He looked at Harl who was drying a thin slab of deer meat over the fire. The smoke spread out along the ground: a gust of wind blew it swirling around him and he coughed and rubbed his eyes with his forearm. Arnwheet, squatting across the fire from him, laughed—until he breathed in some smoke as well. Ortnar sat as he always did, his swollen and useless leg stretched out before him, staring sightlessly into the rain. He had become too silent and sat like this too much of the time since they had come to the island. Kerrick was worried. It was his only concern now, for the island was far superior to their encampment at Round Lake. There were ducks in the reeds that could be taken with nets, game to be hunted, deer and small murgu with sweet flesh. They had killed the large murgu carnivores as they found them. More of them had crossed over the shallow river since then from the mainland, but not many. This was a good place to be. Armun, as she did often when they were together, seemed to be sharing his thoughts.

“This is a good camp. I don’t think that I would ever like to leave it.”

“Nor I. Though sometimes I think about the sammads. I wonder if they are still with the Sasku in the valley?”

“I worry that they are all dead, killed and eaten by the murgu with the death-sticks.”

“I’ve told you many times—they are alive and well.” He reached over and moved aside the strands of hair that had fallen across her face when she looked down at the baby. Tucked them aside, then ran his fingers over her sweetly cleft lip until she smiled. This was not a thing a hunter was supposed to do, not with others looking, and for this reason she appreciated it all the more.

“You can’t be sure,” she said, still worried.

“I am sure. I’ve explained, these murgu cannot tell lies. It’s the way they talk, think really. It’s as if you spoke aloud every thought that went through your head.”

“I wouldn’t do that. Some people might be very unhappy.” She laughed. “And some of them happy too.”

“Then you understand. The murgu have to say what they think when they speak. The one I talked with, the sammadar of their city, the one I gave the skymetal knife to, she said she would stop the fighting and return to the city and stay there. She said it—so it happened.”

The rain was slowly dying away, although water still dripped down from the sodden trees. Before dark the skies cleared a little and the late afternoon sun slanted between the boughs. Kerrick rose and stretched and sniffed the air. “Tomorrow will be clear, a good day.”