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over the bows at the approaching boat.
    In another minute the beach became visible; Daniel lowered the sail. The boat coasted slowly in and gravel grated under the keel; Banar splashed into the water and then the others after him, tugging to draw the boat higher. Seeing them, several people were coming out from among the houses, running to help, calling out in wonder at the size of the new boat.
    “I’m going to sleep,” Daniel said, standing back at last and staring at the beached boat He yawned enormously. “For… three or four days.”
     
    It was actually less than a day that Daniel slept, then the work began. There would have to be much more done to that boat before it was ready for sea, than Gannat or the others had to do to theirs.
    One by one the others sailed out into the open sea; tiny boats, jammed with people who laughed and waved as they went. But some of the older folk wept, too, quietly.
    Others said that they would stay; usually the oldest of the people, though a few younger ones would also remain. There would be plenty of food still; and there was always warmth in the burning earth and the hot springs. Most of them felt that the ice would not swallow the ancient city in their own lifetime, and that they could not leave the only home they knew.
    Meanwhile, Daniel continued to work, aided by a slightly puzzled Banar and Galta; and a young woman named Lali, who had attached herself to Galta, to his pleased surprise. Banar had shrugged resignedly, and wondered aloud about whether there might be at least one good woman in one of those mysterious lands across the sea.
    Some of Daniel’s ideas were understandable enough to the others; a fixed rudder, weights along the keel, a better rigging of the sail. He built a tight water container on each side, too, so that there would be enough fresh water for a long trip. There was no way to tell how long it might be, Daniel knew.
    But one other activity puzzled the others immensely, though they politely pretended not to notice what seemed to be Daniel’s lunacy. For several days, while the others continued to gather stores and complete the rigging, Daniel went up into the valley beyond the city. Usually Ammi went with him; watching and helping, she contained her growing curiosity for three of the trips, then finally gave in.
    “First it was the yellow stuff that smelled badly,” she said. “Then the white salt that is not salt, which smelled worse. Now the burned wood, which is no use to anyone. Daniel, what is this we are doing?”
    They were in a courtyard, in the empty part of the city; skin bags of the substances Daniel had gathered lay piled up while he carefully weighed some of the stuff with a crude balance he had rigged up. He grinned at Ammi, continuing to pour yellow sulphur into the pan.
    “It is called sulphur,” he told her. “The other stuff is called nitrate.” He sniffed at a pinch of it. “At least, I hope it’s nitrate,” he amended. “And charcoal…”
    As he spoke he was carefully packing clay into the mouth of a small jar; out of the clay, the tubular spine of a seagull’s feather protruded. He balanced the thing in his hand, looking at it.
    “Don’t be disappointed if this doesn’t work, Ammi,” Daniel said. “It’s something I remembered, a mixture that was once used in my world… for a number of things, till we found easier ways.” He grinned wryly at her. “The better ways would take tools I don’t have, and knowledge I don’t have, too. I’m not even sure I’ve got the proportions right, here. But it’s worth trying.”
    He put the jar down and went to the little fire that burned against one wall of the courtyard. Thrusting in a stick, he brought it back and touched the fire to the protruding quill. Ammi had come closer to see what he did; he grasped her roughly and pushed her back, away.
    “What…” Ammi cried out, and then the jar exploded.
    Their ears rang with the blast; thick, foul smoke filled the courtyard,