His main garment was worn through at the elbows and arms; he was bored of eating rittle berries and vibrand nuts; he lived in a tiny hut, not even a quarter the size of his old cottage on Earth; his life on Grimworld was in danger of being suddenly ended in violence; and yet Marcus had never been happier. The sun was warming his shoulders and he was young again. With every breath he inhaled what felt like an elixir of eternal youth. It probably helped too that back at his hut, he now had a bed to sleep in and a chair to sit on.

The one maggot in the apple of his life was stood beside him, fiddling with her bowstring. When Rosemary had asked to be one of the three people learning archery, no one had objected. It had seemed reasonable enough. But over the last two days, while Farkin and Marcus had persevered with the hundreds of shots it had taken them to reach Archery 3, Rosemary was still on Archery 1 and her practice had become increasingly desultory.

The young woman’s real motive for volunteering for archery had soon become evident. And it was on show now. ‘You know when the light is like this, isn’t it just perfect for your Otaxel sculpture? I was just thinking how perfect it would be in this light.’

There was a pile of poorly-made arrows at his feet and Marcus selected the one that seemed to have the straightest shaft.

‘It’s such a shame that Sina’s windowsill is in the shadows though. I mean, the sculpture is amazing at any time of day but I think we’d all enjoy it more if it was lit up now. Don’t you think so too, Marcus?’

It was rude of him not to reply, but concentrating on his archery, Marcus drew the longbow with all of his strength, held the tension for just a moment as he finalised the position of the arrow, and released. He’d long ago learned to hold the bow in such a way that the string did not skin his right forearm as it sprang forward. And he’d also learned the typical trajectory of a well-made arrow, so the height of his arrow as it reached the improvised straw target was good. It was hard, though, to judge the effect of the breeze and an unfortunate gust pushed the arrow to the right.

Behind him, Farkin gave a grunt that could have been an expression of sympathy for the close miss.

‘I could blame the arrow,’ said Marcus, with a smile for the lad. ‘But it was the breeze.’

‘Sometimes it’s worth waiting for the wind to drop.’

Over the last two days, while his opinion of Rosemary had dropped severely, to the point where he could barely stand her, Marcus’s opinion of Farkin had risen almost as if in compensation. The youth had doggedly worked at making arrows and at his archery practice, not stopping until twilight had deepened to the point that they could not see the target. The next time that the Fins came under attack, Farkin would be a real asset, being able to strike an opponent up to about a hundred metres away. Marcus, too, felt he would be able to make a more effective contribution to defending the stockade than dropping rocks.

While Marcus squatted by the collection of arrows, trying to find another good one, Farkin took aim and released. The rushing sound was followed by a solid ‘thunk’.

‘Well done,’ said Marcus.

In response, Farkin’s grunt had a subtle tone of satisfaction.

‘Rosemary?’

‘I need to tighten the string more. It’s gotten really slack. But Marcus…’

There must have been something in his expression that surprised her, because Rosemary checked herself and seemed to alter whatever it was she was going to say. ‘You should be making art for us and for trading with other tribes. Everyone agrees with that.’

‘I will. But we have to be able to defend ourselves. My sculptures are of no value if we are all enslaved or killed.’

‘What will you work on next, do you think?’

Having found a reasonable arrow, Marcus stood up again. ‘If we can cart a large enough block of stone from our quarry, I want to sculpt the Otaxel again, this time to honour his savagery at the battle.’ He prepared his next attempt at the target. ‘The result will be for us all to enjoy.’

‘Well isn’t that only right?’ Rosemary was no fool and she knew exactly what he was implying. ‘We gather the nuts and cut the wood and you make art. It’s only right we all enjoy your art. Everyone. No favouritism.’

His arrow was well wide. So far wide, Farkin didn’t even commiserate. Marcus was tempted to just throw down the bow and storm off. Why did he feel so angry? It was the dishonesty. If Rosemary simply came out and asked for a sculpture of her own then he’d think about it. But her attempt to be manipulative was beyond irritating.

‘I’m finished,’ Marcus unstrung the bow and folded the string carefully into its pouch. ‘I’ll put this back on the stockpile. You carry on.’

‘I’m finished too,’ said Rosemary.

Farkin looked at his bow. Looked at the pile of arrows. Looked at the target. ‘I’ll use these up and gather the ones I can find.’

‘Thank you Farkin.’

Marcus strode off towards the stockade, Rosemary hurrying to match his pace. ‘What’s next in your priority queue?’ Marcus asked the dark-haired young woman.

‘Oh, I don’t know. I was going to take a break.’

‘Certainly, take a break. But after that?’

