JULIE STONE BENT down to peer out the narrow window of the low-ceilinged lounge (for want of a better word) that fronted the inn (for want of a better word) where she’d been staying since shortly after her arrival on Shipworld. The rain had stopped, and sunshine had returned. About time. She needed to get out for a walk; she was going stir-crazy.
As she ducked out through the front door, she heard a voice behind her, rolling like a drumstick on a set of wooden chimes: “Wherrre-are yougoingJulieSto-o-o-ne? Ou-ooot forawalk-k?” Julie glanced back and saw Mrs. Logger padding out from the back room. Her hostess here at the inn, Mrs. Logger resembled a short, horizontal log on multiple legs, with waving appendages and eye-stalks. Mrs. Logger wasn’t her real name, of course, but since Julie couldn’t understand her hostess’s real name, she’d decided that Mrs. Logger would have to do.
“Yes,” Julie said. “I need some light and outdoor exercise.”
“Nottoofardear,” said the rippling being.
“Of course not,” said Julie. Where would I go? The inn was surrounded by fields, meadows, and a few stands of trees. Beyond that, she didn’t know what she would find, other than what appeared to be extensive forests. Unless she wanted to take off alone through the forests, there really was no place to go beyond what she had come to think of as the estate grounds. From time to time, doorways or portals briefly materialized out in one of the meadows, seemingly leading to other places. One such portal had brought her to this place from the barren space-docks where she had landed after her flight to Shipworld—how long ago? Weeks? Months? Her sense of time had blurred. But the portals appeared infrequently, disgorging beings who strode off on their own business—some of them into the inn, some of them into the forest. Julie had thought of trying the portal herself, but she was not ready to risk stepping through and ending up a million miles from here. Wherever here was.
Why she had been brought to this particular place, she did not know. But she was safe and comfortable and well fed—and for that, for now, she was willing to put up with some restlessness. Here, she enjoyed the welcoming inn, the few demands, and an opportunity to write and verbally record her experiences into something that appeared to be a local comm network. It felt good for her mental health, and she liked Mrs. Logger, who had taken Julie under her wing.
The “sun” felt warm on her face as she strode out across the meadow. It was not really a sun, she knew, but an artificial light source high overhead. That had taken some getting used to, but after the first week or so—and after living on Triton—it seemed normal, as much as anything here did. She recognized that she was in a state of denial. (No, I have not left Earth, Neptune, the solar system, everyone I’ve ever known, and sane reality behind. There is another explanation, and it will come to me in time. Perhaps when the hallucination ends. Please carry on.)
She wondered if any of the kraykets would be out today. She’d met the little meerkat-like animals shortly after her arrival on Shipworld, and they’d led her into the portal that brought her here to the inn. Now, as she reached the upper part of the field, her hopes were rewarded. Two of the kraykets were at the top of a rise, standing watch over their territory. They yodeled to her as she approached, and then quieted to chitters and nods as she stepped closer. Accepting her presence on their turf, they went back to being watchful. They always seemed watchful and solemn; she didn’t really know why. Were they guarding treasure, or their families? Or watching for a sign?
“You fellows up to anything I should know about?” she asked. She had never actually found a way to communicate clearly with them, though she’d encountered them often during her time here. The translator-stones had told her they were called kraykets and seemed to regard them as beings of some importance; but if the stones could convert their squeaks and chatters into words for her, they had not yet troubled to do so.
As the kraykets continued their business of standing watch, Julie stood in much the same pose, taking in the meadow and the wildflowers and the warm sunshine from the clear blue “sky” above. It was peaceful and beautiful. Still, it was lonely. Loneliness had been her steady companion since her arrival, when she’d been separated from the translator. Now here she was, stranded inside a large artificial world many thousands of light-years from home—not really even inside her own galaxy anymore, because Shipworld floated out beyond its edge. She had no human companionship, and not that much other companionship, either. The kraykets were charming, but they didn’t talk. Mrs. Logger talked, but conversations with her never went too deep.
Sometimes Julie fantasized finding John Bandicut. But what were the chances, given the size of this place—even if he was still alive and on Shipworld? With the translator gone (where, she didn’t know), she couldn’t help thinking often about him, which only made the loneliness worse.
