We packed up.

“How can we travel?” asked Nia. “I’ve been outside. The air is like the belly fur on a bowhorn. We are not going to be able to see anything.”

“I know the river,” said Ulzai. “We can travel half a day before we reach anything that is unusual or dangerous. And the fog will be gone by then. The air will be clear by the time we reach the place where the water goes down.”

“Are you certain?” asked the oracle.

“Yes,” said Ulzai. “Come on. And be careful.”

We started down through the fog, Ulzai first. The rock we climbed over was slippery. I could see hardly anything: the dim figure of Ulzai, a few shadowy bushes. I brushed against one. The leaves were edged with drops of moisture. Somewhere close by, the stream made gurgling noises.

“Ai!” someone shouted.

I turned, seeing Nia and Derek. The oracle was gone.

“What happened?”

Nia made the gesture of uncertainty.

“The damn fool went into the ravine,” said Derek.

“Help,” said the oracle. His voice sounded distant, though he had to be close.

Derek peered into the ravine. “I can’t see him. Oracle! Call again!”

“Help,” said the oracle.

“Straight below.” Derek set down the bags he carried, pulled off his boots and socks, and climbed into the ravine.

“What is going on?” asked Ulzai behind me.

“The oracle has fallen into the ravine.”

“A clumsy man!”

I made the gesture of agreement.

“I have him,” said Derek. “Can you stand?”

“I don’t know,” said the oracle.

“Try it.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Aiya! My ankle hurts!”

Ulzai snorted. I walked to the edge of the ravine and looked in. There were shapes below me: rocks and branches, just barely visible through the fog.

“Come on,” said Derek. “I’ll help you climb.”

The branches moved. Two figures appeared: one pale and human, the other dark and solid and alien. I knelt and reached down a hand. The oracle grabbed hold. I pulled. Derek lifted. We got him out.

“How could such a thing happen?” asked the oracle.

“Don’t ask us,” said Derek. He knelt by the oracle, who was sitting down, and felt the little man’s ankle. The oracle moaned.

“I can’t feel anything wrong, and you don’t seem to be in a lot of pain.”

“There you go again,” said the oracle. “You are measuring the pain another person feels. How can you do that? What kind of magic do you have?”

“You aren’t screaming when I do this,” said Derek. He pressed.

The oracle gasped. “I will scream, if that is what you want. Let me breathe deeply first.”

“We are wasting time,” said Ulzai. “If the ankle is broken, the man will find out. The pain will get worse and the ankle will get bigger. If he’s all right, he will find that out, too. Come on!”

Derek helped the oracle up. The little man groaned, but he was able to stand on the injured foot. He hobbled down the slope, leaning on Derek. Nia and I carried the bags.

The fog was lifting a little. I could see the edge of the river. Gray water lapped gently against a beach of gray sand. The center of the river was impenetrable whiteness.

We pushed the boat into the water. The oracle climbed in, settling down and groaning. The rest of us followed: Derek at the prow and Nia in back of him. I ended between the oracle and Ulzai. It wasn’t an especially comfortable place to be. I was very much aware of Ulzai in back of me: huge and hairy and formidable. Something sharp and hard was pressing against my thigh. I shifted and looked. It was the blade of a spear, long and barbed, made of iron. It lay on the bottom of the boat, along with another spear and Derek’s fishing pole. I had come close to sitting on the tip.

The boat moved away from shore.

I shifted back, trying to get away from the spear blade.

“Don’t do that,” said Ulzai. “I need room to paddle.”

I shifted forward.

“Good.”

We traveled through the fog all morning. The air was still, and there was no sound except the splash of the paddles. The silence had an effect on us. We barely spoke, and we moved carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible. The oracle was an exception. He moaned from time to time and shifted position. It seemed to me he was favoring his injured arm.

The fog grew thin. Islands emerged from the whiteness. The current picked up, and the surface of the river changed. There were ripples and eddies.

“We are getting to the place where the river goes down,” said Ulzai. “The fog has lasted longer than I expected. I am trying to decide whether or not I want to go on. The boat is overloaded. There might be problems, and I don’t want to come on them suddenly.”

The oracle moved again, trying to find a comfortable position. His injured arm was resting on the side of the canoe. He lifted it. I saw blood drip into the water.

I leaned forward, grabbing the arm. He twisted. The boat rocked.

“Be still,” I said.

The bandage had torn open. The edge of the foam was red with blood. Blood soaked the fur. A dark line of blood ran down the inside of the canoe. I leaned out. The boat rocked again.

“What are you doing?” asked Ulzai.

A second trail of blood ran down the outside of the canoe into the water.

“Blood,” I said. “Didn’t you say it was dangerous to let blood get into the water?”

“Yes.”

“The oracle is bleeding.”

“Move back,” said Ulzai. “Take my paddle.”

I obeyed. He stood and stepped over me. I tucked myself into the stern. Ulzai picked up a spear. He straightened up, glancing around.

“Nothing yet. But you, o holy man, keep your arm in the boat. I want no more blood in the water.”

The oracle held his arm against his chest. His shoulders were hunched. I had a sense that he was frightened. Well, so was I.

Ulzai spoke again. “They do not like this part of the river. The water moves too quickly. They do not come here except in the time for migration, and that has not begun.”

Derek said, “Good.”

“If there are any around—if a few of them have decided to go south early, ahead of the rush—they’re likely to be close to shore. Or else behind us. Upriver. We’ll keep going. Pay attention to the current. It is strong and getting stronger. Stay with it. There are rocks to the west. Watch out for them and look to the east from time to time. If you see anything dark in the water there, give a shout. It will be a lizard.”

“Okay,” I said.

He was right. The current was strong. I felt the water tug and pull every time my paddle went in. The boat accelerated. Ulzai stood in front of me, having no trouble keeping his balance. His arm was lifted. The spear was poised. He glanced around, paying special attention to the water behind us. That must be the area of real danger.

“Rocks,” said Nia. “Ahead of us.”

“Go to the east,” said Ulzai. “You are too far out.”

I shifted my paddle and drove the blade in, trying to turn the boat. What I needed—really needed—was the kind of boat I had used on Earth. Oh, for aluminum!

The canoe began to turn. I felt relief.

Ulzai exhaled. I glanced up. He was staring over my head. I glanced back. There was something in the water. A dark head. Huge. It had to be twice the size of the animal in the lagoon.

“Umazi,”said the oracle.

“Don’t look back,” said Ulzai. “Keep paddling. And watch for trouble ahead of us. I’ll take care of this.”

I paddled. After a moment he said, “It is no umazi.The shape of the head is wrong. And it isn’t big enough.”

“Aiya!” said the oracle.

The current felt rougher. There was foam on the water ahead of us. Off to the west a dark shape loomed out of the fog. A rock, not an island. We had reached the rapids, and we were still too far out.

“The lizard will stop now,” said Ulzai. “They hate fast water.”

So did I, which gave me one thing in common with the lizard. Not enough to form the basis for a friendship.