“They say they hope for more,” he says. “They will bring more of their own goods from their tribes.”
“Then why are they here?” I point out. “They should be walking in the jungle. Will they leave today?”
Crat'ax doesn’t answer right away. His jaw tightens, just a fraction. “I think they will,” he says. “They can wait in the Dry, not out here.”
“Or they can stay and we can go and see Theodora. Today. The ocean looks calm.”
He turns to scan the horizon and the opening to the bay. “It does. But it’s cloudy. The wind will pick up as the sun rises higher. And there’s still the danger with the ocean Bigs that follow the splix.”
“And then what?” I ask, with a little tremble to my voice.
“What?”
“Andthen what?What will you say tomorrow? Will you say that the waves are too big? The air is too dry? The ocean is the wrong color? What will be your reason for not going to Theodora tomorrow?” I keep my voice calm, but there’s a tremble in it.
His eyes flash. “We will go there when everything is right. Do you know how long I waited to travel down the beach that first time? I waited for five moons after my boat was ready! Because I knew that the ocean is dangerous and my boat is small. I had to wait for everything to be perfect. So I did. Then I could paddle for the two days it took to get to the beach where I found you. And one day back here.”
“So it could be many days before we go,” I conclude flatly. “Many more days for Theodora to wait, not knowing if I’m alive or dead.”
“If necessary,” Crat'ax says. “With you coming with me, I will take no chances. The ocean can change in a heartbeat. Ocean Bigs can attack from out of nowhere. Irox can attack from a clear sky. The wind could push us into the reefs. The current could draw us out from shore and into the open sea. I have seen it happen. A canoe with two men aboard was dragged out and away. They paddled as hard as they could. But they vanished and we never saw them again. The Deep looks calm and friendly, Callie. But it is the Deep, and the Deep is always dangerous.”
“Always,” I repeat. “Meaning we will never go.”
“That’s not what it means,” Crat'ax growls. “Wewillgo. When it’s safer than now. I will not risk you.”
I look away. “I understand.”
Damn.He has no intention of ever taking me back there.
He might be worried that I won’t come back here with him. Well, he didn’t need to worry about that. Not until now. “I will get some grilled splix.”
I spend the rest of the day avoiding Crat'ax as well as I can. After our talk, several canoes with strangers start toward the shore, so I guess he was as tired of all the eyes on me as I was.
The boys have added an adjustable keel to the little boat, and now they’re busy fixing a mast to it. I persuade the chief to give me some of the fabric that was traded to use as a sail. He’s grandly generous with his new riches, and I come away with both rolls of fabric and foods from various tribes. There are packs neatly wrapped in leaves, plaited boxes, and wooden cases, as well as an assortment of pots. I don’t know what’s in any of those, but I think I’ll find out.
Arms full, I carry it all to the boat and tell the boys to try to turn the fabrics into a sail while I put the food packs on the rafters under the platform.
I help the boys as well as I can, and well before sunset the boat has a moderately tall mast and a rough-looking sail. It may all be completely wrong. I’ve never been aboard a sailboat, and I certainly don’t know how to use one. But I’m sure the boys will figure it out. They’re extremely effective and work fast.
When they try to sail a small circle out on the bay, many tribesmen watch as they experiment. Crat'ax was right about the wind picking up, so the sailboat gets a good amount of speed going in one direction and can’t go in the other direction at all. Finally, the boys have to take the sail down and paddle back, to endless jokes and wry comments from the audience.
I walk over to the farm platform, where Gren’ix is experimenting with using splix guts as fertilizer the way I suggested.
“I hope it works,” I state when I watch him spread the disgusting mass and add soil over it. “If not, all you get is a stinky farm.”
“It’s worth a try,” the old man says. “Or many tries. I have a feeling it will work. It would be just like the Deep to give us a gift that has many uses. I see Crat'ax has chased the other tribes home.”
“They stayed too long,” I tell him. “There was no reason for them to hang around.”
“Oh, they had a reason,” he chuckles as he works with his shovel. “They came for the splix, but they stayed for the woman. Crat'ax doesn’t like it when others stare at you for too long.”
“Why did the tribe catch the dragon?” I ask.
He stiffens, then peers at me with his crusty eyes. “He told you about the dragon? It’s the kind of thing you should know, I suppose. Well, our men kept coming upon a dragon in the woods. When they hunted, or cut down trees for the wood, or were gathering other foods. He would taunt them, and then vanish. They thought he was moving too close to the Lifegivers, and they worried about what he might do. And they felt this urge to kill him. I do too, in truth. There’s something about him that just… Well, we don’t use swords the way the Dry tribes do. If we did, the tribe might have attacked him and killed him, and we’d be done with him. But instead, a trap was made, and he was caught one night. I didn’t see it myself.”
“But I did,” Mek’tor says and comes sauntering out of a shadow. “I was there, Callie. Here, have some dried berries. They’re sweet.” He holds out his hand and drops some berries into mine.
I’m not super happy about him having eavesdropped on my conversation, which seems to be a habit of his. But that can’t be helped.
