"Yes. And we really are trying to reach a place called Parz City, which we've never seen. But it's at the Pole."

"Which Pole?" the woman asked. "The South Pole?"

The man cackled. "If you're starting from here it hardly matters, does it?"

"Oh, shut up, Borz," the woman said.

Mur put his arm around Philas. "Will you let us see your Interface?"

To his shame, he read amused pity in the woman's expression. "If you want," she said. "But stay close to the two of us. Do you understand? We see enough thieves and beggars..."

"We're no beggars," Philas said with a spark of spirit. She drew away from Mur and pulled her shoulders straight.

"Come, then."

Borz and the woman turned away from them and separated by a couple of mansheights. Hand in hand, Mur and Philas Waved cautiously forward.

Soon they were approaching the artifact, shepherded by spears and scowls.

Mur squeezed Philas's hand. "You should have said we weren't thieves," he whispered. "I was thinking of trying a little begging."

She managed a small laugh. "It wouldn't have worked. These people have no more than we have... or had, before we lost our home." She pointed at Borz, to their left. "Look at the hat he's wearing."

The hat's brim was piled with pleats of fine material, knotted into place by ties fixed through holes in the leather of the hat. Mur imagined undoing those ties; perhaps a kind of net would drop down, around the head.

"It's odd, but what about it?"

"Remember Dura's tales of her time on the ceiling-farm. The Air-tanks they made her wear, working high up, close to the Crust. The masks..."

"Oh. Right." Mur nodded. "Those hats must have come from coolies' Air-tanks."

"So my guess is these people used to be coolies. Maybe they ran away."

"But they ought to know about Parz."

Philas laughed without humor. She seemed in control of herself again, but her mood was black. "So they are concealing things from us. Well, we lied to them. That's what the world is like, it seems."

Mur stared at Borz's hat. Apart from Deni Maxx's Air-car it was the first artifact even remotely related to the City he'd ever seen. And recognizing it now from Dura's description somehow lent veracity to Dura's bizarre tale. He felt oddly reassured by the confirmation of this small detail, as if somewhere inwardly he'd imagined Dura might be lying, or mad.

The people turned to stare, suspicious and hostile, as the Human Beings were brought into the encampment by Borz and his companion. There seemed to be around forty humans in the little colony, perhaps fifteen of them children and infants. The adults were fixing clothes, mending nets, sharpening knives, lounging in the Air and talking. Children wriggled around them like tiny rays, their bare skins crackling with electron gas. None of it would have looked out of place in any of the Human Beings' encampments, Mur thought.