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that. The thought of his youngest son, his partner, and his flock's finest juveniles braving those capricious, jealous Spirits didn't please him. But there had been a time when he would've never believed the Hunters would leave his people in peace. If anyone could pacify these singing River Spirits, it would be a contrary like Good Eyes. That thought should have reassured him but he found little comfort in it.

CHAPTER 2
K'heera
    "In Grus, please," the brown-skinned man signed.
    "I said," the Simiu repeated manually, "I'd rather study than waste time at a .. ." she groped for the sign, "celebration."
    She still won't make eye contact, Jib thought tiredly. "It's traditional to have a Captain's Night when the ship leaves port. We have a month to study before hibernation."
    Rewi Parker, the lean, cream-colored Maori from New Zealand, whose love of sailing had earned him the nickname Jib, squatted on a cushion in quarters that were too warm and humid for him. The gravity, set at Simiu norm, made his lithe body feel heavy and old. The lazy ringlets of his shoulder-length black hair were shiny from sweat. As his large, expressive brown eyes saw his partner's small violet ones look away, he wondered how he was ever going to bridge the gap between them--a gap far greater than that separating two species and two cultures.
    "A month!" the Simiu signed, snorting derisively.
    Her fur was the color of dull flame, marked with a darker
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    brindle pattern. K'heera's short mane made her seem oddly feminine, as the shining fur peaked in a crest over her long, sloping forehead. Her long muzzle hid impressive teeth, which, along with powerful, six-fingered hands, made efficient weapons.
    Direct eye contact was one way the Simiu hurled honor- challenges; however, sign language required strong eye contact. Jib had reminded K'heera of this many times. Maybe she just couldn't stand having eye contact with him.
    "We're going to Trinity to learn," he reminded her, "not to save the World.
    Let's study for a while, then go to the party."
    "That's reasonable," K'heera admitted grudgingly, lapsing into Simiu. "Let's discuss my notes first."
    "Certainly," Jib growled back.
    "I have studied the recent history of Trinity. But I fail to understand why the Honored Interrelator didn't have her deafness cured, once the conflict there was over."
    Jib hesitated. "Tesa, and many other deaf humans, view their deafness as cultural, not physical. But, frankly, as a hearing human, I'm not sure I can explain it very well. . .."
    K'heera seemed unconvinced, then glanced at her computer screen.
    "Perhaps you can explain this better. When the privateers were attacking the Aquila nest--why did the Honored Interrelator flee? The texts speak of this as though it were an act of great honor, yet to me it seems sheer cowardice."
    "Tesa wasn't running away to save her own skin," Jib reminded her. "She had to protect Lightning and Thunder, also. They were all in danger of being killed because they'd witnessed the attack of the privateers, from a spacecraft fully armed ... ."
    "With weapons." K'heera's lip curled. The use of artificial weapons violated the Simiu's worst taboo.
    "That's right," Jib responded unflinchingly.
    "And the Honored Interrelator later stole weapons, made her own weapons, and used them."
    "You cannot judge other cultures by your standards," Jib reminded her patiently, his throat raw with the effort. "Humans have always used weapons, just as Simiu have always fought in the Arena. We must each respect our different values."
    "Weapons are forbidden by the CLS," K'heera said, ignoring him, "but the Interrelator stole them from the privateers ... ."
    "Weapons that had been purchased with Simiu funds!" Jib interrupted sharply, then instantly regretted his outburst.
    K'heera's short crest bristled. Her violet eyes met his squarely. "My family's funds, you mean."
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    Jib forced himself to drop his eyes. "Forgive me. I never meant to insult you."
    There was an