"Nothing. Nothing. I really have had little to do with her." Imazu's face was lost in the gloom, but Corun felt the one eye hard on him. "Only--be careful, pirate. Don't let her lay her own sort of geas on you. You've been a free man till now. Don't become anyone's blind slave." "I've no such intention," said Corun frostily. "Then no more need be said." Imazu sighed heavily and got up. "I think I'll go to bed, then. What of you?" "Not yet. I'm not sleepy. Goodnight." "Goodnight." * * * * * Corun sat back alone. He could barely discern the helmsman--beyond lay only glowing darkness and the whispering of the night. He felt loneliness like a cold hollow within his breast. Father and mother, his tall brothers and his laughing lovely sister, the comrades of youth, the hard wild stout-hearted pirates with whom he had sailed for such a long and bloody time--where were they now? Where in all the blowing night were they? Where was he and on what mission, sailing alone through a pit of darkness on a ship of strangers? What meaning and hope in all the cruel insanity of the world? Suddenly he wanted his mother, he wanted to lay his head on her lap and cry in desolation and hear her gentle voice--no, by the gods, it wasn't her image he saw, it was a lithe and dark-haired witch who was crooning to him and stroking his hair-- He cursed tonelessly and got up. Best to go to bed and try to sleep his fancies away. He was becoming childish. He went down the catwalk toward the cabin. As he neared it, he saw a figure by the rail darkly etched against a shimmering patch of phosphorescence. His heart sprang into his throat. She turned as he came near. "Corun," she said. "I couldn't sleep. Come over here and talk to me. Isn't the night beautiful?" He leaned on the rail, not daring to look at the haunting face pale-lit by the swirling sea-fire. "It's nice," he said clumsily. "But it's lonely," she whispered. "I never felt so sad and alone before." "Why--why, that's how I felt!" he blurted. "Corun--" She came to him and he took her with a sudden madness of yearning. Perias the erinye snarled as they thrust him out of her cabin. He padded up and down the deck for a while. A sailor who stood watch near the forecastle followed him with frightened eyes and muttered prayers to the amulet about his neck. Presently the devil-beast curled up before the cabin. The lids drooped over his green eyes, but they remained unwinkingly fixed on the door. V Under a hot sullen sky, the windless sea swelled in long slow waves that rocked the tangled kelp and ocean-grass up and down, heavenward and hellward. To starboard, the dark cliffs of a small jungled island rose from an angry muttering surf, but there were no birds flying above it. Corun pointed to the shore. "That's the first of the archipelago," he said. "From here on, we can look for the Xanthi to come at any time."