Once aboard the dirigible, however, Zida's mood grew lighter. There was no doubt that the Windchime was a sweet fly, as Scotten had claimed. Her hull, of tough cane and wirewood shellacked to near metallic hardness, hung by a complicated system of rigging beneath a hundred-meter long, twenty-five meter wide hand-stitched gasbag. Her range was nearly three thousand kilometers, with a top speed of 75 knots and a ceiling of 12,000 meters. She could remain aloft for up to a junth and a half without recharging. If the engines, mounted on outboard "power eggs," were used sparingly, another week could increase that time to a full month.

That much Zida had learned during the first hour or so of the flight. With Pankiw at the controls, Scotten was pleased to conduct Zida on a guided tour of each notch and crevice of the airship. At last, however, even Scotten had run out of words. He retreated into the cabin with Pankiw, leaving Zida at the railing with her thoughts.

She hadn't been dissembling; there really was a lot to do in Naven. Even as the scientists prepared to move to Breebaharben, Willium Packer was working on the problem of establishing peaceful relations with Farquntry. The other continent, Majanatia, boasted a loose confederation of variously governed city-states. The Terran expedition had made planetfall near the village of Naven not far from Breebaharben, the eponymous capital of the dominant city-state.

Naven nestled in the foothills of mountains a few kilometers west of the Nallannic Ocean. For this flight, Scotten had taken the Windchime south along the coast for several miles. It was a wild, desolate country. After more than four standard centuries, men had not completely managed to put their stamp on this metal-poor, chilly little world with its fierce storms and terrible tides. Lennon's population numbered less than a billion--there were vast stretches that had not yet felt the foot of man.

Rather than following the coast all the way to the border of Harbizak, Scotten had directed Pankiw to swing the dirigible around to the southeast, out to sea toward Drole Island some hundred kilometers distant.

"Mating season among the schoonerfish," he said by way of explanation, but would add nothing more.

There was nothing he could have said, Zida realized when she saw the school ahead. Like much Lennish marine life, the schoonerfish were enormous, half the size of terrestrial humpbacks. But these creatures were more akin to flying fish than whales. The relatively weak gravity allowed them to fling themselves high out of the water in a complex mating ritual unlike anything the Hoteik girl had ever seen. Their huge, finned bodies entwined in the humid sea air, the males explosively discharging puffy clouds of pinkish sperm.

"We'll not fly through that stuff," Scotten said with a grimace as Pankiw took the Windchime high above the mating schoonerfish. "It's stickier than spun sugar candy."

Which is exactly what it looks like, Zida thought.

After circling the mating sea creatures twice, the dirigible headed back toward Naven. Before long Zida saw ahead of the airship the sharp-edged contours of mountains rising above the horizon: the Majanatian coast. Inland a few miles among the sheltering valleys of the upland range lay the village of Naven. In this unusually clear weather, Zida saw the mountains cloaked with tan vegetation rising beyond the coast like a line of gnashing teeth.

The Windchime, gradually descending now, passed over the strip of beach, leaving the Nallannic behind. Land closed in to either side and the temperature climbed a few degrees. Their course was close to that taken by the shuttlecraft that had brought Zida and the other Implementation citizens to Lennon, and Zida began to notice some familiar landmarks. Before long the village hove into view, with its small airstrip.

Noticeable at once was a second dirigible, smaller than the Windchime but big enough, lashed to a landing platform adjacent to the hangars. Multicolored pennants fluttered from its nose and tail.

"Council colors," said Scotten in a puzzled voice. "What's all this?"

A stiff wind had sprung up, making it hard for Pankiw to mate the dirigible with the village's mooring mast. She struggled to keep the craft steady until Scotten, growing impatient, barked at her to relinquish the controls. He engaged the steering props on the power eggs, using them in erratic bursts to counteract the wind, but repeatedly failed to make the coupling. Zida watched with some concern as he grew tenser and began muttering curses. He ignored Pankiw while she stewed in a corner. At last Zida felt a thunk, telling her that the ball on the tip of the Windchime's prow spine was secure in the mast's socket.

