“These humans are of your domain?”

“Nyet,” Sergei said, surprising Fralk.

“Of your clan, then? Of the same first bud, I mean.”

“Nyet,” Sergei said again.

Exasperated, Fralk burst out, “Well, is your clan even friendly with theirs?”

“No,” Sergei repeated after another pause.

“Then why in the name of the first Skarmer bud do you care what happens to them?” Fralk’s satisfaction at losing his temper quickly dissipated in the effort he needed to get meaning across to the human.

Sergei replied as slowly, groping for words and concepts. “My domain, other humans’ domain not fight now. We your friends. Other humans friends with people across gorge. You, they fight, maybe my domain, other humans’ domain fight, too.”

Fralk opened and closed his hands several times. He had not thought about humans having politics of their own, either. He brightened. “How’s this?” he said. “We won’t harm these other humans at all; we’ll just use your axes and hammers on the miserable Omalo.”

“You get hammers, axes from us. What Omalo get from other humans?”

Fralk wished he were back inside, keeping records for a project that had nothing to do with humans-at least, he had thought it had nothing to do with humans. Humans had a gift for making difficulties all out of proportion to their numbers. “What do the Omalo get from these other humans?” he asked. “Not know.” Sergei spread his hands.

“Wonderful.” Along with the advantage surprise would give the Skarmer, Fralk had hoped the males who crossed the gorge would carry with them the superior weapons he had obtained for them from the humans. That would make him a hero as well as the rich male he was becoming. But now… “Do humans have weapons stronger than axes and hammers?”

“Yes. Our-“ Lacking the word in Fralk’s language, Sergei perforce used one from his own. “-firearms stronger. Stronger a lot.”

“Do these other humans also have firearms?” Fralk echoed the strange sound as well as he could.

“Yes,” Sergei said. “Not as good as ours, but yes.”

Fralk had a really appalling thought. “Would the other humans give firearms to the Omalo?”

“Not know,” Sergei said. “Not think so.”

That was something, anyway, Fralk thought. “Do they have hatchets and hammers? Would they give those to the Omalo?”

“Not know if have. If yes, they give, I think.”

As Sergei did not have eyestalks, Fralk could not even vent his feelings by wishing the purple itch on them. His dream of a quick, easy conquest aided by marvelous new weapons he personally had helped obtain from the humans looked to be just that-a dream. He tried to find something to be optimistic about and finally did. “At least,” he said, “the Omalo won’t surprise US.”

The reversal in the sentence left the human floundering, and Fralk was in no mood to help him along. Partially changing the subject, Sergei asked, “How you go across Ervis Gorge, fight Omalo?”

He could not have found a better question to restore Fralk’s good humor. “I was just keeping track of the frames involved when you got here,” he said. “We’re making them faster than we thought we could, and we should have plenty when the time comes.”

He repeated himself several times. “Frames?” Sergei said. He did not know the word, and context was not enough to give him its meaning. That made Fralk hope the Skarmer plan was something even these oh-so-clever humans had not thought of.

“Here, I’ll show you,” he said. “Come with me.” He led Sergei toward a large shed not far from where they were standing. As they walked, Fralk remarked, “You know, of course, that as spring turns to summer, water flows through Ervis Gorge.”

“Da,” was all Sergei said, disappointing Fralk, whose “of course” had been solely for effect. Then he reflected that humans, being so beastly hot themselves, would not find water as much a nuisance as people did. He had already noticed that they preferred it to ice. That, he thought, was their problem.

Inside the shed, half an eighteen of males-three crews of three-were busy using vines and dried massi eyestalks to lash curved pieces into frames that looked like bowls bigger across than a male was tall. “We’ll stretch hides over them, and then-“ He paused dramatically. “If we put them on water, they’ll stay on the top of it, even with a couple of males inside. We call them ‘boats.’ “He used the borrowed Lanuam word as if it were part of the Skarmer tongue, hoping Sergei would think his people had had the idea for themselves.

“Boats,” the human repeated. He was silent for some little while, looking at the frames. Then he asked, “In Ervis Gorge, ice, water, rocks all together, da?”

“Yes,” Fralk agreed. And yes, he thought, humans plainly knew plenty about water.

“You use boats with ice, water, rocks all together?. These boats?” Sergei pointed at the frames.

“Yes. I told you, they’ll stay on top of the water.”

“Bozhemoi,” Sergei said. “When ice, rocks, ah, touch boats, then what?”

Fralk had not thought about that. The Lanuam, from whom the Skarmer clans had bought the concept of boats, had never mentioned it. Maybe they would have if asked, but the Skarmer did not know the right questions. Having been on the other end of a few deals like that, Fralk admired the distant Lanuam and resolved to pay them back if he ever got the chance.

Now, though, he put the best appearance he could on things. “Most will not be hit at all; others will endure some damage and keep on. We should not lose many.”

“Bozhemoi,” Sergei said again. It was another of those annoying human words with no clear meaning, but Fralk did not think the human seemed enthusiastic.

“Hurry up,” Sarah said, hopping up and down. “I’m turning into an ice cube.” She was only wearing shoes, shorts, a T-shirt, and a bicycle helmet; the temperature hovered right around freezing.

Irv shoved the wide stepladder next to Damselfly. As soon as it was in place, Sarah bounded to the top, hitting only every other rung. Irv climbed up beside her and helped her down into the cockpit. When she was safely onto the seat, he swung down the cockpit cover and latched it closed.

Sarah held a checklist in her hand and went through it item by item. “Just like Emmett,” she said. Irv could hear her teeth chattering; Damselfly’s thin Mylar skin-glorified Saran wrap, Irv thought-did nothing to block sound.

He got off the ladder, carried it out of the way, and went to his station at Damselfly’s left wingtip. “Radio check,” Sarah announced through the little set that hung on his belt.

“Reading you fine,” he answered. “Do you read me?”

“Five by five. I’m going to charge up my battery now.” She started pedaling furiously, powering a small generator. After a minute or two, she said, “Thank God-I’m starting to warm up.”

Louise Bragg was standing by the other wingtip. “Battery holding its charge all right?” she asked.

Irv saw Sarah’s head move as she checked the gauge. “Looks real good,” she said. “I’m going to engage the prop now.” The big airfoil started to spin. Damsel. fly rolled forward. Irv and Louise went with it to hold the wing level, first walking, then at a run.

“Airborne!” Sarah shouted, so loudly that Irv heard her both over the radio and straight from the cabin of the plane for which she was not only pilot but also engine. “That’s always so smooth,” she added a moment later, much more quietly. “The first time I did it, I didn’t even realize I’d gotten into the air till my ground crew started cheering.” Then she fell silent once more, concentrating on her pedaling.

Damselfly gained altitude and began a slow turn toward Reatur’s castle. It was almost silent in the sky; only the clicking whir of the bicycle chain and the whoosh of air past the propeller revealed its presence, and they faded past notice by the time it had flown a couple of hundred yards.