She had already transcribed all she could remember of saving Earth from destruction at the hands of an intruder from the stars—much as John, before her, had saved the Earth from a rogue comet. It had all ended with the translator and her flying through the sun and then somehow converting the energy of the passage into something called spatial translation and threading. After a harrowing time, they had found themselves at Shipworld, a sort of alternate Garden of Eden, where food grew on trees and small animals kept her company. The kraykets had led her to Mrs. Logger’s place, where she could communicate with the innkeeper, but hardly anyone else. The occasional alien travelers who passed through rarely seemed to speak at all.
She could only wonder why the little stones in her wrists, the daughter-stones of the translator, had become so quiet. Their last words, spoken many days ago, had been: *You must be patient.*
The hell with that, she thought, bringing her gaze down from the sky. The kraykets cocked their heads at her and squeaked. She was certain they knew more than they could communicate. “I wish you talked my language,” she murmured, reaching down as if to scratch the head of the nearest. The krayket bobbed away, not letting her touch it. It peered back up at her with a rasping sound. “I had a cat like you once,” she muttered.
Then she cocked her own head. There was something in the air, something vaguely electric. The nearest krayket raised its nose and made a long keening sound. Then it turned to its fellow on its right and the two conversed earnestly. After a moment, they scampered over to her feet and squeaked up at her. “What is it?” she asked. “You want me to follow you somewhere?”
At once, they scampered down the far side of the rise. Julie followed, down the grassy slope. At the bottom, standing vertically in the grass, was a glowing rectangle of violet light. A doorway in the middle of nowhere. Again. Peering through it, she saw a continuation of the grass, as if the rectangle were an empty frame. But the kraykets sat up on their hind legs, gazing expectantly.
/Am I supposed to go through?/ she asked her silent stones, silently. There was no answer. “What are you trying to tell me?” she asked the kraykets.
No illumination there, either.
Stepping closer to the doorway, she leaned as though to step through it.
*No.*
Startled by the single word from her stones, she pulled back. A moment later she saw a shimmer in the portal, a shadowy movement. The shadow darkened, loomed, and she took another step back. A tall, two-legged being strode out, practically colliding with her. The being gave a startled bark as she jumped back out of its way.
For a moment, they gaped at each other, catching their breaths. The being was a foot taller than Julie, gangling in body form, with two long arms. Its face was bluish white, sculpted, almost skeletal, with two dark and deep-set eyes. It was wearing a leathery sort of tunic vest and pants, and carried what looked like a coil of rope at its side. On its feet it wore something like soft moccasins.
“Uh, hi,” Julie said, her voice cracking a little. “Who . . . are you?” What are you?
The being uttered something in a rumbling voice: “Urrrrm-m-m.” Its mouth seemed rigid, almost horny, and it made a clacking sound when he closed it. It raised a hand and extended it toward her.
Julie took another step backward. “What . . . are you?” she whispered.
“Rrrrm-m-m—hrrrahhh.” The creature angled its head slightly. As she raised a hand in a combination of greeting and defensiveness, its gaze followed the movement. It made a sharp rasping sound, as its eyes focused on her hand.
Or her wrist: where a jewel embedded in her skin glimmered with a diamond light.
It sees the stone. Did it see the glint of an easy-to-steal treasure? She thought she felt a sudden energy surging in the stones, as if they felt its gaze, too, and were coming to life in response. Were they gearing for self-defense, or to perform another one of their strange physics-defying tricks? /Stones?/ she asked. But there was no response.
“Stay back!” she cried, as sternly as she could, raising both hands now. The creature’s gaze shifted. Oh great—I just showed him the other one. “I don’t mean you any harm. But I can defend myself.”
“Hrahhh!” said the being, in a voice that seemed almost to be making an appeal—with both its hands extended in a slightly inward-curved gesture. Greeting? Or grabbing?
Julie held both of her hands palm-out, and pressed them forward twice in a Wait! gesture, though heaven knew what the gesture meant to the other. Her wrists burned as she did this, which made her even more frantic. “Please. My name is Julie.” She pointed to herself. “What is your name?”
