Any other time, someone would have heard the odd thump or felt the tiny change in buoyancy. But Bountiful was maneuvering and the whiffbirds were arriving, leaving her free to scamper where she wished, clinging to ship’s steepest face.

Every camouflage was in play. Quest’s overlapping shells bent light and delayed light, and what remained would look and feel identical to the ship’s skin, complete to the textures and vagaries of the green dye. Every sound that she made was either killed or transformed into harmless noise. Any odiferous molecule that might leak free was destroyed before it could betray her. Her legs were minimal and silent, and most importantly, her toes were eager to cling to any surface. The entire body served as one adequate eye, and because she was so silent and free of scent, powerful little ears and nostrils missed nothing and nothing could sneak up on her.

One whiffbird died, but the roaring stinking machines were everywhere, landing on top to drop off the soldiers and ropes, and once those ropes were secured, the soldiers climbed down the ship’s body, aiming for hatches and doorways and the open shop.

Quest clung to the ship’s skin and to her courage.

The simple weight of the whiffbirds took hold of Bountiful, dragging it down. Three papio passed within reach of her, and the bridge was boarded. Then the new captain bellowed orders in papio, and a new pilot dropped ballast while turning the ship’s bow. A fresh course was attacked. Engines pushed them toward the reef, following the straightest possible line. Speed mattered. But darkness was more important, and it was coming soon. With her abrasive dense language, the papio captain spoke across the intercom, explaining what she wanted and what her superiors wanted and what her species deserved to gain from the next little while.

The ship’s skin was slick and vertical and then it was past vertical.

Quest was walking beneath the bladders, listening past the engine sounds and footfalls, hunting for the name.

“Diamond,” said a papio mouth.

Another mouth asked, “What?”

“I’m honored to meet you, Diamond,” said the papio.

The reef-human sounded young but grown.

Quest had her best ears pushed against the ship’s skin, and she crept down to where she was level with the crew’s cabins. Each cabin had a little window wearing shades. All of the shades were closed. She made no sound as she moved, voices growing louder with each short careful stride.

“We’ve already met,” Diamond said. “When I visited the reef, you were there. I remember you.”

“You remember my face?”

“The Archon of Archons walked past you,” said the boy. “You watched him while he was talking, telling the papio what they should do.”

“I remember that.”

“ ‘Murder me and steal these two treasures,’ he said. He was talking about King and me.”

“Your memory is remarkable,” said the man.

A new sound arrived. Metal banged against metal. Quest was near enough to hear Diamond take a deep breath, as if ready to talk again.

But he said nothing.

Quest wanted to listen to the boy. But it was more than just wanting. Quest longed to hear the mind tied to that voice. She wanted words and the quiet breaths that meant nothing and the face too. No moment in her life was filled with such deep wrenching hope. She was tiny and too exposed already, and she didn’t have a mouth on this body, much less any voice that her brother would comprehend. But she wanted to see him inside the cabin, talking to the man that he remembered and that she had probably seen from an enormous distance.

Diamond made a small anguished sound.

“Don’t worry,” the papio said.

Quest was clinging outside Diamond’s cabin. But the shade was pulled tight and secured, and she didn’t dare cut through the window or the wall. Much as she wanted to look inside, there was nothing to do but cling to the ship and listen.

A new voice came, loud and close.

“No,” said a monkey.

The papio man said, “Hold him for me. Please.”

“Why?” Diamond asked.

“Because he’s your friend and you don’t want him hurt.”

Objects were hitting the cabin floor, and Diamond said, “Are you putting Good in that sack?”

“No, Diamond. You are.”

The monkey said, “Bad. Bad, shitty bad.”

Noises built a picture. Quest listened to a battle that ended with one loud bite, and what might have been bone snapped. But then the monkey was inside the sack, cursing and sobbing at the same time.

“Show me,” said the papio.

“No.”

The man laughed. “I’ve seen that kind of marvel before. You’ll have a fine new thumb soon enough.”

The boy didn’t talk.

Metal objects were moved.

“What is that?” Diamond asked.

“A cooler.”

“What’s inside it?”

“Dry ice.”

“Why?”

“Trousers,” said the man.

“What?”

“Let your trousers fall.”

“No.”

There was a pause, brief and tense. Then the man asked, “Do you think that I want to do this? I don’t. I don’t at all. But I have orders. We need pieces of you for study. I’ll take them and place them carefully in this cooler, and everything will grow back quickly enough, I promise.”

“No,” Diamond said.

The man tried to laugh. Then he tried to sound angry disapproving. “It won’t hurt any worse than your thumb hurt. And how bad was that?”

Diamond was breathing quickly.

“Or maybe I should settle for taking your thumb,” said the man. “Here. Let me kill the monkey and cut him open.”

“No.”

“What I want looks a little bit like a thumb, doesn’t it?”

“Don’t,” said the boy.

“Trousers,” the man said.

Silence.

The man said, “Now.”

“All right,” said Diamond.

Quickly, without a sloppy step, Quest ran. She was a quiver of light racing across the ship’s skin, hurrying toward the shop. Every big door had been closed and secured, but there were hatches for emergencies and vents to push fumes out of the close spaces. She slipped inside the first vent. Fear didn’t exist. Without hesitation and very little caution, she slipped into a big noisy room smelling of tree-walkers and the papio. Only the papio were visible. Three whiffbirds were being refueled, and that’s what she needed. Quest wanted energy and mass, and the odors of the living couldn’t hide the sweet fragrances of dead meat.

A storage closet was closed but not locked.

Nobody noticed the door open briefly. Inside that small dark space, dead tree-walkers had been stacked on the floor. They were in pieces. Quest looked for living faces and found none, and then she eased her way down to the carnage, ready to battle any kind of revulsion for what was to come next.

But there was no revulsion.

She dissolved one of her shells and made a mouth.

Two bites told her what she had always suspected: humans tasted exactly like monkeys.

“I don’t feel good,” Seldom said.

“Are you throwing up?” Elata asked.

“Not yet.”

The prisoners were jammed inside the galley. Bountiful’s crew sat in the back, shoulder to shoulder. Only the pilot and captain were missing, presumably helping the papio fly their stolen ship through the night-bound wilderness. The first table was half-empty, reserved for the children and Master Nissim, for Tar`ro and Merit. The galley wasn’t built for papio. A giant woman was squatting in front of the door, and three glowering males were jammed inside the kitchen, guns behind the long counter.

“Are you ill, or are you scared?” asked the papio woman.

“He’s scared,” said Karlan.

“You shouldn’t be,” she said. “Nobody lifts a hand, unless you give us cause.”

“I won’t,” Seldom promised.

“Then you are spectacularly safe.”

Seldom was sitting between his brother and Elata, arms wrapped around his aching belly, his back to the guards. He was a stick next to Karlan, but there was no denying the resemblance in their faces, in the eyes and noses and the shape of their mouths. They had never looked more like brothers.