Another voice. Lighter, clearer, close by his side. Carabella? Yes. Carabella. Who was Carabella?

"There's not enough air in here. Vents choked by sand—we'll smother if we don't drown!"

"Can we get out?"

"Through the safety hatch. But we've got to snap him out of this. Valentine! Valentine!"

"Who is it?"

"Elidath. What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"You seem half asleep. Here, let me get that safety belt loose. Get up, Valentine! Get up. The floater's going to sink in another five minutes."

"Ah."

"Valentine, please, listen to him!" It was the other voice, the light one, the Carabella voice. "We're turning over and over. We have to get out of here and swim to shore. It's the only hope we have. One of the floaters has already gone down, and we can't see the other one, and—oh, Valentine, please! Stand up!

Take a deep breath! That's it. Another. Another. Here, give me your hand—hold his other one, Elidath; we'll lead him to the hatch—there—there—just keep moving, Valentine—"

Yes. Just keep moving. Valentine became aware of tiny currents of air flowing past his face. He heard the faint spattering of sand as it fell from above. Yes. Yes. Crawl up here, wriggle past this, put your foot here, the other one here—step—step—hold this—pull— pull—

He clambered upward like an automaton, still only vaguely comprehending what was taking place, until he reached the top of the emergency ladder and poked his head out through the safety hatch.

A sudden blast of fresh air—hot, dry, thick with sand—swept brutally across his face. He gasped, breathed sand, swallowed sand, gagged, spat. But he was awake again. Clinging to the flange that rimmed the hatch, he stared out into the storm-riven night. The darkness was intense; the weird glow had greatly diminished; sprays of sand still whipped unrelentingly through the air, one howling vortex after another, battering against his eyes, his nostrils, his lips.

It was almost impossible to see. They were somewhere in midriver, but neither the eastern nor western bank was visible. The floater was tipped high on end, in an awkward and precarious way, rising half its length out of the savage chaos of the river. There was no sign of the other floaters. Valentine thought he saw heads bobbing about in the water, but it was hard to be sure: the sand veiled everything and merely to keep his eyes open was an agony.

"Down here! Jump, Valentine!" Elidath's voice.

"Wait," he called. He looked back. Carabella stood below him on the ladder, pale, frightened, almost dazed. He reached for her and she smiled when she saw that he had returned to himself, and he pulled her up beside him. She came in one quick bound and balanced beside him on the rim of the hatch, agile as an acrobat, no less trim and sturdy than she had been in her juggling days.

The sand choking the air was unendurable. They locked their arms together and jumped.