The treemouth faced west, at the junction between branch and trunk. Spine branches migrated west along the branch, carrying whatever their foliage had picked up from the wind, to be swallowed by the conical pit. Citizens came too, to feed the tree. The treemouth was their toilet, their garbage disposal, and their cemetery.

Lawri the Scientist had described all of this in advance. Booce tried to tell himself that it made sense; it was reasonable in context; it only took getting used to.

Wend had been placed at the lip of the pit. She'd had time to ride the spine branches halfway into the cone of the treemouth. Booce was glad that he could not see her better.

Burning was cleaner. Reducing the body to ashes burned away memories too . . .

How was Karilly taking it?

Karilly was the quiet one. She obeyed orders, but rarely showed initiative. She almost never spoke to strangers. A good child, but Booce had never really understood her.

She hadn't been burned. All of them had watched Wend die; how could it be worse for Karilly? But she hadn't spoken a word since the fire.

Chairman Clave spoke, welcoming Wend into the tribe. Lawri spoke of a citizen's last duty, to feed the tree. Ryllin spoke her memories of her lost daughter. Karilly cried silently; the tears sheathed her eyes in crystal.

Older citizens ate first. Booce saw his daughters hanging back-they had learned that much already-while a Citizens Tree girl-child filled his bowl with waterbird stew from a large, crude ceramic pot. He lurched away across the woven-spine-branch floor of the commons, following his wife, trying to keep his bowl upright. "You think of the tide as something to fight," his wife said softly. "Think of it as a convenience."

"Hah."

"Tide gives you a preferred direction. Something to push against. Look." With the bowl held in one hand, Ryllin leapt one-legged into the air and spun in a slow circle before her feet touched the floor again. She hadn't spilled a drop.

"Moving isn't unpleasant in a tide, it's just different. These, ah, citizens make us look clumsy, but we can adjust, love. We will adjust."

"Stet. I've climbed trees all my life. . . . Company." They were surrounded by children. A pudgy halfgrown girl said, "How do you move a tree without a CARM?"

Booee said, "Let's sit down and I'll tell you." A dozen children waited patiently while Booce and

Ryllin nested themselves in foliage. Then they all settled at once.