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to　hold　you　for　a　while。〃

〃The　Fort　in　Drio　was　where　Odo　spent　nine　years；〃　Shevek　replied。　His　face　was　set；　as　it　had　been　since　he　talked　with　Oegeo。　〃After　the　Insurrection　of　747。　She　wrote　the　Prison　Letters　there；　and　the　Analogy。〃

〃Afraid　it's　been　pulled　down；〃　Pae　said　sympathetically。　〃Drio　was　a　moribund　sort　of　town；　and　the　Foundation　just　wiped　out　and　started　fresh。〃

Shevek　nodded。　But　as　the　car　followed　a　riverside　highway　toward　the　tumoff　to　leu　Eun　it　passed　a　bluff　on　the　curve　of　the　river　Seisse；　and　up　on　the　bluff　there　was　a　building；　heavy；　ruinous；　implacable；　with　broken　towers　of　black　stone。　Nothing　could　have　been　less　like　the　geous　lighthearted　buildings　of　the　Space　Research　Foundation；　the　showy　domes；　the　bright　factories；　the　tidy　lawns　and　paths。　Nothing　could　have　made　them　look　so　much　like　bits　of　colored　paper。

〃That；　I　believe；　is　the　Fort；〃　Chifoilisk　remarked　with　his　usual　satisfaction　at　placing　the　tactless　remark　where　it　was　least　wanted。

〃Gone　all　to　ruins；〃　Pae　said。　〃Must　be　empty。〃

〃Want　to　stop　and　have　a　look　at　it；　Shevek？〃　Chifoilisk　asked；　ready　to　tap　on　the　chauffeur's　screen。

〃No；〃　Shevek　said。

He　had　seen　what　he　wanted　to　see。　There　was　still　a　Fort　in　Drio。　He　did　not　need　to　enter　it　and　seek　down　ruined　halls　for　the　cell　in　which　Odo　had　spent　nine　years。　He　knew　what　a　prison　cell　was　like。

He　looked　up；　his　face　still　set　and　cold；　at　the　ponderous　dark　walls　that　now　loomed　almost　above　the　car。　I　have　been　here　for　a　long　time；　the　fort　said；　and　I　am　still　here。

When　he　was　back　in　ha　rooms；　after　dinner　in　the　Senior　Faculty　Refectory；　he　sat　down　alone　by　the　unlighted　fire。　It　was　summer　in　Alo；　getting　on　towards　the　longest　day　of　the　year；　and　though　it　was　past　eight　it　was　not　yet　dark。　The　sky　outside　the　arched　windows　still　showed　a　tinge　of　the　daylight　color　of　the　sky；　a　pure　tender　blue。　The　air　was　mild；　fragrant　of　cut　grass　and　wet　earth。　There　was　a　light　in　the　chapel；　across　the　grove；　and　a　faint　undertone　of　music　on　that　lightly　stirring　air。　Not　the　birds　singing；　but　a　human　music。　Shevek　listened。　Somebody　was　practicing　the　Numerical
Harmonies　on　the　chapel　harmonium。　They　were　as　familiar　to　Shevek　as　to　any　Urrasti；　Odo　had　not　tried　to　renew　the　basic　relationships　of　music；　when　she　renewed　the　relationships　of　men。　She　had　always　respected　the　necessary。　The　Settlers　of　Anarres　had　left　the　laws　of　man　behind　them；　but　had　brought　the　laws　of　harmony　along。

The　large；　calm　room　was　shadowy　and　silent；　darkening。　Shevek　looked　around　it；　the　perfect　double　arches　of　the　windows；　the　faintly　gleaming　edges　of　the　parquet　floor；　the　strong；　dim　curve　of　the　stone　chimney；　the　paneled　walls；　admirable　in　their　proportion。　It　was　a　beautiful　and　humane　room。　It　was　a　very　old　room。　This　Senior　Faculty　House；　they　told　him；　had　been　built　in　the　year　540；　four　hundred　years　ago；　two　hundred　and　thirty　years　before　the　Settlement　of　Anarres。　Generations　of　scholars　had　lived；　worked；　talked；　thought；　slept；　died　in　this　room　before　Odo　was　ever　born。　The　Numerical
Harmonies　had　drifted　over　the　lawn；　through　the　dark　leaves　of　the　grove；　for　centuries。　I　have　been　here　for　a　long　time；　the　room　said　to　Shevek；　and　I　am　still　here。　What　are　you　doing　here？

He　had　no　answer。　He　had　no　right　to　all　the　grace　and　bounty　of　this　world；　earned　and　maintained　by　the　work；　the　devotion；　the　faithfulness　of　its　people。　Paradise　is　for　those　who　make　Paradise。　He　did　not　belong。　He　was　a　frontiersman；　one　of　a　breed　who　had　denied　their　past；　their　history。　The　settlers　of　Anarres　had　turned　their　backs　on　the　Old　World　and　its　past；　opted　for　the　future　only。　But　as　surely　as　the　future　bees　the　past；　the　past　bees　the　future。　To　deny　is　not　to　achieve。　The　Odonians　who　left　Urras　had　been　wrong。　WRONG　in　their　desperate　courage；　to　deny　their　history；　to　fo　the　possibility　of　return。　The　explorer　who　will　not　e　back　or　send　back　his　ships　to　tell　his　tale　is　not　an　explorer；　only　an　adventurer；　and　his　sons　are　born　in　exile。

