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came, she ate slices of the tuber with the rest of the Pandai. That night she
curled in a knot and grieved for everything she d lost. The Pandai understood
her struggle and left her alone with it.
They knew, everyone knew everything, around the world and back all
Pandai knew what one.
Pandai knew as if they ate the information with the crisp yellow rounds of
tung akar. No privacy of thought and feeling on Bol Mutiar. Each time she
saw evidence of this, her body screamed with rage and terror, though she
swal-lowed the words she wanted to shout at them. Rape of the soul. Taking
what she didn t want to give. Taking the last thing that was hers alone.
When she was out on the ocean, the pressure was gone, as if the brisk winds
that sent the beronta scud-ding along blew the addiction from her head; she
was happy there and it was enough respite to help her keep going. But there
was always the next island, the next meal, all around her the smell of the
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tung and the awareness of its presence that went beyond the senses.
She touched the drum head, listened to it speak, She d not eaten the tung yet,
so she could still feel the song in her bones; it helped her push away the
clamor to eat and be One in Bond with the others.
Bond, the tapping of her fingers sang to her, bond, bond bondaaaage. Though
the Pandai were freer within their limits than anyone she d known, happier ...
real joy in them ... in the games and the making of things ... laughter and no
fear ... yet, what they gave up for this....
She felt something tweak at her. A coldness, almost anger, in the aura of the
tung. She got to her feet, stood holding the drum in front of her like a
shield as she watched a dark figure coming toward her. A
woman. In a shipsuit. A trader? The Berotongs had never spoken of femme
traders.
As the woman came closer, Lylunda watched the vigorous alertness in her body,
the fierce energy of her walk; her eyes blurred with weak tears. She d walked
like that once. She d danced that way.
The woman stopped in front of her; she was tall and slender with a tangle of
gold-tipped brown curls and eyes like bitter chocolate. Lylunda Elang?
Lylunda sighed. Whatever the woman wanted, she had no will left to fight her.
Yes. She felt the cold-ness grow, felt the peril in it. She didn t care, she
was just too tired to be afraid anymore.
The woman shivered. I m not here to hurt you in any way. Do you believe
that?
Does it matter?
You tell me.
All right. I believe you. She felt the coldness draw back; perhaps it did
matter. She had no reason to wish harm on this woman.
Thanks. I m tired of this sand. Any place where we can sit and talk?
If you want to talk, talk here.
The woman raised her brows, startled at the violence in Lylunda s voice, but
she wasn t about to apologize. If she went away from the water, the tung s
call would grow too strong for her and she wouldn t be able to think.
All right. My name is Shadith. I work for Excava-tions Ltd., and the Kliu
hired us to find you and either get the location of the Taalav array or hand
you over to them so they could extract it. I don t intend to do that, by the
way. Hand you over, I mean.
Oh. Lylunda sighed. You came too late. If you take me away from here, I
won t live long enough to reach the Limit.
So I was told. Also that I d be dead right beside you. Why?
To stay alive on this world for any length of time, you have to eat the tung
akar. Once you ve eaten enough of it, you can t live without it. It s more
com-plicated than that in ways I wouldn t understand unless I gave up and
became part of the Tung Bond.
I ve an ottodoc on board my ship. That wouldn t flush it out of your system?
The Jilitera warned me about that. It won t work. I think the tung has
become part of my cell structure and the ottodoc can t get all of it
without killing me. It s aware, the tung I mean. I can feel it.
Yes. So can I. Your father chose well. You re cer-tainly safe here. If the
Kliu come after you, the
Lung kills them.
You know about my father?
When I was on Hutsarte looking for you, I tangled with someone called Grinder
Jiraba. He figured out what must have happened.
I see. I see something else, too. No ethical prob-lems telling the Kliu where
to find me. I m safe, you re away clean, not even any bad dreams.
Maybe no ethical problems, but an interesting prac-tical one. We don t get
paid if we just give them your location. They want actual possession or a firm
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loca-tion for the array.
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