Clave called, "Take a few minutes to eat. Then stuff your packs with foliage. We won't see foliage again for a long time."
Gavving tore off a spine branch laden with green cotton candy. He stuck it between his back and the pack, and started up the trunk. Clave was already ahead of him.
The bark of the trunk was different from the traveling bark of the branch. There were no spine branches, but the bark must have been meters thick, with cracks big enough to partly shield a climber. Smaller cracks made easy grip for fingers.
Gavving wasn't used to claw sandals. He had to kick a little to seat them right, or they slipped. His pack tended to pull him over backward. Maybe he wanted it lower? The tide helped. It pulled him not just downward, but against the trunk too, as if the trunk sloped.
The Grad was moving well but puffing. Maybe he spent too much time studying. But Gavving noted that his pack was larger than the others'. Was he carrying something besides provisions?
Merril had no pack, just her line. She managed to keep up using her arms alone. Jiovan, with two arms and a leg, was overtaking Clave himself, though his jaw was clenched in pain.
Jayan and Jinny, above Gavving on the thick bark, stopped as by mutual accord. They looked down they looked at each other; they seemed about to weep. A sudden, futile surge of homesickness blocked Gavving's own throat. He lusted to be back in the bachelors' hut, clinging to his bunk, face buried in the foliage wall…
The twins resumed their climb. Gavving followed.
They were moving well, Clave thought. He was still worried about Merril. She'd slow them down, but at least she was trying. She'd find it easier, moving with just two arms, when they got near the middle of the trunk. There would be no tide at all there; things would drift without falling, if the Scientist's smoke dreams were to be believed.
Alfin alone was still down there in the last fringes of tuft. Clave had expected trouble from Alfin, but not this. Alfin was the oldest of his team, pushing forty, but he was muscular, healthy.
Appeal to his pride? He called down, "Do you need claw sandals, Aifin?"
Alfin may have considered any number of retorts. What he called back was, "Maybe."
"I'll wait. Jiovan, take the lead."
Clave worked his pack open while Alfin moved up to join him. Alfin was climbing with his eyes half-shut. Something odd there, something wrong.
"I was hoping you could at least keep up with Merril," Clave said, handing Alfin the sandals.
Alfin said nothing while he strapped one on. Then, "What's the difference? We're all dead anyway. But it won't do that copsik any good! He's only got rid of the lames—"
"Who?"
"The Chairman, our precious Chairman! When people are starving, they'll kick out whoever's in charge. He's kicked out the lames, the ones who couldn't hurt him anyway. Let him see what he can snag when they kick him into the sky."
"If you think I'm a lame, see if you can outclimb me," Clave said lightly.
"Everyone knows why you're here, you and your women too."
"Oh, I suppose they do," Clave said. "But if you think you'd like living with Mayrin, you can try it when we get back. I couldn't. And she didn't like that, and her father didn't like it either. But you know, she was really built to make babies, when I was just old enough to notice that."
Alfin snorted.
"I meant what I said," Clave told him. "If there's anything left that can save the tribe, it's somewhere over our heads. And if we find it, I think I could be Chairman myself. What do you think?"
Startled, Aim peered into Clave's face. "Maybe. Power hungry, are you?"
"I haven't quite decided. Let's say I'm just mad enough to go for Gold. This whole crazy…well, Jayan and Jinny, they can take care of themselves, and if they can't, I can. But I had to take Merril before the Chairman would give me jet pods, and then at the last minute he wished Gavving on me, and that was the last straw."
"Gavving wasn't much worse than the other kids I've had to train. Constantly asking questions, I don't know any two people with that boy's curiosity—"
"Not the point. He's just starting to show beard. He never did anything wrong except be there when that damn fool Laython got swallowed…Skip it. Alfin, some of our party is dangerous to the rest."
"You know it."
"How would you handle that?"
It was rare to see Alfin smiling. He took his time answering. "Merril will kill herself sooner or later. But Glory will kill someone else. Slip at the wrong time. Easy enough to do something about it. Wait till we're higher, till the tide is weaker. Knock against her when she's off balance. Send her home the fast way."
"Well, that's what I was thinking too. You are a danger to us, Alfin. You hold grudges. We've got problems enough without watching our backs because of you. If you slow me down, if you give any of us trouble, I'll send you home the fast way, Alfin. I've got enough trouble here."
Alfin paled, but he answered. "You do. Get rid of Glory before she knocks someone off the trunk. Ask Jiovan."
"I don't take your orders," Clave said. "One more thing. You spend too much energy being angry. Save it. You're likely to need your anger. Now lead off." And when Alfin resumed climbing, Clave followed.
Chapter Three
The Trunk
DAY BRIGHTENED AND FADED AND BRIGHTENED AGAIN WHILE they climbed. The men doffed their tunics and tucked them into their pack straps; somewhat later, so did the women. Clave leered at Jayan and Jinny impartially. Gavving didn't leer, but in fact the sight distracted him from his climbing.
Jayan and Jinny were twenty-year-old twins, identical, with pale skin and dark hair and lovely heart-shaped faces and nicely conical breasts.
Some citizens called them stupid, for they had no fund of conversation, but Gavving wondered. In other matters they showed good sense. As now: Jinny was climbing with Cave, but Merril had dropped far behind, and Jayan stayed just beneath her, pacing her.
Jiovan had lost ground after Clave resumed the lead. He cursed as he climbed, steadily, monotonously: the wind, the bark handholds, his missing leg. Alfin should have been one of the leaders, Gavving thought; but he kept pausing to look down.
Gavving's own shoulders and legs burned with fatigue. Worse, he was mpking mistakes, setting his claw sandals wrong, so that they slipped too often.
Tired people make mistakes. Gavving saw Glory slip, thrash, and fall two or three meters before she caught an edge of bark. While she hugged herself ferociously against the tree, Gavving moved crosswise until he was behind and to the side of her.
Fear held her rigid.
"Keep going," Gavving said. "I'll stay behind you. I'll catch you." She looked down, nodded jerkily, began climbing again. She seemed to move in convulsions, putting too much effort into it. Gavving kept pace.
She slipped. Gavving gripped the bark. When she dropped into range he planted the palm of his hand under her buttocks and pushed her hard against the tree. She gasped, and clung, and resumed climbing.
Clave called down. "Is anybody thirsty?"
They needed their breath, and the answer was too obvious. Of course they were thirsty. Clave said, "Swing around east. We'll get a drink."
Falling water had carved a channel along the eastern side of the trunk. The channel was fifty meters across and nearly dry over most of its water-smoothed surface. But the tree still passed through the occasional cloud; mist still clung to the bark; wind and Coriolis force set it streaming around to the east as it fell; and water ran in a few pitiful streams toward Quinn Tuft below.