“Did not your, birds do that?” asked Waz-Y-Kjesta.
“No, they were too nervous.”
“Nervous?”
“Yes—frightened—terrified,” she explained.
“I understand the meaning of the word you utter,” said he, “but you will not find the sensation of fear known on Keemar. We live in harmony with our birds, our animals, and even our fish. They are all our friends.”
At the end of the avenue they found themselves on a broad road. Hills rose up at the side, steeply in some places, while in others the rise was more gradual, leaving moorland and valley in view. Houses were built at intervals along the roads, all of wonderful, coloured marbles, but they were all surrounded by beautiful grounds, and added to the scene.
“Oh,” said Mavis suddenly. “There’s a shop.”
Waz-Y-Kjesta looked puzzled, and followed her gaze. “Oh yes, you mean our Omdurlis. How else should we get food to eat and clothes to wear?”
“How then do you manage about your coinage? Do you have money?” asked Alan curiously.
“I know not the word.”