"We don't usually need them. These," the surgeon lit his own headband, "are medical emergency equipment."

Already his feet were above his head. He snatched at the pale blur that was the surgeon's tunic to keep himself from being blown away.

"You have your radiation monitor?"

He was about to say no when he remembered that it had been pinned over his heart. "Yes-yes, I do."

"Don't ignore it. We can fix most things here, but that one's as tough as it gets."

"Bird back!" Oreb's claws closed upon his shoulder.

"I suppose that's why you're here, so close to the-the..."

"Reactor. Come on." The surgeon was moving away and taking him with him.

"And the whatever you call it-the place where you operated on Pig-"

"Sick bay."

"Is farther away, where the danger isn't so great. Your reactor powers the sun? That's what we were told, though I find it almost impossible to think of anything powering the sun."

"Here, grab this outcrop." The surgeon's hands, so much longer and stronger than his own, guided his to it. "Don't let yourself think you're weightless."

He gripped the sand-smoothed rock with grim determination. "That's how it seems."

"Because of the wind." The white light of the surgeon's headband was moving away. "The wind wants to pick you up and blow you away. If you let yourself believe that you have no weight, it will do it, too."

"No fly," Oreb explained.

"The heat makes the wind?" He was frightened, so much so that his teeth chattered.

"Exactly." The surgeon seemed to be waiting for him, having perhaps noted the chattering. "A darkday makes it worse, because there's none from the sun to counter it. Eventually it would cool off and the wind would drop, but they'll restart the sun long before that. It would take months for the reactor to cool completely."

Staring at the surgeon's light, he said fervently, "I see."

"The sand blows around. One day it will be deeper than a man can dig, and next day it's bare rock. It wears the rock away, and makes more sand, and the rock cracks in the heat."

"It seems very hot now," he ventured.

"It isn't. If the sun were on, all this would be too hot to touch, almost. Keep down, so the wind doesn't get you."

"I'll try," he promised, "but it seems very windy."

"That's because we're going uphill." The white glow of the surgeon's headlamp vanished in the middle distance, but the surgeon's voice still reached him, the only calm element in that wild night. "You've got to kick off with your legs."

"No fly!" Oreb insisted.

The surgeon's light reappeared, surprising close. "Your legs are a lot stronger than your arms."

He gasped for breath and spit out sand. "I didn't even know we were climbing."

The white light had halted. "You don't weight much, but don't let that make you think you won't get hurt if the wind slams you into some rocks. It's happened to me, and it hurt like Holy Hierax. People are killed, sometimes."

He wanted to say that he would try to be careful; but it was all he could do to struggle forward, half crawling.

"We're not supposed to fix up Cargo." They were near enough that his deep-set eyes and broad flat nose showed dimly. "But I'll make exception for you. Ask for me if you get hurt."

"You made..." He was panting. "An exception... For Pig. Thank you."

The surgeon caught his arm and helped him over the final two cubits. "I ought to tell you about that."

"Please do."

"Hold on to this and you can stand up."

Again the surgeon guided his hand to it; over the whistling wind, the snapping of his augur's robe sounded like the incessant cracking of a whip.

"Look over there. Can you see my arm?"

Oreb repeated, "See arm?"

"Yes." The pale sleeve made it easy, although there appeared to be no hand at the end of it.

"That green light. Got it?"

"I think so. Is it blinking?"

"That's where you're going. That's the sick bay. It's a league or a league and a half, something like that. Tell him I said hello."

"I certainly will."

The wind was rising again, and the surgeon had almost to shout to make himself heard. "You're still going?"

"I-yes."

"You can come back with me if you want to."

He nodded, although their faces were nearly touching. "Thank you. You're very kind."

The surgeon took his arm. "Then let's go."

Oreb added his own vote. "Go now!"

"No," he said. "You misunderstood me. I didn't mean that I was going back with you, only that you've shown extraordinary courtesy. I'll always be indebted to you."

