The next morning, a boat arrived. Unlike the little fishing canoes and rafts, this one was a catamaran with a proper sail. It veered around the island's north side to arrive on the west beach. Arlen watched it bounce along the gentle waves of the inter-island sea. Four men climbed out, two with maces. It took him a moment to recognize the iron heads, the first metal he'd seen besides an iron saw in the head boat-builder's toolkit.

They spotted him and went right toward him. "This is the outsider?" said one.

"Where's his tail? Ugh!"

"And his ears!"

"Just shows that it's true," said one of the four. He wore a cape of glittering lizard scales with an iron buckle.

Their arrival had drawn plenty of attention from the villagers, but the people were hanging back.

Arlen grimaced, expecting no help. "I'm Arlen. Yes, I'm not from around here. Can I help you?"

"Come with us. Chief Thoko wants you."

He got the impression that they weren't asking. He stepped closer and let them put him on the boat, with hardly a glance toward the village that'd watched the scene.

They relaxed once they had him at sea. Asking him many of the same questions he'd gotten for days about how he'd arrived, how he could stand upright without falling for lack of a tail, and whether he knew any mysterious secrets.

The caped man discouraged that line of questioning. "Let the chief handle that."

Arlen asked, "What is he like?"

"Strong and clever. He's the keeper of the Black Arrows, and the first chief to unite the isles in ages."

"How'd he do that?"

They told him a tale. "There was a terrible monster on Gull Crater, a thing that crawled ashore and poisoned the land. Thoko gathered all the chiefs to drive it away, and only he survived."

Convenient, thought Arlen. Changing the subject, he said, "This is a nice boat."

One of the sailors seemed especially proud. "It's the latest style. See how the runners are made?"

Arlen leaned over carefully. The people had progressed beyond hollowing out logs by carving and fire, and beyond tying logs together. They had made multi-part pontoons and sealed the hollow tubes with tar. "Clever. You can build bigger. Are you thinking of challenging that storm I've heard about?"

"Ha! Not with me aboard."

#

The voyage took around a full day and night. He groaned as the sun beat down. He'd been given a palm-fiber sheet for a little comfort, but there was no cabin. He could tie himself to the deck to avoid going overboard in his sleep. The only relief came when they'd sailed into the night, navigating by the stars, and reached a convenient shallows with a protruding reef and atop that, a wooden platform. That had a canopy that they all crawled under.

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There was actual bread, something like pita. He'd seen it back on Opaline Island but it was kind of hoarded and he hadn't pushed to get it.

While they rested, the sailors told a little story about how this spot had been found. There'd been a fool who denied the spirits, got lost at sea, prayed for guidance, and ran aground. Ever since then, the people had known, go this way to Decim, that way to Opaline, and so on, judging by the color of the water and the way waves splashed around the coral. They called it the Guiding Reef.

They finally arrived at an island of rocky shores, where stones had been piled up to make a wide breakwater harbor. The houses looked sturdier and had a discernible pattern of circular clusters. The catamaran pulled up to a stretch of sand with an attempt at a wooden pier.

One of the sailors said, "Welcome to Decim Island. Good luck." They were all exhausted.

Another said, "Still need to drop him off."

They trudged inland. People gathered to see the rumored outsider and gawk. Arlen smiled and waved but the guards wanted to get this meeting over with. So they passed a two-story building in roughly the same longhouse style as the Opaline chief's... and kept going.

"What's that place?"

"The womens' quarters." It had a tall hedge, reminding him of a dormitory.

The high chief's palace had a central round building he took for a simple grass hut in the distance. Really this was a grand structure over fifty feet wide with a conical thatch roof stretching high, and flanked by two attached two-story longhouses. The front had a walkway of mud bricks leading to a curtained doorway of dangling shells and bits of bright copper.

The sailors called for a spearman guard who kept them waiting. Finally Arlen got led inside, pushed forward, and shoved down to one knee. The room smelled of wood smoke from the central firepit, currently dark.

The interior was one big room of thick support poles, benches, and fur-covered beds. On two floors of shelves sat weapons and mounted animal heads and feathered decorations. A raised platform held the bulky, muscled man who'd sent for him.

High Chief Thoko wore a fine circlet of copper, iron, and scarlet feathers, along with a feather cape and a crude ring-mail breastplate of iron. By his side rested a warhammer and a fine green pot. A woman lounged beside him, wearing little. He said, "You are the first outsider to arrive alive. Ar-il-en, is it?"

"Arlen, oh High Chief. I mean your people no harm."

"And you're a shipwreck victim?"

"I truly don't remember."

"But you do remember the secrets of the outside world? The way such things as these are made?" He gestured, and a man fetched Arlen's stolen clothes.

"I know a little of the method, though I was no weaver. And a little of many other things."

The chief grunted. His eyes were sharp and bright green in the sunbeam that fell on him from the roof. "What do you think of my islands? Terribly backward?"

"Truly, High Chief, you have less than some other lands. But I'm impressed with what you've been able to do without all their tools. I've heard of lands where the people have nothing, know nothing, build nothing."

Thoko smiled. "Yet we are primitive, or so I gather from what broken clues reach me from beyond the Roaring Storm. From these I and my father before me have tried to piece together what can be, and see a better world. I want you to teach whatever you can remember. Can you do that? Can you explain ways to make better ships, finer tools, and so on?"

Arlen said, "I warn you that I am no expert, but there are things I can help with."

"Very well. You shall have a place to live, food, and assistants. Show me what you can do in the next few days. Voz, what do you make of him?"

A wiry young man sprang up from slouching on a side platform, and walked around Arlen. "Other than his deformity and his accent I see nothing strange about him. But he may be useful, if --"

"Glad you agree. Guards, find him a house."