She picked up the loop of line and hurled it as hard as she could in the direction of the sheet of bark. Now the arrow wouldn't pull so much weight. "Whenever you feel ready."
The arrow sped away. It ticked a corner of the bark and stayed. Clave put pressure on the line, slowly, slowly…it was coming…the arrow worked itself free.
Clave repeated the exercise with no sign of impatience. The bark was meters closer now. He reached it again and pulled line in as if he were fighting some huge meatbird.
The bark came to them. Clave fired another arrow deep into the wood. They crossed on the line. Minya noticed Alfin's shuddering breath once he was safely moored to the bark.
And she noticed Clave's, "Well done, Minya." But he kept the bow.
"We'll used the other side of the bark for privacy," Clave instructed. "Now, the bark is all we've got, so there's no point in getting it dirty. When you feed the tree, the fertilizer should go outward."
"It'll float around us," Alfin said, his first words in hours. He must have seen how they looked at him. "Yes, I do have a better idea. Be at the rim when you feed the tree. The spin will throw it away from us. Won't it, Grad?"
"Yes. Good thinking."
Minya chewed on fan fungus. It was fibrous and nearly tasteless, but there was damp in it, and the damp was delicious. Minya looked longingly toward the pond, which was no closer. So near, so far
They had eaten the smoked dumbo meat down to the bone, to prevent its spoiling. Maybe that had been a mistake. Their bellies were full, even overfull, but they were left thirstier yet. They could die of thirst here.
Aside from that, things were going well.
The golden-haired boy, Gavving: she had made a good choice there. Perhaps he thought he owed her his life. Perhaps it was true. Harmless as he looked, she had seen him kill twice. He'd make a better ally than enemy.
Alfin she couldn't judge. If he was that terrified of falling, he'd be dead soon anyway.
Merril was something else again. Legless, but she swung a fist like another woman's kick! After all she'd lived through, she must be tough. More: handicapped as she was, she'd be dead without friends. She must be well thought of, then. Minya intended to make Merril her friend.
The Grad was a dreamer. He'd never notice whether Minya was dead or alive.
Clave was the dominant male. Perhaps he still considered her an enemy. But she had brought them to this raft and let Clave take the credit. It couldn't hurt. If Clave thought he needed her, she didn't care if he trusted her.
But what else might he want of her?
Jayan and Jinny: they both acted as if Clave belonged to them, or vice versa. Two women sharing a man was not unheard of. They seemed to accept Clave's decisions. But would they resent a potential third? Best stay clear of Clave, if she could.
She could solve that problem, perhaps. Merril spoke around a prodigious yawn. "Does it feel like sleeptime? I personally feel like I've been hit on the head."
Clave said, "I want someone awake at all times on each side of the tree. Is there anyone who isn 't sleepy?"
"I'm not," said Alfin.
So Alfin and Jayan took the first day's watch. Gavving and Merril would be next, then-Minya ignored the rest. Physically and emotionally, she was exhausted. She settled for sleep, floating next to the bark, curled half into fetal position.
The sun was just passing north of Voy. She half noticed activity as citizens took their turns behind the bark, feeding the tree. Clave and Jmny slapped bugs off each other. Jayan presently disappeared around the edge. Alfin…Alfin was hovering next to her. He said, "Mineeya?"
She straightened. "Alfin. What do you want?"
"I want you for my wife."
Suddenly she was utterly awake. She could not afford enemies now. She said carefully, "I had not considered marriage." He hadn't recognized her uniform.
"You'd be a fool to turn me down. What better way to become one of us?"
"I will consider what you say," she said and closed her eyes.
"I'm a respected man. In Clave Tuft I supervised the tending of the treemouth."
Her arms hugged her knees and tightened her into a ball, without her volition.
Alfin's hand shook her shoulder. "Mineeya, your choices aren't wide, here on this sheet of bark. You came as a killer. Some of us may still see you that way."
He wouldn't leave her alone. Well. She tried to keep her voice cool, but she couldn't make herself uncoil, and it came out muffled. "Your argument is good. I should marry one of you. Clave is spoken for, isn't he?"
Alfin laughed. "Thrice."
"Amazing. And the Grad?"
"You're playing games with me. Consider my offer." Then he saw that she was sobbing.
Minya was horrified, but she couldn't stop. The sobs racked her like convulsions. She couldn't even muffle the sounds of distress. She wanted a man, yes, but not this man! Did she have a choice? She might find herself forced to mate this ugly, abrasive old man, only to prevent Quinn Tribe from killing her. Or she could speak of her oath to the Triune Squad and never be mated at all. It was just too much.
"I-I'll come back when you're feeling better." She heard Alfin's distress and guilt, then quiet. When she forced herself to look, she saw him weaving among the sleepers-stealthily?-to reach the far edge of the bark.
She had lost her home, her family, her friends; she was lost in the sky, cast among strangers. Copsik! How could he inflict such a decision on her now? Filthy treefeeding copsik!
The tears were drying on her face. At least no Triune Squad companion had seen her so shamed. It came to her that her tears had driven Alfin away…just as they had been her primary defense when she was fourteen.
But what could she do? She hadn't been quite fair to the old man. He had spoken a partial truth, one she'd already considered: marriage was the way into Quinn Tribe.
— And she found that she had made her decision after all.
Dared she sleep now? She must. The sun was a hand's breadth past Voy; and she curled up and slept.
When the sun neared Voy again, Minya woke. Some had the knack.
Minya could tell herself when to sleep and when to wake, and she would.
She flexed muscles without moving much. She was thirsty. There was restless motion around her. The Grad seemed to be having a nightmare.
She watched until he was quiet.
Alfin shook Gavving awake, then Merril. He settled down while Gayving disappeared to his post on the far side. Minya waited a little longer, for Jayan and Alfin to fall asleep.
Alfin clutched the bark with all his fingers and toes and, for all Minya could tell, his teeth. His face was pressed to the bark, denying the sky.
He'd never sleep that way; but he wouldn't see her either.
She uncurled and made her way to the edge of the bark. Merril watched her go. Minya waved and pulled herself around to the smooth side of the bark sheet.
Gavving saw her coming. He started moving away from her-to give her privacy? She called, "Wait! Gavving!"
He paused.
"Gavving, I want to talk to you."
"All right." But he was wary.
She didn't want that. "I don't have any weapons," she said, and then, "Oh. I'll prove it."
"You don't have to—"
She pulled her blouse over her head and moored it to the bark. She came closer, wishing for toeholds to let her walk upright. This crawling lacked the dignity she wanted. At least she'd shed the lumpy-pregnant look of the Triune Squad.
She said, "There are no pockets in my pants. You can see that. I want to tell you why I can't go back to Dalton-Quinn Tuft."
"Why?" He was trying to keep his eyes off her breasts, on her face. "I mean, I'm willing to listen. I've got a name for asking embarrassing questions." He tried to laugh it stuck in his throat. "But shouldn't everyone hear this?"