Nia made the gesture of affirmation. “But that isn’t unusual.”

“What does it mean?” I asked.

“Nothing that I know of.” She frowned, thinking. “There are people in the west who have found a way to look at the sun without harming their eyes. According to them, the sun is not flawless and untarnished the way we think it is. They say it is spotted. The spots are black. They crawl around like bugs. When the spots appear—a lot of them—it means the weather is going to get bad.”

“I’ve never heard that story,” said the oracle. “But I know what it means when a spot appears on the moon.”

I made the gesture of inquiry.

“It means the Mother of Mothers has not been watching her pot.”

“What?” I asked.

“The old women say the big moon is a cooking pot. It belongs to the Mother of Mothers. Sometimes she forgets to watch it, and it boils over. Then we see what you have described. The old women say it means the winter will be hungry.” He paused. “My mother says the old women are wrong. She has kept a moon string for many years. Every time something happens up there, she ties a knot. And she has other strings that she uses to keep track of the weather. Rain. Snow. A big wind. Drought. She has a string for every kind of weather. There is no connection between what happens on the moon and what happens on the plain. That is her opinion. I think she is right.”

“Huh,” said Nia. “I have never heard the story about the moon. If it isn’t true, I won’t repeat it.”

“The part about the cooking pot is most likely true,” the oracle said. “My mother said nothing about that. Not everything that happens in the world of the spirits has an effect on our world here.”

Nia made the gesture of agreement.

Derek came back. I glanced at him. “Did you get through to Eddie?”

“Yes. Why shouldn’t I?”

“There was static last night, and I’ve been talking to computers the past couple of days.”

“Eddie didn’t mention anything about static.” He sat down, folding himself neatly. “Or about computers. But he has been spending time in one of the big holovision rooms. The moon iserupting. And the eruption is big. We are missing one heck of a sight.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Nia.

“The moon,” I said. “It is boiling over.”

She looked at the sky. “It’s too bad the sky is cloudy.”

The next day Nia said she wanted to walk.

“I am feeling restless again. If my ankle begins to bother me, I’ll ask you to dismount.”

“All right,” I said.

The oracle, as always, rode. Now and then we passed little marshes or half-dry lakes. The sky was hazy. Hani Akhar remained just barely visible.

Late in the afternoon we reached the top of a rise. Below us was a lake. It was much larger than the others we had seen, irregular in shape and full of tiny islands. The edges were marshy. Monster grass grew in bunches on the shore.

Nia said, “I know this place, though I haven’t been to it before. This is the Lake of Bugs and Stones. We are in the land of the Amber People. They come here in the fall on their way south. They fish and hunt for birds, and they perform ceremonies in honor of the mountain.”

The oracle made the gesture of agreement. “Another holy place.”

We descended. The sky was clear in the west. The sun was low. The water glittered, and I could barely see. We passed a grove of monster grass. The lake was only a few meters away. Reeds moved in the wind. The water flashed. Something bellowed. It was right in front of me, crashing out of the reeds, rearing up. My God! It was three meters tall! The mouth was open. The forearms reached toward me, claws spread. Another bellow! The animal I rode jerked its head. The reins whipped through my hands. The bowhorn bucked, and I kicked free of the stirrups. A moment later I slammed against the ground. The jolt went through me. I yelled. Then I was standing upright.

“Back off,” said Derek. “Slowly. Don’t frighten it.”

I took a step back. Derek was next to me. I couldn’t see Nia or the oracle or my bowhorn. The pseudo-dinosaur bellowed again. But it didn’t move. Now, for the first time, I saw it clearly. Three meters tall. Hell! It was more like four. It had a bright pink belly and a crest of yellow feathers. Its arms and shoulders were dark blue-gray.

I took another step. The creature hissed. The open mouth was full of teeth. Blunt teeth. It was an herbivore. But the claws were long and sharp. For digging? Did it fight? The head tilted. A tiny bright eye stared at me.

“Keep moving,” Derek said. His voice was low and even. “One step at a time.”

I saw Nia on the other side of me, a knife in her hand. A useless weapon against this monster. It made another sound. A moan. What did that mean?

Something was moving behind it, coming up from the lake. Another monster. I blinked, trying to see against the sun. It was smaller than the beast confronting us and went on four feet. Its back was gray.

“The female,” Derek said.

It turned its head and bit off a reed. Then it went on, chewing, making a loud crunching sound. Pieces of reed hung from its mouth. Three other animals came after it. These were small, about the size of a Saint Bernard. Two were quadrupeds. They waddled after the mother. The third hopped awkwardly.

“Well, what do you know?” said Derek.

We kept moving back, away from the angry male. Where was the oracle? I couldn’t see him.

Mother waddled on. The children followed. At last they were out of sight, hidden by a grove of monster grass. The male hissed, then turned and bounded after his family. My shoulder began to hurt. My knees gave out. I sat down.

“Very interesting,” said Derek. “They care for their young. That helps explain how they are able to survive in competition with the pseudo-mammals. The mammaloids. We need a whole new vocabulary. O Holy Unity! I thought I was going to piss in my pants.”

Nia said, “Hu!” She put her knife away. “I hope the crazy man is all right. His bowhorn took off. The last I saw of it he was still holding on.”

“Oh, my God, Derek. Our equipment. The radios.”

He laughed. “On the bowhorns. Out there.” He waved at the plain. “Are you all right?”

“My shoulder hurts like hell, and I bit my tongue. I don’t know when.”

He checked me over. “Your shoulder isn’t dislocated. Your tongue is still there. I think you’ll be okay.” He turned and stared at the plain. “I’m going after our equipment. I used to chase horses back in California. Bowhorns aren’t any faster. I’ll catch up with them.” He glanced at me. “You make camp around here somewhere. I’ll find you.”

“Derek—” I began.

He loped away.

“Derek!” I shouted.

He didn’t look back.

“He is very strange,” said Nia.

“Yes.” I watched till he was out of sight, then I glanced at Nia. “Well, let’s go find a place to camp.”

We followed the trail along the shore until we came to a grove of monster grass. Nia cut branches and wove them into baskets: traps for fish. “This may not work. It is easier to catch fish in a river.” She put the traps in the water.

After that we explored the grove. Nia found a patch of plants growing at the eastern edge. Their roots were edible. I gathered firewood. We baked the roots. They were crunchy and almost flavorless.

“They are good in a stew with meat,” said Nia. “Alone—” She made the gesture that meant “the rest is obvious.”

“Better than nothing.”

She made the gesture of agreement.

Night came. The wind shifted, blowing off the lake. All at once the grove was full of bugs.

“Biters!” said Nia.

I slapped my neck. “You’re right.”

We crouched by the fire. The smoke protected us to some extent. I got bit a second time, on the wrist. Nia got bit once, on the palm of her hand, where she had no fur.