Quester's Endgame by Jo Clayton

Author:Jo Clayton [Clayton, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science fiction; American, Science Fiction, General, Fiction
ISBN: 9780886771386
Publisher: DAW Books, Inc.
Published: 1986-06-30T23:00:00+00:00

turning into a stranger she didn’t quite like.

The meld made the love signs, the waiting and faithful signs, then the farewell signs; Betaki held up the hatchling and moved the little naish’s hand in a fluid farewell sign, the baby cooing and making small sucking sounds. Amaiki gave the signs back, her eyes blurring, her control deserting her again. She brushed at her eyes, blinked to clear them, unwilling to miss a second of seeing them. Understanding this, Muri broke the connection and all that was left was darkness.

Amaiki moved quickly out of the kiosk and went to stand by the wall. She watched her family move out of the other side and climb into the flier, stood leaning on the top stones while the flier lifted vertically and turned toward Shiosa. It hovered a moment. She waved. It dipped a stubby wing at her, a quick precarious move that could have been a disaster with anyone but Keran at the console.

She stood watching until she could see the black speck no longer, then trudged wearily to her dwelling to eat a light meal and gather her courage before she tried to reach Hyaroll.

Vrithian

on the oblique file [3]

Willow sang: “This and this and this and this and this and this,” scraping carefully at a shaft a little greater around than her biggest finger, smoothing it, gradually tapering a portion at one end to the girth of the tapestry needle set in that end.

Days ago, after she left Bodri brooding over the properties of roots and how they could possibly get at a man who knew exactly what they were doing, she rambled about the whole of the domed enclave hunting out and collecting branches of the proper tight grain, girth, strength and straightness. She brought these back to the hillside where she had her camp, cut them into roughly equal lengths, then dried them on a frame over a smoky fire. When they were ready for working, she sent Sunchild foraging for her. In the lizard folk’s village he found a dozen tapestry needles, in Hyaroll’s long-unused workshop he found glue, hones and an assortment of cutting tools. He was limited in the weights he could manage, but he absorbed patience from Willow and found what he considered a perverse satisfaction in the task.

She took the hone and began sharpening the blunt needles; Sunchild squatted beside her, the squeaks and squeals of the hone affecting him as catnip did a cat.

When the needles were sharp enough to prick a thought, Willow chose twelve shafts from among the cured branches, reamed holes in one end of each, then glued the needles into them.

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