They went back to the entrance to examine a list of prices. Clave memorized the numbers he was interested in. "Why so much for strawberries and bananas?"

"Strawberries keep dying. I don't have bananas. Can't grow them here at all. They need tide. The Navy buys them off some tree dwellers east of here, when they get the chance. Clave, you haven't established credit yet-"

"Credit?"

Zakry Bowles spoke slowly, enunciating. "You haven't shown that you can pay. But you can pick out what you want now, then come back later, pay me and collect it."

"What we want is stuff we can grow in a tree."

They discussed that at length. Rather joined in; there were things he would not go home without. Debby eased over to Cariot. "What's got you upset?"

"He won't give me credit. We came in with a pod for our cabin and the Belmy log already in dock. Well, Dave Kon owes me money. I'll go see him. Excuse me."

Zakry was urging something else on them: a greenishyellow fruit with an obscene shape. He showed Debby how to remove the peel. Clave laughed when Debby bit into it, but it was good. Cariot was talking to the Lockheeds, and they were nodding.

She came back. "I have to talk to Dave Kon. You'd be bored-"

"You're leaving us?"

"Stet. Stay with the Lockheeds. I'll meet you at Half Hand's Steak House."

Half Hand's was across the Market. They flew through rain. Droplets flew from the edges of their wings. Rather breathed through his nose; from time to time he snorted out water. Debby and Clave were doing the same. The locals had donned masks of gauzy fabric, except for Raym, who breathed in the rain as if he cared not at all.

Half Hand's was a faceted dome adjoining a smaller, less symmetrical structure. You could see through some of the facets on the big dome: they were starstuff fabric. The rest was gray concrete. One six-sided facet had been cut away, and a wooden door hinged into the opening.

Grag Maglicco, the Navy man, suddenly asked, "Have we all got sticks?" He assessed the blank looks correctly. "Go on in. I'll join you, couple of breaths." He swerved aside, headed for an angular hut twenty meters along the wheel.

The inside was concrete too: concrete troweled over a structure of starstuff, outside and in. The concrete bore paintings of intriguing complexity and a variety of styles, but Rather caught only glimpses of these through a wall of citizens.

Half Hand's was full. Men, women, and children made a hemispherical shell around the newcomers, their toes clinging to two-meter poles protruding from the concrete. There were no foothold poles in the windows, so those stayed clear.

From an open hexagon on the far side drifted smoke and cooking odors. Nurse Lockheed led them that way. She called through the opening. "Half Hand?"