Wickwrackrum didn’t recognize the names. But he was a pilgrim. There were lands so far away that no one there spoke any language he knew. In the Southseas he met folk who thought there was no world beyond their islands and who ran from his boats when he came ashore. Even more, one part of him had been an islander and had watched that landing. He stuck a head into the open and looked again at the fallen star, the visitor from farther than he had ever been … and he wondered where this pilgrimage might end.
