“Most marvelous, I think!” Carrying a world on its back, the sevasalu was quickly swallowed up by the dense vegetation and the intensifying rain. “What happens if it falls, or trips and turns over?”
“The sevasalu is very surefooted,” the Sakuntala assured him.
Hasa commented without turning as he pushed relentlessly forward, “Same thing that happens if a planet turns over. Everything living on it dies.”
Bending one flexible ear across his head, Jemunu-jah used the pointed tip to scratch the back of the other one. “A sevasalu that loses its world will go down into water to fill it back up again. Not with water. Rain does that. But with population of small things. Then it must find right kind of fungi in trees. Rub against bulbs, get spores to grow in water on back. Start new little world.”
“Speaking of going down into the water . . .” Hasa’s voice trailed off.
One hand firmly gripping a liana for support, the human had stopped and was staring at something. Droplets coursed off the top of his rain cape and ran down its transparent back. Catching up to him, Jemunu-jah and Masurathoo soon saw what had brought the seemingly indefatigable Hasa to a halt.
The Viisiiviisii was a labyrinth of merging rivers. They had finally come to one too wide for branches and vines to span.
“What now, sirs?” Masurathoo eyed the turgid, slow-moving waterway uneasily. “It is time for everyone to put their engineering skills to the test and construct a temporary craft to use in crossing, yes?”
“No.” Hasa eyed the Deyzara querulously. “You people are good swimmers. So are the Sakis.” He indicated the river. “Current here is practically nonexistent. With a village maybe another couple of days’ trek from here, I’ll be damned if I’m gonna sit around and try to bang out a boat.”