“There are ways around that,” Kit said. “If we don’t feel like physically carrying the manuals, we can always pull the fabric of space apart a little bit and stuff the manual into the pocket.”
“That could be a little tricky,” Quelt said thoughtfully.
“It can be,” Nita said, “but if you—”
She was interrupted by a sudden flurry of crazy barking from Ponch as he came to the top of the rise, saw something that excited him, and dived down over the far side. “Oh no,” Kit said, “what’s he seen now?”
The barking continued, and Kit ran up to the top of the rise. Nita and Quelt went after him. As Nita made the top of the rise herself, she looked down and saw
Quelt’s house. “Wow,” she said. It was not just one building but an assortment of low, wide buildings clustered together, built in a soft-peach-colored material almost exactly the shade of the pink-and-peach-striped beach that stretched away for miles and miles on either side until it faded from view in the haze before the horizon. The buildings were topped off with conical, pointed roofs made of bunches of the silvery reeds that grew on the seaward side of the rise, as it sloped down toward the beach. Through these long, tall reeds, Ponch was plunging—though he himself was invisible at the moment, the reed-leaves were thrashing with his passage—and heading at top speed for a big pen made of more of the silver reeds interwoven with lengths of darker, silver gray wood, built off to one side of the largest building.
Milling around in the pen were a number of creatures that Nita at first had a great deal of trouble making any sense of. They looked like golden or cream-colored pom-poms, and as Ponch and his barking got closer, the activity in the pen got more frenzied.
“Ponch!” Kit yelled. But it was too late. Ponch came rocketing out of the reeds at the bottom of the rise and shot straight toward the pen. He was within only a few feet of the silvery, wooden fence when there was a sudden chorus of sharp, odd honking noises…and all of the pom-poms leaped into the air…
…and kept on going, as every one of them suddenly sprouted wide, golden or cream white wings, two pairs each, and flew off down the beach in a noisy, honking flock. Ponch danced around on his hind legs, barking at the creatures, and then took off down the beach after them.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” Kit said, and started running after Ponch.
Quelt started laughing. “No, it’s all right,” she said. “But this is why I was late! I was helping my tapi get the shesh off them. It doesn’t matter now. We were finished …” But she kept on laughing.
Nita shook her head. “I’m sorry, too,” she said. “He really loves to chase things so much. He created a whole universe full of nothing but squirrels once, so he could spend all his time chasing them.”
“He created a universe?”
“Ponch is unusual,” Nita said. “It’s a long story.”
Quelt nodded a few times, a gesture that Nita was coming to read as the equivalent of an Earth human shaking his head. “I get that sense,” she said. “Well, he won’t have to create universes to have things to chase here. The ceiff are here three times a day, every day—they come back to be groomed and tended—and once we’ve got the shesh off them, Ponsh can chase them as often as he likes.”
Quelt and Nita ambled down through the reeds toward the houses. “They’re kind of like sheep,” Nita said. “And shesh—is it the furry stuff they’re covered with? Or is it something to do with food?”
“It’s a food precursor,” Quelt said. “The ceiff make a secretion that we process. It’s kind of complicated, but it tastes really good when you’re done with it. We trade it to other people all over the islands hereabouts: It’s very much in demand.” She started to laugh again. “And I should warn you, my topi is really passionate about it. Don’t get him started—you’ll be hearing about shesh all night.”
“It said in the orientation pack that your topi had ‘elected to do manual labor permanently’” Nita said. “It sounded like most people don’t here.”
“What, work?” Quelt said. She and Nita paused by the pen, looking down the beach to where Kit was still chasing after Ponch, and Ponch was still chasing after the flying sheep. “No,” Quelt said, “no one has to do it all the time. Nonetheless, some people like to, like my topi. Otherwise, our people usually seem to have enough of everything to go around—food and things to make clothes and houses. Anything that’s unusually hard for people to get, like metal—either they process it on a small scale, in local groups, and everybody takes a turn doing the work, or else I get it for them. It’s one of the main things I use my wizardry for.” She looked at Nita, a little surprised. “Why? Do people on your world have to work?”
“Most people,” Nita said. “In fact, pretty much everybody.”
Quelt shook her head in wonder. “You’ve got to tell me all about your world,” she said, as Kit trotted back toward them, holding Ponch by the collar. “Everything! But we’ll have lots of time to talk about it. At dinner, and for days after. In the meantime, we’d better get inside! Pabi and Tapi have made great masses of food for you; they’re terrified you’ll be hungry after the trip.”
At that, Kit looked slightly embarrassed and Nita burst out laughing. “I think parents all must go to the same school,” she said. “Though how they get there and back without us knowing is something we’ll never understand. Ponch,” Nita said, “what were you doing, you bad boy?”
Ponch shook himself all over, spraying Nita and Quelt and Kit with seawater—he had managed to get in and out of the surf several times while chasing the flying sheep. If they didn’t want to be chased, he said, they shouldn’t have flown away.
“Well, Quelt and her dad spent most of the afternoon getting those things together into that pen,” Nita said, “and now look! They’re all over the place. Don’t chase them anymore! You understand?”
Ponch sat down, looked up at Quelt with big, woebegone eyes, hung his head, and offered her a paw. Sorry, he said.
“It’s all right,” Quelt said. “Don’t go all chopfallen on me. Let’s go in; they’re waiting for us.”
They went down to the house. There on the broad front steps, under the silver thatch of the eaves, they met Quelt’s parents, who were dressed like their daughter, in long, loose, pale casual clothing, in two or three layers of cream or gold or beige—a long tunic or a short one with a long, sleeveless overvest flung on top, soft sandals, and, in Quelt’s father’s case, a soft scarf wrapped around the neck. Nita was astounded to find them even taller and more beautiful than Quelt. Kuwilin Peliaen, Quelt’s tapi, and Demair Peliaen, Quelt’s pabi, each towered at least two feet above their daughter.
“Come in, come in,” Demair said, laughing like her daughter, easily, and looking at Kit and Nita as if they were neighbors, not people she’d never seen before. Demair had Quelt’s hair, perhaps even a fairer version, though hers was shorter, worn in a soft fluffy cap around her head. Kuwilin, on the other hand, was completely bald, and this suited him extremely well—his longer, narrower features gave him an impressive and austere look, but that never lasted long when he started laughing. In fact, all of them laughed at least once every few minutes, at least as far as Nita could tell. And there was nothing artificial about it, nothing nervous. She felt
entirely welcomed—entirely at home.
“You were a long time coming!” Kuwilin said. “I thought maybe we wouldn’t see you until tomorrow.”
“Worldgates,” Demair said. “It’s the old story: Hurry up and run in all directions, then sit and wait forever. No matter! You’re here now. Come in out of the wind and be welcome with us. Come see the house!”
With Quelt and her parents, Nita and Kit walked around the house, looking at everything. Nita was astounded at how technologically advanced this place was, despite its rural look. She immediately recognized a computer and data-retrieval system, disguised as a whole stuccoed wall. There were various appliances for housekeeping and entertainment; at first, Nita couldn’t understand how they were powered, but after a few words exchanged in the Speech with Quelt, she understood that these ran on fuel cells of an unusually advanced sort, operating off hydrogen cracked out of seawater.