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stiff climb up. Merral stared around. Suspended overhead was a cool, eggshell blue sky painted with the most delicate pearl brushstrokes of high cloud. To think that they were just water vapor—had the Most High ever made anything so beautiful from so little? There were one or two of the faint corkscrew twists of cloud that revealed local instability in the upper atmosphere layers, but nothing that portended trouble on his ride tomorrow.
    Merral lowered his gaze. The farms, fields, and orchards of Herrandown were almost surrounded by protecting woodlands, beyond which lay rough scrub, grassland, and bare rock. To the west of the settlement the bounding fir and alder woods ran into the tree-lined margins of the Lannar River, whose path he could trace northward toward the ranges. Looking northward, from where a cold wind blew that made the eyes water, the ground became increasingly covered with ice and snow. And there, marching along the farthest skyline, were the jagged teeth of the southern Lannar Rim Ranges, gleaming a dazzling white in the sunlight. The notion struck him that this cluster of houses was a vulnerable community. What a strange idea, he thought. Vulnerable to what? “So, it’s suitable rock and there’s enough?”
    Barrand hesitated and said, “But the ridge will be gone.”
    â€œMy idea is this. I think we should work on a plan where the excavation is all on the south side of the ridge, leaving a narrow ridge to the north about this height, but we’ll also give permission to excavate below ground level to make one or two long deep lakes.”
    Zennia smiled.
    Barrand, his face wrapped in deliberation, spoke slowly, his voice warming as he did. “Ho! Yes, I should have thought of it. They’d be spectacular with vertical rock walls behind them. And they’d warm the water because of the solar radiation.”
    As they walked down the hill, Merral pushed those thoughts away. Zennia turned to him with a smile. “Barrand has been telling me of your recommendations. You have a gifting of vision and leadership, Merral. You would prefer to disown it, but I think you will use it in the end. If not on Farholme, then elsewhere.”
    â€œElsewhere? I was born here, as you were and all my grandparents were. No one in our family has been off Farholme since, oh, Great-Uncle Bertran traveled forty years ago.”
    â€œDo you want to go elsewhere?”
    It is an interesting question, Merral thought, and one that I have struggled with myself. “I have little thought of leaving, Aunt. I love this place and being here. Farholme may be Worlds’ End, but this is my home.” He paused. “I believe that my place is here. For the moment at least.”
    Zennia carefully negotiated a sheet of glittering ice and then turned again to him.
    â€œAnd tell me, you are happy with the forester’s life?”
    Merral measured his words. “I am, Aunt. I am happy. There is the challenge of seeing Menaya change and unfold as we work on her and with her.”
    She smiled, encouraging him on.
    â€œI love it,” he said. “It’s the combination of art and science. I look at the ground, the lava ridges, the sand sheets, and say to myself, what can I do with it? What will best bring out the uniqueness of the land? Here a beech wood, there a pine forest.”
    â€œI see the attraction; it is like painting.”
    â€œIndeed, it is art at the grandest scale.” Merral smiled. “One of the great purposes of the Assembly—to take brown-and-gray, dead worlds and turn them into blue-and-green ones alive with life. Thus, we fulfill the mandate to humanity to garden what the Lord has entrusted us with.”
    Barrand waved an arm in agreement. “Oh, absolutely. But let me ask you a question. Have you really no ambitions beyond all this?”
    A hard question. My ambition is not something I normally think of. “Uncle,” he answered after a