lot of the time the Thing was simply repeating the woman's own words back at her. Eventually Masklin couldn't stand it any more "What's happening. Thing?" he said. "Why's the woman doing all the talking?"
"She is the leader of this group," said the Thing.
"A woman? Are you serious?"
"I am always serious. It's built in."
"Oh." Angalo nudged Masklin. "If Grimma ever finds out, we're in real trouble," he said.
"Her name is Very-small-tree, or Shrub," the Thing went on.
"And you can understand her?" said Masklin.
"Gradually. Their language is very close to original nomish." "What do you mean, original nomish?"
"The language your ancestors spoke." Masklin shrugged. There was no point in trying to understand that now.
"Have you told her about us?" he said.
"Yes. She says -"
Topknot, who had been muttering to himself, stood up suddenly and spoke very sharply at great length, with a lot of pointing to the ground and to the sky.
The Thing flashed a few lights.
"He says you are trespassing on the land belonging to the Maker of Clouds. He says that is very bad. He said the Maker of Clouds will be very angry." There was a general murmur of agreement from many of the nomes.
Shrub spoke to them sharply. Masklin stuck out a hand to stop Gurder from getting up.
"What does, er, Shrub think?" he said.
"I don't think she is very sympathetic to the topknot person. His name is Person-who-knows-what-the-Maker-of-Clouds-is-thinking."
"And what is the Maker of Clouds?"
"It's bad luck to say its true name. It made the ground and it is still making the sky. It -"
Topknot spoke again. He sounded angry.
We need to be friends with these people, Masklin thought. There has to be a way.
"The Maker of Clouds is" - Masklin thought hard - "a sort of Arnold Bros. (est. 1905)?"
"Yes," said the Thing.
"A real thing?"
"I think so. Are you prepared to take a risk?"
"What?"
"I think I know the identity of the Maker of Clouds. I think I know when it will make some more sky."
"What? When?" said Masklin.
"In three hours and ten minutes."
Masklin hesitated. "Hold on a moment," he said, slowly, "that sounds like the same sort of time that -"
"Yes. All three of you, please get ready to run. I will now write the name of the Maker of Clouds."
"Why will we have to run?"
"They might get very angry. But we haven't time to waste." The Thing extended a sensor. It wasn't intended as a writing implement, and the shapes it drew were angular and hard to read.
It scrawled four shapes in the dust.
The effect was instantaneous.
Topknot started to shout again. Some of the Floridians leapt to their feet.
Masklin grabbed the other two travellers
"I'm really going to thump that old nome in a minute," said Gurder. "How can anyone be so narrow-minded?"
Shrub sat silent while the row went on around her. Then she spoke, very loud but very calmly.
"She is telling them," said the Thing, "that it is not wrong to write the name of the Maker of Clouds. It is often written by the Maker of Clouds itself.
'How famous the Maker of Clouds must be, that even these strangers know its name,' she says." That seemed to satisfy most of the nomes.
Topknot started to grumble to himself.
Masklin relaxed a bit, and looked down at the figures in the sand.
"N... A... 8... A?" he said.
"It's an S," said the Thing, "Not an 8."
"But you've only been talking to them for a little while!" said Angalo. "How can you know something like this?"
"Because I know how nomes think," said the Thing. "You always believe what you read, and you've all got very literal minds. Very literal minds indeed."
Chapter 6
Geese: A type of bird which is slower than the Concorde, and you don't get anything to eat. According to nomes who know them well, a goose is the most stupid bird there is, except for a duck. Geese spend a lot of time flying to other places. As a form of transport, the goose leaves a lot to be desired. If it weren't for the nomes telling them what to do, geese would just fly
"She is the leader of this group," said the Thing.
"A woman? Are you serious?"
"I am always serious. It's built in."
"Oh." Angalo nudged Masklin. "If Grimma ever finds out, we're in real trouble," he said.
"Her name is Very-small-tree, or Shrub," the Thing went on.
"And you can understand her?" said Masklin.
"Gradually. Their language is very close to original nomish." "What do you mean, original nomish?"
"The language your ancestors spoke." Masklin shrugged. There was no point in trying to understand that now.
"Have you told her about us?" he said.
"Yes. She says -"
Topknot, who had been muttering to himself, stood up suddenly and spoke very sharply at great length, with a lot of pointing to the ground and to the sky.
The Thing flashed a few lights.
"He says you are trespassing on the land belonging to the Maker of Clouds. He says that is very bad. He said the Maker of Clouds will be very angry." There was a general murmur of agreement from many of the nomes.
Shrub spoke to them sharply. Masklin stuck out a hand to stop Gurder from getting up.
"What does, er, Shrub think?" he said.
"I don't think she is very sympathetic to the topknot person. His name is Person-who-knows-what-the-Maker-of-Clouds-is-thinking."
"And what is the Maker of Clouds?"
"It's bad luck to say its true name. It made the ground and it is still making the sky. It -"
Topknot spoke again. He sounded angry.
We need to be friends with these people, Masklin thought. There has to be a way.
"The Maker of Clouds is" - Masklin thought hard - "a sort of Arnold Bros. (est. 1905)?"
"Yes," said the Thing.
"A real thing?"
"I think so. Are you prepared to take a risk?"
"What?"
"I think I know the identity of the Maker of Clouds. I think I know when it will make some more sky."
"What? When?" said Masklin.
"In three hours and ten minutes."
Masklin hesitated. "Hold on a moment," he said, slowly, "that sounds like the same sort of time that -"
"Yes. All three of you, please get ready to run. I will now write the name of the Maker of Clouds."
"Why will we have to run?"
"They might get very angry. But we haven't time to waste." The Thing extended a sensor. It wasn't intended as a writing implement, and the shapes it drew were angular and hard to read.
It scrawled four shapes in the dust.
The effect was instantaneous.
Topknot started to shout again. Some of the Floridians leapt to their feet.
Masklin grabbed the other two travellers
"I'm really going to thump that old nome in a minute," said Gurder. "How can anyone be so narrow-minded?"
Shrub sat silent while the row went on around her. Then she spoke, very loud but very calmly.
"She is telling them," said the Thing, "that it is not wrong to write the name of the Maker of Clouds. It is often written by the Maker of Clouds itself.
'How famous the Maker of Clouds must be, that even these strangers know its name,' she says." That seemed to satisfy most of the nomes.
Topknot started to grumble to himself.
Masklin relaxed a bit, and looked down at the figures in the sand.
"N... A... 8... A?" he said.
"It's an S," said the Thing, "Not an 8."
"But you've only been talking to them for a little while!" said Angalo. "How can you know something like this?"
"Because I know how nomes think," said the Thing. "You always believe what you read, and you've all got very literal minds. Very literal minds indeed."
Chapter 6
Geese: A type of bird which is slower than the Concorde, and you don't get anything to eat. According to nomes who know them well, a goose is the most stupid bird there is, except for a duck. Geese spend a lot of time flying to other places. As a form of transport, the goose leaves a lot to be desired. If it weren't for the nomes telling them what to do, geese would just fly
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