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 against the blue sky. On the lake, the river, and the canals were little houseboats where people lived. Rhamon's home was one of these houseboats on the water. It was not a large houseboat, and the roof was only a thick layer of woven reeds. Inside, it was barely high enough for his father to stand up straight without bumping his head. Ever since he could remember, Rhamon had been able to run along the narrow boards that stretched the length of the boat just outside the windows, and he had never fallen into the water.

Rhamon's father, Subro, was squatting on the deck of the houseboat, enjoying the sunshine and smoking his big water pipe that stood on the floor before him. As he puffed, the water in the glass jar bubbled and gurgled. And the blue smoke curled and twisted in the lazy breeze. Subro was a tall dark man with a black curly beard. He wore long white clothes that rustled as he walked. When he was angry his brown eyes were dark and fiery, but now as he