The creature cocked its head the other way. It pointed with a long finger at first one of her hands—or wrists—and then the other. Then it raised its hand to the side of its head and pressed its fingertips to its temple. It muttered something incomprehensible, then groaned. Its gaze met hers. She shivered, with a sudden apprehension. It seemed certain that this creature knew about stones, knew that they were more than just pretty baubles.
Her stones buzzed once and said, *We think . . . this is a person of interest.*
Gathering around, the kraykets chattered with apparent great excitement. There was something in their tone that suggested to Julie that they knew this being. Julie glanced down at them in puzzlement, then raised her gaze back to the newcomer. She decided, solely on the basis of intuition, that it was a he, not an it. Surely there must be some way to communicate. She pressed a hand to her chest. “Julie.” She stretched the hand toward him. “And you are—?”
“K-k-k-k-k!” the creature sputtered.
She shook her head, and repeated the exchange. This time he sounded clearer. He smacked his own hand to his chest. “Ik-k-k-k!” He repeated the gesture and the word: “Ik-k-k.” Then he stretched his hand toward her, and jolted her by exclaiming, “Hoo-mann!”
Julie rocked back in surprise. Had he just said . . . ? She drew a measured breath, and forced herself to say, “Human? Is that what you just said? I am human, yes. Julie is my name.” Hand to chest. “Julie.” Should I be saying this? How does he know about humans?
“Ik-k. Ik,” said the being, speaking precisely, as though rehearsing the sounds.
“Ik?” she repeated, blinking. “That’s your name?”
“Joo-oo-lee,” he said, pointing. “Hoo-mann.” And back to himself: “Ik.” And then he made a long, clearing-of-the-throat sound. “Hraaach-ch-aaach-ch-eeeen.”
“Umm . . .” Julie’s head was spinning. Keep talking to him. “Uh, nice to meet you. Ik. Why . . . what . . . brings you . . . here, Ik?”
At that, Ik rambled incomprehensibly to himself. He sounded frustrated, and rubbed at those spots on his temples again. He peered at her, with what seemed an extremely intense gaze. “Joo-lee,” he said again.
“Yes. Julie.”
“Ju-lee,” he said, a bit faster this time.
“Ik,” she said, and he bobbed his head.
For a moment, she was simply paralyzed, not knowing where to go from here. She was stunned—again—to hear her stones suddenly whisper, *Stay with this one. You must be patient. Stay with him.* And then they were silent again, but she had a feeling that some new kind of energy was buzzing in them.
Stay with him? This was the closest thing to a clear instruction she’d heard in a long time. Well, after all, she thought, you’re an exoarchaeologist. Your job is looking for remnant signs of aliens, right? This one wasn’t a remnant, but he was the first except Mrs. Logger who’d shown much interest in her.
“Hrah,” said Ik. He raised his hands and dropped them. He didn’t know what to say, either. Suddenly he opened and closed his mouth with a clack. He turned around, and made a hand gesture as though to invite her to follow him back through the portal. Then he froze.
The portal was gone. The doorway had disappeared.
“Rrrrm. Hrrrrm,” he rumbled, turning back to her. Even not knowing his language, she could hear the strain in his voice.
Julie blinked hard and made an impulsive decision. “Do you want to come with me?” she said, leaned slightly in the direction that would take them back to the inn. “You—” she pointed to him “—come with me—” she pointed to herself, then back up the slope she and the kraykets had come down. “Yes?”
Ik hesitated, and looked longingly back to where the portal had just been. “Hrah,” he said with finality, and strode forward to accompany her.
***
As Ik walked with the human Julie, his satisfaction in finding her was overlain with stinging regret that he might have just lost his way back to his friends. What was he going to do about that? He didn’t know, but he took hope in the fact that this human had voice-stones, just like John Bandicut. Did all humans have stones? John had never spoken of it. Perhaps Ik could dare hope that if there were other humans on Shipworld, maybe there were Hraachee’ans, as well.
The human, Julie, seemed blessed by equal measures of confidence and uncertainty. As they walked up over a rise, and then down and across a meadow, she spoke only a few times. Perhaps because it was clear he could comprehend nothing, she let silence remain between them. Ik wondered if she was newly arrived on this world; he remembered how John had been when they’d first met—he and his robots, very confused. Ik himself had been bewildered when he’d first arrived. Julie seemed more . . . settled.
