"Sure, Tzal." The top of her fair-haired skull was level with his eyes, and across it he caught a glimpse of Rea Smyt leading Carby from the reception center. "Sure. We better."
Rea danced along ahead of Carby like a child—a lovely slender child.
Dusk caught them, hours later, on the wooded ridge high above the broad valley that was their destination.
Carby followed Rea off the crumbled highway, that the vanished Sullans had built, and into a sheltered grove of long-leaved trees. Brink and Tzal, pushing easily together at the harnesses behind the rubber-tired cart, followed them.
Clumsily, for they had never seen a tent before, they released the forward section of the cart and drew out the slender jointed ribs of metal. They snapped these together into a low dome ten feet in diameter; and then Tzal controlled the extensible arms feeding out the plastic covering, while Brink locked the opaque skin into place.
Five minutes later, with the wind cone driving the generator and the bottled gas feeding the small stove, Tzal was preparing their evening meal under the soft glowing tubes.
She turned to Brink.
"Better go help Carby," she suggested, smiling. "That Rea—" And she shook her head.
Brink found Carby struggling doggedly with the metal ribs. His partner was not in sight, but they could hear her voice, singing softly somewhere out among the dusky trees. When at last the lighting tubes were glowing and Carby had lighted the stove, Brink eyed the weary, large-featured man curiously.