Honath the Pursemaker was hauled from the nets an hour before the rest of the prisoners, as befitted his role as the arch-doubter of them all. It was not yet dawn, but his captors led him in great bounds through the endless, musky-perfumed orchid gardens, small dark shapes with crooked legs, hunched shoulders, slim hairless tails carried, like his, in concentric spirals wound clockwise. Behind them sprang Honath on the end of a long tether, timing his leaps by theirs, since any slip would hang him summarily.
Customer ReviewsSee All
Like the other novelettes that were bundled in The Seeding Stars, the premise of colonizing worlds by modifying the human form to survive is well written in the Attic. Surface Tension remains my favorite.