"I promise," said the man solemnly.

"Never tell anyone where you met me and how I became what I am," she continued.

"I promise."

"And one more thing. Never mention death or the end of anything," she shuddered, pronouncing the word death as if she felt the cold shadows of clouds foreboding disaster.

"I promise," the young man said once more.

The days that followed were very happy. The man went out hunting, and whenever thorns or sharp reed blades cut him, his new wife cared for his wounds so they healed more quickly than before. He went out fishing, and every day he caught more fish than they needed. When the dry season came, he dried some of his catch in the sun and made supplies for the winter months. One day the woman said to him: "Go today to the market with your fish and with the money you sell it for, buy a selendang, a cloth to carry our child that is coming soon."

Overjoyed, the man did as his wife requested. In the days that followed, he often found his wife near the riverbank, staring into the water. He forbade her to go there, saying: "The child might ..."

But she stopped him: "You promised not to mention such things. And I have no friends to talk to."

In due course their baby was born. A strong and healthy boy, he did not need to lie in the selendang for long. Soon he could walk, and in no time at all he became lithe and skillful as he ran about. His body was a smooth and shining light brown.

 One day his father came home tired after hunting birds. The boy was sitting in the kitchen, eating the meal the woman had prepared for her husband. That was sacrilege! No child is permitted to touch his father's food. The father raised his hand but the boy ran away, taking the rice bowl with him.

The hungry father was furious. His anger opened his heart, in which all his secrets were kept. At that moment a begu, an evil spirit, flew near and slid into his heart. The begu whispered: "Say it, go on, say it!"

"Anak ni dengke!" the man shouted. "Child of a fish!"

The next moment he knew he had sinned. But he could not pull the words back into his mouth. His wife looked at him. She knew a begu had caught him unawares. Without a word, she went inside their hut and collected all the boy's clothes and other belongings. She put them in a basket. She ordered the boy to find a bamboo pole and follow her. He obeyed her in silence, sensing that a terrible thing had happened. She led him along the path in the direction of the mountains.

At the foot of the steps, where the path led up along the rock wall, she told the boy to start climbing. "Go over the top and find yourself a green place in the valley beyond. Build your own hut and plant your own rice. Good-bye."

She watched the boy as he silently mounted the stairs and climbed along the path as it clung to the rock wall. When he was at the edge of the escarpment, he looked back one last time, still stunned and wondering why it had all happened. He waved, but his mother signaled that he must continue on his way. It was the last he ever saw of her. He turned away and entered the valley, out of sight of his homeland.

The woman went back to her house on the riverside. Her husband was still sitting there, given over to total despair. She stood on the bank and called the waters. The river became agitated. The water swelled and rose up like an angry monster. The flood rose up above the fields, above the bamboo, even above the tallest palms. But her husband was not drowned. Instead he became a fish. She too went back to her life in the water, putting on her garment of scales once more. She remained faithful to her husband--as she felt she ought to--but as his punishment for breaking his promise she forced him to share her underwater existence.

The valley became a lake, which even today is often menacing in appearance. That is when it demands offerings from the people, to remind them that the worst evil a man can do is to speak words he does not want to say.