A couple of park attendants came out of the lodge. They waved to Radnal, sized up the tourists, then helped them stable their donkeys. “Take only what you’ll need tonight into the lodge,” said one, Fer vez Canthal. “Leave the rest in your saddlebags for the trip out tomorrow. The less packing and unpacking, the better.”

Some tourists, veteran travelers, nodded at the good advice. Evillia and Lofosa exclaimed as if they’d never heard it before. Frowning at their naivetй, Radnal wanted to look away from them, but they were too pretty.

Moblay Sopsirk’s son thought so, too. As the group started from the stable to the lodge, he came up behind Evillia and slipped an arm around her waist. At the same moment, he must have tripped, for his startled cry made Radnal whirl toward them.

Moblay sprawled on the dirt floor of the stable. Evillia staggered, flailed her arms wildly, and fell down on top of him, hard. He shouted again, a shout which lost all its breath as she somehow hit him in the pit of the stomach with an elbow while getting back to her feet.

She looked down at him, the picture of concern. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “You startled me.”

Moblay needed a while before he could sit, let alone stand. At last, he wheezed, “See if I ever touch you again,” in a tone that implied it would be her loss.

She stuck her nose in the air. Radnal said, “We should remember we come from different countries and have different customs. Being slow and careful will keep us from embarrassing one another.”

“Why, freeman, were you embarrassed last night?” Lofosa asked. Instead of answering, Radnal started to cough. Lofosa and Evillia laughed. Despite what Fer vez Canthal had said, both of them were just toting their saddlebags into the lodge. Maybe they hadn’t a lot of brains. But their bodies, those smooth, oh so naked bodies, were something else again.