"No--never your enemy, Corun!" she exclaimed. "We have been on opposite sides before--let it not be thus from this moment. I tell you that the purpose of this voyage, which you shall soon know, is--good. Great and good as the savagery of man has never known before. You know the old legend--that someday the Heaven-Fire will shine through opening clouds not as a destroying flame but as the giver of life--that men will see light in the sky even at night--that there will be peace and justice for all mankind? I think that day may be dawning, Corun." He sat dumbly, bewildered. She was not evil--she was not evil--It was all he knew, but it sang within him. Suddenly she laughed and sprang to her feet. "Come on!" she cried. "I'll race you around the ship!" IV Rain and wind came, a lightning-shot squall in which the _Briseia_ wallowed and bucked and men strained at oars and pumps. Toward evening it was over, the sea stilled and the lower clouds faded so that they saw the great dull-red disc of the Heaven-Fire through the upper clouds, sinking into the western sea. There was almost a flat calm, the glassy water was ruffled only by a faint breeze which half filled the sail and sent the galley sliding slowly and noiselessly northward. "Man the oars," directed Shorzon. "Give the men a chance to rest tonight, sir," begged Imazu. "They've all worked hard today. We can row all the faster tomorrow if we must." "No time to spare," snapped the wizard. "Yes, there is," said Corun flatly. "Let the men rest, Imazu." Shorzon gave him a baleful glance. "You forget your position aboard." Corun bristled. "I think I'm just beginning to remember it," he answered with metal in his voice. Chryseis laid a hand on her grandfather's arm. "He's right," she said. "So is Imazu. It would be needless cruelty to make the sailors work tonight, and they will be better fitted by a night's rest." "Very well," said Shorzon sullenly. He went into his room and slammed the door. Presently Chryseis bade the men goodnight and went to her quarters with the erinye trotting after. Corun's eyes followed her through the deepening blue dusk. In that mystic light, the ship was a shadowy half-real background, a dimness beyond which the sea swirled in streamers of cold white radiance. "She's a strange woman," said Imazu. "I don't understand her." "Nor I," admitted Corun. "But I know now her enemies have foully lied about her." "I'm not so sure about that--" As the Conahurian turned with a dark frown, Imazu added quickly, "Oh, well, I'm probably wrong. I never had much sight of her, you know."