At last, in far southern Tesh, they turned inland, traveling without merchants. The borders between Ettin and its eastern neighbors were all quiet. The various families had been allies and breeding partners for generations; and none tolerated criminal behavior. By now, it was late summer. The plain baked under a sun like polished brass. The Ettin hills were hot and dusty. When they reached Hattali’s house, it was with relief. Household women greeted them. Men took their tsinaand the packs of props and costumes. Their rooms opened on a courtyard with two bathing pools. The water in one was colorless and cold. The other bubbled, bright green. The entire acting company stripped and climbed in. What a pleasure! Though both pools were crowded. Well, thought Haik, she’d take a slow bath later, soaking the travel aches from her muscles and bones.

When they were done and in fresh clothes, a woman came for Dapple and Haik. "Ettin Taiin wants you to join his mother."

"Of course," said Dapple.

They went through shadowy halls, silent except for birds calling in the house’s eaves. They sounded like water running over stones. The woman said, "Thirty days ago, Hattali fell. She seemed unharmed, except for damage to one foot. It drags a little now. But since the fall she’s been preoccupied and unwilling to do much, except sit and talk with Taiin. We fear her great strength is coming to an end."

"It can’t be!" said Dapple.

"You know about old age and death. We’ve seen them in your plays." Saying this, the woman opened a door.

Outside was a terrace, lit by the afternoon sun. Hattali sat in a high-backed chair, leaning against the back, her eyes closed. How old she looked! How thin and frail! Her warrior son sat next to her on a stool, holding one of his mother’s hands. He looked at them, laid Hattali’s hand gently in her lap and rose. "Cholkwa is in the north. I’m glad to see you, Dapple."

They sat down. Hattali opened her eyes, obviously seeing nothing. "Who has come, Tai?"

"Dapple and her lover, the potter."

The old lady smiled. "One last play."

"A play, yes," said Dapple. "But not the last, I hope."

A look of irritation crossed Hattali’s face. "Did the potter bring pots?"

Haik excused herself and went to find her pack. Now she understood the house’s quiet. Most likely, the children had been sent out to play; and the adults–she passed a few in the halls–moved softly and gravely. A matriarch like Hattali, a woman with so much dignity, should not be bothered with noise, while deciding whether to live or die.

When Haik returned to the terrace, Hattali seemed asleep. But the old woman took the pot Haik put in her hands, feeling it with bony fingers. "What is it?"

"There’s a skull on top, a replica of one I found in stone."

"It’s shaped like a tliskull," Hattali said.

"A bit, but the teeth are different. I imagine from the teeth that the animal had scales, not hair."

Hattali exhaled and felt more. "On the sides of the pot?"

"The animal as I imagine it must have been, when alive. I found the skull first and made a pot that Dapple bought. But now I have found the entire animal, and it wasn’t the way I showed it on the first pot. So I made this."

"The animals are in relief?"

"Yes."

"What do they look like, if not tli?"

Haik thought. "An animal about as long as my arm, four legged with a tail. Spines protrude along the back, as if the animal had a fin there like a fish. That was the thing I did not imagine: the spines. And the tail is different also, flat from side to side, like the tail of a fish."

"What color is the glaze?"

"Black, except the skull, which is white."

"Tai," said the old woman.

"Mother?"

"Is it beautiful?"

"She is the Potter of Strange Animals. The pot is strange, but well made."

"I want it for my ashes."

"You will have it," he said.

She gave her son the pot. He turned it in his blunt, strong-looking hands. Hattali turned her blind face toward Haik. "You must still believe your crazy idea, that we are descended from bugs."

"That the world is old and full of change, yes," said Haik.

"Sit down and tell me about it again."

Haik obeyed. The old woman listened as she explained about beauty, death, and change.

"Well, we have certainly improved our lineage through careful breeding," said Hattali finally. "The child your kinsman fathered on Sai is a fine little girl. We hope she’ll be as clever as you are, though I’m still not certain about your idea of time and change. Why didn’t the Goddess simply make people? Why start with bugs?"

"She clearly likes bugs," said Haik. "The world is full of them. They are far more common than people and more varied. Maybe her plan was to create a multitude of bugs through beauty and death, and we are an accidental result of her breeding of bugs."

"Do you believe that?"

"No. She told me we have a gift no other living creature had: we know what we do. I believe this gift is not an accident. She wanted comprehension."

Haik was wrong in saying this, according to modern scientists. They believe life is entirely an accident, though evidently an accident that happens often, since life has appeared on many planets. Intelligent life is far less common, but has clearly appeared on at least two planets and may be present elsewhere in a form we do not recognize. It also is an accident, modern thinkers say. This is hard for many of us to believe; and Haik, living in the distant past, could hardly be expected to bring forward an idea so disturbing.

"Well, you certainly ought to listen to the Goddess, if she talks to you," said Hattali. "When will I hear your play, Dapple?"

"It will take a few days to prepare."

The matriarch tilted her head in acquiescence.

They left Hattali then, going back to their room. "I want you to make masks for a new play," Dapple said. "Five of your strange animals. They interest Hattali. Sit with her while you work, and tell her about your ideas. Taiin is an excellent man. None better! But her illness has got him frightened; and his fear is not helping her mood. Maybe she knows what she’s doing. Maybe it is time for her to die. But I wonder if the fall has frightened her as well as her relatives. A woman like Hattali should not die from fear."

"Has she no daughters?"

"Two. Good women, but not half what she is, and she’s never gotten along with either. The love of her life has always been Taiin."

He left the next morning, called to the western border. Gwa scouts had been seen. Their old enemies might have heard that Hattali was dying. What better time to attack?

"They expect that grief will break me," Taiin said, standing in the house’s front court, dressed in metal and leather armor. A sword hung at his side, and a battle axe hung from a loop on his saddle. "It may, but not while there’s work to be done." He swung himself onto his tsineasily, in spite of age and his bad leg. Once settled on the animal, he looked down at Haik and Dapple.

"She is the last of her generation. What people they were, especially the women! As solid as stone walls and towers! I have lived my entire life in their protection. Now, the walls are broken. Only one tower remains. What will I do, when Hattali is gone?"

"Defend Ettin," said Dapple.