Without pausing in her stride, she gestured to a low building in front of them, one that seemed almost a part of the landscape, merged into the wood and stone. Ik thought he could guess what it was: an arrival inn. He’d spent time in one upon his own arrival on Shipworld, and he thought Li-Jared had, also. It was a place for newcomers to get their bearings—and in his own case, to recall and record as much as he could about the events leading to his arrival, along with memories of his homeworld, which he had just seen destroyed.
John Bandicut, on the other hand, had arrived—and met Ik—in the midst of a crisis right here in Shipworld. Together they’d fought the boojum, a rogue AI that had tried to usurp and destroy the iceline intelligence system that kept Shipworld running. Maybe Julie was getting a kinder introduction to Shipworld.
Julie pulled open a small door and entered, and Ik ducked low, following. It was a rustic little place, with hewn wood beams and tables, and aromatic smoke coming from a cooking area in a back room. Ik had to stoop to keep from bumping his head on the beams.
There was a banging sound from the cooking room. A moment later, a creature who looked like a fallen log on six legs, came out waving several tentacle-hands. “Ik! Welcome!” she cried, in a voice perfectly translated to Hraachee’an. “It is wonderful to see you again!”
“Hostess Elder!” he cried in sudden delight. This creature, whose species he never knew, had welcomed him to his arrival inn, years ago. He’d never known her true name, either; but she had seemed, in a quiet way, to possess an unlimited knowledge of how things worked in Shipworld, how things had always worked in Shipworld. With her help and the help of her staff, he had learned enough to be able eventually to leave the inn and make his way around. Those were in the days before he had met Li-Jared, and quite some time before he met Bandicut and Antares. After leaving the inn, he’d never found his way back to it again. Was this the same inn?
“Ik, you have hardly aged,” Hostess Elder said approvingly. “But I have been hearing things about you. Good things.”
Surprised, Ik said, “We have managed to do a few things, my friends and I.”
“A few things! Young Ik—shall we start with your averting disaster in the iceline?”
Surprised a second time, Ik glanced at Julie, who stood waiting politely, obviously unable to understand what they were saying. “How do you know about that?” he asked the innkeeper.
“Oh, word gets around.” Hostess Elder eased her bulk around the end of the low serving counter and trundled into the center of the room. “I see you and Julie Stone have met.”
“Hrrm, indeed,” said Ik. “I have been trying to explain to her that I know one of her fellows, John Bandicut. At least I’m pretty sure they are from the same place. Perhaps you can help me?”
“Of course,” rumbled the log. “As soon as I attend to some chores.” She waved a tentacle in Julie’s direction. “She is adjusting slowly—you remember what that was like.”
“Hrah!” Ik cried, reminded of his own crippled state. “My stones are gone—lost forever.” He opened his hands wide. “How can she get to know me?”
Two eye-stalks waved slowly on the top of the log. “Perhaps something can be done in that regard. If you would like.”
“Of course I would like. You know that.”
Hostess Elder gave a faint quiver. “I did not wish to presume.”
Ik sighed through his ears. “Never. And now, perhaps we should stop speaking as though Julie were not here . . .”
***
Julie had been stunned twice—once when Mrs. Logger had come out and greeted Ik as an old friend, and again, when they had talked with no apparent language difficulty. That last made her wonder—once she’d gotten over her shock—if Mrs. Logger could act as interpreter and help her communicate with Ik.
For the next few minutes, she had no opportunity to ask. The two were apparently catching up after a long absence. At one point, she experienced a weird, startling moment when a phrase in their conversation sounded eerily like “John Bandicut.” But the words moved on; no doubt it was just a coincidence. Soon, she began to feel restless as the two talked. Ik must have sensed her feeling, because he suddenly fell silent, and turned to her.
Mrs. Logger did, as well. “JulieStone, I am p-pleasedyouhavereturn-ed. Andthatyoubrought Ik-k-k withyou.”
