"What?" Evan continued to stare at the ground. Bowls thumped on the table around them, competing with the noise of conversation. Sweaty brown shirts and tired, tanned bodies streamed steadily toward the food and tables. The air was a bit cooler under the trees, though it was still humid.

"Sucks getting sold away from your family. Least you got your ma here."

"You have any family?" Evan surrept.i.tiously wiped at his eyes as if there were something in them.

"Older sister. She's a house slave, so I don't see her much. My ma and dad are gone."

"Hi! Pup! Where you been all day?"

Evan looked up and was abruptly surrounded by eight or nine boys and girls his age all dressed in brown. They took up places on the benches, bowls and bread in newly-washed hands. The question came from a dark-haired boy with the biggest brown eyes Evan had ever seen.

"Got an easy duty today showin' round a newbie," Pup said, flashing a grin. "Everybody, this is Lizard. Lizard, this is Flint and Jackie and Vera and Leaf and Keri and Zell and Cat and Bird and Jess. They're all muckers, too."

Evan, who had been braced for remarks about his new name, found himself the center of a flurry of friendly greetings instead. Evan gave a small smile, feeling suddenly shy. He made short, quiet answers to the questions that came his way but initiated no conversation himself. Everything was completely foreign here. The food tasted strange, there were strange noises, strange animals, strange customs. Even the weather was strange. Suddenly he found himself longing for the quiet, dry Outback. His throat tightened. How long was he going to live here in this strange place with these strange people? He wanted to go home, home with his father and mother and brother and sister. But home was trillions of kilometers and nine hundred years away.

Another chime sounded from everyone's wristbands. With a groan, the slaves slowly got to their feet.

"Now what?" Evan asked hoa.r.s.ely.

"There's another hour of work after supper," Pup said. "But we can probably-"

"Pup! Lizard!" called Grace. "Don't you think of going anywhere. You've had enough of a slack day. We're adding another bullfrog pond, and you two can help with the landscaping."

Pup sighed and picked up his bowl. "So much for that, then. Come on."

Grace was as good as her word. She set the boys to work with trowels, making the extended fingers of sh.o.r.eline required by the ma.s.sive, territorial bullfrogs. The dark earth was wet and heavy, not quite mud, and Evan, who was forced to kneel in it, was soon covered with the stuff. His back and legs quickly became sore, and sweat ran steadily down his back and sides as he piled up long mounds of earth. Even his silvery bands turned black with dirt. Pup and three of the other younger slaves worked in silence next to him. The ever-present frog noises continued.

"You're one of the new ones, is that right?"

Evan looked up. An older man, perhaps in his late forties, with silvering hair and a fleshy face, stood next to the mud pit.

"Master Varl," Pup murmured.

"Stand up when a manager addresses you," Varl snapped.

Evan got to his feet. The other children continued to work diligently.

"What's your name, kid?" Varl demanded. Like Ting, Varl wore yellow. His clothes were clean, though his feet were as bare and mud-covered as everyone else's.

"Ev-Lizard," Evan said, keeping his face stoic.

A shock traveled up Evan's arm and he dropped his trowel with a cry.

"Lizard what?" Varl said.

"Call him master master," Pup hissed.

"Lizard, Master Varl," Evan said, hating the word.

"You had an easy day today, Lizard," Varl said. "Hope you enjoyed it. Tomorrow you're working your a.s.s off." And he strode away. Evan watched him go. Then, not knowing what else to do, he returned to work.

A long time later, the wristband chime sounded again. Everyone immediately stopped digging and trouped back to the barn area where they rinsed their feet and hands. By now, the sun was coasting toward the horizon. Pup took Evan into the barn to a tiled room full of showers. Water hissed, and several tired-looking men were already washing off their daily quota of dirt and sweat. A changing area was lined with shelves of clothes and rough-looking towels.

"Throw your dirty clothes in that basket," Pup instructed. "Take a shower and get another set of clothes from the shelves. They're sorted by size. This is the men's shower, so you don't have to worry about the girls coming in."

After showering and dressing-Evan still went barefoot-Pup lead Evan back outside toward the ponds. They sat down under one of the trees amid gathering darkness.

"You'll want to see this," was all Pup said.

They sat in companionable silence for a while. The darkness continued in its intensity, completely unlike the streets of light-polluted Sydney. Unfamiliar stars came out, dazzling in their brightness, and again Evan felt homesick for the Outback he had so hated. On Outback walkabout, his family had been with him. He wondered what his mother was doing and if he would be allowed to see her.

Frogs croaked everywhere. The pair of boys leaned back against the scratchy tree trunk, enjoying the feeling of sitting on something that didn't squish, and suddenly Evan was very glad for Pup's presence. Pup might be one step above a stranger, but he had been friendly and kind all day. Evan felt an odd urge to reach over and take the other boy's hand. Disconcerted, he cleared his throat.

"What are we looking at?" he asked.

"Wait a second," Pup replied. "It should be-there!"

