I had not thought of any such thing, and obviously the men had not either. Nonetheless, after a few moments of swearing and sweating, they were able to say that the two animals at the front were accustomed to being there and were on their accustomed sides. The animals did not feel affection or longing for the proper side; they merely felt less aversion.
“There are probably other refinements,” said Lutha, “but I think we’d better get away before it gets any lighter.”
The rimrock above us already glowed with gold. Even as we looked up, the first notes of the dawnsong came from above and behind the great stone pillars that hid us, notes falling like water, silken as falling water. Lutha put Leely into the wain; Leelson drove it. Trompe, Lutha, and I walked alongside. The animals pulled, though without enthusiasm, and we went away south as quietly as we could.
“How did you know that?” I asked Lutha. “About the lead gaufers.”
“I am a translator of documents,” she said. “I read. I read many things from many worlds. I translate documents about crops and water rights and weapons and marriage law and livestock. My head is full of a million irrelevant facts, one of which just happened to be useful.” She laughed, somewhat harshly. “Another thing I know, which is more troubling, is that these animals will have to be fed. Since we’re not carrying any food for them, presumably they’ll have to have time to graze before night, correct?”
She was right, of course. I had not thought of it. Even though this was my world, I had not thought of it. It was not a woman’s thing to worry about. Only men did the herding. Only men drove the gaufers. Why would I have wondered about it?
Still, I felt shamed that she had and I had not.
“It’s going to cut down on our travel time,” said Leelson, his lips compressed. “They’ll probably need to graze for several hours.”
“One of the middle pair would be less unhappy if it was back by the wagon,” muttered Trompe. “It’s clear enough, once you know to look.”
“Most things are,” said Lutha in a dry voice, with a sidelong glance at me. I knew what she was thinking, that I was not clear and that she did not know where to look. “What do they eat, Saluez? Grasses? Leaves? Can we cut fodder for them as we go?”
I didn’t know and was ashamed to say I didn’t know. We took knives and cut grasses and leaves along the way, for the trees along the trickling stream were coming into leaf, and when we stopped at noon for a brief meal and a drink from our canteens, we soon learned which things the gaufers would eat and which things they would not. By this time we had come along the canyon wall all the way to the place where the five canyons meet. Because of the way the canyon curved, we could not see Cochim-Mahn behind us, but then, the people there could not see us either. We could cross the open place and go to the right around the Gathered Waters and get all the way to the south-tending canyon before anyone could see us from Cochim-Mahn. Of course, if someone were on the trail across the canyon from the hive …
“I think that’s stretching good sense,” said Lutha, when I suggested this plan. “What I think we’ll do is camp for the night near the water to give us grazing time. Then we’ll get ourselves into that other canyon very early in the morning, when we won’t be seen.”
Though Leelson showed surprise at her decisiveness, he grunted approval as he went to help Trompe, who was shifting two of the gaufers to their preferred positions. One animal was still out of place, its preferred slot occupied by another with the same preference. Leelson pointed this out. Trompe said the out-of-place one was the lesser opinionated of the two. This made Lutha laugh, a sound I had not heard since she arrived. She had a lovely laugh, like water. I told her so, and she said she had noticed that Dinadhis think most lovely things are like water.