‘There’s a few with a number one by them: making rollers for your stone block; quarrying stone for the stockpile; timber for the stockpile – there’s always timber needed – and foraging. But I have a sore hip, I’ve never been good at bending. So I might wait for you or Sina to choose the first research project and start that instead.’

On hearing the excuse of the sore hip, Marcus had given an inward groan. But Rosemary had a point about research. The workshop had been finished the previous night and they were only a few hours away from installing a basic research table, after which the tribe could begin to unlock new technologies.

For a while they walked on, with Marcus opening up the character sheets one after the other.

Without any apparent concern about his lack of attention, Rosemary was chatting away. ‘I think I’ll be a good researcher. I mean, I’ve never done it. Being a slave all my life there was no opportunity. But it’s something I always had an interest in. You know, testing different combinations of plants, or whatever it involves. Everyone has always said I’m a quick learner…’

‘I see. But did you know that Moon Jackal and Jasmine are research four? You are research three.’

‘I’m sure it won’t take me long to get to four. And Jasmine doesn’t have a sore hip like I do. And she loves making things more than research. She has a high construction score.’

Marcus said nothing.

‘Moon Jackal is nearly blind. Don’t get me wrong, I admire how much he does under the circumstances. But surely his research is going to be slower than mine, even with the extra skill point. And it’s likely he’ll get stuck at four or only advance his skill slowly, isn’t it? I’m a quick learner.’

Marcus said nothing.

‘What will we research first? What about a system for cooling our huts? They get very hot under the sun and even afterwards, in the evenings, I find it hard to get to sleep. Or maybe the civics path, because then we could make more interesting and entertaining items, like board games. I’d love a Gur board in my hut. It would give people a reason to visit.’

They were back inside the stockade. ‘Well, I’m going to check on the prisoner,’ said Marcus, ‘please keep an eye on the priority tasks. I can’t say for sure you’ll be assigned to a research project.’

Rosemary stopped and looked angry for a second, then visibly mastered herself. ‘Well. Whatever is best for the tribe.’

After she had turned down the far row of huts, Marcus took a deep breath, then went to the prison and slid the bar open. Inside was Freya, a woman who had come to destroy the Fins and punish the escaped slaves. Really, he should hate her. But a week earlier Freya had started talking properly to Sina and then everyone else. Ever since, Marcus had been spending time in the prison and had enjoyed getting to know her. She was tough and unapologetic and he rather liked that.

‘Hello,’ said Freya, ‘who is it?’

Because she was lying flat on her back and it was still too painful for her to rise unnecessarily, he could understand her question. ‘Marcus.’ He came over to look into Freya’s grey eyes before settling into the room’s chair. ‘How are you feeling today?’

‘Stronger, thank you for asking. And you?’

‘I began the day as happy as I’d ever been in my life.’

‘And?’

Marcus sighed. ‘Now I realise that I’m going to have to deal with other people.’

There came a laugh and a groan from the bed. ‘You are a misanthrope?’

‘I suppose I am. I lived alone in a cottage for decades before being brought here. I’m not used to other people. Especially annoying ones.’

‘And yet you make splendid art for them,’ observed Freya.

‘For them?’ Marcus thought about this. ‘I suppose so. Although it’s also for me. For the way I lose myself into something bigger as I work.’

‘I had one of your urns. It was beautiful, very beautiful.’

‘Oh, which one?’

‘Ferskar stealing the moon.’

Marcus remembered being back in the workshop in Ark Andulan, painting that urn. ‘Do you still think it right, to keep slaves?’

‘Right? No, but that’s how the world is.’

‘It doesn’t have to be that way. We could live without slavery. Without cannibalism. Without war.’

‘Are you talking about the Ultima quest?’

‘I’m talking about love.’

‘Don’t make me laugh, it hurts too much. The misanthrope talking about love. That’s a fine image for you. You should sculpt that.’

‘I’ve got to go. Our research table is nearly finished and I have to talk to Sina about our strategy.’

‘Who’s keeping you? Leave the door open on your way out.’ The Ark Andulan warrioress chuckled as Marcus left and he wondered what they would do with her. It did not seem likely that Freya would join the Fins or could ever be trusted.

It wasn’t until he went up to the walls of the stockade that Marcus found Sina. She was over by the stream in the direction of the beach, throwing sticks and laughing when her Otaxel just studied her with calm eyes and showed no interest in running after them. It lifted his heart to see her. Sina was not selfish, nor cynical. Watching her, Marcus was reminded that he intended one day to sculpt her in the moment when she had obtained her first drink of water on Grimworld. Those fine cheeks, raven hair thrown back, scarlet lips seeking life, a drop or two of clear water on her eyelashes.

