"Not funny," Pranlo grunted as he braked to a halt beside them. "People do get exiled, you know."

"No, I didn't," Raimey said soberly, annoyed with himself. "Sorry. It was supposed to be a joke."

"Don't worry about it," Drusni soothed him. "But that snack idea sounded really good. Don't just float there, Pranlo—take us to the good stuff."

"As you command," Pranlo said, flipping over and heading off. "This way."

It took a few ninedays for them to settle into their new routine. They had considerably more freedom as Breeders than they had had as children, and Pranlo and Drusni in particular seemed to relish the opportunity to go wherever they wanted, whenever they wanted to. The Three Musketta, as Pranlo persisted in calling them, ranged far and wide, laughing and talking and eating their way through the Jovian skies. They flitted up and down between Level Two and the upper parts of Level Four, crisscrossed back and forth across the equator a dozen times, and sometimes even skipped part of their normal sleep cycle in their excitement.

Raimey, who had grown up in the shadow of a personal Protector, didn't notice nearly as much of a change in his freedom as the others did. But their spirit was both contagious and fun to watch, and he jumped into the new activities right alongside them. Besides, even he found a certain relief in not having to always know where the herd was so that he could get back to it before sundark.

Still, as always, there was also a debit side to the freedom ledger. None of them, including Raimey, had ever realized quite how much work their leaders had put into locating food sources and guiding the rest of the herd to them. Now, as the Three Musketta moved about on their own, they discovered that the delicate tendrils and swirls of tasty color weren't nearly as plentiful as they'd always thought.

Some days they had to hunt for ninth-parts on end before they found anything at all to eat.

Especially as they were now competing for that food with all the other Breeders who had recently left their herds, not to mention all those who had graduated to adulthood before them. At first it had been fun to meet Qanska from other herds, to exchange names and stories and find out what life was like swimming in different winds. But the excitement began a distinctly downward curve the first time they tried to swim with a group of others, only to learn that they'd already cleaned out every bit of food in the vicinity.

And by the time a different group forcibly ordered them to go away, even the gregarious Drusni had had enough. From that point on, they swam alone.

There were other dangers besides hunger, too. Larger Vuuka prowled these lower levels than had generally been able to reach the nurseries on Level One, and from the lower parts of Level Two downward there were packs of Sivra to deal with, as well.

Again, the Three Musketta didn't have nearly as much trouble with predators as the typical Breeder, not with Virtamco plying his silently watchful path off to the side. Just the same, in those first few ninedays they had to beat off three Vuuka attacks and outrun a pack of Sivra. And it was always a darkly sobering experience to come upon the remains of a Vuukan or Sivran meal and wonder if the Qanska had been anyone they'd known.

So the thrill of new adulthood quickly and quietly faded away, winding down to a matter of survival.

Survival with good friends and occasional laughter and enjoyment, certainly, but survival nonetheless.

And then, as if the universe were conspiring to complicate matters as much as possible, Raimey began feeling strange and discomfiting changes taking place inside him.

Latranesto had spoken of mating urges at that last hearing he and Drusni had gone through, warning of the possible uncontrolled consequences if those urges occurred in the wrong place. But as near as Raimey could remember, he hadn't felt anything of the sort when he'd been defending that pregnant female from the Sivra. There had been determination and anger, even fear, but nothing that could possibly qualify as an urge. For a long time afterward he had worried about that, wondering whether there was something wrong with him. Something in his human psychology, perhaps, that could override even the basic biochemistry of his Qanskan body.

But now, in a way that was somehow both sudden and subtle, the urges and feelings were beginning to come over him. He couldn't tell whether it was the new freedom that was triggering the changes, or the different and more varied diet they were being exposed to, or even simply the fact that he was getting older.

Or perhaps it was Drusni.

Drusni. Sweet, caring, vibrant, radiant Drusni. He found himself watching her every move, listening to her every word, hanging eagerly onto her every thought. He couldn't get enough of her. Her image danced through his mind, her voice sang in his dreams. Drusni.

And eventually, one sundark as the three of them were winding down toward sleep, he finally had to admit to himself that he was in love with her.

It was a startling discovery, all the more so coming from someone who could still remember what it was like to be human. There had been many women he'd known back then... but somehow, all of them paled in comparison to Drusni.

That was startling, too. Startling, and sobering. Had he become so much a Qanska that even his memories of human friends and lovers paled against the Qanskan equivalents? Or was it simply that, in his shallow youthfulness, he'd chosen his lovers solely on the basis of superficial attractiveness of face and body?

Because Drusni was more that just that. Far more.

He lay awake for a long time after sundark, gazing into the darkness and trying to sort it all out in his mind. He and Drusni... but it wasn't as ridiculous as it sounded. Was it?

But even if it wasn't ridiculous, it wasn't going to be nearly as simple as it had been on Earth. He'd caught glimpses of other Breeder couples in the distance over the past few ninedays; had seen the complicated half-dance, half-synchronous swim ritual they'd done as they prepared for their bonding.

Trouble was, it was a ritual he had never learned. Either it had been taught back in the herd while he was off on one of his extended wanderings, or else it drew on some basic Qanskan instinct that his human mind simply didn't have.

But he couldn't approach her without it. Wouldn't approach her without it. When it was time to ask her, he wanted everything to be perfect.

And there was only one person to whom he could turn to for help and advice. Only one.

He suffered secretly through the long ninth-parts of the next day, striving for patience as he and Drusni and Pranlo swam and talked and ate together. But finally the gloom of sundark descended on them.

And as the other two fell silent and motionless, drifting to sleep on the winds, Raimey stole quietly off into the darkness.

Virtamco was also just settling down to sleep. "Yes?" he said, in that same gruffly neutral voice he always seemed to use when speaking to Raimey. "Do you want something?"

"I need a favor," Raimey said, trying to keep his voice steady. It was odd, he thought distantly, how little he'd truly appreciated Tigrallo when he was alive. He'd always thought of him as aloof and critical, more like a glorified nursemaid than anything else.

But now, with Virtamco to compare him against, Raimey realized that Tigrallo had been far more than just a keeper saddled with unpleasant duty. He'd been an adviser, and a guardian, and a companion.

And a friend.

"Yes?" Virtamco prompted impatiently. "Speak up, Breeder Manta."

"Counselor Latranesto said you would teach me those aspects of being a Qanska that I don't yet know," Raimey reminded him. "Well, there's something I need to know."