"Gavving. . . dear. . . we need sleep too. Isn't your watch about over?"

His face cracked in a great yawn, closed in a grin. "I've got to tell someone."

The Grad was curled half into the fetal position, snoring softly. Gayving jerked twice on his tether and said, "We're getting married."

The Grad's eyes popped open. "Good thinking. Now?"

"No, we'll wait till sleeptime's over. It's your watch."

"Okay."

Chapter Ten - The Moby

VoIcEs WOKE HER. SHE CAME AWAKE FULLY ALERT, THIRSTY

and nervous.

He was young. She had given him what he wanted~ had virtually forced it on him. He would lose interesL He would remember that she'd tried to kill him. He'd had hours to change his mind- The voices were some distance away, but she heard them clearly. "- Ten years older than you, and you don't have the bride-price . . . but that's trivia. Six or seven days ago she was trying to kill us all!"

"She could have her pick of us." Clave speaking, and he was amused. "All but me, of course. You wouldn't like that, would you, loves?"

"I think it's wonderful," said Jayan or Jinny. The other twin said, "It's-hopeful."

"Gavving, you are not old enough to know what you're doing!"

"Feed it to the tree, Alfin."

Gavving noticed Minya when she stirred and pulled herself back to the bark. "Hello," he called. "Ready?"

"Yes!" Too eager? It was a little late to be coy! "What kind of ceremony will it be? We can't use mine. I left our Scientist in the Tuft." And he'd have me killed.

"There's that too," said Alfln. "The Scientist-"

The Grad said, "I'm the Scientist now."

Ignoring Alfin's contemptuous snort, he opened his pack and spread the contents. Packed in spare clothing were four small flat boxes of starstuff-plastic-and a flat, polished surface that was glassy, like the Chairman's mirror, but didn't reflect.

Quinn Tribe seemed as surprised as Minya. Gavving asked, "Have you been carrying that all along?"

"No, I materialized it from thin air. We Scientists have our ways, you know."

"Oh, sure."

They grinned at each other. The Grad picked up the mirror and one of the boxes. He fitted the box into the thick rim of the mirror.

"Prikazyvat Menu."

The Grad's pronunciation had shifted; it was odd, archaic. Minya had heard the Dalton-Quinn Scientist speak like that. The mirror responded: it glowed like the diffuse nighttime sun, then bloomed with tiny black print.

Minya couldn't read it. The Grad apparently could. He pulled the box loose and substituted another. "Prikazyvat Menu . . . Okay. Prikazyvat Record," he said briskly. "First day since sleeptime, the first sleep following the breakup of the tree, year three hundred and seventy. Jeffer speaking as Scientist. Quinn Tribe consists of eight individuals

Prikazyvat Pause."

Then nothing happened, until Minya couldn't stand it anymore. "What's wrong?"