"You need a refuge from…uh, this?"

A laugh. "This, and being pregnant. My mother died of her fourth pregnancy, and that was me."

"Aren't you afraid now?"

"Sure. Are you volunteering to carry it for me?"

"Sure."

"Good enough." They moved together. The Grad was intrigued and embarrassed. His eyes shifted…and the sky had opened a mouth.

The shock only lasted a moment. A great empty mouth closed and opened again. It was rotating slowly. An eye bulged above one jaw; something like a skeletal hand was folded below the other. It was a klomter away and still big.

The beast turned, ponderously, still maintaining its axial rotation. Its body was short, its wings wide and gauzy. No illusion: it really was mostly mouth and fins, and big enough to swallow their entire bark raft. Sunlight showed through its cheeks.

It was cruising the clouds of bugs left in the wake of the disaster. Not a hunting carnivore. Good. But wasn't there such a beast in the Scientist's records? With a funny name Merril touched the Grad's shoulder, and he jumped. "I'm a little worried about the bug-eater," she said. "We're embedded in bugs, have you noticed?"

"Noticed! How could I not?" But in fact he had learned to ignore them. The bugs weren't stinging creatures, but they were all around the bark raft, millions and millions of winged creatures varying from the size of a finger down to dots barely big enough to see. "We're a little big to be eaten up by accident."

"Maybe. What's happening with-?"

"I would say Gavving is in no danger. I'll keep an eye open, though."

"Good of you."

"We're being watched."

Minya's whole body convulsed in reflex terror. Gavving said, "Easy! Easy! It's only the Grad."

She relaxed. "Will they think we're doing wrong?"

"Not really. Anyway, I could marry you."

He heard an incipient stutter when she said, "Are you sure you want to do that?"

For a fact, he was not. His mind lurched and spun. The destruction of the tree had been no more disorienting than this first act of love. He loved Minya now, and feared her, for the pleasure she could give or withhold. Would she think she owned him? The lesson of Clave's marriage, what he knew of it, was not lost on him. Like Mayrin, she would be older than her mate.

And none of that mattered. There were four women in Quinn Tribe. Jayan and Jinny were with Clave; that left Merril and Minya. Gavving said, "I'm sure. Shall we go make an announcement?"

"Let them sleep," she said and snuggled close. Her eyes tracked a moving mouth sweeping through the clouds of bugs. It was closer now. It didn't have teeth, just lips, and a tongue like a restlessly questing snake. It rotated slowly: a way of watching the entire sky for danger.

"I wonder if it's edible," Gavving said.

"Me, I'm thirsty."

"There has to be a way to reach that pond."

"Gavving…dear…we need sleep too. Isn't your watch about over?"

His face cracked in a great yawn, closed in a grin. "I've got to tell someone."

The Grad was curled half into the fetal position, snoring softly. Gayving jerked twice on his tether and said, "We're getting married."

The Grad's eyes popped open. "Good thinking. Now?"

"No, we'll wait till sleeptime's over. It's your watch."

"Okay."

VOICES WOKE HER. SHE CAME AWAKE FULLY ALERT, THIRSTY and nervous.

He was young. She had given him what he wanted, had virtually forced it on him. He would lose interest. He would remember that she'd tried to kill him. He'd had hours to change his mind. The voices were some distance away, but she heard them clearly. "—Ten years older than you, and you don't have the bride-price…but that's trivia. Six or seven days ago she was trying to kill us all!"

"She could have her pick of us." Clave speaking, and he was amused. "All but me, of course. You wouldn't like that, would you, loves?"

"I think it's wonderful," said Jayan or Jinny. The other twin said, "It's-hopeful."

"Gavving, you are not old enough to know what you're doing!"

"Feed it to the tree, Alfin."

Gavving noticed Minya when she stirred and pulled herself back to the bark. "Hello," he called. "Ready?"

"Yes!" Too eager? It was a little late to be coy! "What kind of ceremony will it be? We can't use mine. I left our Scientist in the Tuft." And he'd have me killed.

"There's that too," said Alfln. "The Scientist—"

The Grad said, "I'm the Scientist now."

Ignoring Alfin's contemptuous snort, he opened his pack and spread the contents. Packed in spare clothing were four small flat boxes of starstuff-plastic-and a flat, polished surface that was glassy, like the Chairman's mirror, but didn't reflect.

Quinn Tribe seemed as surprised as Minya. Gavving asked, "Have you been carrying that all along?"

"No, I materialized it from thin air. We Scientists have our ways, you know."

"Oh, sure."

They grinned at each other. The Grad picked up the mirror and one of the boxes. He fitted the box into the thick rim of the mirror.

"Prikazyvat Menu."

The Grad's pronunciation had shifted; it was odd, archaic. Minya had heard the Dalton-Quinn Scientist speak like that. The mirror responded: it glowed like the diffuse nighttime sun, then bloomed with tiny black print.

Minya couldn't read it. The Grad apparently could. He pulled the box loose and substituted another. "Prikazyvat Menu…Okay. Prikazyvat Record," he said briskly. "First day since sleeptime, the first sleep following the breakup of the tree, year three hundred and seventy. Jeffer speaking as Scientist. Quinn Tribe consists of eight individuals. Prikazyvat Pause."

Then nothing happened, until Minya couldn't stand it anymore. "What's wrong?"

The Grad looked up. His face was a mask of pain. A keening moan tore through his throat. Crystal lenses trembled over his eyes. Tears didn't run here, without tide to pull them.

Clave put his hand on the Grad's shoulder. "Take a minute. Take as long as you need."

"I've been trying not to…think about it. The Scientist. He knew. He sent these with me. What good does it do if we're dying too?"

"We're not dying. We're a little thirsty," Clave said firmly.

"We're all dead except us! I feel like recording it makes it real."

Clave glared around him. The tears were about to become contagious. Jayan and Jinny were sniffling already. Minya had to remind herself that Dalton-Quinn Tuft still lived, invisibly far, somewhere.

Clave snapped, "Come on, Scientist. You've got a marriage to perform."

The Grad gulped and nodded. Teardrops broke loose and floated away, the size of tuftberries. He cleared his throat and said in a creditably crisp voice, "Prikazyvat Record. The tree has been torn in half. Seven of us survive, plus a refugee from the outer tuft. Marriage between Minya Dalton-Quinn and Gavving Quinn exists as of now. No children are yet born. Terminate." He pulled the box from the mirror and said, "You're married."

Minya was stunned. "That's it?"

"That's it. My first act as Scientist. Tradition says you should consummate the marriage the first chance you—"

"Just what have you got there?" Alfin demanded.

"Everything I need," the Grad said. "This cassette is recent records. It used to be medicine, but the Scientist ran out of room and erased it. We couldn't use that stuff anyway. St.armen got sick in ways nobody ever heard of and used medicines nobody ever heard of either. This cassette is life forms, this one is cosmology, this one is old records. They're all classified, of course."

"Classified?"

"Secret." The Grad started rolling the gear in clothing again.

Clave said, "Hold it."