The Opaline islanders argued to the high chief, about Arlen's legal status. "We took him in, tended his wounds, and began teaching him. Is this not a claim of hospitality?"

"Answer my question," said Thoko. "Would you care if he were harmed?"

The doctor fumed, and his tail lashed. He'd been helpful and friendly. He kept silent when one of the others said, "Yes, we value his safety. Maybe if he were to marry into our families, it would be best."

"Ah yes, that sort of thing is a good idea. That's why I've already offered him his choice of wives. How have they been to you, Arlen?"

He coughed. "I've only really spoken with two. Seen two, that is."

Thoko smiled indulgently, then turned to the Opaline group. "I do like the idea. Your chief's daughter should marry my son. Then we will all be family."

From what Arlen understood, the chiefs served by different rules on each island, some hereditary and some more-or-less elected. But Thoko as monarch had effective veto authority. A political marriage to Opaline's chieftain, as obedient as that man had seemed already, would give Thoko's family some claim to the "throne" of that island. The high chief probably wanted an unchallenged kingship over the whole region.

And to start getting that, he'd discovered the idea of keeping hostages. Wonderful.

Opaline's men conferred, sounding unhappy. The doctor finally spoke for them. "We'll take the idea back to him."

"You have no authority to agree to this? Then you're done here. Go and ask."

They left, and Thoko grumbled. "Well, Arlen? Lighten the mood. Tell me of the Roaring Storm."

Arlen spoke about having to be restrained from sailing into the teeth of it for a better view. Then about its amazing energy and wild speculation of what drove it.

Thoko motioned for some of his attendants to bring Arlen an array of trinkets. Splintered planks, corroded brass, rope, and glass rounded by waves. A rusty iron saber and a little sea-chest of wood and iron with one intact hinge. "What do you make of my little collection? There are other bits but most is like this. Only hints of something grander."

The chief climbed down from his perch to stand nearby. His bulky frame was showing fat these days, but he was built like a lumberjack. Arlen felt him looming, and crouched to examine the prizes and make sure to admire them.

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Arlen gave general praise first, then said, "These certainly seem to be from an ocean-going ship. I'm no expert, but do you see how these planks are sealed together with tar?"

"Yes, and so we've begun trying that with pontoons and outriggers."

"Ah yes, I've seen that. Then you've also noticed they're held together with pegs?"

The chief bobbed his head, seeming younger now. He crouched beside Arlen and toyed with an iron piece. "Could you draw me a complete ship?"

"Yes, though I certainly wouldn't know every detail. Have you seen how the masts and ropes work on such a thing? Your sails are simple."

"Sadly, no, though I think this piece here was meant to hold a large mast."

Thoko fetched him a wide, thin slab of stone that had been smoothed over, possibly slate, and a piece of chalk. These themselves were equipment Arlen hadn't seen yet and wanted for himself. Arlen sketched a few seafaring vessels, from a trireme to a plausible Age of Sail ship to a galleon that Thoko laughed at for its obviously absurd size. Then he said, "What are the little circles you're drawing on the side?"

Arlen hadn't meant to add that detail; he'd begun doodling. "Weapons," he said. "Something like powerful bows."

"Can you build those?"

Arlen said "No," quickly and honestly. "But the special bows, maybe. More useful to you in the near term is a bigger, more complex set of sails and ropes." He described the idea of a block and tackle and a pulley system, well within the islanders' potential to build. Then what was called a "junk" rigging, which he began describing as "like a Venetian blind" before realizing how useless that wording was. It wasn't an objectively better design than the simple sails the islanders used, but it was a viable and fairly simple option for larger ships.

Thoko stamped the floor and said, "Good, good! I understand it will take time, but I want you to build all of these things. Maybe my grandchildren will make it through the storm, and see what's beyond it."

Voz was still up on one of the lower platforms. He'd been listening, and his ears lay back. "Is any of this going to help the situation on Newshore? Or Gull Crater?"

"It's a little much to ask him for a way to kill ghosts, isn't it? Arlen, have you killed any yourself?"

"I have not, sir."

"We'll be sending more people there soon."

"From where?" asked Arlen.

"Everywhere. A few brave volunteers from here on Decim, and... well, the other isles will find some troublemakers or layabouts to send. And this time they'll hopefully last longer, with some better iron weapons, eh?"

#

Arlen found the Opaline group in a guest hut at sunset. The building was nicer than the little doghouse he'd had for himself on Opaline, as this capital island needed more visitors and supplicants. Still, three of the four men were sleeping in little more than the shed Arlen had. The other had apparently found a welcome bed elsewhere.

The doctor was there. "Good to see you, Arlen."

"Should I be honored you were offering to make me Thoko's hostage?"

"I don't know. In your lands, is it reasonable to let someone keep a three-year-old boy under an implied death threat to make others obedient?"

"Your kid?"

"No, our chief's. But I swore to see to the health of my home's people."

Arlen wanted to snap at him for his hypocrisy. If Arlen was one of Opaline's rightful residents, he shouldn't be hung out as a potential sacrifice either. But he couldn't blame them for looking after their blood relative first. He rubbed his forehead and sighed. "I understand. And I thank you for the training. Maybe we can compare notes sometime."