Rather saw a thrashing foot. He pulled on it experimentally. Gorey was pinned between a spine branch and a smooth dark wall: the main branch itself. He must have tried to crawl between them. Rather wriggled forward. He sawed the spine branch half through, reached farther and broke it with his hands. Gorey wriggled out and wrapped himself around his brother and clung. Presently he asked, "Are they mad?"

"Sure they're mad. How did you get here? Hide and seek?"

"Yeah. Harry said he was gonna catch me and feed me to the triunes, so I kept going. Then I was afraid the treemouth would get me and I got really scared."

"Harry wouldn't get that close to a triune family. You know that."

"Yeah, but I was mad."

"You'd starve to death before you reached the treemouth. Here, grab my foot and follow me."

The boy's fingers were long enough to overlap Rather's ankle. He was already taller than Rather. They crawled out, with easier going at every meter.

In the common room Rather's mothers greeted him as a hero, while Gorey was scolded and petted. Rather took it with what grace he could. He wondered if Carlot was laughing at him; but in fact she seemed to think he had done something actively dangerous.

It made him uncomfortable. He was vastly relieved when Gavving poked his head through the door. "Treadmill runners!" he called. "Rather?" And Rather was rescued.

Harry and Carlot came with them. As they neared the treemouth Gavving said, "Harry, Carlot, why don't you see if they need help with the laundry pot?"

They split off. Harry grumbling.

Rather followed his father up through the tunnels toward the treadmill. His nerves were prickling. Something odd was going on. "Father? Do they really need treadmill runners?"

"No," Gavving said without looking down.

The treadmill was at rest. Debby and Jeffer lay in the foliage nearby, eating and talking. They sat up when Gavving appeared. "Got him," Gavving said.

This must have something to do with the Serjent family; and the conference before the last sleep, from which children were barred; and the arguments that divided half the families in the tree. Do my mothers know about this? Would they approve? Rather asked instead, "Should we have brought Carlot?"

"No need. Rather, we have to find out something." Gavving pointed at a short, faceless fat man made of silvery metal. "Try that on."

"The silver suit?"

"Yeah. See if you can get into it."

Rather looked it over. This thing had a fearsome, quasiscientific reputation. It was a flying fighting machine, stronger than crossbow bolts, stronger than the airlessness beyond all that was known. Rather had never before seen it with its head closed.

Jeffer instructed him. "Lift this latch. Take the head and turn it. Pull up. Turn it the other way."

The head came up on a hinge.

"This latch too. Now pull this down . . . now pull it apart . . . good."