Titans of Chaos

I dreamed I was back with Grendel Glum at the bottom of the sea. Waking up half-drowned, witha sodden sleeping bag twisted like heavy concrete about your ankles, in the darkness before dawnis not pleasant, nor is having half your gear carried off by the tide. We were all muddy with sandby the time we recovered what we could recover and retreated to the rocks above the high-tideline.

You see, I could tell you the fluxions Newton used to calculate the pull of the moon on the tides.

We had done them in math class. But I did not know what any seven-year-old who wentbackpacking with her father might know: Don't pitch camp below the tide line.

I lost the vote of confidence before breakfast.

Vanity cooked a splendid breakfast with some of what we salvaged from our foodstuff, and shemanaged to get a fire started with just one match, like a real Girl Guide, and when we were donedebating and voting, she was in charge.

Her first decree was to name the place Vanity Island.

I got KP.

Six Score Leagues Northwest of Paradise

We explored the island in about, I dunno, fifteen minutes that first morning, some of us stilldripping from our saltwater dunking when the high tide tried to carry off our rucksacks. Therewas something cute about an island that you can explore on foot in a quarter hour.

At sunup, a flock of seabirds took to the air from a nesting place atop the big rock in the middleof the island. We followed the raucous noise through the coconut palms to the nesting grounds, atits highest point maybe twenty-five feet above sea level. The birds screamed at us, but did notseem afraid. Too few generations of them exposed to guns, I suppose.

Colin aided their education by bringing one down out of the air with a rock and came trottingback with the feathery corpse dangling proudly in his fist. "It'll taste like chicken!" he assured us.

He looked around doubtfully. "Who here knows how to pluck and dress a bird, eh?"

Vanity set about looking for eggs to steal; I thought it was the wrong time of year, but no doubtshe wanted to cook up a superb lunch to maintain her stranglehold on absolute power.

Meanwhile Victor, in his chain-mail shirt, levitated about thirty feet into the air, above the palmtree crowns, to get a commanding view of the island. I joined him in midair (obviously notbecause I needed elevation to see over objects).