He　had　e　to　love　Urras；　but　what　good　was　his　yearning　love？　He　was　not　part　of　it。　Nor　was　he　part　of　the　world　of　his　birth。

The　loneliness；　the　certainty　of　isolation；　that　he　had　felt　in　his　first　hour　aboard　the　Mindful；　rose　up　in　him　and　asserted　itself　as　his　true　condition；　ignored；　suppressed；　but　absolute。

He　was　alone；　here；　because　he　came　from　a　selfexiled　society。　He　had　alwavs　been　alone　on　his　own　world　because　he　had　exiled　himself　from　his　society。　The　Settlers　had　taken　one　step　away。　He　had　taken　two。　He　stood　by　himself；　because　he　had　taken　the　metaphysical　risk。

And　he　had　been　fool　enough　to　think　that　he　might　serve　to　bring　together　two　worlds　to　which　he　did　not　belong。

The　blue　of　the　night　sky　outside　the　windows　drew　his　eyes。　Over　the　vague　darkness　of　foliage　and　the　tower　of　the　chapel；　above　the　dark　line　of　the　hills；　which　at　night　always　seemed　smaller　and　more　remote；　a　light　was　growing；　a　large；　soft　radiance。　Moonrise；　he　thought；　with　a　grateful　sense　of　familiarity。　There　is　no　break　in　the　wholeness　of　time。　He　had　seen　the　Moon　rise　when　he　was　a　little　child；　from　the　window　of　the　domicile　in　Wide　Plains；　with　Palat；　over　the　hills　of　his　boyhood；　over　the　dry　plains　of　the　Dust；　over　the　roofs　of　Abbenay；　with　Takver　watching　it　beside　him。

But　it　had　not　been　this　Moon。

The　shadows　moved　about　him；　but　he　sat　unmoving　as　Anarres　rose　above　the　alien　hills；　at　her　full；　mottled　dun　and　bluishwhite；　lambent。　　The　light　of　his　world　filled　his　empty　hands。









Chapter　4




The　westering　sun　shining　in　on　his　face　woke　Shevek　as　the　dirigible；　clearing　the　last　high　pass　of　the　Ne　Theras；　turned　due　south。　He　had　slept　most　of　the　day；　the　third　of　the　long　journey。　The　night　of　the　farewell　party　was　half　a　world　behind　him。　He　yawned　and　rubbed　his　eyes　and　shook　his　head；　trying　to　shake　the　deep　rumble　of　the　dirigible　engine　out　of　his　ears；　and　then　came　wide　awake；　realizing　that　the　journey　was　nearly　over；　that　they　must　be　ing　close　to　Abbenay。　He　pressed　his　face　to　the　dusty　window；　and　sure　enough；　down　there　between　two　low　rusty　ridges　was　a　great　walled　field；　the　Port。　He　gazed　eagerly；　trying　to　see　if　there　was　a　spaceship　on　the　pad。　Despicable　as　Urras　was；　still　it　was　another　world；　he　wanted　to　see　a　ship　from　another　world；　a　voyager　across　the　dry　and　terrible　abyss；　a　thing　made　by　alien　hands。　But　there　was　no　ship　in　the　Port。

The　freighters　from　Urras　came　in　only　eight　times　a　year；　and　stayed　just　long　enough　to　load　and　unload。　They　were　not　wele　visitors。　Indeed　they　were；　to　some　Anarresti；　a　perpetually　renewed　humiliation。

They　brought　fossil　oils　and　petroleum　products；　certain　delicate　machine　parts　and　electronic　ponents　that　Anarresti　manufacturing　was　not　geared　to　supply；　and　often　a　new　strain　of　fruit　tree　or　grain　for　testing。　They　took　back　to　Urras　a　full　load　of　mercury；　copper；　aluminum；　uranium；　tin；　and　gold。　It　was；　for　them；　a　very　good　bargain。　The　division　of　their　cargoes　eight　times　a　year　was　the　most　prestigious　function　of　the　Urrasti　Council　of　World　Governments　and　the　major
event　of　the　Urrasti　world　stock　market。　In　fact；　the　Free　World　of　Anarres　was　a　mining　colony　of　Urras。

The　fact　galled。　Every　generation；　every　year；　in　tha　PDC　debates　in　Abbenay；　fierce　protests　were　made）　〃Why　do　we　continue　these　profiteering　business　transactions　with　warmaking　propertarians？〃　And　cooler　heads　always　gave　the　same　answer：　〃It　would　cost　the　Urrasti　more　to　dig　the　ores　themselves；　therefore　they　don't　invade　us。　But　if　we　broke　the　trade　agreement；　they　would　use　force。〃　It　is　hard；　however；　for　people　who　have　never　paid　money　for　anything　to　understand　the　psychology　of　cost；　the　argument　of　the　marketplace。　Seven　generations　of　peace　had　not　brought　trust。

Therefore　the　workposting　called　Defense　never　had　to　call　for　volunteers。　Most　Defense　work　was　so　boring　that　it　was　not　called　work　in　Pravic；　which　used　the　same　word　for　work　and　play；　but　kleggich；　drudgery。　Defense　workers　manned　the　twelve　old　interplaary　ships；　ke