With lunch came entertainment: a gust of roses on the wind. The stems were four meters long. Dark-red blossoms fragile as tissue paper pointed straight toward Voy, soaking up blue Voy-light. Rather had never seen the like. He and Carlot watched the roses blowing east until they were out of sight.

Rather took his turn painting. Booce kept a close watch, but it seemed simple enough. A dab the size of a baby's hand; the next dab two meters lower.

A dark cloud flowed after them down the trunk.

The wind grew stronger, though the trunk blocked most of it. The growing tide made climbing easier for Rather. The water flowed more strongly. It was cleaner than pond water, cleaner than the water that reached the basin in the commons. It tasted wonderful, and painting was hard, thirsty work.

In two days. Rather's arm was one long cramp.

He was too tired to help with dinner. Booce managed alone. He found shelled things hiding in the bark and pulled them loose. Roasted, their white flesh made a fine meal.

Again they wedged themselves along a wide crack in the bark, with Carlot between the men. There were dangers on the trunk.

Rather's aches kept him awake. He presently noticed Carlot's feet stirring restlessly. "Carlot?"

He would not have spoken twice, but she answered at once. "Can't sleep?"

“No. My father told me about climbing up a tree. When they got to the top the tree came apart."

"That's one reason we don't just chop off the tuft or burn it loose. This is easier, but it also gets the bugs away from the midpoint. When the tree dies, they're not there to eat it apart."

"How do you get rid of the out tuft?"

"Oh, some of the bugs won't follow the honey. They'll be breeding while we travel. When we get close to the Clump we'll paint another trail out."

"Why are you awake?"

"Tide. I have trouble sleeping in tide." But her voice trailed off raggedly. He stopped talking, and presently slept.

After breakfast Booce said, "There's something I want to see on the west side of the trunk. Leave the gear here."

Climbing was easy if you didn't have to paint too. In less than a day they had half circled the trunk. Above them by a quarter klomter, the bark bulged like a wave surging across a pond. They climbed toward that.

"Jeffer wanted us to look at this," Booce told them. "Something must have hit the trunk while it was younger. The wood'sgrown around it."

The wood bulged to hide it like some secret treasure. Rather was almost inside the crater before he could see anything. Carlot, ahead of him, had stopped. Booce was at his shoulder. Rather heard him gasp.

Carlot said, "Metal!"

"I must apologize to Jeffer," Booce said. "Metal indeed! The tree may consider it poisonous; see how reluctant the wood is to touch it! But the Admiralty won't think so."