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It was a drooping shoot of the turbi, the same tree vine which produced the fruit she had relished less than an hour before. Above the water dangled a cluster of the fruit, dead ripe with the sweet pulp stretching its skin. But below the surface of the water Varta's breath hissed between her teeth and Lur's head snapped around as he caught her thought.
And it cannot be that this North-East Passage should be any nearer the south than before recited, for then it should cut off Ciremissi and Turbi, Tartarii, with Vzesucani, Chisani, and others from the continent of Asia, which are known to be adjoining to Scythia, Tartary, etc., with the other part of the same continent.
And it cannot be that this Northeast passage should be any neerer the South, then before recited, for then it should cut off Ciremissi, and Turbi Tartari, with Vzesucani, Chisani, and others from the Continent of Asia, which are knowen to be adioyning to Scythia, Tartaria, &c. with the other part of the same Continent.
The space man moaned softly and hunched his shoulders as if he struggled vainly to tear loose from bonds. "He thinks that he is still prisoner," observed Lur. "For him life begins at the very point it ended even as it did for the turbi flowers. See now he awakens." The eyelids rose slowly, as if the man hated to see what he must look upon. Then, as he sighted Varta and Lur, his eyes went wide.
"Did the turbi blossom fade when pulled out?" countered Lur. "There is a secret to these fastenings " He pulled and pried impatiently. Varta tried to help but even their united strength was useless against the force which held the loops in place. Breathless the girl slumped back against the wall of the cabin while Lur settled down on his haunches.
Varta felt a rich warm tide rising in her throat to answer that teasing half question. There were times when Lur's thought reading was annoying, He had risen to his hind legs so that he too could look into the shell which held their find. "Yes, a pity," he repeated. "But " A vision of the turbi flowers swept through her mind. Had Lur suggested it, or had that wild thought been hers alone?
She sniffed there was a languid perfume in the air, the perfume of the blooming turbi. She examined the flowers closely, to all appearances they were perfect and natural. "It preserves," Lur settled back on his haunches and waved one front paw at the quiet water. "What goes into it remains as it was just at the moment of entrance." "But if this is seven months old "
"It may be seven years old," corrected Lur. "How can you tell when that branch first dipped into the lake? Yet the flowers do not fade even when withdrawn from the water. This is indeed a mystery!" "Of which I would know more!" Varta dropped the turbi and started on around the edge of the lake.
The branch below the water bore a perfect circle of green flowers close to its tip, the flowers which the turbi had borne naturally seven months before and which should long ago have turned into just such sweetness as hung above. With Lur at her heels the girl edged around to pull cautiously at the branch. It yielded at once to her touch, swinging its tip out of the lake.
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