"I thought you'd want to turn around once you'd seen it."

"No," he said.

"Just to visit a sick friend."

"It's Pig." At the moment that was all the explanation he could give.

"All right. Look behind you. See the red light?"

He nodded again. "That's where we came from."

"Right. There's a box at the base of the pylon. Open it, pull the lever, and close it again and you can go inside. Not the Remote Viewing Room, but close. Ask for me."

"Will I have to go back there to get back to our lander?" The thought to making the league-long journey twice was almost more than he could bear.

The surgeon shook his head, and it was possible to think of living again, of Pig resting in a white bed, and silence, and prayer. The surgeon said, "This is in case you turn back."

"I won't."

"You might, if you're hurt." The surgeon clasped his shoulder. "If you don't... Well, good-bye."

"Good-bye, and thank you again." He would have turned then and gone, but the surgeon's hand maintained its grip.

"You'll be farther from the Pole. You'll have a little more weight as you get nearer the sick bay."

"That's good to know."

"I wish I could go with you."

He felt a surge of gratitude. "So do I."

The surgeon released his shoulder. "I'll tell them to expect you, and ask them to change your dressing. There'll be sand in it."

"Thank you," he said. "Thank you again."

He had started down the slope when the surgeon's hail stopped him. "What is it?"

"You thanked me for patching up your friend Pig."

"Yes!" He had to shout to make himself heard.

"They told us to. A flier did. Wait up."

He watched the surgeon's bobbing headlamp ascend the rocky slope a good deal more quickly and skillfully than he had.

"The flier said we should. Maybe I ought to tell you about it. Mainframe's the captain. You probably know."

His instinct urged caution. "I knew it was in the east. I wasn't sure you obeyed it as well."

"We do." The surgeon drew him toward a boulder that offered shelter from the wind-driven sand. "It used to communicate with us directly. It can't anymore because the cable's been cut. So it sends fliers. Or godlings, but mostly fliers."

"No fly!" Oreb advised.

"We've found the break and we're fixing it, but it isn't as simple as hooking your optic nerve up to your friend's. There are millions and millions of fibers and every connection has to be right."

"I believe I understand."

"Still, it's got to be fixed before we leave. So do a lot of other things." The surgeon paused, clearly wrestling with whatever it was he really wanted to say.

"I'm very glad you agreed to operate on Pig, in any case."

"The thing is, we can't always be sure the flier's telling us what Mainframe said. Sometimes we think he may be adding on his own, or leaving something out. You know about the animals?"

"What animals?"

"Great Passilk is supposed to be mad at his wife and half his sprats. Frankly, I don't believe it." (Doctor Crane's chuckle seemed to echo among the rocks.) "But people say they've turned themselves into animals to get away from him."

"No cut," Oreb muttered in his master's ear.

"I heard something about that," he told the surgeon.

"So when we were told to fix up somebody, and it turned out he was called Pig, well, we had to wonder. Do you follow me?"

"Well enough to guess that you're in awe of gods you do not reverence."

"I suppose that's fair." The surgeon turned to go.

"You have been very good to us-to Pig and me. You've been a friend when we needed one in the worst way. So let me assure you that you've nothing to worry about. Pig doesn't harbor Echidna or any of Echidna's children. I won't explain how I know; but I do know. You needn't fear that I'm mistaken."

The surgeon turned back to him. "Thanks. You seem like somebody who can be trusted."

"You can trust me in this, at least."

The surgeon held out his hand. "What's your name? I know you told me, but I've forgotten it."

"Horn," he said; somewhere Doctor Crane chuckled again.

"M'to. It means a river." The surgeon cleared his throat and spat. "Those little men up on the bridge think we're pretty crude here in the black gang, and maybe we are. But we're not tricky, and we know a lot more medicine, because we get a lot more people hurt."

