"You don't have to use baby talk to us," sighed Gurder. "We can read, youknow. We know what snow is."

"Yes," said Dorcas. "There used to be cards with pictures on them, backin the Store. Every time Christmas Fayre came around. We know about snow.

It's glittery."

"You get robins," agreed Gurder.

"There's, er, actually there's a bit more to it than that," Masklinbegan.

Dorcas waved him into silence. "I don't think we need to worry," he said.

"We're well dug in, the food stores are looking good, and we know whereto go to get more if we need it. Unless anyone's got anything else toraise, why don't we close the meeting?"

Everything was going well. Or, at least, not very badly. That sort ofthing always worried Masklin.

Oh, there was still plenty of squabbling and feuds between the variousfamilies, but that was nomish nature for you. That's why they'd set upthe council, which seemed to be working.

Nomes liked arguing. At least the Council of Drivers meant they couldargue without hitting one another hardly ever.

Funny thing, though. Back in the Store the great departmental families had run things. But now all the families were mixed up and, anyway, therewere no departments in a quarry. But by instinct, almost, nomes likedhierarchies. The world had always been neatly divided between those whotold people what to do, and those who did it. So, in a strange way, a newset of leaders was emerging.

The Drivers.

It depended on where you had been during the Long Drive. If you were oneof the ones who had been in the truck cab, then you were a Driver. Everyone else was just a Passenger. No one talked about it much. It wasn'tofficial or anything. It was just that the bulk of nomekind felt thatanyone who could get the Truck all the way here was the sort of personwho knew what they were doing.