A man came out of the crowd behind her. "Hi, Nurse. You got money?"

"No. Put it on the Serjents' tab. I have a party of eight."

There was nothing wrong with Half Hand's hands. He was a jungle giant, mostly bald, and his arms and legs were corded with muscle. He said, "Serjents? I heard-" Pull stop. "Sure, I'll give the Serjents credit. What do you want?"

"Let's see the kitchen."

"Nobody sees the kitchen." Half Hand was peering past Nurse Lockheed. "Shorts?"

"Tree dwellers. They've never seen anything like your kitchen."

"Nobody sees the kitchen."

"I did," Nurse said.

Debby pushed her way forward. "Half Hand? I'm Debby Citizen-"

"Pleasure," he said gravely.

"I wonder if you'd be interested in a description of a kitchen in a tuft." Half Hand studied her; nodded. "Just you. Nurse, the special's moby."

"How old?"

"Eight days ago, shipful of Dark divers took a moby. Special is moby till we run out. Sausage cost you three times as much. No turkey today."

"We want vegetables, lots, all kinds. Couple of kigrams of moby too, not too rare."

"Moby's ready now. Vegetables soon. You, Debby, you cooked in that tree?"

"Some."

Half Hand beckoned her in.

Rather could feel the eyes. With a conscious effort he looked. Of the forty or so diners, only a dozen or so were watching what was happening at the kitchen entrance. Even those concentrated more on eating; their right hands kept pale wooden sticks in constant motion. The eye-pressure still made him flinch.

Grag Maglicco rejoined them. He passed out pairs of sticks of pale wood, no bigger than the branchlets a tree dweller was used to.

A woman brought them a two-kigram slab of meat, black on one side, pink on the other. John Lockheed took it on his knife. He flapped toward the wall, pushing the meat ahead of him. Diners edged aside to give him room or to avoid getting grease on their clothing.

Nurse had to urge them. "Come on."

There were too many people.

But Clave followed Nurse, and Rather followed him.

There was room. Nurse talked to some of the locals around them. John carved chunks from the meat and passed them, knife to sticks. Moby meat was good. Tenderer than swordbird, richer than turkey.

Grag's own sticks-like every Clump citizen's-were ornately carved. Some were wood, more were bone. Grag caught Rather looking. He showed Rather his own bone sticks. "You carve them yourself. Circle would mean I'm married. Spiral means I'm looking. A bird would say who I work for. Outline around the bird would mean I own the company. What I've got is the rocket, 'cause I'm Navy. You'd want a honey hornet, for Serjent Logging. Change life style, start new sticks."