But this caravan didn't go by so quickly. As time wore on it continued to grow in her vision, and Dura slowly came to appreciate the caravan's true scale, and the extent to which distance and perspective had fooled her. The train of severed tree trunks, stretched along the vortex lines, must have extended for more than a centimeter. And it was only when the caravan approached its nearest point to the farm that Dura could make out people traveling with the caravan — men and women Waving along the lengths of the trunks, or tending the teams of Air-pigs scattered along the trunks' lengths, utterly dwarfed by the scale of the caravan itself.

Another shift wore away. Rubbing arms and shoulders left stiff by a long day's crop-tending, Dura slung her Air-tank over her shoulder and Waved slowly toward the refectory.

Rauc came up to her. Dura studied her curiously. Rauc had become something of a friend to Dura — as much of a friend as she had made here, anyway — but today the slim little coolie seemed different. Distracted, somehow. Although Rauc too had just finished a shift, she'd already changed into a clean smock and combed her hair free of dirt and wheat-chaff. The smile on her thin, perpetually tired face was nervous.

"Rauc? Is something wrong?"

"No. No, not at all." Rauc's small feet twisted together in the Air. "Dura, have you got any plans for your off-shift?"

Dura laughed. "To eat. To sleep. Why?"

"Come with me to the caravan."

"What?"

"The lumber caravan." Rauc pointed down beneath her feet, to where the caravan toiled impressively across the sky. "It wouldn't take us long to Wave down there."

Dura tried to conceal her reluctance. No thanks. I've already seen enough of the City, the hinterland, of new people, to last me a lifetime. She thought with a mild longing of the little nest she'd been able to establish for herself on the fringe of the farm — just a cocoon, and her little cache of personal belongings, suspended in the open Air, away from the cramped dormitories favored by the rest of the coolies. "Maybe another time, Rauc. Thanks, but..."

Rauc looked unreasonably disappointed. "But the caravans only pass about once a year. And Brow can't always arrange an assignment to the right caravan; if we're unlucky he ends up centimeters away from the farm when he passes this latitude, and..."

"Brow?" Rauc had mentioned the name before. "Your husband? Your husband's with this caravan?"

"He'll be expecting me." Rauc reached out and took Dura's hands. "Come with me. Brow's never met an upfluxer before."

Dura squeezed her hands. "Well, I've never met a lumberjack. Rauc, is this the only time you get to see your husband? Are you sure you want me along?"

"I wouldn't ask otherwise. It will make it special."