The fog of their world matched the fog in their minds. Rebelling against science, they smashed it, dragged their people down into the ancient mists. But Ho Dyak wanted light. The fog sea thinned before Ho Dyak, and he could see the dank rocks of the cliffs he scaled a scant twenty feet beneath his feet. The network of blue-veined pale vines that he climbed thinned even as the air itself thinned. Far below him in the lowlands the mat of _agan_ vines was three hundred feet in depth in many places.…
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