Autumn light fell clear and bright. The fine sand was a field of clean white, the beach exceedingly broad, and waves rolled at the river mouth. The vast Pacific and the surging Columbia River struck and met here, making the surrounding river water, lakes, and marshes all show shifting hues.
Scholar Miki crouched on the riverbank. Behind him was the low tribal village, before him the broad river, to his right the moored Longship, and to his left Zuwaro sat cross-legged.
"Zuwaro, what do we do?"
"Hm? What do you mean, what do we do?"
"Main God as witness! This Clatsop tribe thought we were enemies pursuing them. To preserve their tribespeople, that's why they surrendered to us..."
Scholar Miki propped up his chin and gazed at the flowing river water, his face showing the collapse of something dreamlike.
"But I thought they had been moved by the god and converted of their own accord! Or had been by me... cough! We even gathered the fleet's priests and held a collective conversion ceremony for them!... I was wondering why they were so emotional they kept weeping. So it was grief over the destruction of their tribe... And what's even more absurd is that only seven days later, through strained communication, did we finally understand what had actually happened!"
"Ha! Miki, what's there for you to brood over? A Jaguar has already swallowed the rabbit into its belly—don't tell me it's supposed to spit it back out?"
Exploration Captain Zuwaro smiled, his face completely unconcerned.
"Isn't it pretty good as it is now? This tribe of more than a hundred people joined us of their own accord and converted to the Main God. A miracle of being moved by the Main God like this could even be written into the epics,