"No, no, that's all right. He put no such binding on me--I knew better
than to accept his offer of a luck-bringing spell. But he has other
ways. He lent me a slave-girl from Umlotu for my pleasure--but she is
lovely, wonderful, kind, all that a woman should be. She has borne
me sons, and made homecoming ever a joy. But you see, she is still
Shorzon's and he will not sell her to me or free her--moreover, he did
put his geas on her. If ever I rebelled, she would suffer for it."
Imazu spat over the rail. "So I am Shorzon's creature too."
"It must be a strange service."
"It is. Mostly all I have to do is captain his bodyguard. But I've seen
and helped in some dark things. He's a fiend from the lowest hell,
Shorzon is. And his granddaughter--" Imazu stopped.
"Yes?" asked Corun roughly. His hand closed bruisingly on the other's
arm. "Go on. What of her?"
"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."
"We should get as far into their territory as possible, even to the
black palace," said Shorzon. "I will put a spell of invisibility on the
ship."
"Their sorcerers can break that," said Chryseis.
"Aye, so. But when they come to know our powers, I think they will
treat with us."
"They'd better!" smiled Imazu grimly.
"Steer on toward the island of the castle," said Shorzon to the pirate.
"I go to lay the spell."
He went into his cabin. Corun had a glimpse of its dark interior before
the door was closed--draped in black and filled with the apparatus of
magic.
"He will have to be in a trance, physically, to maintain the
enchantment," said Chryseis. She smiled at Corun, and his pulses raced.
"Come, my dearest, it is cooler on the afterdeck."
The sailors rowed steadily, sweat glistening on their bare blue hides.
Imazu paced up and down the catwalk, flicking idlers with his whip.
Corun stood where he could keep an eye on the steersman and see that
the right course was followed.
It had been utter wonder till now, he thought, unending days when they
plowed through seas of magic, nights of joy such as he had never known.
There had never been another woman such as Chryseis, he thought, never
in all the world, and he was the luckiest of men. Though he died today,
he had been more fortunate than any man ever dared dream.
Chryseis, Chryseis, loveliest and wisest and most valiant of women--and
she was his, before all the jealous gods, she loved him!
"There has only been one thing wrong," he said. "You are going into
danger now. The world would go dark if aught befell you."
"And I should sit at home while you were away, and never know what had
happened, never know if you lived or died--no, no, Corun!"
He laid a hand on the sword at his waist. They had given him arms and
armor again after she had come to him. Logical enough, he thought
without resentment--he could be trusted now, as much as if he were one
of Shorzon's ensorcelled warriors.
But if this were a spell too, the gods deliver him from ever being
freed of it!
He blinked. There was a sudden breath of chill on him, and his eyes
were blurring--no, no, it was the ship that wavered, ship and men
fading--He clutched at Chryseis. She laughed softly and slipped an arm
around his waist.
"It is only Shorzon's spell," she said. "It affects us too, to some
extent. And it makes the ship invisible to anyone within seeing range."
Ghost ship, ghost crew, slipping over the slowly heaving waters. There
was only the foggiest outline to be seen, shadow of mast and rigging
against the sky, glimpses of water through the gray smoke of the hull,
blobs of darkness that were the crewmen. Sound was still clear; he
heard the mutter of superstitious awe, the crack of the whip, and
Imazu's oaths that sent the oars creaking and splashing again. Corun's
hand was a misty blur before his eyes. Chryseis was a shadow beside him.
She laughed once more, a low exultant throb, and pulled his lips down
to hers. He ruffled the streaming fragrant hair and felt a return of
courage. It was only a spell.
But what were the spells? he wondered for the thousandth time. He
did not hold with the simple theory that wizards were in league with
gods or demons. They had powers, yes, but he was sure that somehow
these powers came only from within themselves. Chryseis had always
evaded his questions about it. There must be some simple answer to the
problem, some real process, as real as that of making a fire, behind
the performances of the sorcerers--but it baffled him to think what it
might be.
Blast it all, it just wasn't reasonable that Shorzon, for instance,
should have been able actually to change himself into a jungle monster
many times his size. Yet he, Corun, had seen the thing, had felt its
wet scales and smelled its reptile stink. How?
* * * * *
The ship plowed slowly on. Now and then Corun looked at the compass,
straining his eyes to discern the blurred needle. Otherwise they could
only wait.
But waiting with Chryseis was remarkably pleasant.
