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Page 56.

In the ensuing two days, Alex tracked the river at a slow but steady pace.

He moved cautiously, judging every tree and every mound before moving on. It was time consuming and energy robbing, but he did not want to casually throw his life away. Nizin had won the first round with his bow and arrow, taking Maryan. He must not score that easily again.

Alex found signs of Nizin’s passage a few times. Once, it was a footprint on a sandbank hidden among reeds. Was it an invitation? A trap? Or just an accident? Hard to say.

Another time, Alex smelled fire and tracked down a tiny campfire buried in soil. Nizin had burned a handful of wood and cooked a bird before burying the remains of his fire and the bones from his meal under wet soil and leaves.

Inexorably, the trail led toward the great wall. By now, the city wall loomed above. It rose in a gray, pitted flat mass up into the clouds. The wall was probably the single largest structure other than the cylinder itself. The wall was a round stone or concrete disk, five miles in diameter, over fifteen miles in circumference, with a surface area of just under 20 square miles. Alex guessed it was probably the largest structure ever built by the ancient humans, other than the cylinder itself.

In places where it was raining, the clouds bled water into the streaked concrete. In some places, pure condensation soaked the concrete brownish blue overlaid with flourishing carpets of moss. Birds sailed gracefully with slow wing-beats in and out of high points in the wall with nesting materials or food for their young.

Alex remembered this about Nizin: he lurked around water. Even on Earth, he’d been a sea creature, coming and going in boats. That little bit of information might be just the edge that Alex needed.

Once or twice, Alex thought he glimpsed the running form of Nizin not far ahead.

Each time it was a blurred glimpse, but Alex recognized the scaly figure that moved with such powerful, robust grace. He looked lithe and muscular. The shimmering backs of his upper arms underscored the wiry, steely cords of his muscles. He would be a formidable opponent for a human to physically wrestle with. It would be like trying to grabble with a gorilla—there would be no hope for the human. The only way was to outsmart him somehow. But Nizin was mentally sharp also. His people lived in towns and had guns and ships, so they must be at an early industrial stage comparable to where humans had been a few centuries before the genetic disaster.

Alex came upon a grisly discovery. He heard the loud buzzing of a million insects first. Following a death stench, he found the body of one of the tiny people lying in grass. Its skull had been drained, and its face had a vacant expression. Its torso too was open, and some of the organs had been consumed. The rest was swarming with insects. Alex did not want to tarry here, for fear it was a trap. He studied the footprints all around, and any other signs, like broken twigs that might show which way Nizin had gone. On a gut instinct, Alex decided to follow the trail of bent twigs and torn leaves, and the occasional footprint, toward the nearest watering hole.

The body had been killed very recently. The blood was still red and soft, and the flesh, though stiffening, did not yet smell bad. The trail was fresh, and Alex was surprised at how careless Nizin could be in some ways. Was it to lure him on, or just plain arrogance? Hard to tell. No point taking chances. Alex moved along step by step with an arrow cocked on his bow, and a spare arrow in the bow hand.

Alex went a step at a time, looking left and right, up and down, always sniffing for Nizin’s scent.

He did not smell his prey, but he found a tuft of Nizin’s hair caught on a thorn not far from a small stream in a hollow under high tree crowns. The stream widened into a drinking place and was surrounded by the muddy holes of small mammals who came to drink here. The branches overhead had shredded bark from the talons of birds who must fly in and out constantly to perch there.

Alex prudently found himself a nesting spot about a mile away. Pushing through dense woods, up and down hills covered with grass and weeds, he climbed down a winding trail to a hollow. He found at the bottom a small forest pool. There, he crouched over its little cold well of water. In the gloom, he looked left and right, keeping his body as still as possible. Then he picked up handfuls of bluish-brown mud and rubbed them all over his face, neck, upper arms, and torso. He would make his camp here for a while. There were big trees all around, with huge snaking roots. He hid his sling and his few belongings in a nest of leaves where he could sleep. He kept Tzoofaa’s knife and Leeree’s tiny obelisk close to himself to bring him luck. He wanted to pray, to converse, with the gods of this place.

The trees cast heavy shade, and the air felt chilly here where little light penetrated. The air smelled just a tad fetid, from the forest matter disintegrating in the water below. High above, birds twittered and of course the insects kept up their hum. Luckily, the mosquito seemed rare. Alex had a few bites, but most of the insects appeared to eat vegetation or prey on other insects.

Alex fashioned himself a crown woven of twigs and embellished with leaves that draped down around his head. He made himself a wreath that he wore around his neck and over his shoulders, with leaves trailing down over his body. This way, he could stand silently among tree trunks and be invisible. Hopefully, anyway, Nizin would not see him.

Alex stalked silently back to the watering place where he expected Nizin would show up soon enough. He wasn’t disappointed, but he was also surprised. First, he approached the stream slowly. He stayed on a slope about 200 feet away. There he was surrounded by a thick carpet of moss a foot deep, and bright green ferns illumined by shafts of hazy light dropping through the crowns above. He knelt down and began scooping out a hole in the ground, all the while keeping his eyes on his surroundings. He dug gently and calmly to keep the noise minimal. When he had a hole about two feet deep and wide enough, he knelt inside of it to keep his profile as low as possible.

Gradually the light dimmed. Evening, or Dim Light, came slowly as the cylinder turned in space. The moon rose, casting its yellow and olive-green light through the meshwork of windows at the cylinder’s end. At the river, animals came out to drink. Two dog-sized animals with slavering muzzles briefly sparred before running off in opposite directions.

It was the witching hour. Far away, two tiny LooWoo! hunters on spidery legs stalked over the rim of a hill. They carried slings and strode with tall staves as they pursued some errand known only to them. With their spindly bodies and big heads, they ambled past and disappeared as quickly as they’d appeared.

Darkness filled the air, and Alex sank down into the safety of his hole. Remembering the first night free of his birth cave on earth, he drew leaves over himself and cuddled down in the cool, damp earth, shivering. He would not let himself feel pity or irony, he thought. He stared at the moon through a hole in the leaves. He saw the buttery moon and its poignant canyons that had been the stuff of human music and romance in that lost world of long ago. Strangely, he felt no hatred. He felt things, and he wasn’t sure what they all were, but confusion and pain were foremost among them. He felt a sense of duty to destroy Nizin before Nizin could kill anyone else.

And, yes, he missed Maryan terribly.