Scotten switched off the power and let down the rope ladder. On the ground at last, he returned the salutations of the landing crew with a perfunctory wave.

Standing among the crew was a stocky fiftyish woman dressed in the robes if a Breebaharb councilor. Next to her stood a trim neatly bearded man who, Zida thought, looked like a bureaucrat. Out of the corner of her eye Zida noticed Scotten stiffen.

"That's Coti Lupercus," he said. "She came with me. But she said nothing about any other arriving."

Zida stared down at the councilor. The matronly Lupercus seemed unlikely leadership material despite the dignity with which she wore the pearly grey robes of her office.

"Don't let her looks fool you," Scotten said. "She's got a sharp mind and a sharper tongue."

"Who's that with her?" The small, neat man stood quite straight, with his arms folded behind his back.

"My partner, Malka Dwartenzio," he said. "I do all the flying, he runs the business. I've no head for it. Without him, Continental Aeronautics would have gone under years ago.

"Hello, Your Honor!" he called out to the councilor. "What passes?" He clambered down the landing ladder, followed by Zida and Lysandra Pankiw.

Lupercus folded her arms and frowned up at him. "I think we've made some headway convincing the council how dangerous Farquntry is," she said. "When council business happens, it happens fast. We've got a quorum here, Scotten, flown in from Breebaharben. They decided not to wait until you straggled back. I'm here to escort you to a special exploratory meeting. If you're finished tooling around the skies with our lovely young guest, that is." She stared meaningfully at Zida. Then Pankiw stepped gracefully out of the cabin as well, smoothing her tunic down over her flat belly and slim hips. Lupercus's frown grew deeper. "Perhaps I should say chaperone, rather than escort," she added.

Ouch! thought Zida, blushing as Scotten bridled. I see what he means about a sharp tongue.

Suddenly a winged figure erupted from the surrounding cane forest. Zida recognized Wolf, a member of the Flyer tribe, one of many that ranged the Lennish wilderness, and her heart thumped. In the weeks since her arrival, he and she had become friendly. She had begun to wonder if there might not be more to it than that.

Wolf lit gracefully and detached his arms from the wings, which automatically folded back into a cowl-like configuration. The others ignored him as he took Zida's arm, drawing her aside. The ground crew continued to secure the dirigible, which loomed overhead like a thunderstorm.

Wolf asked, "Did you enjoy the flight?"

"Yes, very much so," she said quietly. "Do you know anything about Scotten addressing the councilors here? I thought they wanted nothing to do with him."

Wolf shrugged. "I live in the woods, but that doesn't mean I don't hear things." Zida smiled. The Lennish tribes formed the most effective long-distance communications network on the planet. What a Riverfisher knew in the morning, her Vibrist third cousin halfway round Lennon would know by noon. Wolf added, "He has some information they've decided they need to evaluate. I think they're finally taking the Farquntrian threat seriously."

"That's a good thing, though, isn't it?"

Again he shrugged. "Presumably."

Scotten turned from Lupercus and shouted up to Pankiw, who had remained aboard the airship. "The charts in cupboard two--bring them, Sandra, would you?"

"Sir." The slender Lennish girl turned and vanished into the cabin.

"If you're really sure this'll do any good--" Scotten began, speaking to Lupercus. "This presentation could be a mistake--for me, personally and professionally."

"Trust me to understand the politics of the situation," Lupercus replied.

"I hope your understanding includes a way to answer when you're accused of abusing your privileges by allowing us free access to the archives."

"Without facts, Mox Bernstach and his supporters would laugh us out of the chamber," the councilor said flatly. "There was no other choice."