“Well,” Julie said, flustered, “I wasn’t exactly expecting to meet Ik out there, but—”
“Meanttobeperhaps,” murmured Mrs. Logger. She peered at Julie with two of her eyes, while a third winked at Ik.
Julie shrugged. “It’s possible. He came out of a portal. But now that I think about it, the kraykets led me there. They seemed to know something was going on.”
“Maybemaybenodoubt,” said Mrs. Logger. “Theytellmethings from time-to-time.” She waved three pairs of tentacle-arms, with hands on the ends, which looked like animated branches. “Areyouhung-g-gry, eitherofyou?”
“I suppose,” Julie said, nodding toward Ik. “But more than that, I’m curious.”
“Curios-s-sityisgood,” trilled the log.
Julie cast a puzzled gaze upon her. “I’m curious how you know Ik’s language as well as mine.”
“WhyIhaveknown Ik-k-k a verylongtime. Hecametome whenhearrived, just-t-as you. Itismy pleasur-re toseehim again.”
“But . . . can you interpret for us? Can you tell me what he is saying? And tell him what I’m saying?”
“Iwilltry-y-mydear. Iwilltr-ry.”
“Then—” and Julie took a deep breath, and turned to the gangling, bluish alien beside her and said, “I have so many things I would like to ask.”
“Ofcourseyoudodear-r. Ofcourseyoudo . . .”
***
Refreshments came before translation, however.
Julie raised a small mug of what Mrs. Logger called glee, a beverage reminiscent of beer. She held it toward Ik, who was now seated across a low table from her. Ik clacked his mouth and raised his own mug. He said something, which Mrs. Logger translated as he drained the mug: “I like ale.”
That made Julie cock her head a little. “Have you had it before?” she asked, with a nod to their hostess, who stood at the end of the table.
“Hrah,” said Ik.
“Ohyes,” echoed Mrs. Logger.
“How? When? I would have guessed you drank your own beverages.”
Before Ik could answer—in fact, before her hostess could translate the question—Mrs. Logger suddenly rose on her six legs and said, “Mustbringyourdinner. Youneedyourstrength.” She lumbered away, leaving Julie and Ik facing each other, once again without words. But there was a pitcher of glee, and Ik raised it and refilled both their mugs. He studied her closely, and seemed once more to be eyeing the translator-stones in her wrists.
Julie raised one wrist and tapped at the stone with the index finger of her other hand. “Have you seen stones like this before?”
Ik cocked his head, clearly wishing he could understand her words. But he did nod in the direction of the stone. It seemed evident that he had some association. His own hand went to his right temple, rubbing at a spot there.
At that moment, Mrs. Logger shambled back in, balancing with surprising grace the several platters on her back. With her four arms, she slipped the platters from her back onto the table and positioned them in front of Ik and Julie. In front of Ik was a plate of long, crisp-looking sticks, one of which he picked up and sniffed with obvious approval, and several soft mounds that looked like bright red mashed yams. Julie’s plate held a slab resembling well-done beef but wasn’t; it was her favorite here, girn, a dish made from a large root. Beside it on the plate were some triangular-shaped green beans, and a pile of what looked remarkably like French fried potatoes. Julie caught a fry between two fingers and crunched it between her teeth. It tasted delicious, salty and oily.
“Nowww, whathaveyoutwo been-n-n talkingabout?” Mrs. Logger asked, first in one language and then the other. “Ah—sosorrysosorry. You’vebeen-n-n waitingfor me.” She fussed a bit at the table, refilling both their mugs with ale. “HowcanIhelpyou?”
“Um,” said Julie, chewing thoughtfully, “I was just asking Ik what he knew about translator-stones.” She rubbed the twinkling gems in her wrists. “I had the feeling he had seen them, or something like them, before.”
Mrs. Logger made a soft chuckling sound, then said something to Ik, perhaps translating. As the two spoke, Julie was startled to feel a tingling in her right wrist. She rubbed it absently, still trying to focus on what Ik and Mrs. Logger were saying. She felt another tingle, this time in her left wrist.
Mrs. Logger’s eyes all turned to Julie, and she switched back to English. “Heknowssuch stones. Carrieda p-pair himhimself.”
He did!