Out of nowhere, a crowd of round white lights swooped down over the ponds. They circled and dipped and soared, their movements duplicated by their reflections in the water like tiny moons dancing above a roomful of mirrors. After a moment, each one moved to a position about a meter above each pond or swamp, shedding cool silvery light over every leaf and blade of gra.s.s.

"What are they?" Evan asked, awed.

"Bug bait," Pup said, clearly pleased at Evan's reaction. "The b.u.g.g.e.rs can't come up with enough food for all the frogs on their own, so they release the nightlights to lure in more." He laughed, and Evan found he liked the sound. "The lights be here for a practical reason, but I think they look nice in the dark. I like to come out and have a look."

A mosquito whined in Evan's ear and he slapped at it. Then another one landed on his neck. Pup smacked a shoulder.

"Problem is," he continued, "you can't watch for very long without being eaten alive. Come on."

They went back to the barn, which Pup said was the slave quarters for unmarried adults and children over eleven, and climbed the ladder up to the men's loft. Large screened windows kept the insects out and let a cooling breeze flow through the building. A warm yellow light leaked over the edge of the loft and Evan heard voices talking. The frog noises grew even louder, and Evan wondered if it was because it was night or because the frogs were feeding off the bugs lured in by the floating lights.

Evan reached the loft. Thirty or so men and boys were there, some talking, some lying on their pallets. A small group was engaged in some kind of card game in one corner of the loft. Small yellow lamps provided illumination. It felt a little like a camp-out to Evan, for although they were technically indoors, the wide windows, high ceiling, and smell of straw made it seem like they were outdoors.

"What's this place like in winter?" he asked Pup. "Doesn't it get cold?"

"Nah." Pup dropped down on his pallet, which was next to the one Evan had woken up on. "It gets a little chilly sometimes, but not bad. Why? Do you come from someplace where it snows?" This last said with a trace of wonder.

Evan sat on his own pallet. "Not where I lived, but it does get kind of cold."

"I've always wanted to see snow," Pup said wistfully.

Something occurred to Evan. "What's the name of this planet? It can't be Earth."

"Nope. It's called July IV. I hear it's some kind of joke, but n.o.body I know can explain it to me."

"How long have you lived here?"

"For my whole memory. Mistress Blanc sold my dad away when I was eight and Ma accidentally drowned in one of the ponds the year after that. She tripped and hit her head and no one saw until it was too late."

"Sucks," Evan said, and Pup grinned at him. Evan moved closer to him and lowered his voice. "Does anyone ever try to escape?"

Pain flashed down Evan's arm and leg. He started to cry out, but Pup clapped a quick hand over Evan's mouth. Evan thrashed for a moment as agony ripped at muscle and bone. Then it ended. Evan went limp.

"Don't scream if you get shocked," Pup said quietly. "Some of the slaves-the ones who toady up-get mad at you."

"So we still can't say ...certain words," he muttered.

"Nope. And if you just mouth them, the computer catches that, too. And it learns code words after about twice. And if you go past the boundaries of the farm without permission, you get zapped." Pup picked at the rough padding on his pallet. "It ain't worth trying anything. They always win. At least Mistress Blanc don't mistreat her slaves. I hear one of the fruit farms up the road a ways has an owner who's boiled people alive for just not calling him master. master. His managers take the women to their beds and beat the men. It can be pretty bad, so you just think about how lucky you are." His managers take the women to their beds and beat the men. It can be pretty bad, so you just think about how lucky you are."

Evan decided to change the subject. "Can I see my mom?"

"Dunno. Maybe in the morning if you eat breakfast real quick and make a run to the house. You'll be able to see her more in winter, when there ain't so much to do. It don't get cold, but a lot of the frogs hibernate anyway. Something about the days getting short making 'em do it."

"Do we ever go to school?"

Pup propped himself up on his shoulder and gave Evan an amused look with bright blue eyes. "School? What for? You know how to read enough to puzzle out warning signs and directions, don't you? And you can count, right?"

"Yeah."

"And we'll teach you about frogs. What else do you need to know around here?"

More than anything else, those simple sentences did it. The knowledge slammed into Evan like a brick and Evan fell back on the pallet under its weight. His situation was permanent. He would live, work, and eventually die here. He would never see his father, brother, or sister again. A hot tear slid from his eye and trickled into his ear. It was quickly followed by another.

And then Pup was sitting next to him on the pallet, holding out a pillow. Evan took it. The dried gra.s.s inside crackled.

"Use that," Pup said softly. "It hides the noise."

Evan obeyed.

CHAPTER THREE.

The only reason a frog feels happy in the muck is that it doesn't know anything better.

-Irfan Qasad

The tomato frog's eyes goggled and glistened like peeled grapes as it peered about. A cricket, lightly dusted with vitamin powder, leaped into view. The frog's tongue snapped out. The cricket vanished, and the frog gave a satisfied croak.

