"Be comin' to dah safety spot now." Marika put her hand on Jericho's shoulder and gestured with the other towards a winding path up the side of the cliff.

"The safety spot?" Jericho asked and Marika smiled. He didn't think her sun leathered face was capable of looking so soft and feminine. "Okay."

He stood up and she led the way. As they walked higher, Jericho marvelled at the glistening ocean. He tried to think about the last time he was so high above sea level and it made his stomach churn so he stopped.

"Where is this 'safety spot'?" Jericho asked and Marika pointed forward.

"Up'n over."

Jericho looked toward the crest of the cliff and wondered what must be up there. They passed several small huts and Jericho asked, "do you live in one of these?"

Marika shook her head. "I be livin' down dah beach. Safety spot bein' for dah peeps, 'tectors 'n' leads down dah beach."

"Huh?"

"Oncea wasa time, 'fore Cap'n, safety spot bein' for dah 'tectors 'n' leads. Peeps bein' down dah beach. Cap'n come-a-long'n change and such. Dangersome place bein' down dah beach, Cap'n say peeps bein' import. He say dah job'a 'tector mean we needa give dah safety spot up. I and I be agreed." As Marika said this she touched her forehead and her chest.

"So. . . If you're on the beach are you a protector, or a lead?"

"'Tector, through 'n' through."

"I'm assuming Cap'n is a lead." Jericho said and Marika nodded. "So Delgen is?"

"Mumbo jumbo genie man." Marika waved a hand in the air and Jericho got the impression she didn't like to talk about Delgen.

Finally, they reached the top of the cliff and Jericho was robbed of his voice. The cliff appeared to be the lip of a small crater, which was filled with green plants and sparkling fresh water. Marika led him down towards a cluster of huts and he heard whispers all around him.

"Peeps be hearin' dah rifter catcha bein' spesh a spesh las' night." Marika placed a protective arm around Jericho and brought him to a hut which was just big enough to fit a leafy bed on the floor. "You be here fora time."

"Thanks. . ." Jericho looked around, then grabbed his stomach. "Is there anything I can eat?"

"Good eatin's bein' down dah square." Marika turned to leave the hut and Jericho rushed to keep up.

"He bein' near bald! Hair's all short any such, and notta whiska on his whole face!" Jericho heard the sound of Ty's voice and he smiled to himself. He broke away from Marika and poked his head into the shadows behind a particularly large grass hut.

Ty stood in front of a group of a dozen young children with her back to him. She stood on her toes and reached a hand onto the air as she said, "he bein' pro'lly dis tall, bein' called Jeri-cho, I be knowin' him like Jeri o' course." She sounded so smug as she explained to the children how much more than them she knew.

"Hello, Ty," Jericho said and the young girl leapt into the air as the other children giggled. "Telling nice stories about me I hope."

"Jeri! Can't be sneakin' on a story tellin'! I and I bein' scared outta I's sense!"

"I'm sorry, Ty, that wasn't what I meant to do." He stood beside her and she beamed out at her friends. "Who are all these fine looking people you're story telling to?"

"Friends 'n' fans." Ty's smile grew even wider. "I bein' dah bestes' story tellin' 'round."

"I don't doubt that." Jericho laughed, but then heard Marika's stern voice from behind him.

"Jericho!" She yelled, "bein' wandrin' off likea young so'n'so! Who you be foolin' any such?" She reached his side and shooed away the children as she ushered him back towards their path.

"Marika, who were all those kids?"

"Orphan'd by dah riftie-rats. Or worse, dah Devi'shark."

"Devi'shark?"

Marika stared at Jericho and clucked her tongue. "You really bein' from away, not knowin' dah Devi'shark."

"Wait so. . . All those kids are orphans?"

"Notta rare'ty. People o' dah iz-land losin' love 'n' fam all dah time. Orphans is a way o' life."

Although Jericho could tell Marika was just being rational about their lot in life, he couldn't help but think she was being a little cold.

"You should be nicer to them, you know. It's not easy being an orphan, I should know."

"I'mma lucky'un. Keepin' I's 'rents all dey life. Doesn' mean I be goin' soft."

"But. . . Sometimes that's all an orphan needs, someone with a soft heart. It's not easy growing up without your parents, at the hands of someone who doesn't care."

---

It's not easy growing up without your parents, at the hands of someone who doesn't care. I should know, I lived it. I mean, at first Grant was a really nice guy, but after the riftmen attacked our tiny home it was like he just stopped loving life. He would spend entire days below deck as Caleb and I did all the work. Caleb took to the helm everyday, as I fished for what ever I thought seemed edible.

