to devastate another village?'

'If it will remove this fungus eater from my eyesight, it will be worth it.'

'A toad like you should be honored to live in my drop-pings.'

'And where will you go?' I answered. 'You'd both do better to wait until the waters recede before you destroy the island.'

They hesitated. Before they could work up their fury again, I added, 'Besides, you both swore oaths of fealty and truce. There will be no feuds and no duels. I will mediate all disagreements - now what is the problem?'

Both spoke at once - like children, they were: This clotsucking dung beetle doesn't know how to do the simplest of-'

'Stop it! Now stop it!' I turned to Orbur, 'Do you under-stand the conflict?'

He nodded, They're both fatheads.'

Both magicians turned on him, spells at the ready, but Orbur didn't blanch. He said, 'Wilville and I understand what it is that Purple wants. If he'll shut up long enough for us to do the work, we can begin building the framework for it. But not if we have to keep stopping to explain it to Shoogar, and not if we have to keep stopping to look at Purple's drawings.'

'But these are blue-drawings,' insisted Purple. 'You need them in order to build the flying machine.'

'Fine,' said Wilville. 'Draw them when we finish. Then you'll have the machine as a model to draw them from.'

'But - but that's not the way you're supposed to do it,' Purple wailed. These are blue-drawings.'

I looked at the animal skin. The lines were black on a brown background. Even with his seeing pieces, Purple's eyesight was none too good. 'I don't see that the color of them is that important,' I said.

'But it is - you're supposed to have blue-drawings before you build the machine.'

'It's part of the spell, then?' I asked. Shoogar looked up.

'Yes, I guess you could say that.'

'Well, then why didn't you say so?' Shoogar said.

'I - I don't know.'

I looked at them both. 'Then it is only a misunderstanding, isn't it?'

'I guess so,' said Purple, still looking confused. Shoogar nodded.

'Fine. Then this is what we will do. Wilville and Orbur will start building the framework of the machine and Purple will do the blue-drawings. Shoogar will - well, he'll do something, I'm sure. And I will stay here and help you organize.'

They all looked at me. 'You? Organize?'

'You will need somebody to help round up labor for you, and materials.'

They saw the wisdom of the point and nodded.

'Besides,' I added, 'someone like me will always be needed to mediate your differences. Now, Wilville, you and Orbur can start building the framework or whatever it is over there and-'

'No, Father. We were thinking of building it up on Idiot's Crag.'

'Appropriately named. Why there? You would have to carry all your materials up.'

'But it is a high place, a good place to launch a flying machine. And the sea will not rise that high. We can continue to build through Wading Season, if need be.'

'H'm. A good suggestion. Then you and Orbur can start building the framework up on Idiot's Crag and Purple will stay here and draw his blue-drawings. And Shoogar will uh -Shoogar will cast a rune of good luck.'

Shoogar didn't look any too pleased with his duties, neither did Purple. They both started to object, but I wouldn't hear any of it. I insisted that Wilville and Orbur get to work assembling their tools up on Idiot's Crag.

'Now then,' I said to Purple, 'if I am to organize this project, I will need to know what I am organizing. What other materials will we need?'

Purple said, 'What we are building is a giant boat, one which will be at least five manlengths long, maybe six. We'll attach-'

'Wait, wait. A boat? I thought you intended to fly.'

'Yes, that was what I thought too. I would have used a basket, but if I have to come down on water at all, I would rather be in a boat than in a basket.'

'That makes sense,' I said. Even Shoogar nodded. 'Now how will your boat fly?'

'We will make huge bags in which we will trap air that is lighter than air. We will attach them to the boat - they will lift it and the boat will float through the sky.'

Shoogar looked up at this. 'Air which is lighter than air? Is that like the bubbles of noxious odor that rise from the swamps?'

"You have tried to use swamp gas to make a flying ma-chine?'

Shoogar nodded eagerly.

That's more intelligent than anything I would have expected of you, Shoogar. You are more advanced than I thought - that is just what we are going to do. In principle, that is - we will not be getting our gas from a swamp.'

'Gas?' asked Shoogar. 'You use a word-'

'Yes, gas,' said Purple, waving his hands excitedly. 'Air is many gases mixed together. The gas we will use will come from water. Now, do you see this?' Purple pointed to a circle on his animal skin. 'This is a big bag. We will fill-'

'That is not a big bag!' Shoogar screamed suddenly. That is a blue-drawing!'

At that, I took Purple aside and explained to him that he'd better not try to use his blue-drawings to explain any-thing to Shoogar. Shoogar did not like blue-drawing spells because he did not understand them.

Purple shrugged and turned back to Shoogar, 'Uh, forget the blue-drawings, Shoogar. You are right, this is not a big bag, this is a blue-drawing. But we will use big bags to lift the boat. We will fill them with my lighter-than-air gas.' He turned to me. 'We will need several things. We will need a boat shell. These people here do not know how to build boats as big as you did up north, and Wilville and Orbur know much about working with wood. They can teach the local boatsmith a thing or two. We will also need cloth, fine cloth, out of which we will tailor the bags. Fortunately, the weaving here is among the finest in the region. Thirdly, we will need gas to fill the bags. I can supply that'

Then all is settled,' I said. 'We can easily build the flying machine.'

'Wrong,' said Purple; 'unfortunately, Wilville and Orbur have so far been unable to find the proper materials for a boat frame.'

'Huh? I thought you just said-'

'They know only how to build boats out of heavy wood,' said Purple, 'and this boat must be light as well as strong. It must be made out of the lightest wood possible. Secondly, the quality of the cloth here is still unusable for the gasbags. It is too coarse. We are going to have to teach these people how to weave finer material.'

'And what about the gas?' asked Shoogar. 'Is there some reason why we can't get that either?'

Purple shook his head, 'No, it should be an easy matter to separate the water. I can use my battery, or Trone the Coppersmith can build me a spark-wheel.'

'Separate the water? Battery? Spark-wheel?'

'Water is two gases. We will separate them and use one in the gasbags.'

Shoogar shook his head at this, but if it worked, it worked.

Apparently Purple knew what he was talking about. The rest of us would have to wait and see. I delegated Shoogar the task of obtaining samples of cloth from the various weavers in the region. He protested at first, but I took him aside and impressed upon him the importance of having the right kind of spell materials. He protested until I pointed out that he could take advantage of the fact by acquainting him- self with the local spells in the process. He nodded agreeably and left.

-----

WILVILLE and Orbur had already begun to mark out the outlines of the boat with stakes and twine. It looked like a large flat-bottomed barge.

'No, no!' screamed Purple, when they explained to him.

'It should be narrower, and it should have a keel, like so!'

Put away the blue-drawings,' I insisted. 'We don't need them.'

After he calmed down, we began again - this time at the beginning. Wilville and Orbur moved the stakes in to form a narrower outline. They shook their heads. 'What will keep it from capsizing?' they asked.

'Outriggers, we will have outriggers,' Purple explained that the boat should have narrow pontoons, held out like so from the sides.

