"That's right." Kae smiled, a little sadly. "But the difference is, it's a City that will be broken up in another few months, when we get to Parz. And we'll be shipped back to the hinterland in cars, to start work on another."

They passed another netful of sleeping children.

Dura asked gently, "Why doesn't Rauc travel with the caravan? With Brow?"

Kae stiffened slightly. "Because she gets better pay where she is, doing coolie-work for Qos Frenk. They have a kid. Did she tell you? She and Brow are having her put through school in Parz itself. They have to work like this, to afford the fees."

Dura let herself drift to a stop in the Air. "So Rauc is on a ceiling-farm in the hinterland, her child is in that wooden box at the Pole, and Brow is lost somewhere in the upflux with the lumber caravans. And if they're lucky they meet — what? once a year?" She thought of the Mixxaxes, also constrained to spend so much of their time apart, and for much the same motives. "What kind of life is that, Kae?"

Kae drew away. "You sound as if you disapprove, Dura." She waved a hand. "Of all of this. The way we live our lives. Well, we can't all live as toy savages in the upflux, you know." She bit her lip, but pressed on. "This is the way things are. Rauc and Brow are doing the best they can, for their daughter. And if you want to know how they feel about so much separation, you should ask them."

Dura said nothing.

"Life is complex for us — more than you can imagine, perhaps. We all have to make compromises."

"Really? And what's your compromise, Kae?"

Kae's eyes narrowed. "Come on," she said. "Let's find the others. It must be time to eat."

They worked their way back along the complicated linear community in stiff silence.

—

A dozen people had gathered, close to the trunk of one of the great severed trees at the heart of the caravan. A Wheel design had been cut into the trunk: neat, five-spoked, large enough to curve around the trunk's cylindrical form. Small bowls of food had been jammed into the glowing trenches of the design.

The people anchored themselves to the trunk itself, or to ropes and sections of net dangling from the trunk, arranging themselves around the glow of the nuclear fire. Occasionally one of them reached into the fire and drew out a bowl.

Dura joined the group a little nervously. But she was greeted by neutral, even friendly nods. With their nomadic lives, crisscrossing the hinterland, these caravanners must be as used to accepting strangers as anyone in the huge, sprawling hinterland around Parz.