“Ribs,” she continued. “I wasn’t sure if you’d broke all of them or just most, so I didn’t take any chances. The whole mess can heal together.
“I had the devil’s own time trying to get you here, young man. You’re quite the biggest thing in the human line I’ve ever encountered. For a while I didn’t think I was going to get you on the wagon.” She shook her head. “Pity that when we domesticated the horse we didn’t work on giving him hands.”
She paused as though expecting a reply. When Caitland remained silent she continued as though nothing had happened.
“Well, no need to strain your brain now. My name is Naley, Katherine Naley. You can call me Katie, or Grandma.*’ She grinned wryly. “Call me Grandma and I’ll put rocks in your stew.” She moved to a small metal cabinet with a ceramic top on which a large closed pot sat perspiring.
“Should be ready soon.”
Her attention diverted to the stove, Caitland let his gaze rove, taking stock of his surroundings. He was on a bed much too small for him, hi a small house. Instead of the expected colonial spray-plastic construction, the place looked to be made of hewn stone and wood. Some observers would probably find it charming and rustic, but to Caitland it only smacked of primi-tiveness and lack of money.
She called back to him. “I’ll answer at least one of your questions for you. You’ve been out for two days on that bed.”
“How did I get here? Where’s my fan? Where is this place?” She looked gratified.
“So you can talk. You got here in the wagon. Freia pulled you. Your ship is several kilometers down the canyon, and you’re in a valley in the Silver Spars. The second person ever to set foot in it, matter of fact.”