"I'm sorry, Sears.... Yes, we hid in the dark, waited until a sentry moved—careless.... It was wrong. You've shown us how such things are wrong. And memory's someone talking behind you, out of the big dark."
"The laws we've agreed on——"
"I do honor them," she said gently. "The law against murder was my first writing lesson. But—what if Pakriaa's tribe—"
"They're slower," Sears said in distress, and the distress would be as much a message to Arek as any words. There was no hiding the heart from these people: green eyes and black ears missed no smallest nuance.
"When will they know they must not dig pits, with poisoned stakes—"
"But Pakriaa's tribe don't do that now. Do they?"
Arek admitted: "I suppose not. But the six other villages——"
"Five, dear. The kaksmas. And only two months ago, Arek."
She stared at Paul with shock. "I had almost forgotten. But they do still hate us. The day before you flew us here, Paul, I met Pakriaa and two of her soldiers in the woods. I gave them the good-day greeting. Oh, if one of you had been there she would have answered it.... Wouldn't the island be better without them? Some of you don't like them. Even Dorothy only tries to like them. Since the baby was born, Paul, she—shrinks when they come to the fortress. They don't know it, but I do."
Dimly, Paul had known it, known also that it was a thing Dorothy would consciously reject. "Time, Arek. You'll live a hundred and fifty years or better—more than three pygmy lifetimes. You'll see them change."