Starry stopped speaking for a moment, concentrating on his fishing line, as if hede detected a possible bite. But after a few seconds he shook his head and continued talking.

We cant survive without water, he said, and we cant go out looking for it because the only sources that havent dried up are either way out in the Deathlands or to the north of the Dau. But if we stay here and just keep waiting and hoping for rain, wele eventually become too weak to defend ourselves. So Gun Sur has decided that our only option is to attack the Dau now, before its too late, and finish them off once and for all.

But how can we possibly beat them? I said. They outnumber us by nearly 5 to 1. Theyve got more Fighters than us, more weapons and ammunition, better equipment---if we try crossing Nomansland, even at night, we wont stand a chance. Wele be picked off one by one, shot down like---whats the word?

Sitting ducks, Starry said with a grizzled smile.

Wede be lucky if even a handful of us reached their camp alive.

Starry said nothing, just nodded.

Gun Sur must have a plan, I said.

Starry nodded again, and this time he looked at me. Whatever you think of him, and theres many who think hese had his day, the Marshals no fool. Hele have a plan. Hese probably been working on it for months, maybe even years. Its just a matter of what it is and whether it stands any chance of working or not.

As Starry gazed out to sea again, I wasnt sure if he was thinking about Gun Sur or just focusing on his fishing, but whichever it was, I knew it was best to wait. So thats what I did. And after a minute or 2, he took a deep breath, let out a long sigh, then turned to me and put his hand on my shoulder.

Ime proud of you, Jeet, he said, looking me in the eye.

For what?

Gun Sur could have chosen anyone to write an account, but he didnt. He chose you.

Only because I can write.

There are others who can write. Not that many perhaps, but he still picked you. And do you know why?

Because Ime younger than the others, so Ime more likely to live long enough to finish the account.

No. He chose you because youre outside of things. Youre not the same as the rest of us, and that gives you a more objective view of our world.

Because Ime a dogchild.

Youre special, Jeet. Dont ever forget that.

He patted my shoulder and turned back to his fishing line.

How are you going to manage for writing materials? he said, reeling out a few inches of line. Ive still got those old pencil stubs somewhere, and Ive got a few scraps of paper I can let you have, but its nowhere near enough to write —