The high chief said, "The Arrows' exact nature was a secret that died with some of Thoko's rival chiefs. Even I was never trusted with the things. Three flesh-seeking arrows, two still bloodied. I'm not sure that I want them back in use after being so frightened of them."

Arlen laughed nervously; the blood was his own. "We have enough weapons anyway. But save them, just in case. Best if everyone thinks they're still usable."

Voz nodded and paced. "I'm pleased that with the Newshore and Mire problems handled for now, I haven't got any urgent work for you. Go do what you think best."

Arlen started off by working with the smiths again, and the potters and stone tool-makers. Then he headed for Opaline. Along the way, he and his two passengers reached the underwater base he'd used for the assault on Thoko.

One of the men said, "So this is where the warband rested on the way to strike him down. Guiding Reef must be that direction there, where the boats were moored."

The other nodded. "And you can still see the little tower there, so Decim is back that way."

Arlen smiled and talked about how he'd laid the ambush. Then he asked, "What do you think about expanding this place? I could bring it up above the water and make room to sleep in. Even space for a garden, maybe."

One man looked uncomfortable about that. "You don't really stop on the way from Decim to the reef."

The other said, "But we're doing it right now. Why not make it better?"

Arlen gave it try. The sunken room had been dank at best, and water had puddled inside. He filled it in with solid stone, steadied its foundation, and made it grow. Silt and water shuddered all around. The cold created by his spell created a chilly mist rising from the sea. Gradually an island around forty feet on a side rose beneath Arlen and climbed until he stood ten feet above the waves with tapered sides all around.

His two crewmen, still on the boat, stared. Arlen took a while to notice them, and he waved. He began sculpting a stairway into one side. "Help me decide where to put everything!"

Since they still hung back, he played. He raised walls around half of his island, then a roof, poles to tie up boats, and a firepit with chimney. It took half an hour. The boatmen only dared to come ashore when he'd finished the largest work on the shelter.

Arlen said, "Now it can be more comfortable for everyone to travel."

The first man still looked like he expected monsters to rise from the stone, but the second said, "Could you heap up dirt on this?"

"I'm not sure. It might blow away if it's too fine, and I haven't tried turning rock into dirt that wasn't ever soil before."

The skeptic frowned, but said, "What about what they do on Stormhowl? They pile up seaweed and sand and fish guts, and let them rot together until there's a kind of muck they can use."

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It seemed like a good idea to adopt _something_ here that the people found familiar. Arlen answered, "Let's try that, first chance we get."

His other sailor said, "I can try fetching some coarse sand." He dived and went to scoop up what he could, for testing.

By the time they left, the island was sixty by sixty, with a slight drainage slope, a sandbox with seaweed in it, shelter for dozens in a pinch, and a dock at the waterline. People could rest in relative comfort now. He made markers pointing to the other islands. Given time, he could make more rest stops like this. His followers were quiet as they all left together. One of them eventually said, "What does this mean?"

"It means easier trade and travel from now on. This place is part of your home."

"The spirits..." said his skeptic. "Well. They wouldn't let you get this far, if they were angry."

When he got to Guiding Reef a while later, he joined in on talking about how it was discovered.

#

On Opaline Island, the main problems didn't need his attention. The people were focused on their farming. He handed out hoes and began talking about plows, but nobody was interested in experimenting with new techniques right now. Nor did they have draft animals. He fantasized vaguely about domesticating big lizards, but the disinterest was right: this wasn't the time.

He made simple iron-hulled boats to add to the fishing fleet for however long those lasted. So far his crude designs had held up surprisingly well in seawater, even without paint. He'd had the impression that they'd start breaking down within a week, but his impressions were based on century-old shipwrecks.

There was one change he'd been wanting to enact on Opaline: a road. The island had two main villages on near-opposite ends. So he began walking and pulling the ground up beneath his feet. A few miles of hiking took him up a gentle slope that avoided the island's biggest hill. Behind him he left a wide path of smooth stone, steering past trees or narrowing in a few spots. Each mile or so he left a rocky canopy for travelers. Chilly mist lingered around his creations and gradually dispersed.

Being out here alone helped him get away from thoughts of the war he'd butted into. He could keep making things, teaching people. Maybe it was time to settle down.

When he reached the far side of Opaline he met with some confused farmers who hadn't expected a new road. "Uh, all right, but why not just sail around?"

Arlen shrugged. "You have another choice now, especially on stormy days. And if you don't like the location I can change it."

He made a wide stone plaza and a few houses, but for the first time realized he was disrupting the way new homes were usually built. There was some ceremony to it, at least on some islands, similar to what he thought of as a "village barn-raising". He'd utterly ignored that team-building process and assumed he was doing everyone a favor. Really he was, but when the chief took him aside and explained, Arlen grimaced. "I was foolish," he admitted.

The chief slapped him on the shoulder and laughed. "Everything has to change, doesn't it? It wasn't long before you came that a kid came up to me and asked if Thoko had always been the ruler of everyone, or always would be. For now, I suggest laying off from the construction and getting Voz to call a meeting of chiefs about it. There's plenty else to discuss anyway."

"I'll do that."

Soon, Arlen met a party of four farmers about to leave home. "Where are you off to?" asked Arlen.

One said, "Trying to go after some annoying birds. They swoop down trying to swipe seeds we just planted, and they've needed thinning out for a while."

"Want me along?"

They did. Arlen followed the party up a winding trail, higher until the weather began to grow cool and the ground was a curious pebble-strewn land gouged smooth as by an ancient glacier. The pesky birds' rookery was up on a plateau nearby; some screeching and cawing echoed around the next bend.

Arlen was thinking about the ecology of the isles when one of the hunters looked out to sea and said, "What is that?"

Far out on the horizon, a bright yellow sail had appeared.