Then what will keep the thing level when it is suspended in the air?'

'A keel, of course - a heavier beam of wood at the bottom of the hull.'

'But if it is heavier, won't it weigh down the boat too much?'

He considered that. 'You may be right. If it does, we may have to add another gasbag.'

To tell the truth, I didn't understand much of the discussion. It began to get too technical for me - but once Wilville and Orbur started to understand what Purple meant they began discussing the project in excited terms. The three of them argued happily back and forth, Wilville and Orbur nodding and gesticulating with every new idea.

Indeed, at one point they began scratching diagrams in the dirt in order to help them understand. When they did this, Purple tried to bring out his blue-drawings again, but they rejected them as having little or no relevance at all to the project. It was the dirt-drawings which were necessary to the construction of the device.

Obviously my sons understood what needed to be built and how to do it. The why of it sometimes eluded them, but Purple was willing to explain. Several times the boys suggested alternative and better ways - especially when the discussion turned to how they would rig the gasbags to the boat frame.

'Why not sew up just one very big bag as large as all the others?' Orbur asked.

Purple held up the hem of his robe of office in two hands and gave it a yank. It did not rip, but the weave parted easily. It looked like a piece of strainer cloth. 'If all I have is one bag and this happens,' said Purple, 'then I am marooned at sea, or even high in the air! But if I have many bags and this happens, I can only lose one at a time.'

Orbur nodded excitedly. 'Yes, yes, I see. I see.' They turned back to the problem of rigging the boat with a variable number of gasbags.

-----

WHEN Shoogar returned from his task two days later, he bore with him a double armful of samples of different kinds of cloth. 'I have visited every weaver on the island,' he puffed. 'All are eager to supply our needs. This is their finest cloth.'

That evening we met with them - it was a council of all the weavers of both the Upper and Lower Villages, and representative weavers from the four other townships of the peninsula/island. The five of us sat with them and discussed the possibilities of using each type of cloth.

The only jarring note was Hinc - he demanded to know why I was officiating - a mere bonemonger.

I replied that I was here as speaker, and also as organizer of the project.

That failing, he challenged my sons, 'And why are they here? I thought this was to be a council of weavers and magicians.'

'It is - but they are helping to build the flying machine. They have as much right to participate in these discussions as you. Perhaps more.'

Chastened, he sat down.

Purple had two simple tests for each type of cloth. First, he would give each one a yank to see how easily the weave would spread. More than half of the samples failed this test. Purple said to the weavers who had submitted them that if they could not do better than that, then there as no point in their staying. Several left, just as glad that they wouldn't be working with the mad magician.

The second test was just as easy. He formed a sack out of each piece of cloth and poured water into it. He then counted slowly while the water leaked out. Clearly he was searching for the cloth that was tightest and would hold water longest. 'If the cloth will hold water,' he explained, 'it can be made to hold air. But if none of these cloths work, we will have to find one that will. Even if we must weave it ourselves.'

We went through the finest goods in the region, while Purple shook his head sadly and told them that each was too coarse. None would hold water for more than a minute.

Naturally the weavers bristled. Several more left in a huff. Had they not been facing the two greatest magicians in the world, undoubtedly they would have challenged us all to a battle for the right of survivorship at the following blue dawn.

'Humph,' said white-furred old Lesta; 'why do you want to carry water in a clothbag anyway? Why don't you use a pot like a normal person?'

The spell calls for a bag, you butter-wart!' snapped Shoogar. Lesta hissed back, but said nothing else.

Purple ignored this interchange. He lay down the last piece of cloth sadly and said, 'It is as I feared - these are all too coarse for our purposes. Can't you do better?'

'Those are our best - and if they are the best we can do, then you will not find anyone anywhere who can match them, let alone surpass them.'

Purple opened what he called his 'impact suit and peeled it away from his arms and torso. He took off the shirt underneath - revealing (Gods protect us!) his pale, nearly hairless chest. I had known about this already from my number one wife, but the men of the other villages gasped in disbelief. The sight of Purple's fat paunch was almost too much.

Purple ignored it Instead he handed them the shirt - he pushed it at the man who had spoken. 'Here is finer cloth,' he said.

The man took it, he turned it over curiously and examined both sides. He rubbed it between his fingers.

'That should prove to you that finer weaves are possible,' Purple said.

Other weavers were reaching for it now. Quickly, the shirt was passed around the circle. It was sniffed at and tasted, touched and murmured over. The weavers were incredulous at its quality.

At last it reached old Lesta. He held it up to the light and peered. He gave it a yank and peered at it again. He rubbed it between his fingers. He sniffed at it, made a face, and tasted it. He made another face. At last, he folded it into a sack and stepped to the center of the clearing. One of the other weavers, perceiving what he was intending, hefted a clay pot of water and poured it into the sack. It held.

Lesta counted slowly, but only a little water seeped out - and at such a rate that it would take all day to empty the sack. 'Humph,' he said and let the water splash to the ground. It glinted wetly in the red light. 'You are right,' he said. 'This is a fine piece of cloth - why don't you use this?'

'Because I haven't got enough of it,' said Purple, retrieving his shirt. He began wringing the water out of it. 'I want you to match this.'

'Why should I even bother to try?' grumbled Lesta. 'If you want cloth that fine, go where you got that piece.'

'I'm trying to!' Purple exploded. 'I want to go home.

I am marooned in a strange land, and I want to go home.'

I pitied him. I couldn't help it. We too were marooned in an alien land. Even though it was Purple's fault, I still pitied him.

Purple turned away from the circle of weavers and began shrugging back into his still-damp shirt. Clearly, he was embarrassed at his outburst.

I waited until he had covered his alien pink flesh. Then I turned to Lesta. 'You cannot weave cloth like that, can you?'

Lesta muttered something under his breath.

'What was that?'

'No,' he said. 'No, I cannot. Nobody can. It is demoncloth.'

'But if you could learn to weave cloth like that,' I suggested, 'that would make you the greatest weaver in the land, wouldn't it?'

'I am already the greatest weaver in the land!' he screamed.

'Oh,' I said, 'but what would happen to you if another learned how to make cloth like this-?'

He stopped breathing.

'and if you could not...?'

He didn't answer. He glared at me, at Purple, at me again. Abruptly he regained himself. 'Nonsense,' he said. 'It can't be done.'

'Purple has a shirt that shows it can be done. If necessary he will teach other weavers how to duplicate it.'

Lesta bristled. He started to turn away, then turned back. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He started to gesture to Purple, then pulled back his hand. He glared. 'It can't be done,' he repeated. 'But if it could be, then I could do it! If anyone can do it, it's going to be me!'

At that Purple turned back to us, still fastening his impact suit. 'All right, Lesta,' he said. 'I accept your statement-'

Lesta looked pleased.

'and I am going to help you prove it.'

'Lesta stopped looking so pleased. He swallowed hard. Suddenly he no longer had any choice in the matter; the alternative was to lose face - and his position as head weaver.

