Some time in the night, he passed into a true sleep, and I with him. In the morning, he rose again, refreshed and well pleased with himself. He ran his hands over his belly and thighs, rejoicing to find that the skin had tightened as it filled again. He had not been awake long before Likari came staggering and yawning from bed to join him. Soldier’s Boy ran a critical eye over the lad.

“You’re growing, so it is hard to put flesh on you. But today we will try. Come. Show me your fish stream.”

He followed the boy some distance from the lodge, to where a swift-flowing stream cut its way through the forest. The shady banks of the watercourse were steep. At first Soldier’s Boy could not see any fish; then his eyes adjusted, and he saw that there were plenty of them. Most of them hung finning in the water beneath the undercut banks of the stream.

Likari had dropped to his belly. Like a lizard, he wriggled up to the stream’s edge and lay there, being careful not to cast a shadow or make any sound that might alarm the fish below. Then, in a single movement, he thrust his arm into the stream, scooped it under a fish and flung it flopping onto the bank beside him. The creature looked to be the veteran of a long and difficult journey. His skin hung in tatters, and some predator had taken a bite out of his back. But he still flopped mightily and could have managed to throw himself back into the stream if Soldier’s Boy had not picked him up by the tail and slammed his head firmly against a nearby tree trunk. By the time that swiftly brutal execution had been done, there was another fish flopping on the bank. It received the same treatment as its fellow.

So the morning went, save for an interval when Soldier’s Boy left Likari to slay his own fish. He moved well back from the stream and gathered wood and twigs. He was stingy with the magic; it took him three tries before he called up a spark large enough to kindle the dry wood. Once it was going, he fed it until it was a useful size. Soon there were fish cooking over it.

All day long, the man and boy caught, killed, and ate fish. It seemed a monotonous meal to me, but I sensed that Soldier’s Boy was not interested in taste right now. He enjoyed what he ate, but not in the sensuous way that I had employed his keen senses. He was too focused on consuming quantity to pause for long considerations of flavor and tenderness and the note of smoke that the fire put into the fresh fish.

When evening began to fall, they still had more fish than they’d been able to eat. They walked home slowly, carrying the surplus catch. Some they cooked and ate that night. Soldier’s Boy put a sturdy green branch through the gill slits of the others and hung them up in a row suspended over the hearth fire in the lodge. Before they went to sleep, he had Likari gather green alder branches. These they heaped over the diminished fire, making a fine smoke that flowed up and past the fish. Then they went to bed.

This was the pattern of the next two days. Soldier’s Boy’s belly and thighs and arms filled out at a rate I would have thought impossible if I had not witnessed it. Even Likari managed to gain a small paunch, though the little boy was far too active to flesh out quickly.

On the morning of the fourth day, when Likari awoke, he found Soldier’s Boy already standing outside the lodge, contemplating the new day.

“Come,” he said. “It’s time for us to go to the Trading Place.”

Soldier’s Boy had regained a good deal of his weight. He was still not the magnificent Great Man he had been, but his size was respectable. The height I had inherited from my father benefited him there. He was a head taller than most of the Specks I had encountered. The height coupled with his newly recovered weight made him appear bigger than he was. Yet his satisfaction was tempered with regret as he spread the blanket out on the earth inside the lodge and began to load Lisana’s treasure onto it. Weight alone would not win him the standing he needed. He’d have to make sacrifices. Likari watched him as he lifted each prize from its concealment under the moss and put it gently on the blanket. When he was finished, he carefully rolled the blanket in such a way that the jewelry and other treasures were securely trapped inside it. He picked it up and heaved himself to his feet with a sigh. “It’s time to go. Are you ready?”

“Where did you get all those beautiful things?”

“They used to belong to Lisana.”

The boy looked extremely uncertain. “It’s dangerous to touch things that once belonged to a Great One.”

“Unless you are the rightful heir to them. Lisana left these things to me. They are mine now, to do with as I wish. To use as I judge best to use them.”

The boy stared up at him silently. Soldier’s Boy said nothing more to him about it. I was once again struck by the differences in how I would have regarded a six-year-old boy and how Soldier’s Boy treated Likari. He did not make allowances for the boy’s youth or small size or lesser strength. He did not condescendingly explain his answers to the boy’s childish questions. He simply gave him tasks, and expected that the boy would do his best to meet the requirements. When he failed due to size or age or strength, he did not rebuke him, but merely accepted that the boy would have to grow into them. It was a very different concept of childhood. I wondered if I would have been happier to have been a Speck child.

I had little time to ponder the question. Soldier’s Boy took Likari’s hand. “Are you ready?” he asked the child, and without waiting for an answer, he set off.

I was beginning to become familiar with his magic. I comprehended more of the quick-walk than I had before. He drew on Lisana’s memories of the journey to the Trading Place. He thought of the passage there, and in his mind he ran quickly through every impression of the journey that she could recall, in order. A man can think of the journey to a place much more swiftly than his legs can carry him. We traveled at a speed somewhere between the two, not as fast as his mind nor as slow as his legs. Every time he blinked, I saw a different section of our journey before us.

And when he stopped after what seemed no more than a pleasant walk, we looked out on a wide vista of shale beach. Beyond it, huge waves crashed against the shore, and beyond them was a limitless expanse of water. It was hard for me to comprehend. The water stretched as far as the horizon, a deep blue touched with tips of white. Light bounced from the water up into my eyes. And the sound of the waves crashing on the beach! It filled my ears so that I felt I could hear nothing else. The smell was as engulfing. Its salty musk spoke more of life than even the forest scents had. I had heard tales of the ocean before, but they had not prepared me for this. I could have gazed on it for hours, trying to grasp the immensity of it. No matter how long I live, I do not think I will ever forget that moment. Many small boats were pulled up on the shore. Ships of a type I’d never seen before rode at anchor on the distant slow swell. Some flew banners, but I didn’t recognize any of them. Truly, I stood facing the shores of a different world. Was this what good King Troven dreamed of? Bringing his road here to join Gernia to these trading vessels?

Soldier’s Boy was undazzled by any of it. “I came too far!” he muttered to himself, and then turned round. Behind us, on a gentle rise beyond the shale beach, was a market town such as I had never seen. I’d expected that the Trading Place would be some sort of crossroads or temporary encampment of several tribes of people. Instead, I looked on a gathering of folk that was easily the equal of the Dark Evening carnival in Old Thares. All sorts of structures—some tentlike, some built of stone, and others hastily constructed of driftwood—formed a long line that paralleled the beachfront. People in all manner of dress and undress wandered the market contentedly. Smoke rose from cooking fires, and despite the sound of the surf at my back, I heard sheep bleating, musical instruments playing, and above it all, the clattering of a thousand tongues. I stared, as astonished by this sight as I had been by the ocean. If this was the ebb of the trading time, what had it been at its fullness?