The tide was lighter. Otherwise Minya couldn't tell London Tree from her own tuft. Here was the same green gloom, the same vegetable smells. Branching tunnels ran through foliage stripped bare by passersby. The tall women led them in silence. Jinny and Minya followed.

They passed nobody.

They were still naked. Jinny walked hunched over, as if that would cover her. She hadn't spoken since Jayan was taken away.

They had traveled some distance before Minya felt the wind. Minutes later the tunnel swelled out into a great cavity, lit by harsh daylight at the far end.

"Jinny. Was the Commons this big in Quinn Tuft?"

Jinny looked about her, dutifully, and showed no reaction. "No."

"Neither was ours." The cavity ran round the trunk and all the way to the treemouth itself. She could see the empty sky beyond. The shadows were strange, with the blue tinge of Voylight glaring from below. In Dalton-Quinn Tuft Voy had been always overhead.

All that foliage had had to be torn out. Weren't the copsik runners afraid of killing the tree? Or would they only move to another?

Thirty or forty women had formed a line for food. Many were attended by children: three years old and younger. They ignored Minya and Jinny as they were marched past, toward the treemouth.

"Tell me what bothers you most," Minya said.

Jinny didn't answer for several breaths. Then, "Clave."

"He wasn't on the box. He must be still in the jungle. Jinny, his leg

has to heal before he can do anything."

"I'll lose him," Jinny said. "He'll come, but I'll lose him. Jayan's got

his child. I won't be his anymore."

"Clave loves you both," Minya said, though she hadn't the remotest idea how Clave actually thought.

Jinny shook her head. "We belong to the copsik runners, the men. Look, they're already here."

Minya frowned and looked about her. Was Jinny imagining. . . ?

Her eye picked up something in the green curve that roofed the Commons, a dark shape hidden in shadow and foliage. She found two more

four, five . . . men. She said nothing.

They were led to the edge of the treemouth, almost beneath the great

reservoir mounted where branch merged into trunk. Minya looked downslope. Offal, garbage . . . two bodies on platforms, completely covered in cloth. When she turned away, their escorts had stepped out of their ponchos.

They took their charges by the arms and led them beneath the huge basin. One of the supervisors heaved on a cord, and water poured forth like a flood in miniature. Minya shuddered with the shock. The women produced lumps of something, and one began rubbing it over Minya's body, then handed it to her.

Minya had never experienced soap before. It wasn't frightening, but it was strange. The supervisors soaped themselves too, then let the flood pour forth again. Afterward they dried themselves with their garments, then donned them. They handed scarlet ponchos to Jinny and Minya.