-----

WE went to examine the looms.

Purple's claim that he could teach a finer quality of weaving was accepted, but his insistence that he be allowed to examine the looms met with some resistance.

'But how can I teach you anything unless I can see the looms you are working with?'

Lesta shrugged, 'You will have to teach us here.'

'But I can't,' said Purple. 'I have to see the looms.'

'And I can't allow that.'

Then there will be no new cloth. I will have to seek a ; weaver who will show me his looms.'

At that the old weaver relented and led us toward his secret clearing. Only weavers were allowed to enter it. That Lesta was willing to break a generations-old tradition showed how important he considered Purple's cloth.

As we approached we could hear the sounds of great creaking machinery, shuddering and protesting. This was alternated with shouts and commands - it made a steady rhythm: a shout and a shudder, a command and a creak.

We entered the glade and caught our first sight of the looms. They were heavy wooden structures - giant moving frames set at odd angles to each other. They rocked steadily back and forth at each command, and it looked as if the cloth appeared between them. Some of the looms were covered with spiderweb traceries of threads, others with half-pieces of brown undyed cloth stretched across them.

The team leader caught sight of us then, and his command stuck in his throat. The frameworks halted in their busy motion, slowed and came to a stop. Their flashing threads were stilled. The novices and journeymen turned to stare as one.

'No, no,' said Purple; 'make them continue, make them continue.'

Lesta snapped orders at his weavers. They looked at him questioningly - Weave? With strangers here? He growled ; menacingly. - I could see why he was head weaver. The apprentices went nervously back to work. The team leader swallowed and issued his command, the looms began grinding again.

The young men sweated as they pushed the heavy wooden frames back and forth, back and forth, while the younger boys played a form of catch with a ball of yam between the two frames.

I had never seen weaving before, and I was entranced by the process. Lesta explained it: there are two vertical sets of threads, each set in a separate frame and independent of each other, but interlocked in such a way that they alternate. The horizontal threads are laid on one at a time, the frames are moved so as to reverse their positions, and another horizontal thread is strung.

Purple nodded slowly, as if he understood everything. Perhaps he did. He examined a sample of the cloth they were weaving and asked, 'Could you not weave it finer than this?'

'I could, in principle - but where would I find loom teeth fine enough to string the threads so close? And where would I get thread fine enough to use on such teeth?'

Purple ran his fingertips along the cloth. 'Where does it come from, your thread?'

This is from the fiberplant. Sometimes we use wool from sheep when we can barter for it, but usually it is too coarse or too scarce.'

'There are no finer threads available?'

The other shook his head.

Purple muttered in his own language. 'Too primitive even for basic industrial facilities ...' Though they did not understand what he was saying, the weavers bristled. His tone made it clear enough - he was disparaging their work, perhaps even cursing it.

He looked up, There is no other way of making cloth that you know of, is there?'

'If there was, I would be making it that way,' said Lesta perfunctorily.

'You have never heard of rubber?'

'Rubber? What is rubber?'

Purple turned to me and Shoogar, 'Do either of you know of any kind of tree or plant that leaks a sticky kind of sap?'

We shook our heads.

'There is the sweetbush plant,' offered Shoogar. 'It has a sticky secretion.'

'It does?' Purple was eager.

'Yes, the children love to suck on the sweetdroppings.'

'No,' sighed the magician. 'That will never do. I need a kind of sticky substance that hardens into a gummy lump.'

We all looked at each other, each wishing the other to come up with the answer.

'Oh well,' sighed Purple again. 'I knew it wasn't going to be easy. Look, I need some kind of material that can be heated and molded - liquid that dries in sheets or layers.'

We all shook our heads again.

While Purple continued to describe his mystical sticky substance to them, I moved closer to examine the looms.

The weavers looked at me with ill-concealed hostility, but I ignored them. The teeth of the looms were carved from hardwood limbs. Each section was about one hand-length and set into a slot at the top of the frame.

'Are these the finest teeth you have? I asked.

'No, we have one set finer than this,' quavered the apprentice I had spoken to. 'But we never use them because they are too fragile and break. We have to go very slowly when we use them.'

'H'm,' I said. 'Why don't you carve the teeth out of bone?'

'Bone?'

'Bone-carved teeth would not only be stronger, but you could carve them much finer than this. You could carve two or three times as many teeth to a knuckle-length.'

The man shrugged. 'I don't know about those things.'

I examined the frame again, climbing up on the platform to do so. I wanted to check the slot to see how each piece was fastened. Yes, it would be possible to carve bone to fit into that slot. I pulled out a measuring string and began tying measuring knots into it.

Abruptly Lesta saw what I was doing and broke away from Purple, 'Hey, what is that? You're stealing our secrets!'

I protested, 'No, I'm not. What would I do with them? Do you want finer teeth for your looms? I can provide them within a hand of days, maybe sooner.'

He looked up at me, Purple and Shoogar moved up behind him. 'How?' he asked. There are the finest and strongest teeth possible.'

'I will carve you better ones out of bone.'

'Bone!' The old man was horrified. 'You would desecrate the cloth with the soul of an animal? Cloth comes from trees and fiberplants. You must use the teeth of the tree, not the teeth of the animal.'

'But I can carve teeth four or five times as fine as these!'

At that Purple's head perked up. 'You can? Lant, that will be great. That would be almost as fine a weave as we need.'

'Hah!' said Lesta. 'I can achieve a weave that fine already - if I wanted to.'

'How would you do that?' I demanded.

'I would compact the weave, that's all.'

'Compact the weave?' asked Purple.

He nodded, 'It is a simple process. We use the same number of threads, but we press them inward so they take up less width. You see that loom over there?'

We looked. The framework had a half-finished piece of cloth on it. It was a small piece of cloth, less than one half the width of the loom, but at its edges the threads stretched and spread evenly to every tooth on the frame.

'There,' said Lesta, 'that cloth is compacted. You want a fine weave? That is how we will get it.'

Purple had gone over to examine the cloth.

Lesta followed. I jumped down from the platform and ragtagged over. Lesta was saying, 'Of course, if we compact it, you won't have as wide a cloth as-'

'I'm not concerned about its width,' Purple said. 'If necessary we'll weave more of it. I'm concerned about its tightness.'

Lesta shrugged. 'As you will.'

Purple turned to him. 'If Lant were to carve new loomteeth out of bone, could you compact that weave as well?'

'Of course - you can compact any weave you want,' said Lesta. 'But you will not use bone on my looms,'

'But it's the only way-'

There will be no bone teeth on my looms,' repeated the weaver.

Shoogar was standing right behind him. He said, 'Do you want to get hit with the termite blight?'

The old man paled. He whirled on Shoogar, 'You wouldn't.'

Shoogar was rolling up his sleeves, 'Want me to try...?'

'Uh-' Lesta eyed him warily. Obviously he didn't. He took a step back, then another, a third and he bumped into Purple. He jumped away and looked at us, glanced nervously at his looms, then said, 'Well, I suppose I should keep up with the latest developments in the craft, shouldn't I ...?'

