“We’re sure,” Eupril cut in. “Who’d know better than a concentration specialist? Matter of fact, we’ve been worrying about something of the sort ever since they warned us they were going to tap water from beyond the ridge and discharge it here, because there’s a current that follows the coast and washes right down to our place. Still, they claimed it was only going to be for a year or two, and a bit of extra fresh water might conceivably have been an advantage, because we use a lot of cutinates and even with our best salt-precipitators they tend to wear out pretty quickly. So we didn’t raise as much objection as we should have, what with the delay involved in sending a delegation to Chisp and the rigid attitude of the Jingfired. Everybody knows they think they’re incapable of making a mistake, hm? Bunch of arrogant knowalls, that lot!”
She shrugged with her entire mantle. “Anyway, nothing much happened last year, so we more or less stopped worrying. This season, though, our concentration-cultures have started to die off, and our cutinates are developing blisters like we never saw before, and just the other day we finally traced the problem. Of course we thought it was disease at first. It’s not. It’s definitely a poison that’s coming to us in solution, in the water, and even diluted as it is when it reaches the quarry it’s deadly dangerous. We don’t have anything that can resist it. Our toughest precipitators turn black and rot within a month.”
Stunned, Awb said, “Mayor, I think this is something Lesh ought to hear personally. I mean, I couldn’t possibly repeat such an important message and be sure of getting all the details right.”
“That’s not the message,” said Axwep with gentle irony. “The message I meant was simply a request to get here as quickly as she can. I’m sure you can manage to relay that much!”
“Probably not,” said a harsh voice, and Phrallet appeared, swarming along the nearest slanting branchway. “Even if he is of my own budding, I wouldn’t trust him to find his way from one side of Voosla to the other!”
Furious, Awb reared back, holding up the pack of image-sheets like a shield. “Thilling trusts me!” he blurted. “She sent me to bring a fresh batch of these for her!”
“Instead of which you’re standing about gossiping?”
“But—!”
It was no good. All his life he had found it impossible to get his budder to take him seriously. Clamping his mandibles tight shut, he muttered an apology to Axwep, who seemed mildly amused—a reaction calculated to irritate Phrallet still further—and hastened in the direction of Thilling’s bower.
IV
The first thing Axwep asked Lesh when the latter returned to Voosla— annoyed at the interruption even though Awb had done his utmost to explain its reason—was whether water was still being drawn from beyond the ridge; if so, the city should be moved.
“All our cutinates got crushed by the rockfall,” was her curt reply. “They’re not pumping anything right now, and in fact I’m not sure they’ll survive. Now what’s all this about, Eupril?”
The concentration expert sighed. “Oh, I know you suspect our people of wanting to drive you away because we have designs on this site for our own purposes, but that’s untrue and unfair! I came with proof of the danger you’re in. Carry on like you’re doing, and those toughtrees you’re planting on the peak will turn as rotten as everything else. Then what will become of your telescopes?”
“Proof? Let’s see it!” Lesh snapped.
“I’d rather present the evidence in proper order. You’re supposed to have a ripe bunch of experts here now, or so Axwep tells me. Maybe some of them will be a bit less—ah—emotionally committed. Let them be the judges.”
For a second it seemed that Lesh was going to yield to rage; then, resignedly, she slumped to four-fifths height.
“Very well, I’ll send for Drotninch and the rest. But where are we going to get the water we need if we can’t take it from across the ridge?” With sudden optimism: “Maybe from the sea! You can let us have some of your salt-precipitators!”