“Hu!” She clapped her hands together. “Well, I got the creature. It will not bother another person. How can you bear it, Li-sa? You have no fur. They can bite you anywhere.”

Smoke had gotten into my eyes and they were watering. The places where the bugs got me were itching. “I am not fond of situations like this.” I scratched one of the bites. “But what can I do about it? I can’t grow fur. And anyway, I’ve been through a lot worse. I used to live in Minnesota.”

“Where?” said Nia.

“A land with many lakes and many bugs.” I paused and listened. The bugs hummed around my ears. There were a lot of them. They ought to be biting more. Maybe I didn’t smell right. Maybe it was only the brave bugs—or the stupid ones—that decided to give me a try.

“Aiya!” Nia hit her forehead. “Another one!”

I waved the smoke out of my face. “They can bite through your fur?”

“Only in a few places, where it is thin. Around the eyes or in the crook of the elbow.”

The wind shifted again and blew the bugs away. We lay down. We had nothing to cover us. Nia’s cloak was with the rest of our baggage out on the plain. So was my poncho. But the night was mild, and I was exhausted. I curled up and went straight to sleep.

I woke early. The clouds were gone, and the sky above me was brilliant blue-green. Birds made noises in the foliage. Nia snored by the ashes of the fire.

I got up, groaning. My entire body was stiff, and my shoulder felt especially bad. I rubbed it, looking around. There was no wind. The lake was still. Out on the open water beyond the reeds a canoe glided.

“Nia!”

She scrambled to her feet. I pointed. She yelled and waved her arms. The canoe turned in. A moment later it was gone—out of sight among the reeds. We hurried to the shore.

“Who can it be?” I asked.

“I don’t know. A woman. One of the Amber People.”

The prow pushed through the reeds. A dugout, roughly made. It slid toward us. The woman in the back lifted her paddle from the water, then raised a hand and shaded her eyes. “Am I seeing things? Is one of you hairless?”

“Yes,” I said.

The canoe hit shore. The woman climbed out. She was taller than I was and lanky with dark brown fur. Her face was wide and flat. Her eyes were dark orange, almost red. She wore a pale yellow tunic decorated with bands of embroidery. The pattern was intricate and geometric, done in various shades of blue. Her belt was blue, and she had a long knife in a sheath of blue leather. “Were you born like that?” she asked. “Or have you been ill?”

“This is the natural way for me to be.” I used the word that meant “usual” or “proper.”

She looked me up and down. “Natural, eh? And you?” She turned to Nia. “Who are you? And why do you travel with a freak?”

“I am a woman of the Iron People. Nia, the smith.”

The new woman frowned. “There is something familiar about that name.”

“It’s common enough,” said Nia.

The woman kept frowning.

Nia went on. “What is your name?”

“Toohala Inahooli. I belong to the Amber People and to the Clan of the Ropemaker. Right now, I have a position of high prestige. I am the guardian of the clan tower.”

Nia made the gesture of acknowledgment.

I said, “What is a clan tower?”

She glared at me. “Where do you come from? Don’t you know—among the Amber People, every clan builds a tower in honor of its First Ancestor? We make each tower as tall as possible. We cover it with decorations and perform ceremonies in front of it in order to impress the other clans and make them feel envious and small.”

A new kind of artifact! I thought for a moment. “Can I see the tower?”

“Yes. Of course. What use is a clan tower if people aren’t impressed by it? And how can people be impressed unless they come and see? But I warn you—our magic is powerful. If there is anything demonic about you, you will come to harm.”

“No. I’m not demonic.”

“We can’t go,” Nia said. “Deragu—” She paused. “I cannot say the name.”

“Derek,” I said.

“Derag told us to wait.”

The woman frowned. “Who is this person? The name sounds male to me.”

“The person is a woman,” Nia said. “She comes from the same place as Li-sa. They speak a language that is nothing like the languages on the plain. The endings are different.”

Inahooli made the gesture that meant she understood what was being said.

Nia went on. “Our bowhorns ran away. She—this person Derag—has gone after them.”

Inahooli repeated the gesture of comprehension.

“You stay here,” I said. “If Derek comes, tell her where I am. She’ll understand.”

Nia made the gesture that meant “no.”

“Why not?”

Nia scratched the back of her neck. Maybe she had gotten bitten there, though—as I remembered—the fur was pretty thick.

“Listen,” Inahooli said. “I will go away. You two can argue. Maybe that one”—she pointed at Nia—“has something bad to say about me.” She walked down the shore.

“Okay,” I said. “What is the problem? Do you think the woman is dangerous?”

“No. But I think she has heard about me. When my people found out about me and Enshi, it made a big noise. The Amber People could have heard the noise. They trade with us.”

“I want to see the tower. Have you heard about things like that?”

“Yes. The Amber People aren’t like my folk. We are related to the People of Fur and Tin. We know that. We call them ‘kinswoman.’ And I think we may be related to the Copper Folk. Their language is not hard to learn. But the Amber People … Their language is difficult and their customs are peculiar. They boast a lot. Every clan tries to outdo the others in building towers and dancing. I don’t understand it.”

“I’m going,” I said. “I ought to be back this evening.”

Nia made the gesture that meant “so be it.” “Don’t tell her that we are traveling with men. I don’t think she would understand.”

“Okay.” I waved at Inahooli. She came back. “I’m going with you.”

“Good. This will be a remarkable event. No guardian has ever shown our tower to a person without hair.”

We pushed the canoe out from shore and climbed in. Inahooli began to paddle. In a minute or so Nia was gone, hidden by the plants that I called reeds. They swayed above us, tall and dull blue-gray. Most of the stalks ended in a cluster of leaves, but here and there I saw a round, dark, shaggy head. The flower of the plant? I didn’t know.

We slid out into open water. Ahead of us were islands. They were small, only a few meters across, and made of a soft volcanic stone that had weathered into very odd shapes. One looked like a mushroom. Another—tall and narrow—reminded me of a human woman in a robe. A third island was an arch. A fourth was a miniature cathedral. Late Gothic, I decided. The cathedral had a lot of spires.

We glided among the islands. I looked down. The water was clear. A fish flashed into sight, then turned sideways and vanished. What a planet! All at once I felt horrified at the idea of going home.

Stop it, I told myself. Don’t think about Earth. Concentrate on the present. Enjoy what you have now.

I looked ahead. There was another island in sight: long and low, surrounded by reeds. At one end was a construction, twenty meters tall, I estimated, made of rough latticework. Banners hung from it, limp at present. As we drew nearer I saw other kinds of decoration: bunches of feathers and long strings of shells.

“The tower of the Ropemaker,” Inahooli said.

We rounded the island. On the far side was a beach. We landed and pulled the canoe up on the gravel.

Inahooli led me toward the tower. The island was rocky and mostly bare with scattered patches of vegetation: orange pseudo-mosses and brown pseudo-lichens and a leafy gray plant that came up to the middle of my calf. There were only two objects of any size: the tower and a tent of dark brown fabric.