Return to Eden

or if it had indeed spread that way. They still took every precaution and never let another hunter touch their hèsotsan, never brought one of the weapons near another.
    Arnwheet was telling Nadaske about their successful bird hunt and Nadaske showed great interest in the idea of a noose to trap creatures. Kerrick did not interrupt or try to help the boy when he got into difficulty trying to explain a noose's construction and operation in Yilanè. It was Nadaske who asked the right questions, helped him speak the correct answers. Kerrick watched in silent pleasure. Nadaske was truly interested in the snare, wanted to know how it was made.
    "If I can understand its construction I can easily make it. It is a fact known to everyone that all females are brutal things. A fact as well that all the skill and Yilanè art are confined to the males. You have seen artful/glowing the wire/stone nenitesk."
    "Can I see it now?"
    "Another time. Now I will show you something more interesting/edible."
    They followed Nadaske to the landward side of the island where he had dug a pit just at tide level. He moved aside the flat rock that covered it to reveal the seaweed lined interior. Mixed in with the wet seaweed were fresh shellfish. He selected large and juicy ones for his guests, put another in his mouth and clamped down hard to break the shell.
    "Nadaske's teeth are strong/manifold," Kerrick said, using his flint knife to prize open the shellfish.
    "Ustuzou teeth suited for other things. So stone tooth must be used."
    "Metal tooth too," Arnwheet said, slipping the thong over his head and using his skymetal knife to attack the shell.
    "No," Kerrick said, "don't use that." Arnwheet looked up, startled at the forcefulness of his negative modifiers. Kerrick wondered himself at the strength of his feelings. He passed over his flint knife, took the metal one and rubbed it with his fingers. It was scratched and nicked, but had a good edge to it, and a sharp point, where Arnwheet had sharpened it on a stone. "This was mine, he said. "It hung always about my neck on a thong, then from this metal collar as this knife does now."
    "One bigger, one smaller, very much the same." Nadaske said. "Explanation of existence/relationship."
    "Cut from skymetal, Herilak told me. He was there when it fell, a burning rock from the sky that was not stone at all, but metal. Skymetal. He was with the hunters when they searched for it. The one who found it was a sammadar named Amahast. As you can see the skymetal is hard, but it can be sawn by notched sheets of stone. That is how these knives were made, a large and a small one. Amahast wore the large one and the smaller was worn by his son. Amahast was my father. Now my son wears mine, as I did."
    "What is father what is son?" Nadaske asked, rubbing his thumb over the shining surface of the knife.
    "That will be hard to explain to you."
    "You think that I am a fargi of low intelligence without intellect to understand/appreciate?"
    Kerrick signed apologies for misunderstandings. "No, it is just that it has to do with the way ustuzou are born. There are no eggs, no efenburu in the sea. A child is born from its mother therefore knows its father as well."
    Nadaske signed confusion and disbelief. "Kerrick spoke correctly. There are some things that are beyond understanding about ustuzou."
    "You should think of Arnwheet and I as being of the smallest efenburu. Closer than close."
    "Understanding partial, acceptance complete. Eat more shellfish."
    By late afternoon Arnwheet became bored with the talk and looked around restlessly. Kerrick saw this and realized that it was important that he not be troubled seeing Nadaske. It must always be interesting, something to look forward to.
    "It is time to leave," Kerrick said. "Perhaps the birds are returning to the swamp and you can shoot one."
    "Shortness of visit/shortness of life," Nadaske said in a gloomy attempt to keep them longer.
    "Soon again—with fresh meat, Kerrick said, turning away. He took up the hèsotsan, brushed a few grains of sand from it.
    Stopped suddenly, very still.
    "You see something I do not see," Nadaske said, reading alarm into the curve of his body.
    "I see nothing. Just some sand on this stupid hèsotsan." He brushed at it with his fingers, then brushed it again.
    The small gray patch would not come off.
    CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
    Kerrick did not want to speak of what he had seen, as though in keeping silent the spot would vanish, might have never