"Five, dear. The kaksmas. And only two months ago, Arek."
She stared at Paul with shock. "I _had_ almost forgotten. But they do
still hate us. The day before you flew us here, Paul, I met Pakriaa
and two of her soldiers in the woods. I gave them the good-day
greeting. Oh, if one of you had been there she would have answered
it.... Wouldn't the island be better without them? Some of _you_ don't
like them. Even Dorothy only tries to like them. Since the baby was
born, Paul, she--shrinks when they come to the fortress. They don't
know it, but I do."
Dimly, Paul had known it, known also that it was a thing Dorothy would
consciously reject. "Time, Arek. You'll live a hundred and fifty
years or better--more than three pygmy lifetimes. You'll see them
change."