Crystal Gorge. David Eddings

and there are several varieties of deer roaming through those forests. The Tonthakans are primarily hunters, and they’re quite good with their bows. I’m sure that Longbow and Red-Beard will feel pretty much at home in that region – except that the winters are longer and colder than they are farther to the south. It won’t be quite as noticeable in the autumn, but the days are longer in the summer up there and shorter in the winter.’ He glanced at Keselo. ‘I’m sure our learned young friend from the Trogite Empire can explain that for us.’

      ‘It has to do with the tilt of our world, Lord Dahlaine,’ Keselo replied. ‘Our world isn’t exactly plumb and square in relation to the sun, and that’s what accounts for the seasons. She spins, and that’s what gives us days and nights, and she travels around the sun in what scholars call “an orbit”. If she didn’t spin, half the world would live in perpetual daylight, and the other half would live in the dark, but it’s that slight lopsidedness that gives us the seasons.’

      ‘I’ve always known that there was something wrong with this world,’ Rabbit said with no hint of a smile.

      ‘I wouldn’t really call it “wrong”, Rabbit,’ Keselo told him. ‘If it weren’t for the changing of the seasons, I don’t think anything alive could be here. Perpetual summer might sound nice, but I don’t think it really would be.’

      ‘Pushing on, then,’ Dahlaine said. ‘The central region of my Domain is a large area of meadowland that’s primarily grassland with very few trees.’

      ‘That turned out to be very useful last spring,’ Longbow said.

      ‘I don’t think I quite follow you there, Longbow,’ Dahlaine said with a slightly puzzled look.

      ‘It has to do with certain customs in Zelana’s Domain,’ Longbow replied. ‘There are certain tasks that we call “men’s work” and others called “women’s work”. Men are supposed to hunt and fight wars, and women are supposed to plant vegetables and cook supper. It might sound sort of fair, but it seems to give the men of any tribe a lot of spare time to sit around talking about hunting and fighting. When the fire-mountains won the first war for us, Red-Beard’s village, Lattash, was buried under melted rock, so the people had to move to a place on down the bay from the old one. There was open land that should have given the women plenty of room for planting – except that it was covered with thick sod. Cutting away the sod would normally be “women’s work”, but Old-Bear, the chief of my tribe, told us that he had once visited that grassland you just described, and that while he was there, he saw the lodges made of sod rather than tree-limbs. Building lodges is “men’s work”, so after Red-Beard’s tribe had settled in their new village, the men built the traditional tree-limb lodges, but the wind blew quite a bit harder where the new village was located, and one night, all of the lodges were blown down.’

      ‘That must have been a very strong wind,’ the farmer Omago said.

      ‘Not quite that strong,’ Longbow replied with a grin. ‘Red-Beard and I gave it a bit of help. Then the next morning we put on long faces and told the men of the tribe that tree-limb lodges weren’t strong enough to stand up in “windy-village”, and we suggested sod instead. The men grumbled a bit, but they went on out into the meadow and started digging up sod for all they were worth, while the women came along behind them planting beans and other things that are good to eat. Nobody was offended, and nobody will starve to death this coming winter.’

      ‘You two are a couple of very devious people,’ Omago’s wife Ara observed.

      ‘One should always do one’s best when the well-being of the tribe’s involved,’ Red-Beard replied sententiously.

      The pretty lady actually laughed.

      ‘Pushing on, then,’ Dahlaine continued. ‘There are a few herds of those various deer near the western mountains in Matakan, but the most numerous creatures in Matakan are the bison. They’re quite a bit larger than deer, and they have horns instead of antlers. Since the winters are very cold in my Domain, the bison have dense fur, and their hides are quite a bit thicker. Arrows might penetrate that fur and hide, but spears seem to work better.’ Dahlaine went on to describe the Matans’ ‘spear thrower’ again.

      ‘Something like that would be very difficult to aim, it seems to me,’ Rabbit said.

      ‘The Matans practice a lot, and they’re good enough to bring home a lot of bison meat.’

      ‘That’s what counts,’ Longbow said. ‘Their spearheads are stone, aren’t they?’

      ‘Of course,’ Dahlaine replied. ‘The only metal we have anything to do with here in the Land of Dhrall is gold – and I don’t think gold would make very good spearheads.’

      ‘I’d say it’s almost time for me to go to work again,’ Rabbit added with a glum sort of look.

      ‘About all that’s left now is “crazy land”, right?’ Red-Beard suggested, being careful not to smile.

      ‘Does he always have to do that, Zelana?’ Dahlaine asked his sister.

      ‘Do what, dear brother?’

      ‘Turn everything into a joke.’

      ‘It keeps him happy, Dahlaine, and happy people are nicer than gloomy ones. Haven’t you noticed that before?’

      He gave her a hard look, but she just smiled.

      ‘All right,’ Dahlaine continued. ‘The nation on the east of my Domain is Atazakan, and as our friend who hasn’t yet learned how to shave just suggested, the ruler of that region is fairly insane – which isn’t really his fault, since the last five generations of his family have also been crazy. The current ruler of Atazakan has taken crazy out to the far end, though. He’s absolutely convinced that he’s god. He goes out to the public square in the city of Palandor every morning and gives the sun his permission to rise. Then, late in the afternoon, he goes back to the same place and permits her to set.’

      ‘She’ll do it without his permission, won’t she?’ Rabbit asked skeptically.

      ‘Of course she will,’ Dahlaine replied with a faint smile, ‘but that absurd business makes “Holy Azakan” feel more goddish.’

      ‘I don’t think there’s such a word as “goddish”, Dahlaine,’ Zelana suggested.

      ‘You understood what I meant, didn’t you, dear sister?’ Dahlaine asked her.

      ‘Well, sort of, I suppose.’

      ‘That means that it’s a word, doesn’t it?’

      ‘Not one that I’d ever use.’

      ‘You’re a poet, Zelana, so your language is nicer than mine. Anyway, crazy old Azakan desperately wants divinity. Whether he truly believes that he has it might be open to some question, but his subjects – or maybe worshipers – have learned to accept his announcement that he’s a god, because their very lives depend upon it.’

      ‘Is there anything at all resembling an army in that part of your Domain?’ Sorgan asked.

      ‘Not really,’ Dahlaine replied. ‘Azakan has a goodly number of guards that call themselves “the Guardians of Divinity”. Their primary duty involves intimidating the populace of Palandor so that they’ll applaud and cheer each time the sun rises or sets at Azakan’s command. They carry poorly made-spears and clubs, but they don’t really know how to use them. I’d say that their primary contribution to a war with the creatures of the Wasteland will involve staying out of the way.’

       3

      The Seagull and the rest of the Maag fleet sailed on past the narrow channel that opened out into the bay of Lattash without bothering to stop, and Red-Beard heaved a vast sigh of relief – touched