In front of the collecting basin lounged five Cranscoc, their chitinous outer shells gleaming in the sunbeams streaming in through the skylight three floors directly above them. Their long, multijointed legs tapped out syncopated rhythms on the thick grass that covered the entire top of the platform, keeping time to music apparently only they could hear. 'These are five of the Cranscoc twillers," Binalie said, keeping his voice low. "Whatever they do to that fluid flow will affect most of those machines you can see."

"They can do all the retooling from here?" Doriana asked.

"No, each machine needs its own adjustments," Binalie told him.

"There are roving twillers assigned to each area for that purpose.

Depending on the complexity involved, a given production area can be retooled in anywhere from two to eight hours."

"Your basic overnight alterations," Doriana said, nodding.

"Very literally overnight," Binalie agreed. "The Cranscoc will do minor adjustments during the daylight hours-that's why this group is on duty, in case one of the machines drifts off true and needs to be recalibrated. But they'll only do a major retooling after it's completely dark outside."

"And you don't know why?"

"Frankly, we know next to nothing about the Cranscoc," Binalie admitted.

'They breathe oxygen, their diet is mostly local vegetables and grains, except that it all has to be enriched with extra magnesium and cobalt, and they like to farm and dig and create artistic objects."

"Fortunately, marshland farm equipment falls into that last category?"

"Farm equipment and everything else," Binalie said. 'They seem to love using Spaarti to make things." He led them back down to the main floor. "You say this is Production Area Four," Doriana said. "How many others are there?"

"We currently have twenty-seven operating areas," Binalie told him.