'A wise decision, old man!' Purple boomed. He clapped the weaver on the back. 'I am glad that is settled. Lant will begin carving the new teeth immediately.'

I was delighted. If nothing else, I would unload most of that runforit skeleton after all. What luck! The carving of the teeth would take care of most of the flat bones and all I'd have to worry about then would be the hundred and twenty- eight ribs.

Now, let's see, I'd probably still have to sand some of the pieces flatter, then carve slits into them - the best way might be to use a cutting thread to slice very narrow lines. H'm, it would be like carving a bone comb, but faster because I would not have to carve so deep. I could use a framework of cutting threads, and cut all the slots in a section at once. If I measured it precisely enough, each section would be the same as every other one.

The same as every other one - that was an interesting thought! If one broke, you could replace it immediately; there would be no delay in carving a new piece to fit. You could always keep a couple of extras around. That seemed practical. Hmm ...

I wondered; I might be able to finish the teeth even sooner if I could find some apprentices - but no, there was not enough free labor in either of the villages. The only thing we had an excess of was women - and most of them were less than useless.

We discussed some of the details for awhile longer, until at last Purple stretched his arms over his head and stared up into the sky. 'Ah,' he yawned, 'let's call it a red day.'

'Good idea,' I said. 'My wives will be preparing the midnight meal. Tonight I would like to get to it before darkness falls.'

We climbed toward the Upper Village. We were far enough past the interpassage that there would be a period of darkness between red sunset and blue dawn. Shoogar might even get a glimpse of the moons.

'I'm sure we would all appreciate a rest,' I said.

'I know I would,' Shoogar muttered. 'I have a housetree cultivation ceremony to perform at blue dawn.'

'Why don't you come?' I said impulsively to Purple. 'You'll enjoy it'

'I just might do that,' he said.

As we entered the Upper Village we could see Damd the Tree Binder preparing the virgin tree for cultivation. A wild housetree is a thick sturdy giant with pliable limbs; it must be bound and strengthened before it can hold a house. The lowest branches must be softened and treated, and then bent into the ground to grow into roots. The upper branches must be twined together to form a cradle for the nest. Within a hand of days the nest weaver can begin his work.

At Wilville and Orbur's insistence, Purple ate with me and my family. Ordinarily, I would never have invited him anywhere near my nest, but the alternative was to publicly refuse - and that might have offended the men of the Lower Village.

As it turned out, I need not have feared. Purple and Wilville and Orbur were so excited about their project that they spoke of nothing else throughout the whole meal - and we were having fresh sea leeches too! The three of them argued back and forth about methods of construction and the principles by which the machine would work. I tried to follow as best as I could, but most of it was beyond me - at last I had to give up and turn my attention instead to calming my nervous wives. All this talk of flying machines and airbags was upsetting them enormously. The two of them twittered nervously in the background and refused to approach except at my sternest command. Finally, I had to threaten to beat them and refuse them our table scraps.

Shoogar had been invited to join us too, but he had declined. Instead, he had spent the whole twenty minutes of darkness up on Idiot's Crag, straining to catch a glimpse of the moons. At blue dawn he was furious. Only one of the three largest moons had shown, and that only for a second as two clouds parted. Shoogar had been unable to tell which moon it was.

It was just as well. I knew what he wanted from the sky, and I would be just as glad if he never found it.

-----

PURPLE had never seen a cultivation before. He stood and watched as Shoogar offered the seventeen blessings in Quaff borrowed from the Lower Village.

Shoogar was relaxed as I had not seen him relax since his confrontation with Purple. It did him good to get his mind off the complexities and unknowns of a flying spell. A cultivation is mostly a simple rote reciting, so basic and foolproof that even the position of the moons cannot change it.

Purple watched politely while Shoogar chanted in his brightly marked robe and heavy headdress, prayer shawl and beads. When Shoogar sprinkled the quaff at the base of the tree, he muttered something about comparative somethings and fertility rites. Demon words again.

At last we reached my favorite part of the ceremony. All of the women and children shed their clothes and began dancing around the newly sanctified tree, singing, and painting stripes round and round the trunk in bright colored dyes. Purple's interest immediately perked up. 'What spell is this?' he asked.

'What?' I didn't understand his question.

'What is the purpose of this spell? Perhaps you hope to frighten away the red strangling crabvines, or the termite blight, or-??'

'No, Purple. They're doing that for fun.'

'For fun-' Purple's naked face turned pink. He watched a bit longer, then gradually lost interest in the ceremony. It did go on for a very long time. He wandered off morosely.

It was only when Shoogar got to the tree-bleeding that Purple's attention returned. He was sitting dourly off to one side, lost in thought. Now as Damd the Tree Binder began tapping into the veins of the tree and Shoogar began chanting again, he looked up.

'What are they doing now?'

'Bleeding the tree,' shouted one of the children derisively. What kind of a magician was this, who did not even recognize a simple cultivation ceremony?

We watched patiently as Shoogar blessed the blood of the tree and anointed the tied limbs and roots-to-be. Guided by Damd's ropes and Shoogar's chanted instructions, the lowest limbs would become additional sections of trunk. The higher limbs, which had been bent downward and tied together, would grow into a strong circular framework for a nest.

The spell was nearing completion when Purple abruptly stepped into the middle of it. He brushed through the circle of chanting women and ran a finger through the blood of the tree.

The chanting stopped instantly. We stood frozen in shock, wondering why Purple would break a treespell. And Shoogar, furious, reached for a pouch at his waist.

Thoughtfully Purple said, 'It may be that we can use this sap.' He turned to Shoogar, his sticky fingers outstretched.

Shoogar was taken aback. He hesitated, he forgot the pouch in his hand, and doubtless he remembered his oath. But his voice was thick with fury as he asked, 'Is that why you smashed the delicate web of my magic?'

'Shoogar, you don't understand.' Purple rubbed the sticky substance between his palms, savoring its feel. 'It may be that I can use this substance for the air bags.'

'Housetree blood for a flying machine? Housetree blood?'

'Certainly,' said Purple, 'why not?'

The murmur of voices around him should have told Purple why not. It didn't, of course. I stepped quickly through the crowd, took Purple by the arm and led him out. He stumbled along with me almost in a daze, he was murmuring excitedly in his own tongue.

Behind his back I signaled Shoogar to start the ceremony again. I moved off to one side with Purple and tried to get some sense out of him.

'It's like natural rubber, Lant. I'll have to try it, of course, but it may be just what I need to hold the gas in the bags-'

'Forget it, Purple. You can't use housetree blood. House-trees are sacred.'

'Sacred be damned. I must have an airtight container. Will you stop jumping around like that?'

'Then stop using those horrendous curses!'

'What curses-??' He looked puzzled. 'Oh, never mind.' He went back to examining the sap on his hands.

