When Elem returned with her charts she had them sent to the uruketo with the remaining bundles. Then she signed the navigator to follow her.

“Get two large cloaks for I have had enough of sleeping on the damp ground. All of the others are remaining here—but you are coming with me.” As their course took them through a garden that was open to the sky, she let one eye roll in the direction of the setting sun. “Walk faster, we have very little time.”

Elem’s mouth gaped wide as they hurried through the city, for in addition to the cloaks she was burdened with a heavy cylinder that Ambalasi had pressed upon her. She was dizzy with heat, when they finally stopped, gasping hoarsely to cool herself.

“Move into the shade of those trees—and stay motionless for you are too warm,” Ambalasi ordered, talking the cylinder from her. “I will do what is needed for it must be finished before dark.”

Elem looked on with total incomprehension as Ambalasi twisted the end of the cylinder so that a fine spray of liquid emerged. Holding it at arm’s length she used it to moisten the barrier of vines and plants that stretched between the row of trees. They were in a region of the city that she had never visited before so she did not realize that the trees were part of the living wall of the orchard where they had been imprisoned. When Ambalasi discarded the empty cylinder and made her way slowly back through the growing dusk, Elem was already cool enough to drape the cloak loosely about herself. Ambalasi took the other cloak and placed it on the ground, signing great annoyance as she stretched out upon it.

“This is the last time that I ever intend to sleep upon the ground. We must awaken at first light, before the city stirs.” She said this with motions of utmost importance and great urgency. Elem signed acceptance of commands then closed her eyes and slept.

Bird calls awakened her and she knew that dawn was close. She pulled the warm cloak closer about her and looked up through the branches above. When the sky grew light between them she rose and called out respectfully to the old scientist.

“Light . . . orders . . . goes . . .”

Her meaning was unclear because of the darkness but the sound of her voice had the desired affect. Ambalasi rose and discarded the cloak, walked stiffly over to the wall of plants. There was enough light now to see that there was a marked difference in the vegetation where she had sprayed: the leaves were wilted and yellow. She signed pleasure of accomplishment as she reached out and tugged at a thick vine. It broke in her hand, crumbling into dust.

“Forward,” she ordered Elem. “With nostrils closed, membranes over eyes, force your way through this.”