"You went to the beacon fire and put on more wood."
"Well," she said vaguely, "of course. We all did.... That is smoke, Paul. Lantis' pygmies or the wild giants couldn't be there on the cliffs."
Dunin said, "Oh, there are no giants in that country, Dorothy. Those low hills I remember west of the first camp—those kaksma hills were an impassable boundary in the old days. The country west of them—nobody went there, ever. And south of them—Vestoia. My wild kindred are all very far north of here...."
Argo IV eased up to the wharf, where Elis and Arek handled her like a toy, making her fast with ropes of a fabric as good as linen. Wright was there with them, and Tejron, and Pakriaa and Nisana, who were inseparable. "Too far," said Wright, and handed Paul the field glasses. "Just smoke."
Elis grumbled, "What's up there to burn? No vegetation. Rock."
The smoke seemed to be thinning. "How long since our last trip over?"
"Eight days, Paul," Tejron recalled. "My impatient eldest wanted to see if he could handle Betsy's oars, remember?"
"He could, too." Paul remembered. "Sears-Danik pulled his weight, my lady. Yes, that was the last time. And we saw nothing unusual."
Only Nisana thought to ask, "Good voyage today, Paul?"
"Fine, darling. You should have come."