“Theydied-d-d. A d-difficulttime. Andsohecannot-t-t speakwithyou himself.”
Julie looked back and forth between Ik and Mrs. Logger. She rubbed her wrists, both of which were starting to itch. Was it just that she was mindful of them? “I don’t know—what to say, really.” She took another bite, and then rubbed harder. They were starting to burn in her skin now.
“Child-d-d, Ikyoucantrust. Takemyword-d, myword-d.” With that, Mrs. Logger backed up a couple of feet.
Julie wondered why she would choose this moment to make such a declaration. Ik was watching her in silence. “Ik, do you . . . ?” Her words faltered. The burning itch was building, like a sneeze.
She took a breath—and her thoughts were overwhelmed by a sudden command from her stones: *Don’t move, don’t talk! Hold your hands out toward Ik.*
/What? Why?/ Despite her bewilderment, she obeyed. Arms trembling, she slowly reached across the table toward Ik. Strength flowed into her forearms, and she felt as if they were glowing, and rising of their own accord. One stone gleamed diamond and the other ruby. Were they shining through her skin, or had they risen to the surface? She was suddenly afraid. /Are you leaving?/ she asked them.
*No. Remain still.*
Suddenly they blazed, dazzlingly bright. Light shot out from her wrists, too fast to follow—flashes of ruby and white. “Hrahh!” Ik cried out, slapping his hands to the sides of his head. He reeled back, as Julie involuntarily jerked her own hands back from the table. What just happened?
The burning and itching were gone. She was almost afraid to look down. The two stones still glowed in her wrists, but were fading. Her wrists throbbed dully. She felt as if a great power had gone out of them.
*We have given our daughter-stones,* said the voice of the stones in Julie’s mind.
/What do you mean, daughter-stones?/ she whispered, half aloud. An instant later, as Ik lowered his hands, she saw the answer. Two translator-stones glowed in opposite sides of his head. “My God!” she breathed. /What have you . . . how did you do that?/
*We shared. Give him a few moments to adjust. Language integration may take a little longer.*
/Language integration—?/
“Hrah,” said Ik, obviously straining. “Julie?” His breathing was labored. He almost seemed to be exhaling through his ears.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Ik put his hands to his head again, clacking his mouth energetically. “I cannot . . . thank you enough. We can now . . . I think . . . talk.”
***
The new stones rolled a shock wave like thunder through Ik’s head. Feelings cascaded, physical and emotional: an electric jolt followed by a charge to his consciousness, and a soaring emotional lift that lasted just a few seconds before dropping him into an emotional dive. A moment later, he was buoyed by another rising wave. A cloud of confusion blew away as if on the wind; he had been blind and now he saw again. He didn’t just see, but he saw himself clearly again.
The stones and his mind were spinning through a mating dance of staggering complexity; but it happened with remarkable speed, and in a matter of moments it was over, though it left him reeling. The new voice-stones, lodged in the same spots in his temples, also touched the same points in his mind, though they were perceptibly different from his originals. He sensed that they carried some of the same knowledge, and some that was new.
It took him a moment to feel steady enough to trust his voice. “I am Ik,” he said aloud to the human female, and felt his words ring out comprehensibly.
The human was rocking forward and backward, her hands clasping opposite wrists. She was trembling. “Julie,” she whispered. “Julie Stone.” Suddenly she cried out loud, a sound he recognized as laughter, like Bandie’s laughter. “But you already knew that, didn’t you? Oh, my God—can you understand me? That’s wonderful!” For a few seconds, she hugged herself, shaking her head, and then nodding.
Beside them, Hostess Elder was watching in approval.
“Ik!” Julie repeated. “What sort of being are you, Ik, and where are you from?”
Ik felt joy welling up in him at the thought that he was finally communicating again. He hastened to answer, half afraid that he would lose the ability if he did not use it immediately. “I am a Hraachee’an,” he said, “of the planet Hraachee’a! Tell me, please, Julie Stone—are you from the world called Earth?”
Her expression of reeling astonishment told him everything he needed to know.
***
Julie stared at this astonishing being with the sculpted blue-tinged face, this Hraachee’an. Then she heard, as though through a rushing of air: “I have a friend who is from Earth. His name is John Bandicut. He is human, like you.”
