computer, to run macros and test their own and others' theories; the best of them could illuminate solutions with their own flashes of insight. But Catriona had been part of the third and final generation, brought to term by surrogate mothers at a time when anomalies still emerged at unpredictable stages of development. She had begun to lose the ability to self-initiate neural pathways at fifteen years old, after which the pathway net she had already created in her head began to desync. By the time she was seventeen, her peers were strides ahead and she saw herself as being no better than an ordinary kid with an excellent memory.
And that just wasn't good enough for the martinets who ran Zhilinsky House, she thought bitterly.
Yet this, combined with her obsessive interest in the ecologies of Darien and Nivyesta, gave her something to hold on to after leaving the Enhanced programme. It led her along a career path that proved fruitful and satisfying, as well as aggravating when it came to putting in equipment requisitions.
Still, occasionally she yearned for that long-gone fledgling talent, especially when trying to get her head around the astonishing complexity of the forest Segrana and the Uvovo's place in it. There was an underlying story or relationship to it all which she had only caught glimpses of so far. Of course, deducing the Uvovo connection to the temple on Giant's Shoulder had opened entire new areas of possible inquiry, but it had also made the speculation wilder and more tantalising. If she had been a full Enhanced, rather than a cripple, she would have seen through to the truth by now, she was sure of it.
The descent to the deep valley floor took another half-hour, including pauses to rest the trictra. All he chirping, whirring sounds of the underforest, vhere most of the species lived, faded to a high, distant murmur. Down here the light was filtered and grainy, and the air was still, warm and very humid. The Uvovo call it Segrana, she thought, the living forest. I can almost believe it - this forest moon is itself an anomaly and its all-encompassing ecology constitutes a strange, beautiful world. Sometimes, it's almost as if I can hear it singing, feel it watching . . .
Following the glowing pointer in her direction-finder, they at last came to the base of one of the forest Segrana's oldest and biggest trees, a titan measuring almost 200 feet across. Massive knotted roots showed through the layer of decomposing foliage that blanketed the forest floor. Quiet streamlets trickled among some of the roots, pouring down towards a still deeper part of the valley. A family of dumpy six-legged baro grubbed for roots a short distance away, while ophidian pasks hunting bugs in the mat of decaying leaves made rustling sounds.
But Catriona's attention was fixed on a point about 20 feet up the side of the giant tree. She pointed across at it and the herder Pgal nodded, urging the trictra across the surrounding root tangle and up the tree's rough, dripping flank. Catriona could feel her heart beating as she spotted the cam's stalk lens protruding from the surrounding snarl of fibrous lichen, rootless and creepers, and once their mount was close enough she reached into the wet foliage and retrieved the device. She grinned as she studied it, blew away waterdrops and leaf fragments, then looked over her shoulder at what it had been observing.
Several yards away, six tall triangular stones stood in a circle on a flattened mound oddly free of saplings and bushes. Her first visit here had been brief and tense as her guide, an outcast Uvovo scholar called Amilo, had been terrified of being discovered by the Listeners. He had been equally edgy on their second visit two days ago when she had secreted the cam on the tree, setting it to record anything over a certain size moving in or near the stone circle. When she called Amilo yesterday, though, he refused to help a third time but did put her in touch with Pgal, a young
And that just wasn't good enough for the martinets who ran Zhilinsky House, she thought bitterly.
Yet this, combined with her obsessive interest in the ecologies of Darien and Nivyesta, gave her something to hold on to after leaving the Enhanced programme. It led her along a career path that proved fruitful and satisfying, as well as aggravating when it came to putting in equipment requisitions.
Still, occasionally she yearned for that long-gone fledgling talent, especially when trying to get her head around the astonishing complexity of the forest Segrana and the Uvovo's place in it. There was an underlying story or relationship to it all which she had only caught glimpses of so far. Of course, deducing the Uvovo connection to the temple on Giant's Shoulder had opened entire new areas of possible inquiry, but it had also made the speculation wilder and more tantalising. If she had been a full Enhanced, rather than a cripple, she would have seen through to the truth by now, she was sure of it.
The descent to the deep valley floor took another half-hour, including pauses to rest the trictra. All he chirping, whirring sounds of the underforest, vhere most of the species lived, faded to a high, distant murmur. Down here the light was filtered and grainy, and the air was still, warm and very humid. The Uvovo call it Segrana, she thought, the living forest. I can almost believe it - this forest moon is itself an anomaly and its all-encompassing ecology constitutes a strange, beautiful world. Sometimes, it's almost as if I can hear it singing, feel it watching . . .
Following the glowing pointer in her direction-finder, they at last came to the base of one of the forest Segrana's oldest and biggest trees, a titan measuring almost 200 feet across. Massive knotted roots showed through the layer of decomposing foliage that blanketed the forest floor. Quiet streamlets trickled among some of the roots, pouring down towards a still deeper part of the valley. A family of dumpy six-legged baro grubbed for roots a short distance away, while ophidian pasks hunting bugs in the mat of decaying leaves made rustling sounds.
But Catriona's attention was fixed on a point about 20 feet up the side of the giant tree. She pointed across at it and the herder Pgal nodded, urging the trictra across the surrounding root tangle and up the tree's rough, dripping flank. Catriona could feel her heart beating as she spotted the cam's stalk lens protruding from the surrounding snarl of fibrous lichen, rootless and creepers, and once their mount was close enough she reached into the wet foliage and retrieved the device. She grinned as she studied it, blew away waterdrops and leaf fragments, then looked over her shoulder at what it had been observing.
Several yards away, six tall triangular stones stood in a circle on a flattened mound oddly free of saplings and bushes. Her first visit here had been brief and tense as her guide, an outcast Uvovo scholar called Amilo, had been terrified of being discovered by the Listeners. He had been equally edgy on their second visit two days ago when she had secreted the cam on the tree, setting it to record anything over a certain size moving in or near the stone circle. When she called Amilo yesterday, though, he refused to help a third time but did put her in touch with Pgal, a young
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