Over the next two days many of the refugees on the shore got away on air 
or surface ships, but a few of these were destroyed in spectacular fashion 
before they could get out of range of the Celestial Kingdom's weaponry. 
Three-quarters of the Mouse Army evacuated itself through the technique of 
stripping naked and walking into the ocean en masse, linked arm-in-arm into a 
flexible and unsinkable raft that gradually, slowly, exhaustingly paddled 
across the sea to New Chusan. Rumors spread rapidly up and down the length of 
the coast; the tribal borders seemed to accelerate rather than hinder this 
process as interfaces between languages and cultures spawned new variants of 
each rumor, tailored to the local fears and prejudices. The most popular rumor 
was that the Celestials planned to give everyone safe passage and that the 
attacks were being carried out by intelligent mines that had run out of control 
or, at worst, by a few fanatical commanders who were defying orders and who 
would soon be brought to heel. There was a second, stranger rumor that gave 
some people an incentive to remain on the shore and not entrust themselves to 
the evacuation ships: A young woman with a book and a sword was creating 
magical tunnels from out of the deep that would carry them all away to safety. 
Such
ideas were naturally met with skepticism among more rational cultures, but on 
the morning of the sixth day of the siege, the neap tide carried a peculiar 
omen up onto the sand: a harvest of translucent eggs the size of beach balls. 
When their fragile shells were torn open, they were found to contain sculpted 
backpacks pierced with a fractal pattern of delicate louvers. A stiff hose 
extended from the top and connected to a facemask. Under the circumstances, it 
was not difficult to divine the use of these objects. People strapped the packs 
onto their backs, slipped on the facemasks, and plunged into the water. The 
backpacks acted like the gills of a fish and provided a steady supply of 
oxygen.