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. "When the people of Solace built their homes in the
trees, they had nowhere left to go. The Cataclysm left no choices;
starving marauders, crazed homeless folk, were destroying villages
and stealing everything they could. The folk of Solace knew that if
they did not defend themselves well, these trees would be their last
home."
"But they survived. Things returned to normal. They could
have moved back to the ground."
Otik lifted the barrow-handles. "Follow me."
At the pantry he stopped. "The man who built this inn was
Krale the Strong. They say he could tuck a barrel of ale under his
arm and climb up the tree itself, one-handed. For all he knew, his
inn would be in ruins in a year." Otik tapped the store-room floor.
"You've been here a thousand times. Have you ever thought about
this floor?"
Tika shrugged. "It's just stone." Then it hit her. "A stone floor?
But I thought the fireplace-"
"Was the only stonework. So it is. This is a single stone, set in
to keep the ale cool, forty feet above the ground. Krale made a
rope harness and hauled it up himself. Then he chopped this
chamber out of the living wood, and laid the floor. This was his
people's last home, and he built it to last forever."
Otik stamped the floor. The edges were rounded, where the
living wooden walls had flowed over the stone, a nail's-breadth a
year. "And when the danger was over and the folk of Solace could
go back to the ground, they didn't
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