A white b.u.t.terfly net flashed downward. The frog tried to leap, but only managed to tangle itself. It was hoisted high into the air for a moment, then popped into a covered basket containing ten other outraged red frogs. Lizard Blanc deftly untangled the net and cast about for another tomato. Four more would fill the order, and if he caught them quickly enough, he might be able to pretend it took longer and steal a catnap among the bushes by the tree dumpies.

The thought of sleep made Lizard yawn again, and he had to force himself to concentrate on the task at hand. Overhead, the sun beat down through a thin haze of clouds that did little to blunt the heat and humidity. The water was blood-warm around his ankles, and the background drone of acres of frogs was such a constant in his life that he scarcely noticed it.

Lizard caught sight of another tomato. He flicked the net down, but the frog saw it coming and leaped into the water with a plop plop. Lizard grimaced and untangled the net. He really wanted that nap. His mother said that all teenagers went through a phase of needing more sleep because they were growing, but Lizard knew that wasn't the problem. It seemed like he got almost no sleep at night these days, and it was all because of the dreams.

Another bit of red grabbed Lizard's attention, and a moment later, another tomato frog joined its croaking brethren. Not long after he had turned fifteen, Lizard's dreams had become steadily more vivid. In most of them, he was on walkabout in the Outback. It all felt so real-the bright, hot sun, the dry air, the rough rock and sandy earth beneath his feet. Usually it came as a surprise when he awoke to discover he was still on his pallet next to Pup's. When he dreamed of the Outback, it was as if the last three years on the Blanc farm had been the dream, and he always woke up feeling restless and unhappy.

"Hey, Lizard!"

Lizard straightened to his full height. He had gained several centimeters since arriving at the farm, though his build was almost painfully thin. His skin was dark as oak bark from all the hours in the sun, and his hair, kept short, bleached from black to the same brown as his skin. He still wore the brown shirt and shorts of a mucker.

Pup stood at the edge of the tomato pool. He had also grown considerably, though not as much as Lizard, and his build was stockier. His white-blond hair shone in the sunlight, and it contrasted sharply with his heavy tan. At the moment, his blue eyes were dancing with excitement.

"Hey, Pup." Lizard turned his gaze back to the pool. "What's going on?"

"We've been summoned," Pup said eagerly. "Come on!"

Lizard's net flicked through the air and another frog went into the basket. "Summoned? Where? What are you talking about?"

"To the house! Hurry up-we have to get ready. Forget the tomato order. Nater wants us!"

That got Lizard's full attention. He had seen the headservant maybe three times since he and Mistress Blanc had brought him to the farm, and then only from a distance. "He wants you and me up at the house?"

Pup nodded. "I'll explain on the way. Hurry up!"

Lizard splashed to the edge of the pond with basket and net, sending a dozen bright red frogs leaping for the water. The two young men hurried toward the processing barn so Lizard could drop off his partially-filled basket.

"So what's going on?" Lizard demanded as they went.

"Mistress Blanc's giving a big party," Pup explained. "Huge! And a whole bunch of the staff is still down with yak-yak, right?"

Lizard nodded. Yak-yak was the nickname of a flu strain that brought on severe vomiting. It resisted medication and kept its victims in bed plugged to an IV bag to prevent dehydration. Lizard had only come down with a mild three-day bout, and that had been enough for him. Pup had somehow escaped it entirely.

"So Nater needs servers for evening. The mistress can't cancel-it's been on the calendar for months-and we've been called on."

They reached the processing barn, another log-shaped building, and went inside. Cages, crates, baskets, and terrariums full of fearful, croaking frogs were everywhere. Lizard handed over his basket to the slave in charge and explained why he hadn't finished. The slave, a brittle-looking older woman, pursed her lips but said nothing. Orders from the headservant could not be countermanded except by Mistress Blanc herself.

"Why'd he choose us?" Lizard asked when they were outside again.

"Dunno. Probably your ma had something to do with it. He wants us washed and ready right quick."

They reached the slave barn and headed for the showers. It felt strange to strip off his clothes and wash in the middle of the day. Pup and Lizard donned fresh outfits from the shelves and trotted up the familiar path to the main house. Lizard knocked at the kitchen door, and a moment later, Lizard's mother Bell motioned them inside. Her hands, face, and hair were streaked with flour. It seemed to Lizard that his mom was always dusted with the stuff. Her talent as a baker had moved her quickly up the ranks in the kitchen until only two years after she and Lizard had arrived, she was in charge of anything floury that went into an oven. Bell was quieter now than she had been in the days before the slavers, but she and Lizard stayed close, or as close as time allowed.

The kitchen was enormous, with long worktables running the length of the room. A trio of enormous multi-ovened stoves loomed against one wall, and another was taken up by a belt that conveyed dishes through an industrial dishwasher. Metal doors to walk-in refrigerators and freezers gleamed, as did a stunning array of huge pots, pans, kettles, and utensils. The place was alive with noise and bustle. Men, women, and children dressed in white cut, chopped, stirred, rolled, and mixed. The air was redolent of spices, fresh-baked bread, hot oil, and meat. Lizard's mouth watered.