something we hadn’t even considered,’ Veltan admitted. ‘It does sort of fit, though. We all get a bit strange and confused at the end of one of our cycles, and the rest of the family assumed that she was being driven by pride, and that being adored by all those priests had dislocated her mind. We never even considered the possibility of fear. You might want to pass this on to Dahlaine and Zelana and see what they think. It could explain Aracia’s odd behavior here lately.’
Things were a bit crowded on board the Seagull as they sailed south from the house of Veltan in the late summer. Sorgan obviously wasn’t too pleased when Zelana and Dahlaine appropriated his cabin, but it did make sense, since they had the children, Eleria, Ashad, and Yaltar with them. Maag sailors frequently spoke to each other in colorful terms, and it was probably best to keep the children in a place where they couldn’t hear certain words.
Also, for some reason that Red-Beard couldn’t really see, Dahlaine had insisted that Omago and his beautiful wife Ara should join their party. There was something about Ara that Red-Beard couldn’t quite understand. She was beautiful, of course, but very peculiar things seemed to happen quite frequently when she was around. It could just be coincidence, of course, but Red-Beard was more than a little dubious about that.
For right now, however, Red-Beard had something a bit more serious to worry about. Once the Seagull and the rest of the Maag fleet were past the south coast of Veltan’s Domain, they’d be sailing north along the coast of Zelana’s part of the Land of Dhrall, and there was a distinct possibility that they’d pull into the bay of Lattash for any one of a dozen or so reasons.
It took him a while to work up enough nerve to speak with Zelana about the matter.
‘Are you busy?’ he asked her one bright, sunny morning as the Seagull raced down along the east coast and Zelana was standing alone near the bow.
‘Are we having some sort of problem?’ she asked him.
‘Well, I hope not,’ he replied. ‘Do you think you could see your way clear to persuade Sorgan Hook-Beak to avoid the bay of Lattash?’
‘Is there something wrong with Lattash, Red-Beard?’
‘New Lattash,’ he corrected her. ‘Old Lattash was just fine, but it’s not there any more. It’s New Lattash that’s got me worried.’
‘And why’s that, dear boy?’
‘Boy?’ Red-Beard found the term to be a bit offensive.
‘It’s just a relative term,’ she said, smiling. ‘What’s troubling you so much, Red-Beard?’
‘I’d really be much happier if word that I’m here on the Seagull didn’t leak out anywhere in the vicinity of the new village.’
‘It’s your home, isn’t it?’
‘Well, it used to be. After my uncle White-Braid came apart when Old Lattash was buried by that lava flow, the villagers decided that I should be the chief.’
‘It seems that I’d heard about that. Did I ever congratulate you?’
‘No, and I think I’d like to keep it that way. To be honest about it, I didn’t want to be the chief, and I still don’t. If I’m lucky, these wars in the other parts of the Land of Dhrall will go on and on for years. I’ve never wanted to be the chief of the tribe, and I still don’t.’
Zelana laughed. ‘You and my sister make a very odd pair, Red-Beard. She wants all that authority and adoration, but you keep running away from it.’
‘How can she stand all that foolishness?’
‘It makes her feel important, Red-Beard, and being important takes some of the sting out of the fact that our older brother out-ranks her in this particular cycle.’ She paused, looking thoughtfully at Red-Beard. ‘You do know about our cycles, don’t you, Red-Beard?’ she asked.
‘Sort of. As I understand it, you and your family stay awake for a thousand years, and then you hand your task off to some younger relatives and take a long nap. Is that anywhere close to what happens?’
‘Fairly close – except that your number isn’t quite right. Our cycles are twenty-five times longer than one thousand.’
Red-Beard blinked. ‘You’ve been awake for that long?’ he asked her in a voice filled with wonder.
‘Not quite yet, but it’s getting closer to nap-time. When our current cycle began, people – your species – were at a very primitive level. They hadn’t even discovered fire yet, and their most sophisticated weapon was the club. In many ways, this is the most important period in the history of the world. The man-things – your species – spend most of their time changing things. That makes this particular cycle very significant – and very dangerous. There are some things that should not be changed – and that brings us to the Vlagh. Do you know anything about bees?’
Red-Beard shrugged. ‘They make honey, and they sting anybody who tries to steal it. Honey tastes good – but not so good that I’d want to get stung a thousand times just to gather it up.’
‘Wise decision, Red-Beard. Bees – and a number of other varieties of insects – have developed very complex societies that are designed to expand their territories and their food supply. That’s what these wars here in the Land of Dhrall are all about. Unfortunately, the Vlagh is an imitator. When one of the creatures of the Wasteland sees a characteristic that seems useful, the Vlagh starts experimenting, and its next hatch will have a variation of that characteristic.’
‘So we end up with bug-men who know how to talk.’
‘Not exactly bug-men, Red-Beard. Bug-women would come closer to what’s really happening. There aren’t really very many males among the creatures of the Wasteland. They’re almost all females, but the Vlagh herself is the only one that lays eggs – thousands and thousands of eggs at a time.’
‘I don’t think baby bug-people would be very dangerous,’ Red-Beard scoffed.
‘Maybe not, but they grow very fast.’
‘How fast?’
‘They’re adults within a week. Of course, they only live for about six weeks, but a new generation is already in the works. The outlanders we’ve hired to help us don’t fully understand this, but it’s not really necessary for them to understand. It’s probably better that they don’t. If they knew that the Vlagh can replace all the ones our friends kill in about two weeks, there isn’t enough gold in the whole world to have persuaded them to come here and help us.’ ‘Why are you telling me all this, Zelana?’ Red-Beard asked her.
She shrugged. ‘A few people need to know what’s really happening, Red-Beard, and you just happened to be in the right place at the right time. I’ll have a word with Sorgan about your problem, and if it’s really necessary for the Seagull to go on into the bay of Lattash, we’ll find someplace to hide you so that the people of your tribe won’t be able to find you.’
‘That definitely takes a load off my mind.’ Red-Beard hesitated. ‘You do understand why I don’t want any part of being the chief of the tribe, don’t you?’ he asked her.
‘It
