Änä

"Dilan!" Sibal spread her arms wide as her grandson approached her with wilting wings.

"Hey, gramma." He paused, just out of reach. "Why do I get the feeling you already knew this was coming?"

Sibal smiled. "Your Silver Spinner and I are good friends--ever since she governed with me."

"Apparently she thinks I should be a governor."

"And so you should--especially if Taziya applies for the Weavers Guild. That old crab of an Orb Weaver will probably never make her governor of anywhere, not after what I did here. Come, I'll show you around."

Dilan's wings at least lifted a bit as they walked around the city.

"What do you know about Änä?" She asked as they passed the sheriff's office.

Dilan did a double-take looking at it, a bit surprised his grandmother hadn't planned to take him inside and introduce him. "I know that when you came, you learned the already existing systems instead of building something new."

"That's what you know about governing. What do you know about the city itself?" When Dilan didn't answer, his grandmother continued. "That is the first part of governing--not just knowing the systems, but knowing the history of why those systems are in place."

They skirted the edge of the beach. Dilan had been once to the delta and seen the ocean. This looked much the same. It had never occurred to him that Kivika Lake might be too big to see the other side of.

"The lake cities are interesting," his grandmother told him. "They were our first settlements, of course, and you can still see bits of the repurposed ships here." As she said it, they passed a towering piece of metal that anchored one of the woven houses. Dilan had never been so close to the old ships, either. "But Änä is particular," his grandmother said, and then came to a stop. Dilan was so busy looking at the city around him that he almost ran right into her.

Sibal held her finger out, pointing to an empty patch in the middle of the city. There were no buildings there, not even a cactus or any of the other scrubby plants that grew in between. "There. You've been all over the canyon, I hear. Can you tell me what that is?"

Dilan hung his head for a moment, feeling chastied. All over the canyon, she might have said, but not to the Lake. Not to any of the cities. Not if he could help it. "It's a burn scar," he told her.

"Do you know the story of the Mountain?"

"A ship that burned coming down."

Sibal nodded her head. "They say it was already in flames when it landed. Right in the middle of the city. Burned down most of Änä with it." She chuckled. "The children think the memorial is haunted. At least until they realize their parents continue to keep it clear of plants as a remembrance."

Dilan said nothing, lost in the thought of the city on fire, centuries ago, of all the lives lost.

"So?" His grandmother asked, "why rebuild?"

"You tell me."

She smiled. "Ah, now you're thinking like a governor." She turned and pointed back. Back to the great body of water, waves lapping at the shore like a false ocean. "The lake was our greatest source of water. We need it out here. We hadn't learned to live in the canyons yet. No floating cities like Nibikuräk. We were just learning to weave our own houses." She looked back at the scar turned memorial. "That is the history of Änä. It is a city of survivors. They survived coming to a new planet, the harsh desert climate, and their near destruction due to incompetence." She smiled at him slyly. "And there, I talk about the Weavers Guild. Come on, let's get you settled. You've got a lot to learn tomorrow."