That stunned them. "No war?" one young chief with a peach-fuzz beard said, blinking. There were actual tears in his eyes. "How… how will we blood our spears, where will we find honor and bridewealth? Are we to sit in our fathers' houses and never do anything of our own?"

"There are other ways to wealth besides taking it from someone else," Cofflin said. "We'll show you some-new ways of farming, new crafts, and trade. We'll be trading with all of you. And besides that, we're going to be sending more ships out, all over the world. The world is bigger than you can imagine, and a lot of it's dangerous. We'll need marines-guards-more than we can supply. I imagine some of your adventurous young men would find that an acceptable way to gain honor. And wealth."

There were frowns, but the young chief looked interested. So did many of the other younger tribesmen. No grudges, Cofflin thought. From what the specialists had gathered, a straight-up fight didn't breed lasting resentment among the Sun People; they considered it the way of nature.

"You ask no tribute?" the older man asked skeptically.

"For ourselves? No," Cofflin said. "But you can't expect to start a fight, lose it, and go scot-free… I mean, get away without loss. You attacked the Fiernan Bohulugi without cause. You'll give back any lands you took in the last few years, you'll release all slaves and captives of their people you hold-with gifts in compensation-and you'll pay the Earth Folk an indemnity for the harm you caused.

We'll set it; it'll be heavy, but not beyond what you can pay. Consider it a… a fee for learning a valuable lesson. Oh, and some of our holy men would like to travel among you and tell you about our beliefs. You don't have to listen, but you won't hinder them, either."

That didn't seem to make much impact compared to the prospect of having to pay indemnity, but it was far more important in the long run. The full-grown warriors might not want to give up their sky-clan of godlets, but he'd bet others in their tribes would-the women, to start with. Nantucket-style Christianity had a lot more to offer them than their own people's faith; and while they might not convert their husbands, they'd certainly have a lot of influence on their sons. He hid his smile. These people weren't sophisticated enough to see through that sort of gambit- hell, he hadn't been either. Martha and Father… Prelate Gomez had come up with it between them.

Again, the grumbles came from both sides of the circle. "We've suffered, we've bled at your side! Many of us have lost everything-we've lost homes, fields, flocks, brothers and parents," a voice from the Fiernan ranks called. "What do you have for us?"

"You fought and bled for your own land and your families," Cofflin said sharply. Then more gently: "We don't forget our friends.

"You have our word-and everyone in the White Isle knows what the Eagle People's word is, now-that we'll stand by you if you're threatened again. You'll have peace, the first real peace you've had in centuries. Freedom from fear. Isn't that something for the Fiernan Bohulugi?"

"It is a great thing," one of the younger Grandmothers said firmly. "We do not wish to see our sons ever returning on their shields. Moon Woman did not mean mothers to bury their children."

Cofflin nodded. "There's more than that, as well," he said. "You Spear Chosen are great traders-well, there's going to be more trade than you can imagine. As you say, there are many of your people who've lost their homes, lost their kin, in this war. We Eagle People have need of new helpers. We'll welcome them; we'll adopt the orphans, give homes to the displaced. Those who wish can learn our ways and become part of our people. Those who don't will return here with new wealth and new skills, because they'll learn from us. You'll be the first people to learn our arts, and it'll make you rich and strong beyond your dreams."

And Angelica will get that damn settlement on Long Island she's been wanting, he thought. The adults might never fit in really well, but their children would-universal schooling was a wonderful thing.

"Besides that, we'll send skilled folk here to set up new things-mines, forges, water mills." Brand and Leaton thought that with a little technical aid they could just about quadruple the Earth Folk's productivity in a single generation. "Wealth for you, and for us. We'll also send our healers"-thus ensuring a population explosion, but we can deal with that later-"and wise folk. Your Grandmothers will learn more of the stars than they ever knew before." Which will gradually undermine their religion, but sufficient unto the day is the evil or not-so-evil thereof.

There was a fair bit to recommend the cult of Moon Woman, but it did breed an unhealthily otherworldly attitude, and excessive fatalism-sort of like an astrological Buddhism, as Ian had put it.

The uproar began again; this time it got to the fist-shaking stage and the soldiers had to start thumping their shields again. He sighed. This was going to take a good long while.

He took off his coat and shifted his shoulders, as if settling a load. This was his work, and he was going to by God do it the best he could.

"We're going to need someone to stay here and ride herd on this bunch," he muttered. "Ayup. I can't stay, Martha can't stay, Marian's got too much else to do…"

He turned his head and looked at the Arnsteins. Ian raised his hands.

"Now, wait a minute, Chief-"

Marian woke to find the bed empty. She ran a hand into the spot where Swindapa had lain; it was still faintly warm. The children were sleeping in the next room, from the sound of it; the wet nurse was with them anyway. She slipped out into the chill and dressed quickly. The sanded log planks were warmer than any tent or the locals' housing, but she'd never felt entirely easy sleeping in the house Walker built. I'd rather have burned it. That would be far too wasteful. They'd take what he'd made, and put it to better use.

Or Swindapa will, she thought. God, God-

Outside the stars were frosted across the arch of heaven. The full moon was setting, casting a bright glimmer over dew-wet fields past the guards pacing their rounds. She found Swindapa standing in one meadow, her arms raised with palms up, swaying and chanting. The half-song broke down in sobs, and the Fiernan girl covered her face with her hands.

" 'Dapa?" Alston asked softly, touching her shoulder. "Can I help?"

"I want to stay, it's my home, they're my family, my people, they need me! I want to stay!"

Alston stood frozen. I need you too flashed through her, and her lips clenched on the words. And I cannot say that, not when you're in pain like this.

"I want to stay, and I can't," the Fiernan went on, and turned to grip with bruising strength. "You're my life."

Alston wrapped the cloak about both of them; they stood in silence, watching the moon-the Moon, she thought- fade below the horizon and the first stars turn pale in the east.

"We'll come back here, again and again," she murmured at last. "Believe me, 'dapa-your people and mine, we'll never be apart, now."

"Yes," the other sighed. Then, later: "I'm cold. Let's go back to bed."

I'm not cold, Alston thought, as they walked hand in hand through the chill wet grass. Birds were piping, fluting greetings to the coming dawn. Never cold again, I think. The years stretched ahead, and the work that filled them stoked the glow below her breastbone.