Arlen and Meadow set out early in the morning, feeling new urgency. For Meadow it was only her desire to understand what was happening to her home. For Arlen it was the sense that this little world's splendid isolation was ending.

They arrived at a shore lined with wooden homes, in the shadow of a mountain with a cratered rim. It was sunset and at first he took the clouds that covered the land for fog. "Have you been here before?" asked Arlen.

Meadow said, "Only once. The miasma happened around when Thoko took over, and killed the other chiefs and heroes."

The fog had a sickly blue tint like lead. The main town was away from most of it, but he smelled something like sulfur before he even reached the steep-sloping beach. "I don't think I want to stay long. People live here willingly?"

"It's their home."

A dozen people were cooking outdoors, and they seemed curious to spot travelers. When Arlen approached, waving, one of the women said, "What brings you here? Are you hungry?"

This beach was littered with storm debris too, but the houses seemed mostly intact. "Yes, please. I came to try speaking with the spirits, but I've also been given powerful rock-shaping magic. Would anyone like me to create a new stone house?"

The little crowd asked about this power and got him to demonstrate, to their delight. He described it as a gift of the spirits, so that he'd come to the famous island to ask them what it meant. He avoided the topic of Thoko for now.

"How are the crops?" he asked.

The islanders grumbled. "Not much worse than usual," said one man. "What fields we have are mostly inland and missed the worst of that hurricane. The miasma got blown away a bit."

A woman said, "Hey, what's that accent? Are you that weird outsider? What island are you from?"

Arlen smiled. "Tennessee."

He got some strange looks. Then a man with a cape of parrot and seagull feathers pushed his way into view. "The outsider! You stirred up the Mirefolk and the other snakes, and now Thoko is demanding warriors from us. Did you cause this storm somehow?"

Arlen bowed his head. "I'm not more powerful than the spirits, sir. I've come to ask their will."

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"Their will is that you get back where you belong, doing whatever the high chief tells you! He was furious."

"For taking his prisoners home? In fact, wasn't one of them from your island?"

"We had to send three back!"

Arlen smacked his forehead with one webbed palm. "I'm so glad I risked my life to help your people. I should speak with your chief."

"You should leave. Now."

"I have a house to build." He gestured to the crowd around the cooking fire. "Or will you tell me I'm not allowed to do that, when you've had homes damaged by the storm?"

One woman told the shaman, "Juti, I want my family to sleep under a roof of our own tonight. If he can really do that, let him try."

The caped man's tail lashed behind him. "Let's see."

Arlen made a show of it, going to a spot where several huts had been damaged or flattened. He stamped the earth and slapped it with one palm while calling out a chant to the island spirits. The ground rumbled and grew cold. Dirt hardened and inched upward.

Now that he'd done it several times, Arlen realized he could let his control of the spell slip or narrow somewhat, to go faster. But he had a house to make. He let it grow over several minutes, making walls flow up from the earth. He brought his outstretched arms together as he made the arched roof seal over, then made a bed platform and bench. He breathed hard from the mental strain of getting it right in front of an audience. Physically he was fine, and even his sense of magical effort didn't feel drained. It was easy now that he knew how!

Juti the shaman gaped at him. His face was pale and he said only, "I'll tell the chief," before running away.

Arlen bowed to the new home's owners and said, "I can make it bigger if you like."

The lady who'd asked, clinged to her man. "That's... that's all right. Some others might want houses too."

He had two other customers. He built houses to their specifications, even adding a second story to one, and some room partitions and windows and shelves. It was a chance to practice his control and speed.

Before he was done with his third house, a messenger boy said, "Come to the chief!"

Arlen left off from doing more furnishing details, and came to the sturdy cave-home of the chief of Gull Crater. It stood inland on a little plateau with signs of having been shaped partly by magic, and it had a garden. The house itself was carved into the volcano's lower slope. Pillars held up the cave and it had a stuffy feel, cluttered with dining benches and animal skins.

The chief was a sickly old man named Hassna, smoking something with an earthy scent from a pipe of bone. He coughed and said, "Welcome, traveler. Who is your friend there?"

The young woman said, "Meadow, of Catacomb."

"A woman shouldn't be traveling with a strange unmarried man."

"I've been told there are a lot of things I shouldn't do," Meadow said, laying her ears back.

Arlen said, "Excuse her. She's worried for the future of the islands, as am I."

The shaman appeared from the shadows. "Strange magic is definitely a worry. Hassna, this man is a menace to our peace."

"I thought he was a tailless one."

Arlen blushed. "I was. I've been changed. My plan is to ask the spirits what they wish of me."

Juti said, "He doesn't belong here. Chief, we can capture him and take him back to Thoko. He will trust us more, then."