It was becoming more and more rare for me to find regular looking fish, but that just meant I'd try harder and longer. On days when Grant felt like I didn't quite catch enough, he'd hit me. It started small, a simple smack to the head, but the abuse got worse and worse as time went on.

I was the lucky one though. Grant liked me, he reserved the right to hit me for times when he was too hungry to think straight. Caleb, however, didn't get the same curtesy. On days when Grant was bored he'd hurt my little brother for fun, and I was expected to laugh along with him.

"Please, just leave him alone," I said once and Grant turned his aggression on me. I saw stars, I bled, I learned my lesson.

For some reason, I allowed Grant to turn me against my brother. We would sit back together and Grant would make fun of Caleb and I wouldn't say anything to stop him. But that was nothing compared to what would come.

I don't know how long we were adrift before Grant saw it, the beveled glass bottle that bobbed towards us like a loose buoy. He laughed and screeched toward the heavens, he leapt right off the boat and into the water. I saw the look in Caleb's eye, his hand quivering over the throttle.

"We don't have much gas left," I said, "if we go any faster we'll burn through it in no time. Think of what will happen if he manages to catch up."

Caleb chewed the inside of his mouth as he thought about it. I could tell he knew I was right, but what were the chances that Grant would survive in the water long enough to catch up with us?

The matter was settled as Grant splashed from behind us. He climbed back up onto the boat, laughing the entire time. "I swear, I was about to snap! Good thing we found this, huh?"

He slapped my back and I cringed as I watched Caleb grumbling to himself under his breath. I looked at the bottle in Grant's hand, The amber liquid sloshed around as he struggled to get at it. Finally uncorked, Grant lifted the bottle to his mouth and chugged, then passed it to me.

With a hesitant hand I raised the bottle to my lips and sputtered as the liquor burned my throat. Grant insulted me and slapped my back. "That's quality shit, boy! Don't waste it."

He offered the bottle to my brother, but he declined without a word. Grant laughed and shook his head, taking another swig before saying, "Look at the little captain! Takes his job so seriously he doesn't even have time for a drink."

Grant pulled me down to the deck and we sat together, drinking and snickering about Caleb. It's hard, you know, life at sea. I wish I hadn't played along with Grant's terrible games, I could see the way it hurt Caleb, but it was either be on Grant's side or Caleb's and . . . Siding with Grant meant I didn't get hurt.

I guess I didn't realize at the time how big a coward I was.

"Oh captain, my captain!" Grant slurred and Caleb tried to ignore him as he laughed and hiccupped. I can barely remember it now, it was like each time I blinked I was drifting off to sleep. In my blurred vision I saw Grant stand up and stagger. He approached my brother who reached out to push him away. Grant yelled something I couldn't make out and his fist slammed into my brother's face.

What I can remember, though, is Caleb's screams. He begged to be let go but Grant kept hitting him and laughing.

The rocking of the boat combined with the queasiness in my gut. I tossed my head over the side and puked. When I was done I turned back and passed out, wondering faintly about the smell of blood that mingled in the air with the salt spray.

When I woke up, I could feel that my hand was resting in a wet and sticky puddle. It was too warm, and too thick to be sea water. I opened my eyes and my head pounded, I turned to the fishing nets and saw that they too were covered in blood.

"Where's Grant?" I asked and noticed the blood on Caleb's hands, the knife he'd used to stab me was lying on the deck beside him. "Caleb . . . What did you do?"

"You'll only have two people to fish for now, Hugh," he said through swollen lips, though he didn't look at me. "You should be thanking me for that."

---

Marika stared at Jericho as he stared at his hands. "Be sayin' Tyrie be killin' I?"

"What? No!"

"Why be tellin' I such story tales?"

"I . . . I just think that those poor orphans need someone to be nice to them. Otherwise, they might turn out all wrong like . . . Like Caleb did."

Slowly Marika began to nod her messy head of hair. Jericho couldn't tell if the look on her face was one of struggling comprehension, or pity and disgust. As she turned to show Jericho the rest of the way to the square, he fell to his knees and grabbed hold of his head.

He was sailing through the sea, he leapt out of the waves and into the air, then landed on feet that acted like skis as the wind caught in his fleshy sails and propelled him forward. He was heading for an island, he was going to retrieve something -- or someone -- and he wasn't alone.

"Jericho be feelin' dah jumbo?" Marika asked as she knelt down beside him.

"They're coming, Marika," he said and her face went cold. "The riftmen are coming."