Gods of the Greataway by Michael G. Coney Page A

over five minutes, as long as most Riders. Physically he was well qualified for advancement too, being tall and strong and a fine swimmer. Aware of the dashing figure he cut, he circled the orca around the bay, hoping Kelina might happen this way and pause to admire him.
    The event that was to change the course of his life happened quite simply, by accident. A child, walking along the shore, caught her foot in a loop of grass and, thrown off balance by a sudden swell, tumbled into the sea. At first, nobody saw her. Like all Polysitians, she had been able to swim almost from birth, but a strong offshore wind and underisland current carried her away. Kikiwa heard her screams and headed the orca in her direction.
    The huge black-and-white animal cut the water like a battleship, throwing an impressive bow wave. Kikiwa sat upright, holding the rein with one hand, the other arm extended theatrically for balance.
    And then, suddenly, he and the orca were no longer the only large creatures in the bay. Another dorsal fin cut the water nearby. A sinuous shape was clearly visible underwater. With a yell of fear Kikiwa caused the orca to veer away, allowing the shark to move in on the little girl.
    The violent swerve of the orca unseated Kikiwa, however, and he fell howling into the water. The orca, released from the immediate proximity of his fear-thoughts, swerved again, sighted the shark, and attacked. The water churned red. Kikiwa and the child drifted on. Then the whale returned, triumphant, and a shaking Kikiwa pulled himself on board, at least having the presence of mind to drag the little girl after him. He urged the orca shoreward and shortly was basking in the plaudits of the crowd. The next day, in a brief ceremony, King Awamia pronounced him Or Kikiwa, and it seemed to him that Kelina, at her father’s side, regarded him in admiration.
    When he triedto follow the matter up, however, he was rebuffed. “Yes, you are a Rider, Or Kikiwa,” she said, “but there is more to a man than simple physical courage.”
    Or Kikiwa was no hero. Although his appearance was impressive and his riding ability adequate, he knew, deep down, that he was a coward dressed in Rider’s skins. He tried too hard to compensate for this, dealing arrogantly with his people and snapping back at imagined insults. If he had been a difficult man before, he now became impossible. His workers left him. His exploits on the back of his orca became so foolhardy that the other Riders began to refuse to accompany him, for fear Or Kikiwa would lead them to purposeless death. “You are neglecting the Code,” said Or Halohea at last, pointing up the ultimate folly of Or Kikiwa’s behavior. “Squid and parrotfish are eating at your shores while you take on sharks as though they were dragons. And your land is so decayed it begins to threaten your neighbor’s.”
    Indeed, Or Kikiwa was in danger of suffering the ultimate disgrace for a Rider: isolation. His neighbor, Or Honu, had made representations to King Awamia. He wanted Or Kikiwa’s lands cut adrift before his own lands could be poisoned. “I invoke the Code,” he said. “What I ask is for the good of the grass.”
    Possibly this is when that fated man’s reason finally snapped. Or Kikiwa disappeared and was never seen again by the islanders. His domain lay deserted and rotting, his tower listed and sagged, in danger of falling through the ground that decayed beneath it. His orca was gone. It was said that he’d ridden off on it, seeking new lands and a fresh start.
    And Kelina was gone too.
    King Awamia was beside himself. He dispatched his ten best Riders to search the ocean, bending the Code in leaving only a handful of Riders to defend the island. In due course the search parties returned with tales of strange beasts and strange lands, but no word of Or Kikiwa or Kelina.
    King Awamia decreed that Or Kikiwa’s rotting land be severed from the island, and for six days the Riders urged their mounts