Seldom asked, “Why?”

“For a flock of reasons,” the man said. “And I’ll just leave my warning at that.”

The native ground was bluish-gray, full of holes and crevices, and wherever there was a dab of soil, plants thrived. Leaves were thick and fleshy, holding tight to their water as they faced the scattered sunlight. The trail rose up onto the big knob of coral and flattened out. Walking beside Diamond, the Master said, “If a boy wanted, he could walk all the way around the world.”

Turning his head, Diamond began the journey in his mind.

“The reef is a circle growing on the world’s waist,” Nissim said. “The underside is what lives, and like trees, it grows toward the sun but only so far. Like the trees, size and weight limits how far the coral can reach. Rain and plant roots break up the coral, and like old glass, every little crack builds into large fissures. And when the edges are weak, the edges fall free.”

“Avalanches,” Seldom said with relish.

Nissim nodded. “Little landslides are common. But someday everything we’re walking on is going to shatter, sliding down to where the coronas live. Then new coral will grow in the gaping hole, and the slow majestic business of building the reef starting over again.”

“But not today,” said Elata.

“Most likely not,” said the Master.

Diamond looked away from the sunlight.

“You’re watching for the papio,” Seldom guessed.

“No,” Diamond said. The human forest was vast in one fashion, but this country was just as enormous, marvelous and limitless. The coral never quit rising as it approached the world’s edge, growing dark with shadow and the old, black-leafed forests that thrived in shadow. What was he searching for? Diamond forgot to walk, stopping on the trail while hunting for the words, and after a few moments of feeling lost, he ran to catch up with the others.

The trail crossed a weathered ridge before descending into a short broad valley. The ground was gravel and sand and easily walked. Several small fletches drifted at temporary moorings, forming a semicircle, and a small town of tents had been erected in the last little while. Rumbling generators and tiny two-man airships were scattered across the open ground. Seven spherical balloons were partly deflated, barely able to hang in the air, each tethered to a long flattened silver-white shape. Diamond’s first impression was that a peculiar airship had crashed in this remote place, and the balloons were ready to lift the wreckage back into the sky where it belonged. But Elata and Seldom said, “Corona.” They said the word together, with the same quietly astonished voice. And Diamond looked again, fresh eyes working the mysterious shape.

Nothing looked like a head; there were no visible eyes or mouth or nostrils. The body had some shape while it lived, or many shapes, but in death it was a vast bulk of flesh that had been dragged across the valley’s abrasive floor, balloons and fletch engines yanking the corpse until came to rest here. It seemed unnaturally long and too narrow at the same time. Where the skin was stretched most, scales were pulled apart, revealing milky skin. Even at a distance, the monster was huge. And then they walked closer and still hadn’t gotten close, and the corona was too enormous to absorb in one long glance. Diamond’s heart hurried and his breath deepened. There were no feathers, no leather, just silvery scales on the white skin that had already been dried by death. For no obvious reason, one portion of the body was buoyant, as if a great bubble was trapped inside, or better, an inflated balloon had been swallowed and was trying to lift the carcass free. That seemed like such a reasonable explanation that Diamond mentioned it to the others, and Elata began by saying, “Be nice, Seldom.”

Seldom walked with his hands woven together, riding on top of his head. “No, that’s just a corona bladder that’s still inflated.”

“With hydrogen,” Diamond guessed.

“No, with a vacuum.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothingness,” Elata said. “Which is lighter than any gas, if the corona’s alive and the bladder is intact.”

Master Nissim steered them to the far side, in case the bladder suddenly imploded. When Seldom edged closer, Nissim said, “Don’t.” But then he stopped to stare at the carcass, admitting, “I’ve always wanted to see a corona, but I gave up wishing for it a long time ago.”

Thinking of his father, Diamond kept walking.

Elata called to him.

His legs started to run.

Huge as the corona seemed, its body still looked deflated, slightly shriveled. A wide slit was visible between the folds of meat, propped open by timbers, power cables strung deep into the wound. The air turned warm suddenly. Giant fans were pushing out heat and moisture, and Diamond smelled the rich oils and alien perfumes that clung to a man’s hair despite repeated washings. Sprinting, he called out for his father. The boy who couldn’t forget anything didn’t know when he began to run. Nissim was yelling. The others were chasing. The corona’s body rose up like a hill beside him, scales as big as tabletops still shiny and unscratched, but the exposed flesh between them shredded from being dragged over the raw coral. And then the body suddenly ended, becoming a forest of tangled necks that must have followed the creature while it was alive. Each neck was long and narrow, boneless but strengthened with interlocking fibers and muscle and nerves and a metabolism as hot as an iron forge. Every neck ended with a head sporting three triangular eyes and three triangular jaws, and every jaw was adorned with curved white teeth exactly like those the boy touched at the Ivory Station. This corona had fifty large heads, and every mouth was open, rasping tongues lying in the dirt, the bright long teeth slashing at the light.

A dozen necks and heads had been lifted high with portable scaffolding. Workers stood at a safe distance, dressed in the heavy gray suits necessary for the next essential job. Oftentimes other slayer crews would arrive to help, but no other ships were close today. They would have to work through the night and probably most of tomorrow before help arrived, and that helped set the serious, deeply focused mood. Cutting tools were propped behind the crew—long blades and powered saws and hand saws and lengths of priceless copper wiring. They were staring at something important inside the corona. Nobody was nervous, but there was determination to their faces—professionals engaged in the kind of work where one mistake or the tiniest failure of luck ensured disaster.

In the distance, the Master shouted, “Diamond.”

And the crew turned, finally noticing the boy charging toward them.

Men lifted long arms.

Someone shouted, “Back, back. Get away, boy!”

None were his father. But Diamond knew Father was close and kept running, even as the men waved and ran toward him. Except they didn’t run in a straight line because they were steering clear of the corona’s heads. They knew better and he knew nothing, and three dead eyes detected movement and the nearest neck dragged itself from the scaffolding and opened the jaws even wider, teeth sharper than the best metal slicing Diamond’s foot off at the ankle.

He crumbled, crying out.

Ten burly men descended, but then as a group pulled up short. This youngster was in misery and crippled for life, and they felt a little responsible or deeply responsible. Ashamed and horrified and sorry, several of them openly wept while a couple of young fellows restrained the neck with ropes and spikes, and then the biggest man stepped forward, using a pry bar and hard words to wrench open the dead jaws.

An odd little foot and its matching sandal fell to the sand.

The corona head was dragged back, and in frustration, the big man began beating it with the iron bar.

Diamond watched blood pushing from the stump of his leg. Another man called out for a towel or shirt—anything clean enough to press on the wound—but long before suitable rags were found, the bleeding had stopped.