He just had to hope that these nomes felt the same way.

"Do you know these people?" said Angalo.

"Me?" said Masklin. "Of course not. How could I?"

"They're Outsiders. I dunno, I suppose I thought all Outsiders would know each other."

"Never seen them before in my life," said Masklin.

"I think," said Angalo, slowly and deliberately, "that the leader is that old guy with the big nose and the topknot with a feather in it. What do you think?"

Masklin looked at the tall, thin old nome who was scowling at the three of them.

"He doesn't look as if he likes us very much."

"I don't like the look of him at all," said Angalo.

"Have you got any suggestions, Thing?" said Masklin.

"They are probably as frightened of you as you are of them."

"I doubt it," said Angalo.

"Tell them you will not harm them."

"I'd much rather they told me they're not going to harm us."

Masklin stepped forward, and raised his hands.

"We are peaceful," he said. "We don't want anyone to be hurt."

"Including us," said Angalo. "We really mean it."

Several of the strangers backed away and raised their spears.

"I've got my hands raised," said Masklin over his shoulder, "Why should they be so upset?"

"Because you're holding a large rock," said Angalo flatly. "I don't know about them, but if you walked toward me holding something like that Pd be pretty scared."

"I'm not sure I want to let go of it," said Masklin.

"Perhaps they don't understand us."

Gurder moved.

He hadn't said a word since the arrival of the new nomes. He'd just gone very pale.

Now some sort of internal timer had gone off. He gave a snort, leapt forward, and he bore down on Topknot like an enraged balloon.

"How dare you accost us, you-you Outsider!" he screamed.

Angalo put his hands over his eyes. Masklin got a firm hold on his rock.

"Er, Gurder ..." he began.

Topknot backed away. The other nomes seemed puzzled by the smallexplosive figure that was suddenly among them. Gurder was in the gripof the kind of anger that is almost as good as armor.

Topknot screeched something back at Gurder.

"Don't you harangue me, you grubby heathen," said Gurder. "Do you thinkall these spears really frighten us?"

"Yes," whispered Angalo. He sidled closer to Masklin. "What's got intohim?" he said.

Topknot shouted something at his nomes. A couple of them raised theirspears, uncertainly. Several of the others appeared to argue.

"This is getting worse," said Angalo.

"Yes," said Masklin. "I think we should-"

A voice behind them snapped out a command. All the Floridians turned. Sodid Masklin.

Two nomes had come out of the grass. One was a boy. The other was asmall, dumpy woman, the sort you'd cheerfully accept an apple pie from.

Her hair was tied in a bun, and like Topknot's, it had a long grayfeather stuck through it.

The Floridians looked sheepish. Topknot spoke at length. The woman said acouple of words. Topknot spread his arms above him and muttered somethingat the sky.

The woman walked around Masklin and Angalo as if they were items ondisplay. When she looked Masklin up and down he caught her eye andthought: She looks like a little old lady, but she's in charge. If shedoesn't like us, we're in a lot of trouble.

She reached up and took the stone out of his hand. He didn't resist.

Then she touched the Thing.

It spoke. What it said sounded very much like the words the woman hadjust used. She pulled her hand away sharply, and looked at the Thing withher head on one side. Then she stood back.

At another command the Floridians formed, not a line, but a sort of Vshape with the woman at the tip of it and the travelers inside it.

"Are we prisoners?" said Gurder, who had cooled off a bit.

"I don't think so," said Masklin. "Not exactly prisoners, yet."

The meal was some sort of a lizard. Masklin quite enjoyed it; it remindedhim of his days as an Outsider. The other two ate it only because noteating it would be impolite, and it probably wasn't a good idea to beimpolite to people who had spears when you didn't.

The Floridians watched them solemnly.

There were at least thirty of them, all wearing identical gray clothes.

They looked quite like the Store nomes, except for being slightly darker and much skinnier. Many of them had large, impressive noses, which the Thing said was perfectly okay and all because of genetics.

The Thing was talking to them. Occasionally it would extend one of its sensors and use it to draw shapes in the dirt.

"Thing's probably telling them we-come-fromplace- bilong-far-on-big-bird-that-doesn't-go-flap," said Angalo.

A lot of the time the Thing was simply repeating the woman's own words back at her. Eventually Masklin couldn't stand it anymore.

"What's happening. Thing?" he said. "Why's the woman doing all the talking?"

"She is the leader of this group," said the Thing.

"A woman? Are you serious?"

"I am always serious. It's built in."

"Oh."

Angalo nudged Masklin. "If Grimma ever finds out, we're in real trouble," he said.

"Her name is Very-small-tree, or Shrub," the Thing went on.

"And you can understand her?" said Masklin.

"Gradually. Their language is very close to original nomish."

"What do you mean, original nomish?"

"The language your ancestors spoke."

Masklin shrugged. There was no point in trying to understand that now.

"Have you told her about us?" he said.

"Yes. She says-"

Topknot, who had been muttering to himself, stood up suddenly and spoke very sharply at great length, with a lot of pointing to the ground and to the sky.

The Thing flashed a few lights.

"He says you are trespassing on the land belonging to the Maker of Clouds. He says that is very bad. He said the Maker of Clouds will be very angry."

There was a general murmur of agreement from many of the nomes.

Shrub spoke to them sharply. Masklin stuck out a hand to stop Gurder from getting up.

"What does, er, Shrub think?" he said.

"I don't think she is very sympathetic to the topknot person. His name is Person-wbo-knows-what-the-Maker-of-Clouds-is-thinking."

"And what is the Maker of Clouds?"

"It's bad luck to say its true name. It made the ground and it is still making the sky. It-"

Topknot spoke again. He sounded angry.

We need to be friends with these people, Masklin thought. There has to be a way.

"The Maker of Clouds is"-Masklin thought hard-"a sort of Arnold Bros.

(est. 1905)?"

"Yes," said the Thing.

"A real thing?"

"I think so. Are you prepared to take a risk?"

"What?"

"I think I know the identity of the Maker of Clouds. I think I know when it will make some more sky."

"What? When?" said Masklin.

"In three hours and ten minutes."

Masklin hesitated.

"Hold on a moment," he said, slowly, "that sounds like the same sort of time that-"

"Yes. All three of you, please get ready to run. I will now write the name of the Maker of Clouds."

"Why will we have to run?"

"They might get very angry. But we haven't time to waste."

The Thing extended a sensor. It wasn't intended as a writing implement, and the shapes it drew were angular and hard to read.

It scrawled four shapes in the dust.

The effect was instantaneous.

Topknot started to shout again. Some of the Floridians leapt to their feet. Masklin grabbed the other two travelers.

"I'm really going to thump that old nome in a minute," said Gurder. "How can anyone be so narrow-minded?"

Shrub sat silent while the row went on around her. Then she spoke, very loud but very calmly.

"She is telling them," said the Thing, "that it is not wrong to write thename of the Maker of Clouds. It is often written by the Maker of Cloudsitself. 'How famous the Maker of Clouds must be, that even these strangers know its name,' she says."