![]() Loose planks vibrated warningly as Usha hoisted up the spinning wheel, the hand-loom, and the bundles of iridescent seasilk. So Merwen placed a hand, then a foot upon the pier. And that answer would save her own people. Here in Chrysoport, a small, quiet place, she might find out. On planet Valedon, most people lived "ashore," upon dry land-if in fact Valans were people, Merwen reminded herself. Usha had been right to escape to the sea, though a strange sea it was with its floor jutting out hard as a whorlshell. Away from the space landing that had been an unintelligible place of screeching noises and choking smells. At Merwen's elbow, Usha wrinkled her nose as her long arms yanked tight the rope of the houseboat, which had born the two Sharers down along the shore, this endless edge of dry floor. ![]() ![]() If she were to flinch now, dear Usha would balk altogether and drag her home from this parched planet. ![]() She shook herself and straightened her back. Across the sky, where Merwen was born, none but the dead ever sank to touch the world's floor. To be sure, spring morning breathed peace through Chrysoport harbor, and the sea rippled without a crest. ![]() MERWEN REACHED OVER the boat rail, but her hand froze above the weathered pier. ![]()
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