She made the gesture of affirmation. “If I had stayed out there,” she waved at the open area, “the old women would have pushed in front of me. I would have seen nothing and not heard much, either. I am going to be the next shamaness. It is important for me to see and hear what my foster mother does.”

Eddie took the jar. “What is this stuff?”

“A mind-altering substance,” Derek said.

Eddie handed it to Ivanova, who handed it to Agopian. “Be careful, comrade,” she said.

“I will,” said Agopian. He drank, choked, coughed, and gave the jar to Mr. Fang.

I looked at Hua. “Why couldn’t you be out here with us?”

“There is no room under the awning.”

“Girls do not sit with women when they make important decisions,” Angai said.

And maybe, I thought, it would not be a good idea for Hua and Nia and Angai to sit together in front of the entire village. The villagers might remember how close their shamaness had been to the woman they had exiled.

People were coming back now. They carried objects: poles, which they dug into the ground, and pieces of fabric, which they stretched over the poles. Light shone through the fabric, taking on the color of each piece: red, green, blue, yellow, and orange.

The people spread rugs and settled down. They handed around food: pieces of bread, bowls of meat, jars made of silver and bronze. Babies crawled through the colored shadows. Little children ran.

Hua ducked back into the tent. A moment later she reappeared—or rather, her hand did, furry and brown, holding a large flat piece of bread. Eddie took it. We passed it around.

Angai made a commanding gesture. The people in the square grew quiet. Angai looked at us. “Begin.”

“Elizaveta and I flipped a coin,” said Eddie. “I lost. I have to go first. Derek, will you translate?”

“Yes.”

Eddie drew in a breath, then exhaled slowly. “First of all, repeat what Mr. Fang said: When different people meet, changes occur.

“Most likely these people—the Iron People—will change more than we will, since they have a less developed technology. They may not like the changes they experience. And they may not find it possible to go back to the way they were.”

Derek thought for a moment. “All right.” He looked at Angai. “Eddie says when people meet, they change one another.”

Angai made the gesture of qualified agreement.

“If the people have different kinds of tools, then the people with large and powerful tools will change less than the people with small and weak tools.

“Eddie says our tools are large and powerful. Your tools are small and weak. Therefore you will change more than we do, and you may not like the changes.”

Angai frowned. “This man is not being courteous. Our people are skillful. The tools we make are good.”

The women around her made gestures of unqualified agreement.

“However, it is true that new ideas make people uncomfortable. Maybe we will not like the stories you tell or the ways that you behave.”

Derek translated this into English.

Eddie frowned, then nodded. “Next, tell the shamaness that we have a long history of bad behavior toward people who are different. We have improved in the past two or three centuries, but we don’t know that the change is permanent. We may revert—especially here in this country, which is so much like North America.”

“Is this necessary?” asked Ivanova. “Do we have to bring up all the ancient crimes of feudalism and capitalism? We are not those people. And most of us have not had to endure anything like those economic systems.”

Mr. Fang said, “Eddie is not a Marxist. He does not share our analysis of human nature or of human history. For him this is a real concern.”

Derek said, “Eddie says in the past our people acted badly toward people in other villages. He is afraid it will happen again.”

“What do you mean by acting badly?” Angai asked.

Derek translated.

Eddie said, “Tell her about war.”

“In the past our men used to go around in groups. They fought with men from other villages. The men who won stole things from the men who lost.”

“What kind of things?” asked Angai.

“Belongings, animals, land. Sometimes they took away people: men and women and children.”

“How can you steal land? It cannot be carried away in a saddlebag or even in a wagon. And what purpose could there be in stealing people?”

An old woman said, “There are stories about demons who eat people.”

Angai frowned. “Is that what your people did?”

“No,” said Derek. “Let Eddie explain.” He translated Angai’s questions.

Eddie frowned. “This is really difficult. Wait a minute.” He stared at the sky. “There are two ways to steal land.

“First, you drive off the people who are on the land and take it over yourself. That was done in North America.

“Second, you take over ownership of the land. You don’t get rid of the original people. You keep them to work the land. You own them as well as the land. That was done in South America and Africa and—I guess—in Europe in the Middle Ages.”

Derek translated.

Angai said, “Why would people agree to work for strangers? What bond holds them together? They are not kin. They cannot possibly have any obligations to people who are thieves.”

Eddie answered, “If they did not work, they got no food. Often they were beaten or hurt in other ways.”

Derek translated, having trouble with the word “beaten.” He hesitated, then used the word that meant to hammer metal at the forge.

“This is impossible to understand,” said Angai. “Why didn’t the people leave?”

“There was no place to go,” said Eddie. “The world was full of people who fought and stole. Everything was owned.”

“Hu!” said Angai. She looked at Nia. “Does this sound right to you?”

“No. I have never heard any of this before. I know this man does not want you to welcome his people. Maybe he is lying.”

Angai looked at me. “Is he lying?”

“No. But what he is describing happened a long time ago.”

“How long ago?”

I did some figuring. “At least twelve generations have passed.”

Angai leaned back and exhaled. “Are you certain these things really happened? A story can change when it is told and retold.”

“We are certain.”

“What happened? It is easier to change words than to change people. If the story is true, if it has not changed, then what happened to you? Why are you different now?”

I hesitated. Derek translated our conversation.

Eddie said, “I’m not certain that we are any different.”

“Can I answer the question?” I asked.

Mr. Fang and Ivanova nodded.

“I think you are trying to undercut me,” Eddie said.

“I’m trying to answer a question that Angai has asked. Derek will translate everything I say. If you want to comment, you’ll be able to.”

Eddie made the gesture of reluctant assent.

I looked at Angai. “Eddie does not believe that we have changed. But I do.”

“How? And why?” asked Angai.

I thought for a while, aware of the people listening—of the small noises, coughs and whispers, a baby crying, older children playing on the far side of the square. I could hear their voices, high and clear, not all that different from the voices of children on Earth.

But when I looked, I saw dark fur and yellow eyes, slit pupils, flat broad faces that reminded me of no kind of human.

“Eddie has told you that these people—our ancestors—stole from one another. That is true. They also stole from the entire world. People will treat everything the way they treat one another.”

A very old lady—bent over and gray—said, “Hu! Yes! I know!”

“They tore up the land, looking for various kinds of wealth: gold and silver and copper and other things. They cut down forests. They took water out of rivers so the rivers went dry. They put poison into other rivers so the water could not be used. They were even able to do harm to the sky. Burning rains began to fall, and the heat of the sun grew more intense.”