Julie opened her mouth, then closed it. She sat immobile, shaking. Had she imagined those words? Or had this creature, this Hraachee’an, Ik, just spoken the name John Bandicut? “Say—” she gasped at last “—would you say that again?”
“Rrrm.” Ik seemed to be clearing his throat. “Hrrm. My friend . . . is called John Bandicut.”
She must have started to fall over in astonishment, because suddenly Ik was reaching across the table and steadying her with a strong grip on her upper arms. She struggled to find words. “You . . . you know . . . John?” She breathed in and out with difficulty. “John Bandicut?”
Ik gazed at her with deep-set, penetrating eyes. “John Bandicut is my friend.”
“But . . . how? Where is he?”
“Well, I . . .” Ik seemed to be thinking. “Hrrm. I was just with him. Before I . . . saw you through the portal. I came through to find you, to bring you to him.”
“Then he knows I’m here? He knows you came for me?” Julie’s heart was pounding like a drum.
“Rrrm, alas, no.” Ik hesitated again. “I could not speak then, you see. Because my voice-stones were gone.” He stroked his temples, where the daughter-stones had lodged. “But now I can speak again.” He rocked back suddenly. “Julie Stone, I must thank . . . I must thank your stones.”
Julie struggled to absorb everything he was saying. “How did you lose your voice-stones?”
Ik seemed to shudder at a memory. “In a battle. A terrible battle. Far, far from here.”
A terrible battle? Julie opened her mouth. “You—you were—was John with you, in this battle?”
“Hrrrm, oh yes.” Ik nodded. “He helped to save me. Not for the first time!” Ik’s gaze probed hers. “Do you want—to go—if we can find the way?”
A rushing sound filled her ears, and her heart leaped. “Can you really take me to John? To John Bandicut?”
“Ahhh—hrrm.” Ik gave a troubled sigh. “I wish to try, of course. But I don’t actually know . . . how to make the portal return us to the same place. Do you know where we are now?”
Julie opened her mouth, and closed it. She shook her head. “I know we’re in a place called Shipworld. That is all, really.” She turned to her host, who was rumbling softly. “Can you tell us where we are, Mrs. Logger?”
Mrs. Logger’s eye-stalks twitched in a bewildering dance. “You arrrre intheLightWoodsofthe Great-t-t Forestofcourse.” Two of her tentacles waved and pointed. “But wherrreyouneed-d to go, Idonot-t knowthat, noooo.”
“But we should go back to the portal, right? Right?” Julie asked, her voice tightening with urgency. “Ik came from a portal out in the field. Could that take us to where he came from?”
Mrs. Logger seemed to vibrate where she stood. “Perhaps-s. But you willnotfindout her-r-re talk-k-ing. Youmustgo-o. FarewellJulieStone.”
Julie gazed at her in astonishment, and then shifted her gaze to Ik. “Wait here while I get my things?”
“Hrahh!” Ik cried in assent, rising from his seat.
***
In just a few minutes, they were back in the meadow where Ik had emerged from the mysterious doorway, now nowhere to be seen. Julie clutched a small tote bag that Mrs. Logger had given her, ages ago, that held some spare clothes. The kraykets were on duty, peering around, looking more than ever like meerkats. They chattered loudly, and seemed to want to communicate something. But Julie had no idea what. Don’t go? Go?
Ik looked down at the little animals and said, “I’m not sure what they’re saying. But look.” He nodded to his left—at a portal that was just glittering into being. It was, as before, a faintly glowing rectangle. Julie had a feeling it might not remain here long; they needed to make a go/no-go decision. She inquired softly of her stones, but they gave no reply. She looked to Ik, as the closest thing to a native guide.
Ik rumbled under his breath, then hissed with an apparent decision. “Julie Stone, I cannot promise that this will take us to John Bandicut and our other friends. I can only hope that the system has recognized my desire to return the way I came, and will cause that to happen. Sometimes things in Shipworld really do work that way.”
Julie swallowed hard. “I’m willing to take a chance, if it might get me to John.”
Ik inclined his head. They stepped together.
Julie felt a flow of energy, and a flash of violet light around her . . .