"You poor boy," said Rara, and in a sudden fit of maternal affection, she put her arm around his shoulder.
"Ow!" cried Tel, and winced.
Rara jerked her hand away. "What's the matter?"
"I ... I got hurt there," the boy said, rubbing his shoulders gently.
"Hurt? How?"
"My father—he whipped me there."
"Ah," said Rara. "Now it comes out. Well, whatever the reasons you left, they're your own business. Anyway, I've never known anyone yet to do something for one reason alone. Don't lag behind, now. We'll be back at Geryn's in time for lunch."
"I thought if I could sneak aboard," went on Tel, "that they'd have to let me off in the City, even if I didn't have money. I didn't know about papers. And when I was in line, I figured I'd explain to the men at the desk. Or maybe I'd even give them my shells, and they would get the papers for me. But the guy ahead of me had a mistake in his. Some date was wrong, and they said they were going to send him back to the mainland and that he couldn't leave the ship. He said he'd give them real money, and even got it out of his pocket. But they started to take him away. That's when I ran out of line and jumped the fence. I didn't know everyone else would run too."
"Probably half their papers were out of order, too. Or forged. That's why they ran."
"You're a cynic, Aunt Rara."