approaching city. An unwieldy mass like the floating cities sailed before the wind unless absolutely compelled to do otherwise. He began to feel some of that excitement in him. Perhaps .Commander Varese had brought his ship down to the very city now approaching?
The Terrans moved across the connecting gangways, swaying up and down in the rolling surge of the sea, headed out to the outermost line of ships and houseboats. Here the bulwarks were covered by the craning backs of Pogosan and the Terrans had need of their height to be able to look across the silky heads, out over the sparkling sea, to the other city covering the horizon.
"Big," Gerda said, pulling her head scarf against the wind. "Bigger than our city."
"A great new city for conversion," M'Banga said with immense satisfaction.
The city approaching had trimmed sails, their white and colored material fluting upwards and down again like the magical shift of a great flock of birds, motivated by that mysterious force that can turn every bird as one. The bellowing conch shell trumpets boomed. Pogosan called. The cities approached, the strip of bright water narrowing between them. The day was clear limpid transparency, and the light splintered from wave tops and every scrap of metal, showing it up, denoting the very real reliance of the Pogosan upon wood for their building.
Fenders scraped, touched, rebounded and then came together again to cling. Ropes flung across smacked down on scrubbed decks. Pogosan tailed onto the ropes, drawing the cities together. Everyone yielded a little as the gentle shock of collision rippled through the floating units of the cities.
Inglis stared hard at the stranger city. Each time this had happened before on the wide seas he had not worried over Varese; but now. there was a strong chance that the Commander had made planetfall on this city, and would be there now, waiting for the rest of his crew; unknowingly, worrying over what had happened to them, thinking himself marooned for ever on this planet, unaware that they were bringing the radio parts that in conjunction with his own radio would build to make the set that would call rescue.
"What a shock Varese will get when he sees us!" he said.
"If he's in that city, Roy. You sound very confident."
"I am. If not this city, then the next—"
But there was no need to wait. A water-dripping sprite heaved over the rail, waving wildly excited hands at them. Toni pushed through the chattering Pogosan, her slender body bronzed and already filling out. She whipped hair out of her eyes. "They're there!" she shouted. "The Commander and the crew—and the whaler is there, floating all tied up in the middle of the city!"
"Now praise the Evil Ones!" said Inglis.
The inevitable delays were a source of infuriating frustration. But the formalities must be observed. The central raft between the cities, the carpeted approach, the official procession with the bannerman carrying the greenly growing branch from the sacred tree, and the assembly of all the nobles had to be carried through just so and with due ceremony. Inglis and the Terrans were waiting long before the admiral arrived, peering all about for sight of Varese.
They could see Swallow's whaler. The little spaceship, designed for short interplanetary journeys, snuggled down between the tall sailing ships like a streamlined fish among a crowd of lobsters. They waved and shouted, but evoked no reply. Presently the admirals advanced, showing their front teeth in genial Pogosan smiles, and the ceremony began.
"Where is Varese?" Inglis was wondering. As a scarlet banner noble he stood a little way apart from the green banner nobles. But he could see Gerda and M'Banga sharing their worried looks between him and the whaler. Perhaps the whaler had been picked up by these stranger Pogosan. Perhaps they had found it, floating empty? Perhaps Varese and all the crew were dead?
Inglis didn't like that thought and thrust it from him for later worry
The Terrans moved across the connecting gangways, swaying up and down in the rolling surge of the sea, headed out to the outermost line of ships and houseboats. Here the bulwarks were covered by the craning backs of Pogosan and the Terrans had need of their height to be able to look across the silky heads, out over the sparkling sea, to the other city covering the horizon.
"Big," Gerda said, pulling her head scarf against the wind. "Bigger than our city."
"A great new city for conversion," M'Banga said with immense satisfaction.
The city approaching had trimmed sails, their white and colored material fluting upwards and down again like the magical shift of a great flock of birds, motivated by that mysterious force that can turn every bird as one. The bellowing conch shell trumpets boomed. Pogosan called. The cities approached, the strip of bright water narrowing between them. The day was clear limpid transparency, and the light splintered from wave tops and every scrap of metal, showing it up, denoting the very real reliance of the Pogosan upon wood for their building.
Fenders scraped, touched, rebounded and then came together again to cling. Ropes flung across smacked down on scrubbed decks. Pogosan tailed onto the ropes, drawing the cities together. Everyone yielded a little as the gentle shock of collision rippled through the floating units of the cities.
Inglis stared hard at the stranger city. Each time this had happened before on the wide seas he had not worried over Varese; but now. there was a strong chance that the Commander had made planetfall on this city, and would be there now, waiting for the rest of his crew; unknowingly, worrying over what had happened to them, thinking himself marooned for ever on this planet, unaware that they were bringing the radio parts that in conjunction with his own radio would build to make the set that would call rescue.
"What a shock Varese will get when he sees us!" he said.
"If he's in that city, Roy. You sound very confident."
"I am. If not this city, then the next—"
But there was no need to wait. A water-dripping sprite heaved over the rail, waving wildly excited hands at them. Toni pushed through the chattering Pogosan, her slender body bronzed and already filling out. She whipped hair out of her eyes. "They're there!" she shouted. "The Commander and the crew—and the whaler is there, floating all tied up in the middle of the city!"
"Now praise the Evil Ones!" said Inglis.
The inevitable delays were a source of infuriating frustration. But the formalities must be observed. The central raft between the cities, the carpeted approach, the official procession with the bannerman carrying the greenly growing branch from the sacred tree, and the assembly of all the nobles had to be carried through just so and with due ceremony. Inglis and the Terrans were waiting long before the admiral arrived, peering all about for sight of Varese.
They could see Swallow's whaler. The little spaceship, designed for short interplanetary journeys, snuggled down between the tall sailing ships like a streamlined fish among a crowd of lobsters. They waved and shouted, but evoked no reply. Presently the admirals advanced, showing their front teeth in genial Pogosan smiles, and the ceremony began.
"Where is Varese?" Inglis was wondering. As a scarlet banner noble he stood a little way apart from the green banner nobles. But he could see Gerda and M'Banga sharing their worried looks between him and the whaler. Perhaps the whaler had been picked up by these stranger Pogosan. Perhaps they had found it, floating empty? Perhaps Varese and all the crew were dead?
Inglis didn't like that thought and thrust it from him for later worry
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