Somehow, she must have sensed his attention, because Sina looked up and then waved. Waving back, Marcus went down a ladder and through the gate to join her.

‘Hi, I wanted to talk about our research options,’ Marcus said when he had joined her.

‘Oh indeed, I’ve been looking at them too.’

‘Let’s open the menu.’ And he did so:

Brewing Knowledge of simple infusions of tea made from asfer, caro, thaski and wilan leaves

Unlocks poultice and medicine path / unlocks alcohol and stimulants path

Sowing Knowledge of seed planting

Unlocks agriculture path

Milling Knowledge of watermills

Unlocks electricity path

Cooling Knowledge of how to construct a passive cooler without power supply

Unlocks advanced civics path

Archery Knowledge of a basic shortbow

Unlocks weapons and armour path

Clothing Knowledge of tunic making

Unlocks clothing path

Smithing Knowledge of extracting metal from ores

Unlocks smithing path

Stone-working Knowledge of construction in stone

Unlocks masonry path

Music Knowledge of harp making

Unlocks music path

‘We want them all,’ said Sina. ‘I wonder how long it takes to achieve even one?’

‘And who should be the person to research them? Earlier, Rosemary really twisted my arm over it. She wants to be the researcher.’

‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea. She is only three. And I’m sure that poor motivation and application will slow down our rate of research.’ Sina’s emerald eyes met his for a moment and that was enough to confirm they had a similar opinion of Rosemary. ‘Do you think there’s a way we could test who is the best for this role?’

‘Oh, good idea. How about we the first task to Jasmine, the second to Moon Jackal and the third to Rosemary?’ Marcus suggested

‘And whoever finishes quickest is the tribe’s researcher?’

Marcus was pleased with this solution, except he could see it wasn’t logically tight. ‘We are assuming that all the primary research projects take the same time.’

‘True. But the alternative is just to give the task to Jasmine. At least if we give them all a chance Rosemary is going to find it hard to make an issue out of this.’

‘And what if Rosemary wins?’ wondered Marcus aloud.

Sina shrugged. ‘Then perhaps she deserves the role?’

‘And what should our priorities be? What should we research first?’

‘I really miss tea,’ Sina said tentatively, ‘and it does seem the right path for helping Moon Jackal deal with his headaches.’

‘Good, let’s give Brewing to him to research. What else?’

‘I think our food supply is too precarious. If rittle berries and viabrand nuts are seasonal, we will run out.’

‘Sowing then?’

Sina nodded. ‘Jasmine can research that.’

‘And for the third?’ asked Marcus, glad that Sina had clearly been giving the question some serious thought, more than he had.

‘Clothing. We are all wearing through our current garments.’

‘Terrific. As soon as the research table is complete, I’ll set the Brewing task.’

A heavy shadow had been growing over the land, more like the approach of sunset than a large cloud. Marcus had been dimly aware of this, without paying it much attention. But at the same as a new menu message appeared, the Otaxel started to hiss, all the fur along its spine stood up as the creature started flexing its front claws.

Eclipse

The moon is crossing the sun.

Solar generators cease to work. Crops cease to grow. Some species of animal become frenzied.

Marcus looked up, it was true, the sun was nearly covered. Then he looked at the Otaxel and those fierce claws and savage fangs. Its powerful muscles seemed to be rippling with suppressed panic and rage.

‘Did you see that? Let’s get everyone into the stockade until this passes.’

‘Otso,’ said Sina calmly, though she gave Marcus a quick nod. ‘Stay! Stay!’

Holding her hand out, Sina began to back away from the creature and Marcus joined her at a brisk walk, fearing that to run would trigger an attack. It seemed from the behaviour of the Otaxel that it might be one of those animal species that became frenzied with the eclipse.

The Otaxel was turning in every smaller circles and clawing up the ground, but as they retreated it did not look at them, nor attack, and it was with considerable relief that Marcus gained the relative safety of the stockade.

‘Poor Otso,’ murmured Sina. Then she looked over at Marcus as he closed over the gate. ‘We need a signal that everyone understands as a sign to come at once to the stockade.’

‘A flag you mean? Or a horn or bell?’

‘There must be a way to use the menu? Say if we set a new task, something quirky.’

‘Oh, very good, that’s smart.’ Marcus scrolled through the furniture options. ‘How about a priority one royal throne.’

‘Royal throne it is… let’s get the others and we can inform them at the same time.’

Anxiously looking towards the place he’d last seen the Otaxel, Marcus left the safety of the stockade, hurrying along the path towards the forest stockpile where most of the tribe would be found. It was now so dark that the early stars were clearly visible and ahead of him, the usual night-time calls of wild creatures were breaking out, some, he felt, now containing a note of terror.