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."
They wandered up on the poop deck in search of a place to sit. It was
deserted save for the helmsman by the dimly glowing binnacle, a deeper
shadow in the thick blue twilight. Sitting back against the taffrail,
they could look forward to the lean waist of the ship and the vague
outline of the listlessly bellying sail. Beyond the hull, the sea was
an arabesque of luminescence, delicate traceries of shifting white
light out to the glowing horizon. The cold fire streamed from the
ship's bows and whirled in her wake, the hull dripped liquid flame.
The night was very quiet. The faint hiss and smack of cloven water,
creak of planks and tackle, distant splashing of waves and invisible
sea beasts--otherwise there was only the enormous silence under the
high clouds. The breeze was cool on their cheeks.
"How long till we get to the Sea of Demons?" asked Imazu. His voice was
oddly hushed in the huge stillness.
"With ordinary sailing weather, I'd say about three ten-days--maybe
four," answered Corun indifferently.
"It's a strange mission we're on, aye, that it is." Imazu's head
wagged, barely visible in the dark. "I like it not, Corun. I have evil
feelings about it, and the omens I took before leaving weren't good."
"Why then did you sail? You're a free man, aren't you?"
"So they say!" Sudden bitterness rose in the Umlotuan's voice. "Free as
any of Shorzon's followers, which is to say less free than a slave, who
can at least run away."
"Why, doesn't he pay well?"
"Oh, aye, he is lavish in that regard. But he has his ways of binding
servants to him so that they must do his bidding above that of the very
gods. He put his geas on most of these sailors, for instance. They were
simple folk, and thought he was only magicking them a good-luck charm."
"You mean they are bound? He has their souls?"
"Aye. He put them to sleep in some sorcerous way and impressed his
command on them. No matter what happens now, they must obey him. The
geas is stronger than their own wills."