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“We have had very much fear,” Armun said, then smiled. “But no longer.”

And she no longer had her own private fears. That Arnwheet would become more murgu than Tanu. That fear was gone now. Kerrick would go alone to see the marag on the island. He would talk to the creature as she talked to the Paramutan. That was all. And one day the thing would die and that would be the end of it. Now there could be an end to fear.

“You’re afraid to go to the island,” Dall said, spitting on the ground to show the strength of his feelings.

“I am not afraid,” Arnwheet said. “I just don’t want to go. You are the one that should be afraid, your father beat you when you went. I saw you crying.”

“I did not cry!”

“I saw you too!” one of the other boys shouted and jumped back when Dall swung about and tried to punch him.

Arnwheet started to move away. He was smaller than Dall and knew he could not beat him in a fight. He hoped that he would forget the whole thing. But this was not to be. Dall chased the other boy, then returned, still glowering in anger, stabbed Arnwheet painfully in the chest with his finger.

“I saw you go to the island with your father. I hid and I saw you and him go right up to the marag.”

“You don’t talk about my father.”

“Why not?” Dall was sneering with pleasure now and all of the others were on his side. “You want to stop me? Try to stop me. Your father is half a marag. I saw him go like this and shiver and shake.”

He twisted and danced about waving his arms and all of the boys thought this was very funny.

“You shut up!” was all that Arnwheet could think to say.

“And I saw Arnwheet doing it too, just like this, shake, shake, shake!”

The demonstration was greatly appreciated and he turned in a circle so they could all get a better look. Arnwheet’s anger flared and he pushed the large boy in the back and knocked him down, then kicked him hard before he could struggle to his feet again. Dall was shouting with fury: Arnwheet ran.

Arnwheet was fast and the screaming Dall could not quite catch him. All of the other boys followed, shouting as well. Between the tents they raced, Arnwheet dodging around them, then jumping over a fire. But Dall was ahead of him now, grabbed him by the arm and spun him about. Knocked him to the ground and began pummeling him. His fist caught Arnwheet on the nose and blood spurted high — the onlookers cheered. Dall stood up and started to kick the smaller boy. Then screamed as a hard hand painfully boxed his ear.

“Beat a smaller boy! Kick a smaller boy!” Merrith shouted angrily. “Why not kick me, would you like to try that?” She caught him another whack before he could dodge her and get away. “Anyone else want some?” she said glowering at the boys who disappeared as quickly as Dall had done. Arnwheet sat up, sobbing, tears mixing with the blood from his nose.

“Boys,” she muttered to herself, and sat him down and wiped the tears away. She dipped a cloth in cold water and cleaned him, held it to his nose until the bleeding and the sobbing had stopped.

“Go to your tent, lie down and stay quiet, or the bleeding will start again,” she said. “And try to stay out of trouble.”

Arnwheet felt very put upon. He scuffled through the dust and kicked a stick aside. The boys made fun of him — and it was true. He did look like that when he spoke Yilanè. He would never do it again. Or maybe he would. He could talk it and they couldn’t. They were all stupid. And he could go to the island — and they couldn’t. Which meant that he was better than they were. He would go there now and they couldn’t follow.

The tent was empty, Malagen was away with his sister. And so were his mother and father, gone away for such a long time. Nobody cared about him, nobody. Maybe only Nadaske. He took up his bow and quiver of arrows, then saw the fish spear near the door. He would take that too, show Nadaske how to catch fish with it.

He saw no one when he crossed over the island. The day was hot, he was dusty and dirty. And it felt good to swim the channel to the smaller island by the sea. He sat on the bank and looked back carefully at the undergrowth, but he had not been followed. Then he went along the shore, and when he saw the shelter ahead called out loudly for attention to speaking. Nadaske poked his head out, then emerged and signed pleasure at seeing.

“Pleasure of eating too,” Arnwheet said, holding up the fish spear. “For stabbing/catching fish. I will show you how.”

“Small one has wisdom beyond my comprehension. We shall stab fish!”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

anbefeneleiaa akotkurusat, anbegaas efengaasat.

Ugunenapsa said:

If you accept the truth of Efeneleiaa you accept life.

“Has all been loaded as ordered?” Ambalasei asked. Elem signed completeness.

“Everything that was brought to the dock has been put safely into the uruketo and secured. There is also a sufficiency of preserved eel, water enough for a long voyage, the creature itself has been well fed and rested. Doubts only as to destination.

“Entoban*! You were informed. Is memory withering with age?”

“Memory is functioning. It is just that Entoban* is a vast continent, many ocean currents flow around it, specific city/destination assures shortness of voyage.”

“Perhaps it is longness of voyage that is needed. For the moment, for your information of determining course, Entoban* must suffice. There are many cities I must consider, comparisons shall be made. I am tired, Elem, in many ways, and this decision is an important one. I do not crave any more long voyages after this one, nor rough-life at the outer edge of knowledge-seeking. I want a city of comfort that will welcome me, where others can come to appreciate and study what I have learned. A life of physical and mental ease. With food a little more attractive than eel to eat.” Ambalasei looked around at the now empty quarters, turned her back on it. “We leave.”

“Instructions have been issued. A request spoken to me earlier, now made. For Ambalasei to attend the ambesed before departure.”

“Suspicion of motives. Speeches and farewells?”

“I was not informed. Shall we go?”

Muttering complaints and disinterest, Ambalasei went. When they came close she heard the sound of many voices coming from the ambesed. They stilled as she entered.

“All talking of Ugunenapsa,” she said disdainfully. “Great joy approaching me soonest to forget despised same and followers.”

Despite her complaints she was pleased to see them all in attendance, moving aside respectfully as she approached. Enge stood beside the eistaa’s resting place, and none complained now when Ambalasei seated herself there.

“No work being done today, obviously,” she said.

“All are here. It is a collective wish.”

“Is there a reason for this?”

“There is. There was discussion for many days…”

“That I certainly believe!”

“… and many were the suggestions of the correct manner to express the gratitude that we feel, for what you have done for us. After lengthy consideration all were rejected as being insufficient in worth to be truly appreciative of what you have accomplished.”

Ambalasei struggled to rise. “If all were rejected it is now possible for me to leave.”

There was a hum of consternation at this and Enge stepped forward signing negative, remain, urgency, hurrying to make amends.

“You misunderstand, great Ambalasei, or it is my insufficiency in speaking. All other suggestions were rejected in favor of honoring you with that which is most precious to us. The Eight Principles of Ugunenapsa.”

She paused then and there was absolute silence. “This is what was decided. Henceforth and forever they shall be called the Nine Principles of Ugunenapsa!’

It was upon Ambalasei’s lips to ask when Ugunenapsa had returned to dictate the ninth but felt that, even for her, this would be a bit callous. She signed only fairly-courteous attention.