"I doubt that their opinion of you is nearly as low as you believe. The flier who told you about Pig-was Flannan his name?"

The surgeon shook his head. "I didn't talk to him. I don't know what his name was. I've got to get back."

They shook hands again.

When he had crawled over twenty or thirty cubits of rocky, windswept ground, he heard the surgeon's voice behind him, borne on the hot polar gale. "Don't disregard your monitor!"

He shouted, "I won't!" hoping to be heard.

"And don't piss into the wind!"

At his elbow Crane's ghost murmured, "Is it really worth all this to fight free of Hari Mau for an hour or two, Silk?"

Chapter 17. HE TOOK ME WITH HIM

Pretty soon after the inhuma was buried he went back to New Viron and took me with him. "I must speak to Gyrfalcon," he told me while we went down the coast in his yawl. "To do it, I'll have to get his attention some way."

Almost as soon as I had met him in Dorp, my brother told me I would have to call him Father. I said, "I've noticed, Father, that you don't have any trouble getting noticed."

He smiled. Let me say right here where I am the only one writing that he had the best smile I ever saw. It made me like him and trust him the first time I saw him in Wapen's, and I do not believe anybody was proof against it.

"I think the Vanished People might come again to help if you asked them." I said it because I had been really interested in them in Dorp, and would have liked to see some again.

Then he explained to me about the ring he had on, saying, "This was given me by a woman I called Seawrack. You don't know her, but when you read my manuscript you will learn about her." He took it off and handed it to me. It was a plain silver ring with a white jewel. There were scratches on it that could have been writing or pictures. If it was, I could not make them out. "Look through it," he told me.

I held it up to my eye. The weather was clear and cool, the wind northeast. The waves were white-capped, I would say a little bit less than two cubits. I saw all this through the round hole, but when I had been looking awhile I noticed the limb of a tree floating upright to starboard. The leaves were still silver and green, and the limb was so big it looked like a whole tree even though I would think there must have been a trunk floating the regular way since a floating tree does not stick up like that. There was somebody sitting in one of the branches, and it was one of the Vanished People.

Father took the ring back, and the Vanished Man was gone. So was the tree he had been sitting in. Only the waves were left. I asked Father to let me look again, but he would not.

"I've shown you this so that you will know how valuable it is and not bury it with me should I die," he said. "By it, the Neighbors" (it was what he called always them) "will know that you are friendly. Do you hold any malice toward them?"

I said plainly and sincerely that I do not.

"What right have they to run around on this whorl of ours, going where they please?" he asked me.

I said, "What right do I have? If someone wants to stop me, let's see him try it." He was pleased with my answer, and said that when he died I was to have the ring. I think he was afraid Gyrfalcon would kill him, and hoped that Gyrfalcon would let us claim his body afterward.

When we got to New Viron, I expected him to call up the ghosts that helped in Dorp and hoped he would ask the Vanished People to help too. But he just walked around talking to people. His bird went with him and so did I most of the time. Babbie and Cricket watched our boat.

He used to tell stories about two men trying to cheat each other. In most of the stories they both lost, but the one who first set out to cheat his friend was the only loser sometimes. He said, "If you rob someone who would help you if you needed help you only rob yourself." He said that again and again. He said stealing only made you poorer, and asked people to tell him an old thief who was rich.

"I knew the best thief in Viron," he told them. "He gave away jewels in a way that would have surprised the Rani of Trivigaunte, but he told me once that he slept in a different place each night, and his hand was always close to his needler. He made others rich; he was as poor as a beggar himself."

He also said that our cruelty stored up pain for us. "Do you imagine you can be cruel without teaching others to be cruel to you? You glory in your cruelty, because you believe it shows you are master of your victim. You are not even your own."

Uncle Calf's wife is making a collection of these sayings, and I have told her all I can remember. The first time I was in New Viron with him, while the inhuma was still alive, Uncle Calf would not believe they were brothers. Now he tells everyone.