Karin watched it to its end, and then she unfolded her keyboard. A star chart appeared on the video screen. She pressed a key, and the screen was filled with motion. The two distant suns, her position on the surface of the largest remaining planet, and the tiny comet zooming in on approach were all displayed. Tomorrow, she thought, she would leave the travel-all and take off her shoes, and follow in the Magi's footsteps.

      Merril Planter, lately the captain of the harbor tug Lariat, reached over his shoulder and unfolded his pack light. He trained it on the path, and continued on into the evening.

      Like Daniel, he was already barefoot, and like Karin, he was filled with anticipation. He was from a rude back-water planet, and uplifting, intensely personal occurrences were not a part of his upbringing or his everyday life. Recently, this had become a concern to him, and that concern had led him here, on a pilgrimage to this too sedate, too humid, too silent planet.

       Merril trudged forward, wanting another five kilometers under his feet before he set up camp.

       Daniel awoke with a start. His nostrils were assailed by an animal odor, and he tossed his blanket away and rolled over. Only centimeters away, one of the compact herbivores that he had seen the day before was masticating and silently contemplating him.

       "Ho, little brother," said Daniel. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

      The animal lifted itself onto its four legs, and Daniel saw two large, liquid purple eyes. He thought that they looked either insanely gentle or gently insane. The animal yawned, and Daniel laughed, causing the creature to roll it's head sideways in curiosity.

      "Away with you, little brother," Daniel said, "or you'll stink up all my belongings."

      Chewing and watching, the animal sank back to the ground.

      "Okay, then I'll leave," said Daniel. He stood to roll up his sleeping mat. It and his blanket went into the pack, and, for a moment, Daniel regretted not having brought his personal datapad. He usually checked his messages first thing every morning. Then Daniel snorted at himself. One does not need a datapad on a pilgrimage.

      Daniel shouldered his pack. Yellowish sunlight gilded the bare path. He nodded at the silent creature and walked toward the sun.

      Karin's backpack had an external aluminum frame. She had hung her sandals on the side, just in case, and her guitar was lashed onto the back of the pack. Her feet lifted and fell, carrying her along the path.

       Daniel topped a low hill, and he found Karin walking in front of him, about a quarter-kilometer ahead. She was lean, tall, dark-haired, and shapely, even with a guitar obscuring part of her body. She strolled along with the graceful economy of motion of the planet-born, and Daniel envied her that. With all of his expertise and his many years of working on more than a dozen worlds, he still envied her that.

       Sensing a presence behind her, Karin stopped and turned around. She smiled, and her brilliant smile contrasted against her mahogany-colored skin.

      She's beautiful, thought Daniel. He was going down-slope, and he did not want to rush up on the girl. A creature so beautiful, Daniel thought, might take flight if affronted.

      Karin appraised Daniel's appearance as he approached. He was older than she, maybe by as much as a decade. He was tan, and she saw his leg muscles smoothly rippling as he strode. He walks decisively, this one, she thought. He is no tenderfoot.

       "Ho, pilgrim!" said Daniel, catching up. He grinned at the slender woman.

       Karin liked him even better close up. "Ho, pilgrim!" she responded. She thought his grin infectious. She caught it.

       Daniel held out a hand. "Daniel, from Ball Ground."

       Karin shook. "Karin, from Center World."

       "Ah, a student?"

       "Graduate. Linguistics. And you?"

       "Planetary ecologist."

       "You're not carrying much gear," observed Karin.

       "This isn't how I pack when I'm working. I usually carry lots more stuff."

       Karin wiped a strand of ebony hair away from her face. "Do you know how much further it is to the cathedral?"

       "Amphitheater," corrected Daniel. "A depression in the ground that forms a natural theater."

       Karin rolled her eyes and grinned. "And how far?"

       Daniel smiled crookedly. "Forgive me, I lecture sometimes. It's about fifteen kilometers. We should reach it by late tomorrow afternoon."

       "If we get going," said Karin.

       "Right," said Daniel. "After you?"

       Merril descended the hill three hours later. He saw two pairs of footprints encircling each other. He was eager to meet his fellow pilgrims. He folded the drinking tube from his backpack to his lips and sipped. Then he began to trot.

       Daniel unrolled his sleeping mat. With his hands behind his back, he watched the slender woman unfold her tent.

       It was first dark, with the greater sun having slipped beneath the horizon. Soon would come the true dark that had surprised Daniel in its suddenness on the previous night.

       "Plenty of room in here," said Karin, indicating the tent.

       "Thanks, but I couldn't trust myself with someone so lovely as you," said Daniel.

       "I brought a liter of wine," said Karin. She smiled, and the invitation was unmistakable.

       Daniel picked up his sleeping mat.

       Merril stretched, feeling every one of his six decades. He felt his spine popping, and he grinned ruefully, completing a favorite part of his standard morning ritual.

       Sleeping on the ground mat was not much more uncomfortable than sleeping on his bunk aboard the Lariat, but he had a three-days-old growth of beard, and he thought that he would need a bath very, very soon.

       Merril cracked the portal of his tent. A herbivore, twenty meters away, was mowing a swathe through the dense grass. It ignored the human when he climbed out of the tent and came to his feet.

       He looked at the energy tab on his backpack. It had sufficient charge left to heat his breakfast and to operate the lights well into the night, if need be.

       A minute later, Merril had stowed the rectangle of the folded tent into the backpack, removed a breakfast tray and was heating it on the pack. A slight breeze lifted his hair, and he turned, surprised, in the direction of the wind.

       Daniel felt it, too. He stepped out of Karin's tent, and he sniffed the breeze. He looked up for clouds, not really expecting to see any. The ecology that had evolved on this planet apparently all got its moisture directly from the humid air.

       "Is it going to storm?" asked Karin, stepping out behind him. She had taken time to dress.

       "No, there's not enough energy in this supersaturated environment to even form clouds. It would take a lot more energy for things to become unstable."

       "Should we be going?"