Two days' time had wrought wonderful changes.

A skeletal cylinder perched atop the fuel pod. Men were all over it, placing planks, driving pegs into wood. Booce floated nearby, watching contentedly. When he saw Debby coming he donned wings and kicked to join her.

"No problems?"

"No problems," she said. "Zakry wanted money. I just went down the list and paid him what I had. Here, there's some left. I don't think I got cheated. I've only got half the seeds here. We're supposed to get the rest within five days. Where do we store all this?"

"Not in Logbearer. There'll be paint fumes."

They lined the seed bags along a crack in the bark and ran tethers across them.

More men approached, pushing a cylinder of wooden beams. Debby watched as they maneuvered the lumber toward Logbearer. She called, "Ho, Clave! Learning a new trade?"

Clave joined them. He smelled of hard work. "I'm learning it, but I don't like it. Too nitpicking. Every board has to be just the right size, just the same thickness."

"I got the seeds."

"Good. Booce, isn't this a bit of a luxury? Don't we have other concerns?"

"Like selling my wood? This'll show off its quality! I'll paint my logo, but I'll leave most of the wood bare. I'll cruise past the Market and anyone can see I've got a good tree."

The hired crew were fixing panels on the long cylinder. Clave, rested, resumed work. Some of the panels were on swivels: windows. The sun swung behind the Dark;

the day turned gloomy. When the sun reappeared, passing within a degree of Voy, one whole flank of Logbearer was finished.

A shadow flapped out of the sun and became Carlot with her arms full of gear. Debby flew to help her. Carlot was pushing cooking utensils and a slab of smoke-blackened moby meat. She asked, "Where's Rather?"

"I left him in Half Hand's with Sectry Murphy."

"Mmm."

They stored the gear near the bags of seeds. "We'd better do our cooking here tonight," Carlot told her father. "That paint's awful stuff." Booce agreed.

Carlot asked, "How did Rather do? I keep forgetting we want him to fail."

"Yeah. The way Sectry Murphy was acting, he made some kind of endurance record on a big wheel. Somebody should have thought of that."

"Me," Booce muttered.

"Might not matter. They seem to want him bad." The cabin formed with remarkable speed. Now men were pegging crossbars across the bow ... for pushing against a log? Two men produced gourds; wind brought a noxious chemical reek. Booce excused himself and went to supervise while they painted the finished flank ofLogbearer.

Cariot asked, "What was he doing with Murphy?"

"You remember your father said-"

"Yes, and I said she might be seriously offended. He didn't actually make a pass, did he?"

"Not while I was there. She's in a rotten mood. They put her in a pressure suit and she didn't fit."

"That's bad."