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of the local oceanic life-forms propel themselves by squirting water through tubes on the sides of their bodies or at the tips of fins—from just about anywhere you can imagine. A few use similar high-pressure jets for predation.”
    He rubbed at his forehead. “What’s the intent? To drown intended victims?”
    “Are you familiar with the Terran archer fish?” Pulickel shook his head. “It lies in wait just beneath the surface of ponds and rivers and shoots a thin stream of water at insects poised on overhanging branches and leaves. Knocks them off into the water and eats them. The apapanu does something similar, utilizing a much higher volume. What distinguishes it is that it doesn’t shoot just water.” She put her feet up on the instrument panel.
    “When it’s not feeding, it nibbles on particularly tough quasi-corals. Instead of digesting, it passes this ground-up detritus into a special sac located behind its cranial ejection spigot. The solid material consists primarily of indigestible silicates. What it’s firing at its prey is a stream of water under extremely high pressure that contains a high proportion of sharp-edged silicaceous aggregate. Think of it as a water cannon packed with ground glass.
    “When you were leaning over the side, you were in danger of catching more than a faceful of seawater. An apapanu the size of the ones we passed over could have sheared your head off.” One sandaled foot nimbly adjusted a minor instrument.
    “Once when I was out fishing for eleuu, a flock of uluritei flashed right past the front of the skimmer. They’re low-level gliders that fish the surface waters.”
    “Like fleratii,” he commented.
    She nodded approvingly. “Yes, like fleratii, only much smaller. Wing-span of less than three meters. Anyway, one of them had just snapped something out of the water when an apapanu brought it down. Blew a hole clean through it. Apapanus have excellent diffraction-compensatory vision and can see anything above the surface while lurking beneath it.” She eyed him meaningfully. “Could’ve cut your visit here real short. So to speak.”
    “It won’t happen again,” he assured her stiffly. “I suppose I should thank you.”
    “Why not? I adore novelties.” There was silence for a long moment. “Well?”
    “Well what?” His attention was on the large, high island directly ahead. Absently he added, “Thank you for saving my face.”
    “As opposed to saving face?” Her smile, never absent for very long, returned. “Don’t take it to heart. You just got here. I didn’t expect to run into any trouble between the landing cay and Torrelau myself.”
    “How do the locals avoid such creatures?”
    “As best they can. When they don’t someone usually dies.” Her tone was flat. “The design of their outriggers is unique and they can turn quickly. The Parramati are skilled at avoiding the dangers of the sea, but they’re not omnipotent. Sometimes the predators are faster.”
    He nodded slowly. “How do they cope?”
    “High birthrate. And magic.”
    His eyebrows rose. “I beg your pardon?”
    She lowered her voice, trying to make herself sound as mysterious as possible. “Magic.”
    He smiled thinly, doing his best to go along with what was obviously a joke. “Do they employ any particular divinations? Or perhaps special powders and incantations?”
    She didn’t miss a beat. “Absolutely. Superficially, it sounds a lot like the magicks of Aluwela, Tesiratupa, Curusisim, and a hundred other island groups. The only difference is, here it works.”
    “Not all the time, according to what you’ve just told me.”
    “Parramati magic isn’t absolute. It just seems to improve the odds.”
    He shrugged. “Chants and incantations are inherently superficial, but native herbs and powders can have powerful physiological effects. Something they might sprinkle on the water to numb the nervous systems of dangerous predators, for example. I could give you a hundred