Grunting with the effort, Ogatyr pushed himself to his feet. The continual dampness made his bones ache. He walked stiffly to the boat and rooted about inside it, then returned with a stone in each hand.

“Now, boy, you will learn something,” he said, squatting down slowly onto his haunches. He held out the stones towards Kerrick. “Look. What do you see?”

“Two stones.”

“Of course. But what of these stones? What can you tell me about them?” He turned them over and over in his hands so the boy could examine them closely. Kerrick poked at them and shrugged.

“I see only stones.”

“That is because you are young and you have never been taught. You will never learn this from the women, for this is a man’s skill only. To be a hunter you must have a spear. A spear must have a point. Therefore you must learn to know one stone from another, to see the spearpoint or the blade where it hides inside the stone, learn to open the stone and find that which is hidden inside. Now your lesson begins.” He gave the rounded, water-worn rock to Kerrick. “This is the hammerstone. See how smooth it is? Feel its weight. It is a stone that will break other stones. It will open this one which is named a bladestone.”

Kerrick turned the pebble over and over in his hands, staring at it with fierce concentration, noting its rough surface and shining angles. Ogatyr sat patiently until he was done, then took it back.

“There is no spearhead trapped in here,” he said. “It is the wrong size, the wrong shape. But there are blades here, one here, see it? Feel it? I now release it.”

Ogatyr carefully placed the bladestone on the ground and struck it with the hammerstone. A sharp chip cracked off the side.

“There is the blade,” he said. “Sharp, but not sharp enough. Now watch closely and see what I do.”

He took a bit of deer antler from his bag, then placed the chip of stone on his thigh and pressed the edge carefully with the tip of the antler. Each time he did this a tiny chip was flaked off. When he had worked the length of it, the blade was sharp and true. He handed it to Amahast who had patiently watched the entire operation. Amahast bounced it in his palm and nodded with appreciation. With practiced skill he slashed an opening in the deer’s hide and cut it from neck to groin.

“No one in our sammad can make the stone yield up its blades as this one can,” Amahast said. “Let him teach you, my son, for a hunter without a blade is no hunter at all.”