Nation

say!” said Daphne hotly. “We don’t eat people!”
    “There are different ways to eat people, girl, and you are clever, oh yes, clever enough to know it. And sometimes the people don’t realize it’s happened until they hear the belch!”
    “Come quickly!” That was Mau, whose lamp was a faint green glow in the distance.
    Daphne ran to stop Ataba from seeing her face. Her father, well, he was a decent man but, well, this century was a game of empires, apparently, and no little island was allowed to belong to itself. What would Mau do if someone stuck a flag on his beach?
    There he was now, looking green, and pointing to the line of Grandfathers.
    As she got closer, she saw the white stone on the edge of the passage. There was a Grandfather sitting on it like a chieftain, but with his hands clasped around his knees like the rest. And he was facing down the corridor, away from the cave mouth, toward the unknown.
    In front of him the line of dead warriors continued, all now turned to face…what? The light of day was behind them now.
    Mau was waiting, a glint in his eye, when Ataba hobbled up. “Do you know why they are facing the wrong way, Ataba?” he asked.
    “They look as though they are protecting us from something,” said the priest.
    “Down here? From what? There’s nothing down here but darkness.”
    “And something best forgotten, perhaps? Do you think the wave never happened before? And the last time it never went away. It was a wave that never ebbed. It ended the world.”
    “That’s just a story. I remember my mother telling it to me,” said Mau. “Everyone knows it: ‘In the Time When Things Were Otherwise and the Moon Was Different…Men were becoming troublesome, and so Imo swept them away with a great wave.’”
    “Was there an ark? I mean, er, some sort of big boat?” asked Daphne. “I mean, how did anyone survive?”
    “There were people on the sea and high ground,” said Mau. “That’s the story, isn’t it, Ataba?”
    “What had they done that was so bad?” Daphne asked.
    Ataba cleared his throat. “It is said they tried to make themselves into gods,” he said.
    “That’s right.” Mau went on: “I wonder if you can tell me what we did wrong this time?”
    Ataba hesitated.
    Mau did not, and he spoke sharp and fast, like a spring unwinding: “I am talking about my father, my mother, my whole family, my whole Nation ! They all died ! I had a sister who was seven years old. Just give me the reason. There must have been a reason! Why did the gods let them die? I found a little baby stuck in a tree. How had it offended the gods?”
    “We are small. We cannot understand the nature of the gods,” said Ataba.
    “No! You don’t believe that—I can hear it in your voice! I don’t understand the nature of a bird, but I can watch it and listen to it and learn about it. Don’t you do this with the gods? Where are the rules? What did we do wrong? Tell me!”
    “ I don’t know! Don’t you think I haven’t asked them?” Tears started to roll down Ataba’s cheeks. “You think I am a man alone? I haven’t seen my daughter or her children since the wave. Do you hear what I say? It is not all about you! I envy your rage, demon boy. It fills you up! It feeds you, gives you strength. But the rest of us listen for the certainty, and there is nothing. Yet in our heads we know there must be…something, some reason, some pattern, some order, so we call upon the silent gods, because they are better than the darkness. That is it, boy. I have no answers for you.”
    “Then I’ll look for them in the darkness,” said Mau, holding up the lantern. “Come farther with us,” he said in a quieter voice.
    The light glistened off the tears streaming down the priest’s face. “No,” he said hoarsely.
    “We’ll have to leave you here,” said Mau. “Among the dead men, which I think is no place for you. Or you can come with us. At least you’ll have a demon and a ghost on your side. We may need your wisdom, too.”
    To Daphne’s surprise, the old man smiled. “You think I have some left?”
    “Certainly. Shall we continue? What can you find that is worse than me?”
    “I’d like to ask a question,” said Daphne quickly. “How often is a new Grandfather put in here, please?”
    “Once or twice in fifty years,” said Ataba.
    “There are thousands here. Are you sure?”
    “This place has been here since the world was made, and so have we,” said Mau.
    “On that,