“Not tonight, sir,” Sallah said, inadvertently raising her hand to protest. “It’s only because this was the first chance I’ve had to approach you …”

“Forewarned is forearmed, Sallah. Have you mentioned these suspicions to anyone else?”

She shook her head vigorously. “No, sir! It’s bad enough suspecting there are maggots in the meat without offering anyone else a bite.”

“True! Eden is once again corrupted by human greed.”

“Only one human,” Sallah felt obliged to remind him.

He held up two fingers significantly. “Two, Kimmer. And who else was she speaking to on board?”

“Kimmer, Bart Lemos, and Nabhi Nabol, and two other men I’ve never met.”

Ongola did not seem surprised. He took a deep breath and sighed before he put both hands on his thighs and rose to his full height. “I am grateful, and I know that the admiral and the governor will also be grateful.”

“Grateful?” Sallah stood, feeling none of the relief she had hoped to gain from telling her superior.

“We had actually anticipated some problems as people began to realize that they are here,” Ongola said, stabbing one long finger downward, “and cannot go anywhere else. The euphoria of the crossing is over; tonight’s celebration is planned to defuse a rebound as that realization sinks in. Well-fed, well-oiled people who have tired themselves with dancing are unlikely to plot sedition.”

Ongola opened the door, gesturing courteously for her to precede him. No one locked doors on Pern, even doors to official administrative offices. Sallah had been proud of that fact, but now she was worried.

“We’re not that stupid, Sallah,” Ongola said, as if he had read her mind. He tapped his forehead. “This is still the best memory bank ever invented.”

She gave a sigh of relief and managed a more cheerful expression.

“We still have a great deal to be thankful for on Pern, you know,” he reminded her.

“Indeed I do!” she replied, thinking of her dance with Tarvi.

By the time she had washed, changed into her own finery, and reached Bonfire Square, the party was in full swing and the impromptu orchestra was playing a polka. Halting in the darkness beyond all that light and sound, Sallah was astonished at the number of unexpected musicians who were stomping time as they waited their turns.

The music changed constantly as new musicians replaced those who had already played. To Sallah’s utter amazement, even Tarvi Andiyar produced pan pipes and played an eerie little melody, quite haunting and a quiet change after the more raucous sets.

The informal group went from dance tunes to solos, calling on the audience to sing old favorites. Emily Boll took a turn on the keyboard, and Ezra Keroon enthusiastically fiddled a medley of hornpipes that had everyone foot-tapping while several couples did hilarious imitations of the traditional seamen’s dance.