They moved to go. Ushering the tattooed women before her, Yattmur handed Laren to Gren, who rested him over his shoulder. Haris took a step forward with his knife out.

'You were always as difficult to deal with. You don't know what you are doing," he said.

'That may be true; but at least I know what you are doing.'

Ignoring the man's blade, he climbed slowly down that vast shaggy flank. They lowered themselves until they could reach a slender bough, helping the submissive Arablers to gain a foothold. With a wonderful gladness in his heart, Gren looked down into the leafy depths of the forest.

'Come on,' he said encouragingly. 'This shall be home, where danger was my cradle, and all we have learnt will guard us! Give me your hand, Yattmur.'

Together they climbed down into a bower of leaves. They did not look back as the traverser with its passengers rose slowly, slowly floated from the jungle up into the green-flecked sky, and headed for the solemn blues of space.