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mainsail, pulling it flat and inspecting it for rips. When he was satisfied, he looped
     runners from the staylines through metal-rimmed sockets in the edge of the sail, thumped the deck twice to alert Short Apprentice
     to the need to turn the boat into the wind, and hauled the makeshift sail into place. The sailor suit, sensing the heavy forces
     acting on his muscles, reconfigured itself to take most of the strain.
    Second-Best Sailor tied off the halyards to a convenient cleat and ran his eye over the jury-rigged sail as a final check.
     He made a few more navigational observations—the way the sun’s angular height changed with time, for instance. Then he stepped
     off the side and swam back through a sallyport to the main cabin.
    He regretted having no lemons to trade, but those were of small importance. He usually traded them to other mariners or used
     them as gambling tokens when the mood took him, though he’d intended on this occasion to give a few to the Neanderthal women
     to lubricate the trading. Tough.
    For a moment he wondered if it would be worth trying to sell his small but exquisite collection of fanworm tubes. It was a
     kind of coming-of-age ritual for the most daring mariners. The beautiful secretions were to be found in the ocean depths near
     No-Moon’s rare volcanic vents, where superheated mineral-laced water spouted from the sea bed. Here, in the eternal darkness,
     lived dense clusters of delicate fanworms, which peeped from protective tubes and flashed colored lights at one another. The
     tubes were convoluted and roughly square in cross-section. Each tube bore intricate patterns of colored deposits, no two the
     same, and they were prized as natural works of art.
    A sufficiently bold polypoid, equipped with a suit, could dive to the bottom of the ocean, brave the dangerously hot waters
     near a vent, and liberate a few fanworm tubes. Second-Best Sailor had done just that, on a dare, and he kept his treasures
     locked away on his boat.
    They were valuable. Could he bear to part with one?
    No. Trade was important but not
that
important. Even though the damage to his boat would set his income back considerably, this was going to be a very profitable
     voyage, as long as he could reach port before the Neanderthals moved on. Based on past performance, he was sure that Smiling
     Teeth May Bite would wait for him, provided he didn’t take
too
much time. And, safely stowed away in a locker of solid metal, he had the stack of datablets that the reefwives had extruded,
     containing valuable simulations for offworld customers. The reefmind traded in information, and the Neanderthal women would
     pay enough for it to outfit his boat for a dozen voyages.
    The Neanderthals thought that the mariners prepared the simulations themselves, no doubt using some high-powered Precursor
     computer, and the mariners made no attempt to disabuse them. The secret of the reefmind must be
kept
a secret.
    Later, when night had fallen, Second-Best Sailor made another excursion ’bovedecks to observe the stars. Their positions would
     confirm his navigational calculations, but mostly he just got a kick out of stargazing. So many worlds, so much life. And
     tonight there was a bonus, a sight so rare that he knew of it only through legend.
    Stretched across a huge arc of sky were hundreds of lavender lights, arranged like beads on strings, forming a fan that pointed
     straight toward the horizon, where the sun had just set. He knew what they must be, and excitement surged through his whole
     body. He had been waiting all his life to witness the passage of the fabled magnetotorus herd. It was even more beautiful
     than he had imagined from the stories—bejeweled patterns of living light, emitted by streams of wild magnetic creatures migrating
     under the guidance of their inscrutable herders. He gave thanks to the Maker and counted it a privilege to be alive to witness
     the herd’s arrival.
    To an observer on the outer