'Can't you use something else besides housetree blood? Infant blood, for instance - I'm sure we could-'

'No! he gasped 'No! Definitely not - no human blood -it wouldn't work anyway.'

'You said that if your cloth was watertight it would be airtight. What about pottery? Could you hold your light gas in large pottery containers?'

'No, no, they're too heavy - much too heavy - we've got to try the housetree blood. It may be the only way. You see, the cloth we've got just isn't good enough - but if they can weave the finer cloth, and if we can soak it in housetree sap and then dry it, perhaps that might work. We'd have to try different arrangements, of course-'

'But - but-' I sputtered. There had to be a way out of this mess. Purple was desperate to fly; but Shoogar and the villagers would never permit housetree sap to be so defiled. A duel was in the offing, unless-

A weird thought occurred to me. I would have dismissed it instantly, even with my layman's knowledge of magic. But Purple was so oddly unorthodox-

I said, 'There is one chance. Now, don't laugh, Purple, but could you possibly use the sap of a wild housetree in the same spell-?'

'Yes, of course. Why not?'

'Huh?' I was incredulous. 'You mean you could??'

'Of course.' There was an odd expression on Purple's face, a delighted expression. 'Sap is sap.'

'Uh, it isn't, you know-' but he wasn't listening. He was fidgeting impatiently.

'Lant,' he said. 'I will need to experiment. I will need a wild housetree and some pots - and some cloth - and - and -'

'See Wilville and Orbur. They will help you get what you need. You do know how to recognize a wild housetree, don't you?'

'Of course. The roots and branches won't be bent.' And off he went.

It was the right answer, of course - but I was still surprised. Purple was so unorthodox.

-----

BY the time I had finished the first set of loomteeth, Purple and Shoogar had finished their first set of experiments with wild housetree sap. Purple knew what he wanted to achieve, and Shoogar knew best how to achieve it.

The heated sap could be treated with certain other magician's chemicals to make a putrid and foul smelling soup. Cloth could be dipped into this soup, and it would form an airtight seal. However, the seal was neither as tight nor as permanent as Purple had wished and so they continued to experiment.

On the day I began carving the third set of loomteeth, Purple announced that he had reached a solution to the problem of weaving a watertight cloth. Instead of dipping the whole cloth into the housetree soup, he would dip the spun threads before they were woven. When the thread dried it was impregnated with the sap and it had a smooth and shiny feel.

Cloth woven from these treated threads could then be treated in a modified housetree-binding solution and dried again. The threads, already soaked with housetree blood, would swell and join and become one solid material, impermeable to air and water.

Purple was delighted. If thread could be woven fine enough, and if my bone loomteeth would work as expected, then surely we could weave a cloth light enough and tight enough for the flying machine.

By the time I had finished the third set of loomteeth, Lesta had already woven several swatches of fine aircloth for Purple. It was smooth and shiny, and the weave was almost invisible to the eye.

'Isn't it beautiful, Lant?' Purple exclaimed.

I had to admit that it was. Old Lesta beamed with pride.

Purple had been running from person to person, stopping them, and demanding that they feel his cloth. 'Why, when the rest of the loomteeth are finished, we will be able to make a cloth of such quality-' He was so overcome with emotion, he could not finish the sentence.

Lesta was only slightly more subdued. 'Lant,' he demanded, 'I must have more of those loomteeth. I must have as many as you can carve. We are going to weave nothing but aircloth!'

'That will be great!' cried Purple. Thank you - I will be able to use all you can weave!'

Lesta stared at him. 'Do you think it's for you, you fuzzwort? This cloth will be in demand for miles around - we must prepare for that. When the waters go down again and the trade routes are reopened, we will be prosperous indeed!'

'Aaarggh!' said Purple. His face was red and blue and several other colors at once. 'Betrayer!' he cried. 'You must first weave enough cloth to satisfy my needs and purposes.'

'Nonsense,' muttered Lesta, 'we have no agreement.'

'Snakeroot slime we don't! I was to show you how to weave a finer cloth,' he raged, 'and in return, you were to weave enough for my flying machine!'

'Blither-blather,' snarled Lesta, 'it's a magician's duty to continually improve the way of life of his people. You were merely performing your duties, Purple - and for the first time, too!' he added.

'Wait a minute,' I cried. 'Let me settle this.'

They both looked at me.

'It is my duty to aid the magicians whenever and wherever possible. This is precisely the type of situation in which I must arbitrate.'

'Lant is right,' said Purple. 'Go ahead, Lant.'

Lesta glared at me. 'Let's hear what you have to say first,' he grumbled.

'Go on, Lant.'

'Well-' I said. 'It is quite obvious to me what the situation is here. Purple is the magician, Lesta is the weaver. Purple has shown Lesta how to weave a cloth of a quality so fine that hitherto it has been unknown to men. Purple is now demanding payment for such knowledge, correct?'

They both nodded.

'However, Lesta has charged that he owes Purple nothing. Purple was merely performing his sworn duty as village magician to uplift the way of life of all men. Still correct?'

Again they nodded.

'Well, it is all quite simple,' I said. 'It is obvious; Lesta is right.'

'Huh-?' Purple's jaw fell open with a snap.

Lesta beamed. 'You are right, Lant. I will abide by your decision.' He threw a mocking glance at Purple.

'Now wait a minute, Lant-' Purple began.

'You heard him,' rapped out Lesta. 'And you said you were willing to abide by his decision!'

'No, I didn't - I said I'd wait to hear what he had to say cried Purple. 'Lant, what are you doing-?'

'Wait a minute!' I shouted again, 'Wait a minute!'

Again they looked to me.

'I have not finished speaking,' I said.

They quieted.

'Lesta is right,' I repeated. 'He owes Purple nothing. However,' I said slowly, 'he does owe me-'

'Huh?'

'For the loomteeth,' I said. 'You are using my loomteeth. I carved them, they belong to me.'

'You?' he said. 'What would you use them for?'

I pretended to shrug nonchalantly. 'Oh, I don't know,' I said. 'I might rent them out to various weavers; or I might become a weaver myself.'

'We would smash your looms!' he snarled.

'And risk the wrath of Shoogar?' I said. 'No, you wouldn't. Instead, you will pay me a fair price for the use of the teeth - as any other weaver would.'

'I am not any other weaver!' shouted Lesta. 'I pay no price. You should be willing to do this out of sheer graciousness and goodwill for being allowed to settle here in this region.'

'It is a poor region,' I said. 'I do not need it. Come, give me my loomteeth - I must go and talk with Hinc the weaver.'

'Uh - wait a minute,' said Lesta. 'Maybe we can work something out-'

'I'm sure we can. You will be making profit beyond your wildest dreams. You should not begrudge me a fair price for my labor.'

His eyes narrowed. 'And what is your so-called 'fair price?'

Purple was gaping open-mouthed at this exchange. I said,

'Enough cloth for Purple to build his flying machine, plus five per cent more for me, for my own uses including trading.'

'Gack-' said Lesta. I thought he would choke and die right there.

