“The four cousins looked around. Their grandmother was telling the truth. The plain was brown and black. Nothing lived there. No people. No animals. No vegetation.

“ ‘And let me tell you something else,’ said the old woman, the Great One. ‘While you have been fighting here, other spirits have been visiting your mothers. Now you have sisters that are almost grown.’

“ ‘Is that so? Then I will go home,’ said the wind from the south. His breath was hot and dry. It smelled like the plain in the middle of summer. Aiya! What an aroma! How sweet and pleasant!

“ ‘No,’ said the Mother of Mothers. ‘I will not let you mate with your sisters.’

“ ‘Why not?’ asked the wind from the east.

“ ‘There has been too much of that kind of thing. If it continues, soon the children who are born will look like monsters or demons.’

“ ‘But what are we going to do?’ asked the wind from the west. ‘You don’t expect us to live without sex.’

“ ‘No,’ said the Mother of Mothers. ‘In the time of mating, each of you will leave your home territory and go to another direction—north to south and west to east—until you meet your cousins or other women or even female demons. Mate with them! But remember this! I speak for the land in the middle. It does not belong to any of you. When you cross it, travel carefully. Treat everything with respect. Make no trouble. Cause no harm.’

“The four cousins frowned and glared.

“ ‘What if we do not agree to this?’ asked the northern wind.

“ ‘Then I will deal with you, and don’t think I can’t.’ All at once the old woman increased in size. She rose until her head almost touched the sky. The sun shone over her left shoulder.

“The four cousins looked up. Their mouths hung open. They shaded their eyes. They saw their father, the Spirit of the Sky. He floated above the old woman. The sun was the buckle on his belt. His wings spread from horizon to horizon. He looked down at them. His face was blue-green. His eyes glared angrily.

“They were afraid. ‘All right,’ they said. ‘We will do as you suggest.’

“ ‘Good,’ said the Spirit of the Sky.

“That is the end of the story,” said Nia. “The four winds stopped fighting. The weather became less violent. The people who had left came back to the land in the middle. So did the animals.

“But in the spring, at the time of mating, the four cousins travel across the land looking for women, and that is why the weather is bad in the spring.”

She paused. I looked at the clearing. The hail had stopped. Rain still fell heavily.

“It is not spring now,” said Ulzai. “Your story does not explain this weather.”

“The cousins are restless and unruly,” said Nia. “They prowl around the edges of the land in the middle. They try to be careful, but sometimes they meet one another. Then they shout and gesture. Lightning flashes. There is thunder and hail. But they do not fight the way they used to. Instead they back down and move apart. No real damage is done.”

Ulzai made the barking sound. “I have seen black clouds that rose up to the sky. They leaped on the plain like dancers dressed in black tunics. I have seen two and three and four—all at the same time, one in each direction, dancing at the horizon. I think those clouds are able to do harm. And what about the hail that beats the vegetation flat? The winds that tear up trees? The storms of ice? Even the heat of summer can do damage. I have been out in the open and felt the heat like a blow to the head and a blow to the stomach. Those men have not kept their promise. They are still fighting, and this land is still a bad place for people.”

Nia looked angry.

“Why are you here?” asked the oracle.

“The rain is getting lighter,” Ulzai said. “And I am getting edgy. You may be used to being with other people. I am not.” He stood and moved out from under the awning. “Stay here! I’ll come back.” He walked into the forest. His limp seemed worse than before. The weather, most likely.

“He has been in some kind of trouble,” said the oracle. “And so has the woman. Why else would they have left their home?”

“People leave for no other reason?” Derek asked.

“Don’t act as if you are stupid,” Nia said. “You know there are travelers who carry gifts from one village to another. And men who like to wander. And women like Inahooli, who leave home for religious reasons. But the oracle is right. Those two people have done something wrong. I can tell. The rain is stopping.”

She got up and went out into the clearing, stopped and looked at the sky. “It will clear. Hu! I am wet.” She ran her hand down her arm, trying to squeeze the water out of her fur.

Most of the time the natives reminded me of bears, but there was something catlike about Nia at the moment. She grimaced and rubbed her other arm. “Aiya!” She pulled off her tunic and wrung it out, standing naked in the clearing. “I’m not going to stay in this place. It’s too wet. Let the man find me, if he thinks it is important.” She walked off, carrying her tunic.

Ulzai had headed inland. Nia went back toward the shore.

“Off in all directions, like the four spirits,” Derek said.

The oracle opened the bag that Tanajin had given us. “I am going nowhere.” He took out a piece of yellow fruit about the size of a z-gee ball. I was pretty certain it was a fruit. He bit in. Juice squirted. The oracle wiped his chin and licked his fingers, chewing all the while.

Derek got out his radio. “Nia is right. There ought to be a wind by the river and sunlight, if the clouds clear. I think I’ll have a talk with Eddie. And when I’m done with that, I’ll think about fishing.”

He left. The oracle kept eating. A ray of sunlight touched the pool. It gleamed.

“It will get hot again,” said the oracle.

I made the gesture of agreement. The air was humid. Clouds of tiny bugs appeared. In the sunlight over the pond they shone like motes of dust. In the forest shadow they were invisible. But I felt them hitting my face. I snorted and waved.

The oracle said, “Go. I can see you are getting angry. If the man comes back and wants to know where everyone is, I will tell him.”

“Okay.” I walked toward the river, moving slowly and looking around. The trees were tall, their trunks straight and narrow, their bark gray. The foliage, high above me, was blue. Here and there a few leaves shone, touched by sunlight, like pieces of blue glass in a window.

There must have been more than one path. The one I followed led me to a place I did not remember. A few dead trees stood among stands of a plant without leaves. Knobby green stalks moved stiffly in the wind.

I could go back and try to find the path I should have taken, but how would I recognize it? I looked down. My shadow pointed along the path. I was heading east. We had landed on the eastern shore of the island. Better to go forward.

The path grew mucky. The plants grew tall: a meter and a half, two meters. Water gleamed amid the vegetation. I was in a mire. It was time to give up. I turned.

There was a lizard on the path ten meters away. Not a really big one. I estimated it to be two meters long, tail and all. The animal lifted its head, turned it, and regarded me with a bright black eye.

Oh, hell.

The mouth opened. I saw ragged teeth. A tongue came out, thick and black.

I kept still.

The animal’s skin was brown with only a few wrinkles, and the spines along the back were in good condition. This fellow was comparatively young. He hadn’t suffered from time and violence. Was he dangerous?

The mouth opened wider. The tongue extended farther. What was it doing? Tasting the air? Tasting my aroma? Finding out if I were edible?

I didn’t want to go toward the animal. I didn’t want to turn my back on it, either. There was marsh on either side of me. I began to sweat.

The long body whipped around. A moment later the animal was gone—off the path and out of sight among the reeds.