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Shaper of Isles
The Chief's Inspection

The Chief's Inspection

The people had been nothing but friendly so far. Arlen risked revealing more. He took out his revolver slowly, aiming it downward and saying, "This is a weapon."

The islander peered at it in fright. Arlen figured he might start invoking "spirits" and curses to ward off the mysterious evil. But instead the man said, "How does it work?"

Arlen smiled. He explained the concept, and revealed the five-chambered cylinder with three shots left.

The doctor glanced toward the curtain he'd drawn across the doorway. "Strange! But with such power in your hands, you didn't kill the beast?"

"My mighty thunder weapon missed. Twice. I swear I aim better when nobody's biting me."

The doc laughed. "Even so, it's valuable. Don't show it off. You should hide it, or Chief Thoko will take it for himself."

"Who's that?"

He explained. Thoko was ruler of all the Echoing Isles, to their chagrin. He had risen from being a hunter and beachcomber, to lording over everyone by force. "If anyone asks, the thunder was from whatever magic brought you, or the shockjaw's bite."

"Does Thoko have any way out of the islands?"

"A few people have tried leaving over the years, but none have returned to brag. I think you're stuck here." He spread one hand in apology, and thick webbing extended between his fingers up to the second joint.

Arlen wanted to go home, but mainly to reassure everyone he was all right. Here was another world to explore! He said, "Will I be allowed to live, then?"

"I think so, but it will be up to our chief. I'll tell him you don't seem dangerous. But Thoko will find out before long."

Arlen imagined getting interrogated. "Then I should learn to make myself useful."

The healer nodded. "A good thing to hear from a guest. Will you leave your weapon with me, in case of trouble?"

Arlen had wanted to bring it, for the same reason. But it sounded like he'd be safest without risking it being found on him. So he gambled his life on trusting these people, rather than on his tools, for now.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

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Arlen got led to a hut little better than a doghouse. It was a low, improvised spare just big enough for sleeping, meant for travelers between islands. He had many questions but the adrenaline had worn off, and he crashed. Frogs croaked in the distance and warm, salt-scented wind blew through leaves.

He awoke to a pretty young lady bringing a wooden platter of sizzling grilled fish and fruit. "Good morning, outsider! Is it true you killed a shockjaw with thunder?"

Arlen smiled back. "Good morning! Thank you. But no, your neighbors killed it. I only distracted it." He showed off his arm and found it had already healed cleanly most of the way, leaving raw pink toothmarks.

"Well, our chief wants to see you once you've eaten."

She watched as he ate bare-handed, and she asked questions about "the world beyond the storm". He said, "I don't think I'm from there, but from farther away than that." He then tried to explain a bit about Earth, but was pretty sure the gal still believed the place was some island across the sea from this one.

In the end she said, "That's quite a story."

Arlen shrugged. "I'd like to hear more about the islands. Sounds like I'm needed elsewhere, though. Are you the chief's daughter?"

"Only the niece of the old chief."

He wondered what the story was behind that. "What do you do these days?"

"I cook. I'm better at it than I thought, though I still hate gutting fish."

"This is good," he said, hefting his breakfast plate.

She led him to the largest building in town, a two-story longhouse woven like a basket around standing logs. Inside, fur-lined benches and tables and a fireplace served as office space for a few elderly people who mainly sat around, with a tally board listing items like fish and rope. Arlen couldn't get a good look before an unsmiling spearman ushered him halfway up the stairs on his right.

That let him see the second-floor throne room, the chieftain's personal quarters with its curtains thrown wide. A burly, tattooed young man sat on a chair decorated with antlers. The guard made Arlen stand just outside and below this tableau so that the chief could peer down at him, saying, "An outsider, and in such strange clothing! Aren't you hot in that?"

"Yes, chief." He'd left his jacket with the doctor, too.

"Search him," said the chief. Arlen got stripped naked over his objection. The spearman made him turn around, and laughed. The chief said, "So he really isn't one of the people at all."

"Give me my clothes back."

"Thoko will want to see them."

"Will he want to smell my dirty underwear?"

The chief scowled, then chuckled. "Oh, that? Keep that if you wish. Someone get him more comfortable things. So is the outside very cold?"

Arlen blushed as he reclaimed his underwear and socks. "Parts of it are. Chief, I want to work here if you will accept me."

"My lord will want to hear from you. But for now, welcome to Opaline. Earn your living. Catch fish or whatever it is you're good at. Are you a user of magic, by the way?"

"I wish I were. I imagined I could defeat the shockjaw, but rocks were a lot more effective than my trying to shout curses at it."

"Ha, so I heard. Go, then. Maybe I'll give you a woman if you behave."

The chief sent him away. He had effectively stolen all of Arlen's cash and credit cards, but Arlen got the sense he wouldn't be needing them soon.