'I have made it possible for you to weave a cloth better than any you have ever woven before!! Do you want to use these loomteeth or not?'

He eyed the flat bone pieces I held. I could see that he wanted them badly - and he knew that I would not hesitate to deal with some other weaver. Already the word was out about this fine cloth - there was not a weaver in the land who would not jump at the chance to make it.

'Humph,' he said. 'I will offer you half that-'

'No. It is either all or nothing.'

'You ask too much! I cannot-'

I turned and started to walk away. 'I think I saw Hinc over by the river-'

'Wait!' he called. I kept walking. 'Wait!' He hurried after me, grabbed at my arm. 'All right, Lant, all right. You win, you win. I will weave the cloth for Purple, and five per cent more for you.'

I stopped walking. 'Fine. I will take a guarantee of it.'

'Huh?' He stared. 'Is not my word enough?'

'No,' I said. 'Else we would not have had this argument. I will take a guarantee. Two syllables of your secret name.'

'Two - two - syllables-??' His mouth worked soundlessly. He swallowed hard, 'You jest-?'

I started up the hill again.

Again he caught my arm, 'All right, Lant. All right.' He -was subdued now, almost chastened. He looked around warily, then whispered into my ear. Two syllables.

'Thank you,' I said. 'I hope you will never betray me. If you do, I will see that those secret syllables are no longer secret. The first person I'll tell will be Shoogar.'

'Oh no, Lant, you have nothing to fear.'

'I am sure of it. Thank you, Lesta, I am glad that we could come to such a pleasant agreement. I will expect the first consignment of cloth within a hand of days.'

'Yes, Lant; certainly, Lant; anything, Lant-ah-'

'Yes-?'

'The loomteeth that you're holding-?'

I looked down. 'Oh, yes. You'll need them, won't you?' I handed them over.

Purple came up to me then, 'Thank you, Lant.'

'For what? I was merely doing my duty.'

'Yes. Well, thank you for doing that. I appreciate it.'

I shrugged. 'It was nothing. I am just as eager to see you leave in that flying machine as you are to do it'

I think he misunderstood. He said, 'Oh, it will be a sight to see, all right.'

'Yes,' I said, 'I can hardly wait.'

-----

WILVILLE and Orbur were grumbling.

'We've built four bicycles, Father, since we've arrived here - and now we can't use or trade any of them because of your deal with Gortik.'

I sighed, 'Gortik will tire of his new toy soon enough.

Besides, you have more than enough to keep you busy with the flying machine.'

'Hah! grumbled Wilville testily. 'Gortik is such a lunk, he cannot even ride the machine. Seven times already Orbur and I have tried to teach him.'

Orbur shook his head, 'He keeps crashing into trees.'

'He doesn't steer very well,' explained Wilville.

'And besides, the flying machine cannot feed us. The bicycles are to trade for food and cloth and tools. Unless we are allowed to ply our trade, we may starve.' Orbur shook his head again and sat down on a rock. 'And there will never be any profit in flying.'

'Well,' I said, 'I will see what I can arrange. You build your bicycles - I will figure a way for you to trade them.' I added, 'Besides, I do not believe that Gortik's injunction prohibited you from trading bicycles in your own village, only in his.'

They looked dubious, but at my insistence they returned to their work. They spent their mornings on the flying machine and their afternoons on their bicycles, although lately they were spending more and more time on the flying machine.

Purple had decided that they should line the hull with aircloth inside and out - it would make it more watertight. The boys were delighted with this suggestion. They had been having trouble with the balsite wood anyway. It was the lightest wood they had been able to find, but it was hard to work with. They had been using it on a frame of spirit pine, but it was too weak. When they tested it in water, the balsite became waterlogged and soggy. It came off the frame in shreds. The only way to keep the boatframe in one piece was to keep the balsite wood dry - and that was impractical: the machine had to be able to land on water. Purple's suggestion to use aircloth lining solved that, and the boys went eagerly back to work on the large boatframe. But they needed aircloth - and the production of it was still our biggest problem.

'There is not enough thread,' Lesta grumbled. 'We have not the men to spin, and not enough to weave!'

'I don't understand-' Purple was saying when I arrived on the scene. 'You have enough spinners for all your other types of weaving - why not for aircloth?'

'Because aircloth isn't just woven! The thread has to be spun fine and dipped, then it has to be dried. That requires three times as many men working on spinning. Then after the cloth is woven, it has to be dipped again. That's a whole new step! Where am I to get the men for such work? It takes almost twice as long to weave a patch of aircloth as it does to weave anything else - and that patch is only one fourth the size of what we could be weaving because you want it compacted!'

'It would not be aircloth if it weren't compacted,' said Purple.

'Fine,' said Lesta. 'You want aircloth, you'll get aircloth. It'll take only eight hundred years.'

'Nonsense,' said Purple, 'there must be a way to-'

'Not if you want it the way you want it-' Lesta was adamant. 'It takes nearly a hand of days to spin enough thread for a single patch of the stuff.'

'Well, then bring in more spinners-'

'And where am I to get them? I cannot ask my weavers to accept such a demotion, and there are not enough boys in either of our villages to take on as apprentices.'

'Why not hire spinners from the other villages on this island?'

'What? - and let them have the secret of aircloth too?'

'They would not have to know about the final step of the dipping of the cloth,' I offered.

'Hm. You are right there - but they will never do it

'Why not?'

'What would their weavers do for thread?'

'Hire their weavers to help spin.'

'And how will we feed them? We are but a poor village.'

We thought about it. During the time of ungrowing, most food came from the swollen oceans. If Ang, who had turned to seafarming, had enough nets at his command, he was likely to catch enough sea leeches and crawlers to feed the army of weavers Purple was trying to assemble. Of course, Ang would need some help, but we could bring in some extra seafarmers as well.

We discussed it that evening at a special joint meeting of Our two Guilds of Advisors. We met in a clearing in the Lower Village. There were almost a hand of hands of tradesmen in evidence, and more were arriving all the time.

Almost everyone who spoke, began with: 'We cannot do it-'

Ang, for instance: 'We cannot do it - I have not enough nets.'

'Weave some more.'

'I cannot do it - it will take too long to weave enough nets to feed that many people.'

'Perhaps Lesta's weavers can help.'

'Nonsense, we cannot - my men do not know how to weave nets.'

'It's a form of weaving, isn't it?'

'Of course, but-'

'Then they can learn. Ang, will you teach them?'

'Yes, but-'

There are no buts about it If we spend the next hand of days just weaving nets for Ang, by the time the new weavers arrive we should be able to feed them regularly. By that time we will have enough aircloth thread on hand to demonstrate the proper weaving techniques to them.'

'We cannot do it-' That was Lesta again.

'Why not?'

'I have been figuring. We have enough fiberplants and fibertrees. We will have more than enough thread. As long as there are wild housetrees, we will have the sap - we do not have to worry about these things. But we still do not have enough spinners in proportion to the weavers. Our problem ' now is that we are not producing enough aircloth thread to keep our own weavers busy - if we bring in new weavers and spinners, we will only be multiplying our own problem by five. We will have five times as many weavers sitting around idle waiting for thread. We cannot do it.'

