"Now, that's real cheddar," he said, sighing with con tentment. "We Richlanders make good cheese; it was famous even before the Change, and this matches it. Is it yours?"

"No," she said. "It's from Tillamook-on the coast northwest of here, in Portland Protective Association country. That's where my man Raen was, trading for it, when the raiders landed."

"Sorry," he said awkwardly.

She smiled and sighed and patted his hand. "It's a year ago now, and he's in the Summerlands, waiting to come back… and he helped burn their ships at the water's edge. The Haida carry people off for slaves and steal and burn everything if they get a foothold; the raids are worse every year… Battle luck comes from the Mor rigu; a dozen others of our folk were there that day…"

She shook off the thought. "That's an interesting name, Ingolf. It sounds like one of ours."

"It's not usual back on the Kickapoo, either; it's after my grandfather's uncle," Ingolf said. "People used to tease me about it, when I was a kid. What are your children's names, if I may ask? You do have unusual ones here, except for a few like Tom."

"Ioruath's my boy; he's three," she said; her smile grew broader. "And Emer, my girl, she's just one; never saw her father, poor thing."

"Pretty names," he said. "But I haven't heard them before."

"We used to have the same names as most people-some of the older people still do; you know, Tom and John and Mary and David, that kind, like Dad. But a lot of people took other ones after the Change, when we turned back to the Old Religion. Names from the an cient stories that teach us about the Gods. Or they gave names like that to their children-my mother changed to Moira, and she changed me from Sally to Saba."

"I like Saba better," he said.