"Remember what we went through just getting him to agree to tariff reform? But he finally listened to us," Dwartenzio said, raising a fist in emphasis. He had a surprisingly deep voice. "And look at the money we brought in. And the taxes we paid," he added dryly. "But it's the same now. Bernstach and everyone in Majanatia must face the truth. Fraquntry is up to something, and we need intelligence. Councilor Lupercus's way is the most sensible."

"You mean, it's the way of greatest benefit to Continental Aeronautics," Scotten said, scratching his beard.

Out of the corner of her eye, Zida noted that Lysandra Pankiw had appeared again at the dirigible's railing, clutching an armload of rolled charts. The Lennish girl stood silently listening attentively to the conversation below her.

"Have you a change of clothing?" asked Lupercus, giving Scotten a look of evident distaste. "You can't appear before the council in flight fatigues."

"This is hardly an official meeting," Scotten said. Zida hid a grin at the sarcasm evident in his voice. "And I wasn't aware I'd be attending. I'm afraid they'll have to take me as they find me! All right, Dwarty, Pankiw--let's take a quick look at these charts, shall we?" And without waiting to see if they would follow, he strode purposefully off toward the aerodrome's small administration building.

Lupercus and Dwartenzio exchanged a look. Dwartenzio shrugged, then he and the councilor, trailed slightly by Pankiw, followed the aeronaut.

Zida was left standing with Wolf. The Flyer stared after the others with a bemused look.

"I don't get all the subtext," Zida said, folding her arms.

Wolf turned back to her. His eyes twinkled in his rugged face. Though only a few years older than Zida, in his mid-twenties, exposure to the Lennish environment had roughened his features and brought age lines to them.

"See, Pankiw is Dwartenzio's lover," he said mildly. "Lupercus knows it; she's something of a prude. Scotten's wife drowned a few years ago and I think he's interested in Pankiw, but he covers it up by being very short with her. I don't think Dwartenzio knows about Scotten's feelings, but he senses something."

Zida stared at the winged man. Her intuition told her that what Wolf said was correct. "And how do you know all this?"

He grinned. "Mayor Watrous told me. There isn't a thing goes on around here that he doesn't know about. He himself was on the council for a few years. He's the one who told me about the special meeting, too."

Zida smiled. "Where I come from, we call that 'gossip," she said.

"And here. It's a time-honored Lennish tradition. And the mayor believes in tradition." He cocked his head to one side. "Listen, they won't be ready for their confab for at least a couple of hours. Would you like to go on a picnic in the meantime?"

Zida blinked at him. "A what?"

Wolf had already made all the preparations. She returned with him to the burned out shell of the inn in the middle of the small village. Repairs to the structure had already begun, and carpenters and other workmen hurried about.

In fact, now that the terrible storm had passed and the Implementation shuttle had vanished from the village green, Naven in general seemed to be returning to what must pass for normalcy. The village' sine qua non was, the team had learned, snowspiders. These vicious cat-sized creatures spun a peerless silk much prized among moneyed Lennish. The ubiquitous cane forests, comprised of native species with added terrestrial genes, also supplied sugars and building materials. Fish and genetically altered crustaceans from the many mountain streams were caught and exported to the other city-states. Another export was, oddly enough, rhubarb, which grew very well in the cool, damp climate.

Zida followed Wolf to the front of the inn. There a double-saddled cayuse stood lashed to the hitching post with twin hampers slung across its long, chitinous back. She wrinkled her nose at the beast of burden's coppery odor. Wolf helped her up into her saddle, then vaulted into his. Chucking the reins, he shouted, "Yee-up!" The cayuse scrabbled to its feet.

The rising sun gleamed on Wolf's wings and struck iridescent notes from the cayuse's ridged carapace. The Flyer had shed his jacket, and was clad only in loose linen trousers and a light low-necked shirt of open weave. She clutched the pommel of her saddle and watched the play of muscles and tendons in Wolf's shoulders. The Flyer's wings, open to the sun and canted back to minimize drag, stretched over her head like a canopy.