[Note: Begins with old material but then diverges.]
That night they were more careful with the stone, and more leisurely. Half the time they spent swimming together, exploring the dark sea and the sandy coast where Jon had first found this world, or on the boat staring up at the strange stars. They invented new constellations, then found that their big guidebook to the world had changed to include the names they'd made. Jon pulled out the stone and with Karyn's permission, wished to switch roles with her again for the rest of the night. Though Jon hadn't yet changed from humanoid to otter form, as soon as the change rippled through her she felt the pull of the moons. "Have you felt like this all night, Karyn?" she asked.
Karyn said, "Yeah," and looked away, scratching his head. "Actually it's embarassing. Every time there's a double moon, and we're in this world..."
"I don't mind," Jon said. Somewhat later that night she added, "And we might want to stay a while. I'm willing to put up with it for a while, if you will. I mean, it isn't something I thought I'd ever get to do. And we can just wish if it gets to be a problem."
"Yeah. That's right." Karyn looked back to the ship, the steadiest thing on the watery swells that rocked them. "We should get ready to teach tomorrow, then. It'll be practice for our own kids."
Realistic practice too, thought Jon. The stone had said the kids would be intelligent otters like the ones in this sea. Why were these bright enough to have language, anyway? Had they been banished from Earth to leave only dumb cousins behind?
Jon settled into her bunk and fell fast asleep, dreaming of the deep, dark, cold sea and of a nameless cave. At dawn he awoke as his humanoid self again, almost. With an unfamiliar balance he moved unsteadily even given the swaying of the boat, making his way to the head for a little privacy. The adaptations to his new condition had continued while he slept; he was embarrassed but could deal with it. He only had to imagine worse fates.
He left the head and looked out into the rosy early sky. "Red sky at night, sailors' delight," he said, remembering an old nautical saying. "Red sky in morning, sailors take warning." But this world was pretty much empty, with nothing to worry about. Maybe the emptiness itself was why he paced the deck outside, feeling the cold wind through his t-shirt. The wishing stone lay locked in the cabin, and for once he felt glad it wasn't in his hand. He didn't know what he'd wish if it were. Answers? Instructions? A life? Whatever he asked for would seem like cheating. Still Jon wandered to the locked cabinet, opened it, and made one wish before putting the stone back.
Karyn woke to a wonderful smell. She came up from the bedroom and found Jon in a mess of broken eggs, spilled batter, and surprisingly perfect bacon. She grinned and pointed to her whiskers until Jon touched his own and found eggshell there. She sprawled into a padded wicker chair, making her tail vanish even though there was room for it. "Busy?"
Jon dished out pancakes. "Yep... oh no, we didn't finish our lesson plan!"
"We were busy." Karyn pulled out the big "Land of Things" guidebook and consulted the almanac. "One more night with the moons full together, then thirty-five days till the next conjunction."
The cave Jon had dreamed of weighed on his mind. He borrowed the guidebook and wandered through its caves, chatting with Karyn about how to word wishes wisely. And then he stopped.
There was one cave in the atlas with a large, blank entry. It lay directly north of here, near the coast where he'd first found this world. He ran a hand over the near-empty page.
"Blank?" asked Karyn.
Jon stood. "I think this is worth a wish." He fetched the stone from its locker, set it down, and rehearsed. "I wish I knew why this cave has no guidebook entry. How's that?"
"Sounds harmless."
Jon touched the stone and repeated it. Nothing happened. Jon said, "I wish I knew why I'm not getting an answer." Nothing! "I wish I --"
"Jon, stop!" Karyn took the stone gently, before he could say something hasty. "Maybe there's a good reason we shouldn't know."
"I want to know what that reason is. Will you come with me?"
"Otters to teach," said Karyn.
"We're not ready anyway. Let's put the teaching off for a day."
Karyn shrugged.
After apologizing to the otter tribe, they weighed anchor and set the autopilot north. Before long the beach drifted over the horizon and they stopped. On the deck Jon paused, half-otter, staring into the darkness of the cave. "Should we bring the stone?"
Karyn shaded her eyes with one hand and said...
