Bugs landed on the roof of our boat, on the deck and railing.

“What are they doing?” I asked.

“Going south like the lizards,” Nia said. She looked pleased. “We see them on the plain. They are lucky.”

The bugs took off one after another, rejoining the migration. We were almost through it by now. A few stragglers danced in the air, and the surface of the river was dotted with bugs, like a river on Earth dotted with the leaves of poplars.

Ivanova’s boat turned toward the western shore. We followed, entering a new channel.

“This is the tributary,” Tatiana said.

The water changed color, becoming a deep clear brown. It moved quickly between steep banks covered with forest. Above the trees were limestone cliffs, close to us on both sides. We were going almost due west.

Midway through the afternoon we came to rapids. They were nothing to write home about: a series of gradual drops. No rocks were visible. There was only a little foam. But they closed the river. We weren’t going any farther. Above us a trail of white smoke twisted out from the top of the valley wall.

The other boat turned toward shore. We followed, edging in against the bank. Agopian clambered forward and tied our prow to a tree that leaned over the river. I wrapped a second mooring line around a sapling near the stern. The engine stopped. I heard leaves rustle, the cries of birds. The muscles in my neck relaxed.

“Do you notice,” I said, “the sound of machinery is always an irritant?”

He looked surprised. “If that is so, we’re in trouble in space.”

He was right. Every ship and station was full of the sound of machinery.

Nia said, “I have been thinking.”

I made the gesture that meant “go on.”

“It’s a bad idea to show anyone too many strange things at once. You come into the village with me. If Angai is there, and she ought to be, we’ll explain about your people. She can decide what to do. Maybe she will permit the men to come in.”

“Okay,” I said.

We climbed out of the boat.

Eddie came toward us along the bank. “I’ve talked to Ivanova and Mr. Fang. We think you ought to go up to the village, alone or with Nia.” He smiled. “Ivanova is worried about Nia, since she has had a difficult relationship with her people. But I want her to go. Mr. Fang thinks we ought to leave the decision to you and Nia.”

I glanced at Nia. “The people on the other boat have come up with the same idea. They want the two of us to go.”

“It is hard to understand your people, Li-sa. When I begin to think that you are ordinary, you do something that is utterly crazy. When I decide you are really crazy, you make a decision like this one, which is ordinary and right. I never know what to expect.”

I made the gesture that meant “maybe so.”

We pushed through the bushes at the river’s edge. Beyond was a trail. Nia turned onto it. I followed her up the river bluff.

On top was the plain: almost flat here. An erratic wind swept over it, changing direction often. The vegetation changed color as leaves flipped over. Tan. Yellow. Gray-green. Silver-gray. The colors moved across the plain, through light and shadow, brightening and darkening.

Nia said,

Off to our left was a village made of tents and wagons. Smoke rose from many fires. Beyond the village—to the north and west—animals dotted the plain. Bowhorns. The edge of the herd. Or were these merely the domestic animals?

“Come on,” said Nia. “I want this meeting over.”

There were children playing at the edge of the village: about a dozen. Some wore kilts. Others were naked, except for various kinds of ornamentation: belts made of leather and brass, copper bracelets, necklaces of brightly colored beads.

The children were organized in two rows, which faced each other. Between the rows were two children with sticks. The children in rows tossed a ball back and forth. The children with sticks tried to knock it down.

That much I figured out before the children saw us. One shouted. A couple ran. The rest turned and stared.

Nia said, “This person looks strange, but she is more or less ordinary. There are more like her below on the river. They have come to visit. They have fine gifts and interesting stories.”

“Hu,” said one of the children. I could not tell the gender. He or she was tall and thin, with auburn fur and a yellow kilt. The kilt was embroidered with dark blue thread. The child wore a pair of silver bracelets, one on each wrist. He or she held a stick. “You are certain they are not demons?”

“I have traveled with this person all the way from the eastern forest. She has never done anything the least bit demonlike. She’s a good companion.”

“Hu!” the child repeated. “You’d better come with me. My foster mother is the shamaness.”

“What is your name?” asked Nia.

“Hua,” said the child.

“I am Nia.”

The child had turned, ready to lead us. Now she turned back, regarding Nia with large, clear yellow eyes.

“How is your brother?” Nia asked.

“He is getting difficult. Angai says the change is coming.”

Nia frowned. “Isn’t he too young?”

“It will be early. But not that early. You have been gone a long time.”

“That’s true,” said Nia.

The child led us into the village. The tents at the edge were small and widely scattered. I saw no people around them.

“What are they?” I asked.

Nia answered. “They belong to the men. The old ones, who have come into the village.”

“I don’t see anyone. Where are they?”

“Hunting. Or maybe sitting where they are not visible. Men set up their tents so the entrances face the plain. If they are home, they will be—” She made a circling gesture.

“What’s wrong with this person?” asked Hua. “Doesn’t she know anything?”

“Not much,” said Nia.

Farther in, the tents were larger and closer together. They were made of leather, stretched over a series of poles. Each tent had six to eight peaks. In spite of their size, they were not especially tall—more like a mountain range than like a tepee.

The flaps were open, held up by poles so they formed awnings, which shaded the entrances. Women sat under the awnings, and children played in the streets.

The women called out in a language I did not understand. Hua answered in the same language. The women got up, leaving their work. They gathered their children and followed. Soon we were at the head of a procession.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“They are asking about you. Hua is telling them—come along and listen while Angai finds out what you are.”

“Oh.”

Nia added, “I do not like being followed.”

I made the gesture of agreement.

The village was obviously new to this location. Plants grew between tents and under wagons. Flowers bloomed. Bugs jumped and hummed. A tethered bowhorn ate leaves off a bush in the middle of what seemed to be the main thoroughfare.

We passed the animal. It stopped eating and looked at us, then lifted its tail and defecated.

More evidence that the village was new. I had seen very little dung or garbage.

I looked at the wagons. They were everywhere, scattered among the tents. They had rectangular bodies made of wood and curved tops made of leather stretched on a frame of wood. The sides were elaborately carved. The tops were decorated with strips of brightly colored cloth that hung down in the front and back, making curtains of ribbon that fluttered in the wind: red, yellow, blue, green, orange. Each wagon had four wheels, bound with iron. The spokes were carved and painted.