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until he got to the seashore, well east of them. And well away from the stink
of boiling numbweed.
So he made a neat bundle of his woven mat and tied it with a vine thong,
ignoring the cluttering of Farli, who disapproved of his activity and of the
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fact that he was ignoring her gradually more insistent requests for food. He
stared at the walls of his little shelter and decided that there was just the
chance that someone might hunt in the forest and discover his rude hold. He
dismantled the sheets of woven grass and hid them in the thick leaves of
nearby bushes. He couldn't remove the clearing he'd made, but he scuffed up
the tamped-down earth and scattered dead fronds here and there so that a
casual glance would make it appear a natural clearing. He silenced Farli's
now-urgent complaints by heading for the river. His fish trap, tied to his
sunken Thread-tree, held more than enough to feed her amply. He gutted what
remained after she was sated, and wrapping them in broad leaves, added that to
his bundle.
He hesitated a few moments before tossing the fish trap
back into the water. Surely no one would notice it unless someone tripped over
the silly thing, which seemed highly unlikely, and the fish it captured
wouldn't suffer. He'd
165
leave it, and then he'd have ample eating when he returned here.
He made his way through the forest, skirting the wide plain, pausing to drink
when he crossed a small contribu-
tory stream and to let Stupid rest awhile. The little fellow's short legs
tired quickly, and while the creature was no great weight, he did seem to get
heavier on those occasions when Piemur took pity and carried him awhile, parii
flit-
ted ahead of them and behind, venturing up through the trees into the sky
occasionally, twittering a scold that Pie-
mur didn't understand but assumed was directed at the invaders.
"At least, you're not afraid of them," said Piemur, when she returned to her
perch on his shoulder, begging caresses.
She leaned against his finger as he stroked her neck, mur-
muring sweetly for him to continue, and she twined her tail lightly about his
neck. "If only they weren't making numbweed, I'd be willing to introduce us
all."
Or would he? Piemur wondered.
It'would have been so simple to go down and find out if they were Southerners.
Imagine their surprise when he wan-
dered in, as easy as you please. They'd be startled, they would! And amazed
when he told them his adventures here in the south. Yes, but then they'd want
to know how he'd got here, and he wasn't at all certain he ought to tell the
exact truth. Surely it wasn't unusual for a bold holdless man to try to sneak
south, particularly if he had merited his Holder's displeasure! Piemur didn't
have to mention that he'd acquired Farii in the North and certainly not that
he'd removed her from Meron's hearth in Nabol
Hold. Southerners would naturally assume that he'd found the little queen fire
lizard here in some beach clutch. Stu-
pid's acquisition posed no problem at all. He could tell the truth there.
Piemur could always pretend that he didn't know where the Southern Hold was,
and had been end-
lessly searching. Yes, that was it, he could say he'd stolen a, small boat and
had had an absolutely ghastly trip south, which was only the truth. Yes, but
where had he sailed from? Ista? That was too small a hold to steal a boat
from.
Igen? Maybe even Keroon? The Southerners were not likely to check with anyone
. . .
"Hello! What are you doing sneaking around here?"
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A tall girl stepped into his path, blocking his way. On one shoulder was a
bronze fire lizard, on the other a brown, both eyeing Farii intently. She let
out an apologetic squak, as startled as Piemur. As she also dug her talons
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into
his shoulder and tightened her tail about his neck, all that came out of his
mouth was a choked cry of astonishment.
A quick chirp from the little bronze caused Farii to relax her tail. Piemur
turned his head toward her, annoyed that she hadn't warned him.
"It's not her fault," said the girl with a wide smile, eas-
ing her weight to one leg as she enjoyed Piemur's discomfi-
ture. She had a pack strapped to her shoulders; a belt with a variety of
pouches, some empty; dark hair wrapped with a band tightly about her head so
strands wouldn't tangle in branches; and thick-soled sandals on her feet as
well as shin guards tied about her lower legs. "Meer," and she in-
dicated the bronze, "and Talla know how to be silent when they wish. And when
they realized that she was already
Impressed, we all wanted to see who had got a gold. I'm
Sharra from the Southern Hold." She held out her hand, palm up. "How'd you get
down here? Ve didn't see any wreckage as we came along the coast."
"I've been here three Threadfalls already," said Piemur, crossing her palm
quickly in case she was the sort of person who sensed when someone lied.
"Landed up near the big lagoon." Which was also partially true.
"Near the big lagoon?" Sharra's face expressed concern.
"Then you weren't alone? The others were killed? That la-
goon is treacherous in high tide. You don't see the outside shelf of rocks
until you're right on them."
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