Nation

the minimum of splash. As the brothers hauled him aboard, the shark passed underneath them.
    “You drove it away!” said Pilu, heaving him up. “You shouted and it turned and ran!”
    Because old Nawi was right, Mau thought. Sharks don’t like noise, which sounds louder underwater; it doesn’t matter what you shout, so long as you shout it loud!
    It probably wouldn’t have been a good idea if the shark had been really hungry, but it had worked . If you were alive, what else mattered?
    Should he tell them? Even Milo was looking at him with respect. Without quite being able to put words to it, Mau felt that being mysterious and a little dangerous was not a bad thing right now. And they would never know that he’d pissed himself on the way back to the canoe, which as far as sharks were concerned was nearly as bad as blood in the water, but the shark was unlikely to tell anyone. He looked around, half expecting to see a dolphin waiting for him to throw it a fish—and it would feel… right …to do so. But there was no dolphin.
    “It was scared of me,” he said. “Perhaps it was scared by the demon.”
    “Wow!” said Pilu.
    “Remind me when we get back that I owe a fish to Nawi.” Then he looked along the little deck to Ataba, who was lying in a heap. “How is he?”
    “He’s been banged about on the coral, but he’ll live,” said Milo. He gave Mau a questioning look, as if to say “If that’s all right with you?” He went on, “Er…who’s Nawi? A new god?”
    “No. Better than a god. A good man.”
    Mau felt cold now. It had seemed so warm in the blue bubble. He wanted to shiver, but he didn’t dare let them see. He wanted to lie down, but there was no time for that. He needed to get back, he needed to find ou—
    “Grandfathers?” he said under his breath. “Tell me what to do! I do not know the chants, I do not know the songs, but just once, help me! I need a chart for the world, I need a map!”
    There was no reply. Perhaps they were just tired, but they couldn’t be more tired than he was. How tiring was it, being dead? At least you could lie down.
    “Mau?” Milo rumbled, behind him. “What is happening here? Why did the priest try to smash the holy stones?”
    This was not the time to say “I don’t know.” The brothers had begging, hungry looks, like dogs waiting to be fed. They wanted an answer. It would be nice if it was the right answer, but if it couldn’t be, then any answer would do, because then we would stop being worried…and then his mind caught alight.
    That’s what the gods are! An answer that will do! Because there’s food to be caught and babies to be born and life to be lived and so there is no time for big, complicated, and worrying answers! Please give us a simple answer, so that we don’t have to think, because if we think, we might find answers that don’t fit the way we want the world to be.
    So what can I say now?
    “I think he thinks they aren’t really holy,” Mau managed.
    “It’s because of the calipers carving, yes?” said Pilu. “That’s what he was trying to smash! He thinks you’re right. They were made by the trousermen!”
    “They were inside coral,” said Milo. “Reefs are old. Trousermen are new.”
    Mau saw Ataba stir. He went and sat down next to the priest as the brothers maneuvered the canoe around and fought it back through the gap. People had gathered on the beach, trying to see what was happening.
    When the brothers were busy, Mau leaned down. “Who made the god anchors, Ataba?” he whispered. “I know you can hear me.”
    The priest opened one eye. “It’s not your place to question me, demon boy!”
    “I saved your life.”
    “It’s a ragged old life and not worth saving,” said Ataba, sitting up. “I don’t thank you!”
    “It’s very ragged indeed and smells of beer, but you must pay me back, otherwise it belongs to me. You can buy it back but I set the price!”
    Ataba looked furious. He struggled as if he was being boiled in anger and resentment, but he knew the rule as well as anyone.
    “All right!” he snapped. “What do you want, demon boy?”
    “The truth,” said Mau.
    The priest pointed a finger at him. “No you don’t! You want a special truth. You want the truth to be a truth that you like. You want it to be a pretty little truth that fits what you already believe! But I will tell you a truth you will not like. People want their gods, demon boy. They want to make holy places, whatever