SHOTWELL PULLED UP his chair. “You didn’t answer me. What is a Cytha like?”
“I wouldn’t know,” said Duncan.
“Don’t know? But you’re going after it, looks like, and how can you hunt it if you don’t know—”
“Track it. The thing tied to the other end of the trail is sure to be the Cytha. Well find out what it’s like once we catch up to it.”
“We?”
“The natives will send up someone to do the tracking for me. Some of them are better than a dog.”
“Look, Gavin. I’ve put you to a lot of trouble and you’ve been decent with me. If I can be any help, I would like to go.”
“Two make better time than three. And we have to catch this Cytha fast or it might settle down to an endurance contest.”
“All right, then. Tell me about the Cytha.”
Duncan poured porridge gruel into his bowl, handed the pan to
