"I guess I can't see it yet," she said. "I can just see what they did to
him, and it was awful."
"Well," said the man in the dark robe, "perhaps when you stop seeing
what they did so vividly, you will start seeing why they did it. I think
it's time for us to go back now."
As she slid off the rock and started walking beside him, barefooted in
the sand, she asked, "That boy--I wasn't sure, he was all tied up, but
he had four arms, didn't he?"
"He did."
"You know, I can't just go around saying it was awful. I think I'm going
to write a poem. Or make something. Or both. I've got to get it out of
my head."
"That wouldn't be a bad idea," he mumbled as they approached the trees
in front of the river. "Not at all."
And several days later, and several hundred miles away ...
CHAPTER I
Waves flung themselves at the blue evening. Low light burned on the wet
hulks of ships that slipped by mossy pilings into the docks as water
sloshed at the rotten stone embankment of the city.
Gangplanks, chained from wooden pullies, scraped into place on concrete
blocks, and the crew, after the slow captain and the tall mate,
descended raffishly along the wooden boards which sagged with the
pounding of bare feet. In bawling groups, pairs, or singly they howled
into the narrow waterfront streets, into the yellow light from open inn
doors, the purple shadowed portals leading to dim rooms full of blue
smoke and stench of burnt poppies.
The captain, with eyes the color of sea under fog, touched his sword
hilt with his fist and said quietly to the mate, "Well, they're gone. We
better start collecting new sailors for the ten we lost at Aptor. Ten
good men, Jordde. I'm sick when I think of the bone and broken meat they
became."
"Ten for the dead," sneered the mate, "and twenty for the living we'll
never see again. Any sailor that would want to continue this trip with
us is insane. We'll do well if we only lose that many." He was a tall,
wire bound man, which made the green tunic he wore look baggy.
"I'll never forgive her for ordering us to that monstrous island," said
the captain.
"I wouldn't speak too loudly," mumbled the mate. "Yours isn't to forgive
her. Besides, she went with them, and was in as much danger as they
were. It's only luck she came back."
Suddenly the captain asked, "Do you believe the sailor's stories of
magic they tell of her?"
"Why, sir?" asked the mate. "Do you?"
"No, I don't," said the captain with a certainty that came too quickly.
"Still, with three survivors out of thirteen, that she should be among
them, with hardly a robe torn."
"Perhaps they wouldn't touch a woman," suggested the mate, Jordde.
"Perhaps," said the captain.
"And she's been strange," continued Jordde, "ever since then. She walks
at night. I've seen her going by the rails, looking from the sea-fire to
the stars, and then back."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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