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but not so well off. Five months ago, they were killed, in the first Grond attack. My parents died in the second. Suddenly I had no place to live, along with many others -- Rat, Dog, Star and Wheat. In suffering, at least, the war made the Soli equal. So I found this place and made it into a shelter. After a time, it got to be called Carina, after the Keel."
    "The star group? Is that because you wanted to be a Ship?"
    Suvi shook her head, smiling. "Because it is a vessel that allows anyone to embark, as long as they are willing to work for their passage."
    "But..."
    The rising whine of an air horn interrupted Calaan's question. Suvi stood quickly but spoke without panic. "A three-blast warning. They must have slipped in over the mountains. Come on, we had better get to the shelter."
    Calaan's eyes were wild. "The Grond can't bomb here! I only just moved in. Where else can I go?"
    She shook his arm, but he remained rooted to the floor in terror. "Calaan, move! We don't have much time." Six more short barks of the horn meant the attack was imminent. The roar of planes filled the space, making the walls vibrate. Suvi grabbed the boy and pulled him into the kneehole of the desk, just as a deafening blast shattered the remaining panes of glass in the office window.
Chapter Three

    Tessa

When a snarling bear speaks, no man listens long enough to know if its words are true.
    Powwaw Speak: Shamanic Wisdom of the Irrakish
, Theodore Black, PhD
    * * * *

    Tessa skipped along the sandy path that wound between the houses in Little Sardinia. The sun glinted off the aluminum pan she carried, and a warm cloud of cinnamon and apple scent spiced the air. A guilty desire nagged at her, to abandon this visit to her new neighbor and keep the pie for herself. After all, she had yet to see any evidence of his existence.
    Except for the chimney smoke. A thin, grey flag that said someone was home, someone who might like to meet their landlady and eat some apple pie.
    The shack stood on the edge of the settlement -- even more dilapidated than the Brigg's place next door, which had been home to many spring break parties over the years. The bottom featured a serviceable boat shed, which held a less-serviceable dory. No one had used it in years, to Tessa's knowledge. The attic had been converted into a tiny living space, very nautical, with cupboards galore. Tessa often rented it to writers looking for a place to finish their latest work in peace. But this tenant had arrived three weeks ago, when she was at the dig in Anenoa. Joe Romine, who had been a friend of her father's, took the deposit and gave the man a set of old-fashioned brass keys.
    Joe's drawl came back to her. "Tall fella. Blond. Looks like one of them Hollywood actors." His description had certainly piqued her interest. The name on the lease was Jakob Faircrow.
    "Well, Jakob with the odd last name," Tessa said out loud as she crunched across the last patch of shingle. "Will you be home, or will I get to eat this pie all by myself?"
    She noted with some surprise that someone had left the downstairs shed door open. That same someone had dragged forth the dory and left it upturned on the shingle. Assorted tools lay close by, and a bucket of white paint. Apparently, Jakob intended to make the old boat seaworthy again. Tessa felt glad, now, that she had brought the pie. Such industriousness certainly deserved a reward. She climbed the rickety outside staircase to the second floor, wondering if he would be willing to do a little maintenance to the house when he had finished with the boat. Tessa had neither the time nor the money to do much of anything herself.
    Balancing the pie on one hand, she knocked with the other. The door opened a crack.
    "Yes?"
    It was only her first startling look at her new tenant's eyes that prevented Tessa from recognizing the voice right way. The eyes were wide-set, fringed with dark lashes, and very, very blue. The bluest eyes she had ever seen -- as blue as those