Even the fact that there were no stars added to the feeling of
wretchedness and gloom and, ultimately, of hunger.

Maril spoke nervously to the driver.

"The famine isn't any better?"

He moved his head in negation, but did not speak. There was a splotch
of blue pigment at the back of his neck. It extended upward into his
hair.

"I left two years ago," said Maril. "It was just beginning then.
Rationing hadn't started."

The driver said evenly, "There's rationing now!"

The car went on and on. A vast open space appeared ahead. Lights about
its perimeter seemed few and pale.

"Everything seems worse. Even the lights."

"Using all the power," said the driver, "to warm up ground to grow
crops where it ought to be winter. Not doing too well, either."

Calhoun knew, somehow, that Maril moistened her lips.

"I was sent," she explained to the driver, "to go ashore on Trent and
then make my way to Weald. I mailed reports of what I found out back
to Trent. Somebody got them back to here whenever it was possible."