the hut, as Akma helped fill their traveling bags with the food they would need to carry and the spare clothing and tools and ropes they'd need, Mother spoke to him. "It wasn't Didul, you know. He didn't choose to have the dream, and your father didn't choose to hear it from him. It was the Keeper."
"I know," said Akma.
"It's the Keeper trying to teach you to accept her gifts no matter whom she chooses to give them through. It's the Keeper who wants you to forgive. They're not the same boys they were when they tormented you. They've asked for your forgiveness."
Akma paused in his work and looked her in the eye. Without rancor-without any kind of readable expression-he said, "They've asked, but I refuse."
"I think it's beneath you now, Akma. I could understand it at first. The hurt was still fresh."
"You don't understand," said Akma.
"I know I don't. That's why I'm begging you to explain it to me."
"I didn't forgive them. There was nothing to forgive."
"What do you mean?"
"They were doing as their father taught them. I was doing as my father taught me. That's all. Children are nothing but tools of their parents."
"That's a terrible thing to say."
"It's a terrible thing. But the day will come when I'm no longer a child, Mother. And on that day I'll be no man's tool."
"Akma, it poisons you to hold all this hatred in your heart. Your father teaches people to forgive and to abandon hate and-"
"Hate kept me going when love failed me," said Akma. "Do you think I'm going to give it up now?"
"I think you'd better," said Chebeya. "Before it destroys you."
"Is that a threat? Will the Keeper strike me down?"
"I didn't say before it kills you. You can be ruined as a person long before your body is ready to be put into the ground."
"You and Father can think of me however you like," said Akma. "Ruined, destroyed, whatever. I don't care."
"I don't think you're ruined," said Chebeya.
Luet piped up. "He's not bad, Mother. You and Father shouldn't talk about him as if he's bad."
Chebeya was shocked. "We've never said he was bad, Luet! Why would you say such a thing?"
Akma laughed lightly. "Luet doesn't have to hear you use the word to know the truth. Don't you understand her gifts yet? Or hasn't the Keeper given you a dream about it?"
"Akma, don't you realize it isn't your father or me that you're fighting? It's the Keeper!"
"I don't care if it's the whole world and everything in it, on it, and above it. I ... will... not... bend." And, obviously aware that it was a very dramatic thing to say-and faintly ridiculous coming from one so young-Akma shouldered his burden and left the hut.
There was no light but moonlight as they left the land that, for this short time they had made bountiful with good harvests. No one looked back. There was no sound of alarm behind them. Their flocks of turkeys and goats were not quiet; they talked sometimes among themselves; but no one heard.
And when they crested the last hill before being truly out of the land they knew, there, waiting for them in the shadow of the pine forest, stood the Pabulogi. Akmaro embraced them; they laughed and cried and embraced others, men and women. Then Akmaro hurried them and they all moved out together.
They camped in a side valley, and there they laughed and sang songs together and rejoiced because the Keeper had delivered them from bondage. But in the midst of their celebration, Akmaro made them break camp and flee again, up the valley into unknown paths, because Pabulog had arrived and found the guards asleep, and now an army was chasing them.
Following uncharted paths was dangerous, especially this time of year. Who knew which valleys would be deep in snow, and which dry? The thousands of valleys all had different weathers and climates, it seemed, depending on the flow of winds moist and dry, cold and hot. But this path was warm enough, considering the elevation, and dry enough, but with water for their herds. And eleven days later they came down out of the mountains from a small valley that was not even guarded, because no Elemaki raiders ever came that way. The next afternoon they stood across the river, and despite the instructions of the priests Akmaro would not let his people enter the water.
"They have already been made new men and women," said Akmaro.
"But not by the