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“If you’re going to learn how to catch a flaming torch,” she said, and firmly, “you’ve got to start practicing.”

They walked to the edge of the sea cliff and stood for a while, looking down at the waves rising higher and higher on the graveled beach. Far off at the horizon the sea made a line like a stretched wire, perfectly flat and landless. Sail far enough to the south, or so Marka had always been told, and you’d come to an enormous waterfall, pouring down into the fiery underworld where the sea boiled off. The water rose again as clouds of steam to make the rain and start the cycle all over again.

“You don’t really want to give me a lesson now, do you?” Marka said at last.

“Well, yes, actually I do.” Keeta grinned, a flash of white teeth in her dark face. “But I also happen to be sick of hearing you fight with your mother.”

“That woman is not my mother, thank you very much.”

Keeta sighed sharply.

“Well, how much older than me is she, anyway? Four years, five? How do you expect me to—”

“I don’t expect you to do anything.” Keeta held one huge hand up for silence. “Except to try not to make things worse. Listen, I know she lords it over you. She lords it over everyone, doesn’t she? But we’re in a very bad position, stuck here at the edge of nowhere. Your father won’t even talk about money. I’m willing to bet that there’s not a lot left to talk about.”

All at once Marka felt sick to her stomach. She sat down in the scruffy grass and stared fixedly out to sea. After a few minutes Keeta hunkered down next to her with a dramatic sigh.

“You’re old enough to know these things now. If the audience gives you special tips, keep them hidden, will you? Don’t turn them over to your father. I’m doing the same. We might all need a few extra coins if we’re ever going to see Main Island again.”

“All right.”

“I wonder what’s he doing with it?” Keeta got up and stretched. “Spending it all on her?”

“Probably.” Marka felt the ice-knowledge again, slicing down her spine. You should tell her, she thought, you should tell her the truth right now. Saying the words aloud would mean admitting the truth to herself, as well.

After a long moment Keeta sighed and shook her head.

“Well, let’s practice. Some sticks of driftwood are what we want, something unbalanced like the torches.”

As Marka followed her down to the beach, she was feeling like the worst coward in the world. But I’ve got to be sure. I can’t tell anyone till I’m sure. That, at least, was her excuse.

A good session’s practice with a friend turned Marka as sunny as the day, but when they got back to the campground, she found her father awake, or just barely awake. He came stumbling out of the tent, yawning hugely, rubbing his sticky eyes, and glancing round him with a stupid sort of smile that made him look like a stunned ox. Hamil was as tall as Keeta, and much stockier, a handsome man with his wide black eyes and full mouth, his close-cropped curly hair just touched at the temples with distinguished gray. But just lately he’d been looking old, his eyes often distant or glazed, his speech slow, and he’d been putting on a flabby kind of fat round the middle.

“Marka?” Hamil said. “Did you work over the market?”

“Yes, just about an hour ago. There were only two acts to worry about. One has apes and monkeys, and there’s nothing we can do about that. And then there’s this juggler, but he’s just a single player. I’ve never seen anybody throw scarves the way he does. He’s really fantastic.”

“Oh, really?” Orima said with a simper. “Maybe we should prentice you out to him.”

Marka opened her mouth for a smart reply, but she noticed Keeta, standing behind her father and stepmother and shaking her head grimly.

“He could teach us all something,” Marka said instead. “The best thing is, he’s a barbarian. A real northern barbarian.”

“A draw in itself.” With one last yawn Hamil ambled over to the fire circle and sat down on a low stool near his wife. “Huh. Wonder if he wants to join up with a bigger