'Nonsense,' said Purple. 'The problem is that we have not enough people spinning, that's all.'

'That's all?' retorted Lesta. 'Isn't that enough? If we can't find enough people in our own village to make a significant difference, do you think we will be able to find them in another?'

'I have been doing some figuring too,' said Purple. He held up a skin which looked suspiciously like a blue-drawing. I However, he did not attempt to explain it, he merely waved it conspicuously about. 'Now, using our present number of weavers and looms, at the rate of one patch of aircloth produced per hand of days, it will take almost 12 years to make enough for my needs.'

This produced a mutter and mumble of voices among the advisors. 'Sure, it's fine stuff, but who needs it if it takes that long to weave-'

Purple ignored the interruption. 'Now, if we bring in all the weavers and all the spinners of the other villages on this island, that multiplies the rate of production by five and cuts the waiting time down to two and a half years.'

'Oh, fine,' muttered Lesta. 'I'm not sure I could survive even one more year of Purple, let alone two and a half.'

Gortik shushed him. Purple ignored this interruption as well. He said, 'Now, let's consider the problem - it's not that it takes such a long time to produce a piece of aircloth that is delaying us, not at all - it's just that we don't produce enough of it. If we had more looms and more men to operate them, we could produce larger amounts.'

'Of course,' nodded Lesta; 'and if I were a bird, I could fly - and I wouldn't need aircloth at all. This produced laughter from all the men - and an angry look from both magicians. Shoogar spat in Lesta's direction - it sizzled when it hit the ground.

Purple waved his skin at Lesta. 'I have figured this out very carefully. Counting all the weavers in all five villages - and counting all the journeymen and all the novices - and even all the apprentices, there are more than enough-'

'Pfah! Nonsense!'

'-More than enough,' Purple repeated. 'If all of them are weaving.'

'And who will spin the thread for them if all are weaving? Little creatures will come in at night and do it?'

Again laughter.

Purple was one of the most patient men I have ever seen. He cleared his throat and said slowly, 'Not at all. First off, I Fm surprised you didn't ask where they will weave this cloth.'

'Without the thread it doesn't make any difference.'

'Let's take this one thing at a time. If every man who is a member of the weaver's caste could become a full-fledged weaver, and if we had enough looms for all of them and each man worked a full day at his loom, we could make as much aircloth as I need within four - huh, let's see - huh, well before Lant's wife delivers her child.'

'A little more than two hands of hands of days,' I said in explanation.

Lesta was scratching in the dust. 'Purple, you're a fool -that's 175 looms we'd need. We have but six in this village. Where are we supposed to get the rest? You'd change us from weavers to loom builders - and we'd be building for the next five years.'

'Wrong,' said Purple. 'And you exaggerate besides. First of all, we don't need I75 looms. We only need 60-' He waited till the hoots of laughter had died away. '-we only need 60, but we will use them continually, all day and all night!'

There was a murmur of reaction. 'Use them continually? Are we to give up sleeping now?'

'No, no-' cried Purple. He was insistent now. Listen, you only work during blue days, right? When the blue sun sets, you stop. Well why can't you work just as well during red daylight?'

Another murmur of reaction. Purple ignored it.

'Look, the light is just as bright at night as it is during the day. One team of men can work at night, another team of men can work during the day - we'll call them shifts. That way we only need one third as many looms. Each man still works a full shift, but they don't all have to work during blue day. Why should the looms stand empty and unused when there is light? One shift will work in the morning, another in the evening, a third during red morning, a fourth until red sunset. Each shift will work nine hours-'

The noise drowned him out then. 'You'd have us violate the weaving spells? Defile the gods?' The weavers were on their feet, waving their fists angrily. 'You'd call down the wrath of Elcin on us!'

'Wait a minute! Wait a minute!' Both Gortik and I were calling for order. Purple was saying something, but could not be heard. Finally Shoogar tossed a large fireball calmly into the center of the ring. It sputtered and spat and silenced the weavers.

Muttering, they shrank away. Their protests sank to a whisper. Gortik said firmly, 'We have agreed to listen to Purple's proposal and discuss it logically. He is a magician -we have all seen a demonstration of his power. Now, if he feels that there is no danger of offending the gods, then obviously he knows what he is talking about'

'And if there is any doubt, we have Shoogar here for a second opinion,' I added.

Gortik turned to Shoogar, 'Is there any danger?'

Shoogar shook his head slowly. 'Well, I'm not that familiar with weaving spells,' he said. 'But what I do know about weaving suggests that the time of day the cloth is woven is unimportant. However, if there is any serious concern, I can construct some modifying spells to alleviate any danger.'

This seemed to pacify most of the weavers. They sank back to their seats.

'But still,' said Lesta, 'Purple has called for sixty looms-'

'We do not even need to build that many,' said Purple. 'You have six. Each of the other four villages has at least that many. Lant tells me that Hinc and some of the weavers of the Upper Village have already built one of their own. That is thirty-one right there. If all the weavers - all the weavers - were to spend only one hand of days building looms, we'd have our sixty looms before the fourth day.'

Lesta's eyes narrowed. He didn't trust that figuring, but he wasn't going to challenge it until he had a chance to check it himself. 'And what will we do about loomteeth?' he said.

They all looked at me.

I was unprepared for the question. I had not known that it would be asked. I said, 'Well, it takes time to carve them - almost four days per full set.'

'Hah! There - you see!' snapped Lesta. 'That means more than 240 days of carving by Lant before there are enough teeth for all of the looms - and what will we do about break- age in the meantime?'

'You know something, Lesta?' I said. 'You're kind of stupid.'

He stood up at that, glowering.

I stood also. 'If we can bring in extra weavers and loom builders, then we can certainly bring in extra bonecarvers-'

'But there are no other bonecarvers on the island, you fungus-head!'

'Then I will train some! Any apprentice who can learn weaving can certainly learn bonecarving.'

'I wouldn't let even let my worst apprentice be so degraded!' Lesta snapped. He sat down, smiling grimly, arms folded across his chest.

'Then what will you do for aircloth?' I asked.

His smirk faded.

Purple said quickly, 'If you lend Lant ten boys, two from each village, the loomteeth will be finished ten times as fast.'

'Er-' I said. Purple looked at me. 'What will I use for bone?' Across the clearing, Lesta snorted. 'As big as a runforit skeleton is,' I said. 'I have only enough for twenty or so looms.'

'Why do you have to use runforit bone?' asked Purple.

'I don't - but it's the hardest available.'

'Do you have to use the hardest?'

'Well, no - but the teeth will wear down or break faster. Wet bone is not as strong as dry.'

'But it would work?'

'Yes,' I admitted. 'It would work. You will just have to replace them more often.'

'How often?' asked Lesta.

