Nation

were pouring onto the sand.
    No voices in my head, Mau thought. No dead people. It’s just me in here. I’ve got to get this right….
    Pilu hurried up with a heavy package wrapped in papervine cloth. “It’s been kept dry. It will be fine.”
    Mau looked along the high ground. Someone was standing by each cannon with a long fuse in his hand, or in the case of one, her hand. They were watching him anxiously. Everyone was watching him.
    He looked down at the beach again and saw Cox, towering over the Raiders.
    He’d been expecting someone like Foxlip, skinny and unhealthy-looking, but this man was a good foot taller and nearly the same size as Milo. He had feathers sticking up around his trouserman hat. They were red, the feathers of a chief. So he’d done what the ghost girl had said he’d do: He’d taken over. That was their law. The strongest man led. That made sense. At least, it made sense to strong men.
    The Raiders were holding back, though. They were staying near their boats; only one was coming up the beach, with his spear held over his head.
    In a way, and it was a strange kind of way, this was a big relief. Mau didn’t like having two plans.
    “He looks very young,” said the ghost girl behind him. He spun around and there she was, dwarfed beside Milo, who was carrying a club the size of a medium-sized tree; in fact it was a medium-sized tree, without the branches.
    “You should have gone into the forest with the others!” he said.
    “Really? Well, now I’m coming with you.”
    Mau glanced at Milo, but he’d get no help there. Since Guiding Star had been born, the ghost girl could do no wrong as far as his father was concerned.
    “Besides,” she said, “it’s going to end up the same way for all of us if this goes wrong. Why aren’t they charging toward us?”
    “Because they want to talk.” Mau pointed to the approaching man. He looked like he was young and trying not to be afraid.
    “Why?”
    The young man stuck his spear into the sand and then turned and ran.
    “Maybe it’s because they have seen the cannon. I was hoping for this. Look at them. They’re not happy.”
    “Can we trust them?”
    “With a truce? Yes.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes. There are rules. Pilu and Milo will talk to them. I’m just a boy, with no tattoos. They won’t speak to me.”
    “But you are the chief!”
    Mau smiled. “Yes, but don’t tell them.”
    Was it like this at the Battle of Waterloo? Daphne wondered as they walked down to the beach and the waiting group. This is…strange. It’s so…civilized, as if a battle is something that starts when somebody blows a whistle. There are rules, even here. And here comes Cox. Oh Lord, even the air he breathes needs a wash afterward.
    First Mate Cox came toward them, smiling like someone greeting a long-lost friend who owed him money. You never saw Cox frown. Like crocodiles and sharks, Cox always had a grin for people, especially when he had them at his mercy, or at least where his mercy would be if he had any.
    “Well now, here’s a thing,” he said. “Fancy seeing you here, young lady. The Judy got this far, then? And where’s old Roberts and his upstanding crew? At prayer?”
    “They are here and armed, Mr. Cox,” Daphne said.
    “Are they indeed?” said Cox cheerfully. “Then I’m the queen of Sheba.” He pointed to the upper slope, where the cannon were clearly visible. “Those guns are from the Judy , right?”
    “I’m not telling you anything, Mr. Cox.”
    “Then they are. A load of scrap iron, as I recall. That skinflint Roberts was too mean to get new ones. I know I’m right. First time you use them, they’ll split like a sausage! Seems to have put the wind up my jolly loyal subjects, though. Oh, yeah, I’m their chief, as a matter of fact. See my new hat? It’s quite the style, ain’t it? Me, king o’ the cannibals.” He leaned forward. “You got to be nice to me now I’m a king,” he said. “You should call me Your Majesty, eh?”
    “And how did you become a king, Mr. Cox?” said Daphne. “I’m sure it involved killing people.” She had to make an effort not to back away, but backing away from the man never worked.
    “Only one, so don’t be so hoity-toity. We’d just got a nice new boat courtesy of a bunch of Dutchmen of a charitable disposition, and then just after we’d chucked them over the side, a load of our brown chums comes up on us all in a rush, and we had a bit of an argument. I shot this big