The Integral Trees

The suds left her skin feeling strange, tingly. Minya had little trouble stepping into the poncho despite its being sealed between the legs; but it did seem uncomfortably loose. Was it made for the elongated jungle people? It bothered her more that she wore tuftberry-red. Copsik-red here, citizen-red at home. She had worn purple too long.

Their escorts abandoned them at the serving table. Four cooks — more of the elongated women — ladeled a stew of earthlife vegetables and turkey meat into bowls whose rims curved inward. Minya and Ji

Another copsik settled beside them: two and a half meters tall, middle-aged, walking easily in London Tree's tide. Sile spoke to Ji

"You look like you know how to walk. You from a tree?" Ji

The stranger said, "Heln. No last name, now."

"How long have you been here?"

"Ten years, or something like. I used to be Carther. I keep expecting well."

"Rescue?"

Heln shrugged. "I keep thinking they'll try something. Of course they couldn't, then. Anyway, I've got kids now."

"Married?"

Heln looked at her. "They didn't tell you. Okay, they didn't tell me either. The citizens own us. Any man who wants you owns you."

"I…thought it was something like that." She moved her eyes only, toward the shadows at the outskirts. And they'd watched her naked—"What are they doing, making their selections?"

"That's right." Hem looked up. "Eat faster if you want to finish." Two shadowy men were coming toward them, drifting at leisure along the interlocked branchlets that formed the ground.

Minya watched them while she continued eating. They paused several meters away, waiting. Their ponchos fit more closely than hers and were a riot of colors. They watched the women and talked. Minya heard " — one with the bruises broke Karal's—"

Hein ignored them. Minya tried to do the same. When her bowl was empty, she asked, "What do we do with these?"

"Leave them," HeIn said. "If no man takes you, take it back to the cooks. But I think you'll have company. You look like citizens, the men like that." She grimaced. "They call us 'jungle giants.'"

Too many changes. Three sleeptiines ago, no man in her local universe would have dared to touch her. What would they do to her if she resisted? What would Gavving think of her? Even if they could escape later… If she strolled toward the treemouth now, Minya thought, would anyone stop her? She'd be "feeding the tree." A short sprint past the treemouth would put her into the sky before anyone could react. She'd been lost in the sky and survived…

But how could she alert Gavving to jump too? He might not have the chance. He might think it was a mad idea.

It was mad. Minya dropped it. And the men strolled over to join them.

The Grad's first meal at the Citadel was simple but strange. He was given a gourd with a fair-sized slot cut in it, and a squeezegourd for liquids, and a two-pronged wooden fork. Thick stew, shipped from the out tuft, had cooled by the time it reached the Citadel. He could recognize two or three of the ingredients. He wanted to ask what he was eating, but it was Klance who asked the questions.

One of the first was, "Were you taught medicine?"

"Certainly." The word was out of his mouth before his mind quite caught up.

Lawri looked dubious. Kiance the Scientist laughed. "You're too young to be so sure. Have you worked with children? Injured hunters? Sick women? Women carrying guests?"

"Not with children. Women with guests, yes. Injured hunters, yes.

I've treated malnutrition sicknesses. Always with the Scientist supervising." His racing mind told him what to tell Klance. In fact he had worked with children; he had inspected a pregnant woman, once; he had set the bone in Clave's leg. The old copsik ru

Klance was saying, "We don't get malnutrition here, thank the Checker. How did you come to be found in a jungle?"

"Inadvertently." Eating strange food with strange implements in free-fall took concentration. Not letting it make him sick took a distraction; the Grad was glad for the chance to talk. He ate what he was given and told the tale of Qui

The Scientist interrupted with questions about Qui

The meal ended with a bitter black brew which the Grad refused, and he continued to talk. He was hoarse when he finished.

Klance the Scientist puffed at his pipe-shorter than the one the Qui

"I don't know the word, Klance."

"The red fringe made you feel strange but nice. Maybe that was the reason they were protecting it?"

"I don't think so. There were too many of those fan fungi. This one was big and nicely formed and had a special name."

"The Checker's Hand. Jeffer, have you ever heard that word Checker before?"

"My grandmother used to say, 'Treefeeder must think he's the Checker himself,' when she was mad at the Chairman. I never heard anyone else—"

The Scientist reached for the Grad's reader and one of his own cassettes. "I think I remember…

CHECKER. Officer entrusted with seeing to it that one or a group of citizens remains loyal to the State. The Checker's responsibility includes the actions, attitudes, and well-being of his charges. The Checker aboard Discipline was the recording of Sharls Davis Kendy in the ship's master computer.

"This is strictly starman stuff. Hmm. The State…it took me four days to read the insert on the State. Have you seen it?"

"Yes. Strange people. I did get the feeling that they lived longer than we do."

Kiance snorted. "Your Scientist never tumbled to that? They had shorter years. They used one whole circle of their sun for their year. We only use half a circle, but it's still about seven-fifths of a State year. The truth is, we live a little longer than they do, and grow up more slowly too."

To hear his teacher so slighted set the Grad's ears burning. He barely heard Klance add, "All right, Jeffer, from now on you must think of me as your Checker."

"Yes, Scientist."

"Call me Klance. How do you feel?"

The Grad answered with careful half-truth. "I'm clean, fed, rested, and safe. I'd feel even better if I knew the rest of Qui

"They'll get showers and food and drink and clothing. Their children may become citizens. The same goes for you, Jeffer, whether or not I keep you here; but I think you'd be bored in the tuft."

"So do I, Klance."

"Fine. For the time being I have two apprentices."

Lawri exploded. "It's unheard of for a freshly claimed copsik to be at the Citadel at all! Won't the Navy—"

"The Navy can feed the tree. The Citadel is mine."