'I don't know,' I shrugged. 'I haven't had a chance yet to see how fast they wear.'

'Well, give me an idea - how long would a set of wet bone loomteeth last?'

'I can't even give you an idea. It's a totally new situation for me. I'll guess four hands of days, maybe more, maybe less - how's that?'

Lesta curled his upper lip in disgust. Obviously he didn't think it was good enough. But Purple said, 'That's fine, Lant, that's fine.' He looked at his skin of figuring. 'Even three hands of days per set would be fine.'

'Good,' I said. Already I was eager to start training apprentices.

Then I guess that settles everything, doesn't it?' asked Gortik.

'No,' said a voice. Lesta's.

We all looked at him.

There's still one question that hasn't been answered -where will the thread come from?'

'Oh, yes,' said Purple. 'The thread. I should think the answer would be obvious to you by now.'

It wasn't. We all shook our heads.

'There is a large untapped source of labor already right here in our midst,' said Purple.

We looked around at each other curiously. What was he talking about?

'I'm referring, of course, to the women.'

'The women!'

It was a shout in unison from more than a hundred horrified throats.

All was uproar. Men were standing, shaking their fists, cursing and spitting. Not even a half dozen fireballs from Shoogar could quiet them. It wasn't until Shoogar threatened to call down Elcin himself that the noise began to subside.

'Let me explain! Let me explain!' Purple was saying. Before anyone else could interrupt, he went on, 'Listen, there is nothing sacred about spinning - even old Lesta admits it. The only reason you use boy apprentices to do it is that there is not weaving for them to do. Well, now that there is weaving for them to do, they don't have to spin any more. The success of this whole plan depends on using the women for spinning - and your apprentice weavers can move up to being novices. Your novices can be promoted to journeymen. Your journeymen will all become team leaders.'

At this there was a great shout of joy from the assembled tradesmen. At least one part of Purple's plan was going to be popular.

'But women?' declared Lesta. 'Women? A woman is so dumb she cannot chew sweetdrops and walk through the forest at the same time.'

'Nonsense,' said another man, 'you are still living in the days of your cubhood, Lesta. We are intelligent men - and intelligent men realize that women are more than dumb beasts of burden. They would have to be - they birthed us, did they not?'

This was greeted with a chorus of agreement from some of the other young men around the circle.

'Hah!' snorted Lesta. 'Cubs still whining for the nipples.'

He was hooted at. The man who had spoken, a man of the Lower Village unknown to me, continued, 'These are modern times, Lesta. We know more now than when you were young. We no longer treat our women as poorly as our ancestors did because we are beginning to understand them -and because of it, we are getting better usage out of them. Harder work, Lesta!

'When was the last time you saw a whipherder and his flock of poor women, eh? Women are more than beasts of burden or dumb animals - and they should not be treated as such. Women are domestic creatures capable of many simple tasks. Why, I'll bet that there is not a man here who does not let his wives do his foodgathering for him - and I know some who don't even bother to hobble or chain their wives any more.'

'Fools,' snapped the old weaver. 'Fools and foolishness. You will be sorry.'

A few of the other older men cheered, but not many.

'Wait a minute,' I said, stepping into the center. They all looked at me. 'I would like to suggest something. There is not one of us here who is not eager to see the aircloth woven - am I not right?'

There were nods of assent.

'Purple has shown us that it is possible - that it may be possible - for us to weave more cloth in one season than has ever been dreamed of - and all of it aircloth! We have accepted most of his other suggestions with a minimum of fuss and debate - he has shown us that his ideas are practical. Unorthodox, but practical. Purple's speedy departure depends upon all of our co-operation.'

'What is it you are proposing?' someone called.

'That we give Purple a chance to prove himself. There is only one way to find out if the idea is practical. I have two wives. I will allow one of them to be taught the skill of spinning. If she can handle it, that will teach us that it is a practical thing. If she cannot, then it is a foolish idea.'

'Lant speaks sense,' cried the man who had refuted Lesta earlier. 'I will lend two of my wives to the experiment.'

'I will lend one of mine,' cried another. And immediately the air was full of pledges of women - each young tradesman was eager to outdo the rest by showing how smart his wife or wives were.

Purple beamed in delight at this development He was going from man to man, grasping their hands and thanking them.

Old Lesta raised his hand. The noise quieted somewhat. 'And what will you impetuous young fools do when you are struck by Elcin's wrath, eh?'

'We have nothing to fear from Elcin,' mumbled someone, but not too loudly.

I said, 'If we see that the women are desecrating the cloth, we will have them killed. Surely that would satisfy any offended god - but it is worth the experiment.'

There was a general chorus of agreement.

As it died away, Shoogar stepped into the center of the clearing. 'You are arguing about nothing,' he said. 'It is a simple matter to work up a spell that will allow a woman to work without offending the Gods. Women are so stupid that they cannot help but offend the Gods, so we have an all-purpose spell which excuses them because they are ignorant. They cannot help being what they are, or doing what they do. Thus, once a woman has been sanctified, she can literally do no wrong. We do not need to worry at all about the Gods. The only question is whether or not the women are smart enough to spin - and we will soon find that out.

'There is no point in discussing this matter any further,' he said, 'until we know one way or the other. I call for the adjournment.'

He was right, of course. On both counts. We cheered his speech and broke up the meeting.

-----

THE experiment to see if the women could spin was held the following blue dawn.

Seventeen had been pledged. Fourteen showed up, being herded along by their suddenly nervous and uneasy husbands. In the cold light of morning, suddenly it no longer seemed like such a good idea.

I too was beginning to regret my offer. I could not offer my fist wife for the test because she was on the verge of childbirth. That left only my number two wife, the thin hardworking one with the lightcolored fur. I did not like the idea of losing her to Purple's experiment, but I had no choice. I was honor-bound.

I could understand why the other men were grumbling. With only one wife foodgathering, meals would be skimpy and uneven - for me the problem would be even more severe. It is bad luck to beat a woman with child.

Ah, well, if worse came to worse, I could always go down to the bachelor's compound and be served by the unclaimed women. An unappetizing prospect at best, but at least my stomach would be full.

We waited nervously on the hillside, milling about and saying little. The mood of the women ranged from fearful to delighted. All of them were obviously excited or upset at the prospect of a new kind of task. Few of them understood what would be required of them, but any change in their condition, they could only assume, must be for the better.

When Purple arrived, he was flanked by Lesta and several of his weavers. These were the men who would actually teach the spinning. Already several novices were beginning to assemble the spinning devices.

They began by demonstrating what spinning was all about. 'You will be making thread - do you understand? Thread - it is very important - we will weave cloth out of it.'

The women nodded their heads, dumbly, mutely.

'I will show you how it is done,' said Lesta. He sat down on a little stool before the spinning device and began to spin, carefully explaining each step of what he was doing. Lesta was a good teacher. As I watched I felt that even I might learn the craft.

But the women - they missed the point entirely. 'Look!' they murmured. 'He sits! He sits! He works and sits at the same time!'