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that I planned to go far. I might have Ersh’s thorough knowledge of the place, but the Moon’s geology was nothing if not active. Today’s crevice was as likely tomorrow’s upthrust, making any map based on memory alone unreliable.
    I’d begun by scrambling up each rise, and slipping headlong down the inevitable slope, but calmed before doing myself any more harm than running out of breath. I’d grown up here and knew the hazards—evenly divided between those involving Ersh and those involving slicing my footpads open on fresh crystal. As for the utter unlikelihood of a Lanivarian running around on Picco’s Moon? The Tumblers who climbed Ersh’s mountain for conversation and trade had long ago accepted her proclivity for alien house-guests as a charming eccentricity and, given their inability to tell carbon-based species apart, let alone individuals, paid no attention to what kind they were. Well, as long as they were tidy and didn’t eat in public places—Tumblers being thoroughly offended by the concept of body cavities and ingestion providing too much evidence for comfort.
    The plants. I had to do something. Skalet and this Uriel were Human—at least one of them likely to remain so—and what did I know about the species which could help? The flood of information on the heels of the inadvertent thought brought me to a gasping standstill. I wasn’t very good at assimilating the larger chunks of information Ersh fed me.
    A lie. I was very good at assimilating, just better at resisting. New knowledge fascinated me—that wasn’t the problem. But each time I bit, chewed, and swallowed Ersh-mass, it seemed there was less of me, of Esen.
    The others didn’t understand. Their personalities were solid; they were old.
    So when, as now, I needed information I’d shoved aside in my mind, the assimilation happened suddenly, as if liquid poured into my mouth faster than I could swallow, filling my stomach, rising back up my throat until I couldn’t breathe. I endured the sensation, because I had to find a way to deal with this Uriel.
    Ah. The turmoil subsided. I understood the species as I hadn’t dared before. Interesting. Complex as individuals, predictable en masse, amiable yet unusually curious in their interactions with other species.
    And many cultures of Humans, including Kraal, valued gems.
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    I’d snuck back to the landing pad, keeping downwind in case Skalet was looking for me. I doubted it, feeling it more likely she was content to know I’d run and was out of her way. Something in the thought raised the hair between my shoulders.
    Watching the two hadn’t cleared up any of the mystery. Uriel had finished piling packing crates on a grav-sled, lashing them together as though the cargo was fragile. I could smell wet dirt and bruised leaves, implying they’d been busy—and not particularly careful—putting duras plants into the shuttle. Mind you, Ersh was a little overprotective of the things. I knew from experience they survived being dropped quite nicely.
    From what I’d overheard, Skalet was reassuringly adamant that the Human not enter Ersh’s abode, insisting she’d move the cargo to a more secure location later. The Human, obviously not knowing Skalet as well as I, then argued he should accompany her. I’d waited for her to dismiss him, but she’d merely smiled and stroked his arm. They’d disappeared inside the shuttle for several minutes. Perhaps, I’d decided with some disgust, Skalet was following in Ansky’s footsteps and experimenting with physical liaison. Ersh would not be impressed.
    But Ersh must already know, I thought suddenly. Web-kin couldn’t hide memory from her. This could be why Skalet had been left in charge of me—to punish this behavior while making it more difficult to accomplish.
    As if that had worked , I said to myself, feeling wise beyond my