Masklin.
"Do you really?"
"Well, more hope than expect, to tell the truth." "I expect your Grimma's got everyone organised," said Angalo, trying to grin.
"She's not my Grimma," snapped Masklin.
"Isn't she? Whose is she, then?"
"She's..." Masklin hesitated. "Hers, I suppose," he said lamely.
"Oh. I thought the two of you were set to -" Angalo began.
"We're not. I told her we were going to get married, and all she could talk about was frogs," said Masklin.
"That's females for you," said Gurder. "Didn't I say that letting them learn to read was a bad idea? It overheats their brains."
"She said the most important thing in the world was little frogs living in a flower," Masklin went on, trying to listen to the voice of his own memory. He hadn't been listening very hard at the time. He'd been too angry.
"Sounds like you could boil a kettle on her head," said Angalo.
"It was something she'd read in a book, she said."
"My point exactly," said Gurder. "You know I never really agreed with letting everyone learn to read. It unsettles people."
Masklin looked gloomily at the rain. "Come to think of it," he said, "It wasn't frogs exactly. It was the idea of frogs. She said there are these hills where it's hot and rains all the time, and in the rain forests there are these very tall trees and right in the top branches of the trees there are these like great big flowers called... bromeliads, I think, and water gets into the flowers and makes little pools and there's a type of frog that lays eggs in the pools and tadpoles hatch and grow into new frogs and these little frogs live their whole lives in the flowers right at the top of the trees and don't even know about the ground, and once you know the world is full of things like that, your life is never the same." He took a deep breath.
"Something like that, anyway," he said.
Gurder looked at Angalo.
"Didn't understand any of it," he said.
"It's a metaphor," said the Thing. No one paid it any attention.
Masklin scratched his ear. "It seemed to mean a lot to her," he said.
"It's a metaphor," said the Thing.
"Women always want something," said Angalo. "My wife is always on about dresses."
"I'm sure he would have helped," said Gurder. "If we'd talked to him. He'd probably have given us a proper meal and, and -" "Given us a home in a shoebox," said Masklin.
"And given us a home in a shoebox," said Gurder automatically. "No! I mean, maybe. I mean, why not? A decent hour's sleep for a change. And then we -"
"We'd be carried around in his pocket," said Masklin.
"Not necessarily. Not necessarily."
"We would. Because he's big and we're small."
"Launch in three hours and fifty-seven minutes," said the Thing.
Their temporary camp overlooked a ditch. There didn't seem to be any winter in Florida, and the banks were thick with greenery.
Something like a flat plate with a spoon on the front sculled slowly past. The spoon stuck out of the water for a moment, looked at the nomes vaguely, and then dropped down again.
"What was that thing, Thing?" said Masklin.
The Thing extended one of its sensors.
"A long-necked turtle."
"Oh." The turtle swam peacefully away.
"Lucky, really," said Gurder.
"What?" said Angalo.
"Its having a long neck like that and being called a Long-Necked Turtle. It'd be really awkward having a name like that if it had a short neck."
"Launch in three hours and fifty-six minutes.'"
Masklin stood up.
"You know," said Angalo, "I really wish I could have read more of The Spy with No Trousers. It was getting exciting." "Come on," he said. "Let's see if we can find a way."
Angalo, who had been sitting with his chin in his hands, gave him an odd look. "What now?"
"We've come too far just to stop, haven't we?" They pushed their way through the weeds. After a while a fallen log helped them across the ditch.
"Much greener here than at home, isn't it?" said Angalo.
Masklin pushed through a thick stand of leaves.
"Warmer too," said Gurder. "They've got the
"Do you really?"
"Well, more hope than expect, to tell the truth." "I expect your Grimma's got everyone organised," said Angalo, trying to grin.
"She's not my Grimma," snapped Masklin.
"Isn't she? Whose is she, then?"
"She's..." Masklin hesitated. "Hers, I suppose," he said lamely.
"Oh. I thought the two of you were set to -" Angalo began.
"We're not. I told her we were going to get married, and all she could talk about was frogs," said Masklin.
"That's females for you," said Gurder. "Didn't I say that letting them learn to read was a bad idea? It overheats their brains."
"She said the most important thing in the world was little frogs living in a flower," Masklin went on, trying to listen to the voice of his own memory. He hadn't been listening very hard at the time. He'd been too angry.
"Sounds like you could boil a kettle on her head," said Angalo.
"It was something she'd read in a book, she said."
"My point exactly," said Gurder. "You know I never really agreed with letting everyone learn to read. It unsettles people."
Masklin looked gloomily at the rain. "Come to think of it," he said, "It wasn't frogs exactly. It was the idea of frogs. She said there are these hills where it's hot and rains all the time, and in the rain forests there are these very tall trees and right in the top branches of the trees there are these like great big flowers called... bromeliads, I think, and water gets into the flowers and makes little pools and there's a type of frog that lays eggs in the pools and tadpoles hatch and grow into new frogs and these little frogs live their whole lives in the flowers right at the top of the trees and don't even know about the ground, and once you know the world is full of things like that, your life is never the same." He took a deep breath.
"Something like that, anyway," he said.
Gurder looked at Angalo.
"Didn't understand any of it," he said.
"It's a metaphor," said the Thing. No one paid it any attention.
Masklin scratched his ear. "It seemed to mean a lot to her," he said.
"It's a metaphor," said the Thing.
"Women always want something," said Angalo. "My wife is always on about dresses."
"I'm sure he would have helped," said Gurder. "If we'd talked to him. He'd probably have given us a proper meal and, and -" "Given us a home in a shoebox," said Masklin.
"And given us a home in a shoebox," said Gurder automatically. "No! I mean, maybe. I mean, why not? A decent hour's sleep for a change. And then we -"
"We'd be carried around in his pocket," said Masklin.
"Not necessarily. Not necessarily."
"We would. Because he's big and we're small."
"Launch in three hours and fifty-seven minutes," said the Thing.
Their temporary camp overlooked a ditch. There didn't seem to be any winter in Florida, and the banks were thick with greenery.
Something like a flat plate with a spoon on the front sculled slowly past. The spoon stuck out of the water for a moment, looked at the nomes vaguely, and then dropped down again.
"What was that thing, Thing?" said Masklin.
The Thing extended one of its sensors.
"A long-necked turtle."
"Oh." The turtle swam peacefully away.
"Lucky, really," said Gurder.
"What?" said Angalo.
"Its having a long neck like that and being called a Long-Necked Turtle. It'd be really awkward having a name like that if it had a short neck."
"Launch in three hours and fifty-six minutes.'"
Masklin stood up.
"You know," said Angalo, "I really wish I could have read more of The Spy with No Trousers. It was getting exciting." "Come on," he said. "Let's see if we can find a way."
Angalo, who had been sitting with his chin in his hands, gave him an odd look. "What now?"
"We've come too far just to stop, haven't we?" They pushed their way through the weeds. After a while a fallen log helped them across the ditch.
"Much greener here than at home, isn't it?" said Angalo.
Masklin pushed through a thick stand of leaves.
"Warmer too," said Gurder. "They've got the
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