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ses the driving force was a near monopoly on knowledge。
That was the obvious irony。 But Sara knew another…her unusual theory about language and the Six…so heretical； it made Lark's views seem downright orthodox。
Maybe it is past time I came back to Biblos； to report on my work。。。 and to confront everything I'm afraid of…
The Stranger seemed happy； engrossed with his fellow engineers and closely observed by Ariana Foo from her wheelchair。 So Sara left the noisy engine area； moving toward the ship's bow； where a thick mist was cleaved by the Gopher's headlong rush。 Tattered breaks in the fog showed dawn brightening the Rimmer peaks； south and east； where the fate of the Six would be decided。
Won't Lark and Dwer be surprised to see me！
Oh； they'll probably yell that I should have stayed safe at home。 I'll answer that I have a job to do； just as important as theirs； and they shouldn't be such gender…menders。 And we'll all try hard not to show how happy we are to see each other。
But first； Sage Foo wanted this side trip to check her notion about the Stranger； despite Sara's instinct to protect the wounded man from further meddling。
Those instincts have caused me enough trouble。 Is it not time to temper them with reason？
One ancient text called it 〃nurturing mania；〃 and it might have seemed cute when she was a child； nursing hurt creatures of the forest。 Perhaps it would have posed no problem； if she followed the normal life path of Jijoan women； with children and a fatigued farmer…husband tugging at her； demanding attention。 What need； then； to sublimate maternal instincts？ What time for other interests； without all the labor…saving tools tantalizingly described in Terran lore？ Plain as she was； Sara felt certain she would have been successful at such a modest life and made some simple； honest man happy。
If a simple life was what I wanted。
Sara tried to shrug the wave of introspection。 The cause of her funk was obvious。
Biblos。 Center of human hopes and fears； focus of power； pride； and shame； the place where she once found love…or its illusion…and lost it。 Where the prospect of a 〃second chance〃 drove her off in panicked flight。 Nowhere else had she felt such swings of elation and claustrophobia； hope and fear。
Will it still be standing when we round the final bend？
If the roof…of…stone had already fallen…
Her mind shied away from the unendurable。 Instead； she drew from her shoulder bag the draft manuscript of her second paper on Jijoan language。 It was past time to consider what to say to Sage Bonner and the others； if they confronted her。
What have I been doing？ Demonstrating on paper that chaos can be a form of progress。 That noise can be informing。
I might as well tell them I can prove that black is white； and up is down！
Evidence suggests that long ago； when terran tribes were nomadic or pre…agricultural； most language groups were more rigidly structured than later on。 For example； Earth scholars tried rebuilding proto…Indo…European； working backward from Latin； Sanskrit； Greek； and German； deriving a mother tongue strictly organized with many cases and declensions。 A rule…based structure that would do any Galactic grammar proud。
In the margin； Sara noted a recent find from her readings； that one native North American tongue； Cherokee； contained up to seventy pronouns…ways to say 〃I〃 and 〃you〃 and 〃we〃…depending on context and personal relationship…a trait shared with GalSix。
To some； this implies humans must have once had patrons； who uplifted Earthling man…apes。 Teachers who altered our bodies and brains and also taught a stern logic； through languages tailored to our needs。
Then we lost our guides。 Through our own fault？ Abandonment？ No one knows。
After that； the theory goes； all Earthly languages devolved； spiraling back toward the apelike grunts protohumans used before uplift。 At the time our ancestors left Earth for Jijo； Galactic advisers were counseling that Anglic and other 〃wolfling〃 tongues be dropped in favor of codes designed for thinking beings。
Their argument can be illustrated by playing the game of Telephone。
Take a dozen players； seated in a circle。 Whisper a plex sentence to one； who then whispers the same message to the next； and so on。 Question： how soon is the original meaning lost amid confusion and slips of the tongue？ Answer： in Anglic； noise can set in from the very start。 After just a few relays； a sentence can bee hilariously twisted。
The experiment yields different results in Rossic and Nihanic； human grammars that still require verb； noun； and adjective endings specific to gender； ownership； and other factors。 If a mistake creeps into a Rossic Telephone message； the altered word often stands out； glaringly。 Acute listeners can often correct it automatically。
In pure Galactic languages； one might play Telephone all day without a single error。 No wonder the game was unknown in the Five Galaxies； until humans arrived。
Sara had quickly recognized a version of Shannon coding； named after an Earthling pioneer of information theory who showed how specially coded messages can be restored； even from a jumble of static。 It proved crucial to digital speech and data transmission； in pre…Contact human society。
Indo…European was logical； error…resistant； like Galactic tongues that suit puters far better than chaotic Anglic。
To many； this implied Earthlings must have had patrons in the misty past。 But watching the Stranger mune happily with other engineers； in a makeshift language of grunts and hand gestures； reminded Sara
It wasn't Indo…European speakers who invented puters。 Nor users of any prim Galactic language。 The star…gods received their mighty powers by inheritance。
In all the recent history of the Five Galaxies； just one folk independently invented puters…and nearly everything else needed for starfaring life…from scratch。
Those people spoke Rossic； Nihanic； French； and especially the forerunner of Anglic； wild； undisciplined English。
Did they do it despite their chaotic language？
Or because of it？
The masters of her guild thought she chased phantoms…that she was using this diversion to evade other obligations。
But Sara had a hunch。 Past and present held clues to the destiny awaiting the Six。
That is； if destiny had not already been decided。
Dawn spilled quickly downslope from the Rimmers。 It was in clear violation of emergency orders for the gopher to continue； but nobody dared say it to the captain； who had a crazed look in his eye。
Probably es from spending so much time around humans； Sara thought。 The steamers had as many men and women on the crew…to tend the machines…as hoon sailors。 Grawph…phu； the pilot and master； knew the river with sure instincts that arose out of his heritage。 He also had picked up more than a few Earthling mannerisms； like wearing a knit cap over his furry pate and puffing a pipe that fumed like the steamer's chimney。 Peering through the dawn haze； the captain's craggy features might have e from the flyleaf of some seafaring adventure tale； chosen off the shelves in the Biblos Library…like some piratical old…timer； exuding an air of confidence and close acquaintance with clanger。
Grawph…phu turned his head； noticed Sara looking at him； and closed one eye in a sly wink。
Oh； spare me； she sighed； half expecting the hoon to spit over the side and say…〃Arr； matie。 'Tis a fine day for sailin'。 Full speed ahead！〃
Instead； the gopher's master pulled the pipe from his mouth and pointed。
〃Biblos；〃 he mented； a low； hoonish growl accented by a salty twang。 〃Just beyond the curve after next。 Hr…rm。。。。 A day sooner 'n you expected to arrive。〃
Sara looked ahead once more。 I should be glad； she thought。 Time is short。
At first she could make out little but Eternal Swamp on the left bank； stretching impassably all the way to the Roney； an immensity of quicksand that forced the long detour past Tarek Town。 On the right began the vast Warril Plain； where several passengers had debarked earlier to arrange overland passage。 Taking a fast caravan were Bloor； the portraitist； and a petit