It was at the end of a timeless time, perhaps half a day, that he saw
the Xanthian patrol. "Look," he pointed. "There they come."
Chryseis stared boldly over the sea. The hand beneath his was steady as
her voice: "So I see. They're--beautiful, aren't they?"
The cetaraea came leaping across the waves, big graceful beasts with
the shapes of fish, their smooth black hides shining and the water
white behind their threshing tails. Astride each was a great golden
form bearing a lance. They quartered across the horizon and were lost
to sight.
The crew mumbled in fear, shaken to their hardy souls by the terrible
unhuman grace of the Xanthi. Imazu cursed them back to work. The ship
went on.
Islands slipped by, empty of man-sign. They had glimpses of Xanthian
works, spires and walls rearing above the jungle. These were not
the white colonnaded buildings of Tauros or the timbered halls of
Conahur--of black stone they were, with pointed towers climbing crazily
skyward. Once a great sea serpent reared its head, spouted water,
and writhed away. All creatures save man could sense the presence of
wizardry and refused to go near it.
Night fell, an abyss of night broken only by faint glimmers of sea-fire
under the carpeting weed. Men stood uneasy watch in full armor, peering
blindly into the somber immensity. It was hot, hot and silent.
Near midnight the lookout shouted from the masthead: "Xanthi to
larboard!"
"Silence, you fool!" called Imazu. "Want them to hear us?"
The patrol was a faint swirl and streaking of phosphorescence, blacker
shadows against the night. It was coming nearer.
"Have they spotted us?" wondered Corun.
"No," breathed Chryseis. "But they're close enough for their mounts--"
There was a great snorting and splashing out in the murk. The cetaraea
were refusing to go into the circle of Shorzon's spell. Voices lifted,
an unhuman croaking. The erinye, the only animal who did not seem to
mind witchcraft, snarled in saw-edged tones, eyes a green blaze against
the night.
Presently the squad turned and slipped away. "They know something is
wrong, and they've gone for help," said Corun. "We'll have a fight on
our hands before long."
He stretched his big body, suddenly eager for action. This waiting was
more than he could stand.
The ship drove on. Corun and Chryseis napped on the deck; it was too
stiflingly hot below. The long night wore away.
In the misty gray of morning, they saw a dark mass advancing from
the west. Corun's sword rasped out of the sheath. It was a long,
double-edged blade such as they used in Conahur, and it was thirsty.
"Get inside, Chryseis," he said tightly.
"Get inside yourself," she answered. There was a lilt in her voice like
a little girl's. He felt her quiver with joyous expectation.
The ghostly outlines of the ship wavered, thickened, faded again,
flickered back toward solidity. Suddenly they had sight; the vessel
lay real around them; they saw each other in helm and corselet, face
looking into tautened face.
"They have a wizard along--he broke Shorzon's spell," said the
Conahurian.
"We looked for that," answered Chryseis evenly. "But as long as Shorzon
keeps fighting him, there will be a roiling of magic around us such
that none of their beasts will approach."
She stood beside him, slim and boyish in polished cuirass and plumed
helmet, shortsword belted to her waist and a bow in one hand. Her
nostrils quivered, her eyes shone, and she laughed aloud. "We'll drive
them off," she said. "We'll send them home like beaten iaganaths."
Imazu blew the war-horn, wild brazen echoes screaming over the sea. His
men drew in the oars, pulled on their armor, and stood along the rails,
waiting.
"But did we come here to fight them?" asked Corun.
"No," said Chryseis. "But we've known all along that we'd have to give
them a taste of our might before they'd talk to us."
The Xanthian lancers were milling about half a league away, as if in
conference. Suddenly someone blew a harsh-toned horn and Corun saw half
the troop slide from the saddle into the water. "So--they'll swim at
us," he muttered.
* * * * *
The attack came from all sides, converging on the ship in a rush of
foam. As the Xanthi neared, Corun saw their remembered lineaments and
felt the old clutch of panic. _They weren't human._
With the fluked tail, one of them had twice the length of a man. The
webbed hind feet, on which they walked ashore, were held close to the
body; the strangely human hands carried weapons. They swam half under
water, the dorsal fins rising over. Their necks were long, with gills
near the blunt-snouted heads; their grinning mouths showed gleaming
fangs. The eyes were big, dark, alive with cold intelligence. They bore
no armor, but scales the color of beaten gold covered back and sides
and tail. They came in at furious speed, churning the sea behind them.