“Beat a smaller boy! Kick a smaller boy!” Merrith shouted angrily. “Why not kick me, would you like to try that?” She caught him another whack before he could dodge her and get away. “Anyone else want some?” she said glowering at the boys who disappeared as quickly as Dall had done. Arnwheet sat up, sobbing, tears mixing with the blood from his nose.

“Boys,” she muttered to herself, and sat him down and wiped the tears away. She dipped a cloth in cold water and cleaned him, held it to his nose until the bleeding and the sobbing had stopped.

“Go to your tent, lie down and stay quiet, or the bleeding will start again,” she said. “And try to stay out of trouble.”

Arnwheet felt very put upon. He scuffled through the dust and kicked a stick aside. The boys made fun of him — and it was true. He did look like that when he spoke Yilanè. He would never do it again. Or maybe he would. He could talk it and they couldn’t. They were all stupid. And he could go to the island — and they couldn’t. Which meant that he was better than they were. He would go there now and they couldn’t follow.

The tent was empty, Malagen was away with his sister. And so were his mother and father, gone away for such a long time. Nobody cared about him, nobody. Maybe only Nadaske. He took up his bow and quiver of arrows, then saw the fish spear near the door. He would take that too, show Nadaske how to catch fish with it.

He saw no one when he crossed over the island. The day was hot, he was dusty and dirty. And it felt good to swim the channel to the smaller island by the sea. He sat on the bank and looked back carefully at the undergrowth, but he had not been followed. Then he went along the shore, and when he saw the shelter ahead called out loudly for attention to speaking. Nadaske poked his head out, then emerged and signed pleasure at seeing.

“Pleasure of eating too,” Arnwheet said, holding up the fish spear. “For stabbing/catching fish. I will show you how.”

“Small one has wisdom beyond my comprehension. We shall stab fish!”

“Has all been loaded as ordered?” Ambalasei asked. Elem signed completeness.

“Everything that was brought to the dock has been put safely into the uruketo and secured. There is also a sufficiency of preserved eel, water enough for a long voyage, the creature itself has been well fed and rested. Doubts only as to destination.

“Entoban*! You were informed. Is memory withering with age?”

“Memory is functioning. It is just that Entoban* is a vast continent, many ocean currents flow around it, specific city/destination assures shortness of voyage.”

“Perhaps it is longness of voyage that is needed. For the moment, for your information of determining course, Entoban* must suffice. There are many cities I must consider, comparisons shall be made. I am tired, Elem, in many ways, and this decision is an important one. I do not crave any more long voyages after this one, nor rough-life at the outer edge of knowledge-seeking. I want a city of comfort that will welcome me, where others can come to appreciate and study what I have learned. A life of physical and mental ease. With food a little more attractive than eel to eat.” Ambalasei looked around at the now empty quarters, turned her back on it. “We leave.”

“Instructions have been issued. A request spoken to me earlier, now made. For Ambalasei to attend the ambesed before departure.”

“Suspicion of motives. Speeches and farewells?”

“I was not informed. Shall we go?”

Muttering complaints and disinterest, Ambalasei went. When they came close she heard the sound of many voices coming from the ambesed. They stilled as she entered.

“All talking of Ugunenapsa,” she said disdainfully. “Great joy approaching me soonest to forget despised same and followers.”

Despite her complaints she was pleased to see them all in attendance, moving aside respectfully as she approached. Enge stood beside the eistaa’s resting place, and none complained now when Ambalasei seated herself there.

“No work being done today, obviously,” she said.

“All are here. It is a collective wish.”

“Is there a reason for this?”

“There is. There was discussion for many days…”

“That I certainly believe!”

“… and many were the suggestions of the correct manner to express the gratitude that we feel, for what you have done for us. After lengthy consideration all were rejected as being insufficient in worth to be truly appreciative of what you have accomplished.”

Ambalasei struggled to rise. “If all were rejected it is now possible for me to leave.”

There was a hum of consternation at this and Enge stepped forward signing negative, remain, urgency, hurrying to make amends.

“You misunderstand, great Ambalasei, or it is my insufficiency in speaking. All other suggestions were rejected in favor of honoring you with that which is most precious to us. The Eight Principles of Ugunenapsa.”

She paused then and there was absolute silence. “This is what was decided. Henceforth and forever they shall be called the Nine Principles of Ugunenapsa!’

It was upon Ambalasei’s lips to ask when Ugunenapsa had returned to dictate the ninth but felt that, even for her, this would be a bit callous. She signed only fairly-courteous attention.

“This is the ninth,” Enge said, moving aside as Omal and Satsat stepped forward. They chanted, in unison, and what they said was echoed by all the listeners.

“The ninth principle of Ugunenapsa. The first Eight Principles exist. They would not exist were it not for great Ambalasei.”

Ambalasei recognized this for what it was, the greatest expression of gratitude that the Daughters of Life were capable of. First for them always, came Ugunenapsa’s words. And now, forever linked with their existence, would be the name of Ambalasei. These argumentative creatures were actually capable of gratitude! For possibly the first time in her long life she could not think of an insulting remark. Could only sign the simplest gesture of acceptance and expression of her own gratitude.

Enge saw this, knew the old scientist far better than Ambalasei would have believed possible. Understood her reactions and appreciated her response. She turned and spoke to the gathering.

“Ambalasei has thanked you all. It is time to leave her in peace. Although she departs today — we now know that she will never leave us. Ambalasei and Ugunenapsa, forever joined.”

They filed out in silence until only Enge remained. “May I walk with you to the uruketo? We have walked together many times, and I have learned much from you wise Ambalasei. Shall we go?”

Ambalasei struggled to rise, felt Enge’s strong thumbs helping her, stood and walked slowly from the ambesed with her at her side. They went through the city in silence, until Ambalasei signed that she wished to rest in the shade for the sun was very hot. When they stopped to cool Enge signed request for information.

“Never refused, Enge, you know that. Without my continuing aid, yours and the entire Yilanè world, would be a poorer place.”

“That is true. Which is the reason for my question. I am concerned. You speak always of your disbelief in Ugunenapsa and I find that both disconcerting and difficult to comprehend. You analyze our problems with great precision and aid us in understanding them better. But what of you yourself? What is your personal understanding? I hope that you will tell me. Is it your belief that Ugunenapsa’s Nine Principles are correct?”

“No. Except for the ninth that is.”

“Then — if you doubt that which is most important to us, why do you aid us?”