The inhuma bent to drink, and he turned his head away and found himself crouching on the sand beside an earlier Horn who was seated on a blanket beside Nettle. Her right hand was in his; with her left, she pointed to a fish jumping far away, invisible against the setting sun but leaving silver circles on the calm swell of the sea. The fear of another pregnancy hung over them both, invisible as the fish but more real.
Nettle said, "Did you ever see anything so beautiful?"
He whispered in Horn's ear. You.
"When we were on the airship... Do you remember? I went up there alone. Up on the roof of the gondola. I never told you."
"I would have come with you."
"I know. But you were still asleep, and anyway I wanted to do it by myself, just once. It was the day before we got back to Viron, I'm pretty sure."
"It must have been cold," the Horn beside her said.
And he, the walker beside the sea, knew that Horn was thinking of the winter not long past that would soon come again, and the donkey frozen in the little hut he had built for it, and himself standing over it with his knife thinking that there had been some mistake that it could not be real, the donkey had been so young, not yet a year old, and it could not be happening; but back in the log house on the beach Jahlee had drunk her fill. Her fangs had vanished. She had licked the child's face and neck, and had wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, a ragged, painfully thin figure with famished eyes who melted through the doorway and was gone.
"It was, but not as cold as it was in Viron down on the ground once we got there. You couldn't see much sun, because the airship was sailing down the sun."
"I remember," the Horn beside her said.
"Just the same, I knew when the shade started to go up. I could see it in my mind, and the first light came down like gold dust."
The Horn beside her may have spoken then. Or not. If he did, the walker beside the sea crouching next to him did not hear him. In a moment the sun will be down. The stars will come out, and the wind grow cold. You will go inside and find Sinew, and it will never be the same again. Clasp her to you now. Tell her you love her now, before it is too late.
It was desperately urgent that he speak-desperately urgent that he be heard and understood. He rolled his head from side to side on the soft, crushed stems of the wheat, conscious that no sound issued from his lips.
His eyes opened. He sat up. It had been so real, all of it; but a dream, only a dream, and it was black night still.
He should lie down again, sleep again; in the morning, the men would expect him to lead them against his son's village.
We have been riding downhill all day. Winter is milder here, although it is still wretchedly cold. All of us would like very much to get inside, even the horses and Jahlee's mule-to escape the cold and the wind, if only for an hour.
We met other travelers today, four merchants with their servants and pack animals. We were glad to see them; but they, I believe, were even more glad to see us, because they had quarreled and were eager to air their grievances. I listened as long as I cold bear it and longer, reminding myself of all the foolish quarrels in which I myself have been involved, often as the instigator. It is educational as well as humiliating, to listen to others voicing complaints like our own. They were all thoroughly bad people of the type to which I myself belong-that is to say, bad people who are pleased to think themselves good.
At last Jahlee threw back her hood, leveled a trembling finger at the one who had been speaking and demanded to know what they wanted us to do.
"To judge between us," said one man, who had spoken less than the others. I believe his name is Ziek.
I explained that it would be quite useless for me to judge unless they would obey me as a judge, and one by one they pledged themselves to do so. Scylla is their principal goddess, I found, just as she was ours in Viron. That being the case I made them swear by Scylla, and by the Outsider, and by whatever gods might still linger here on Blue, and because I saw that had impressed them, by the Vanished People themselves.
When they had done so, I said, "Hear my judgment. You have so embittered yourselves, and forsworn yourselves, and tangled yourselves among competing claims and allegations that no peace is possible among you. There is no need, however, for you to torment yourselves as you have been doing. Am I to assume that you are all going to the same place?"
They were, to a town on the coast called Dorp.
"Then my judgment is that you must go there separately. You," I pointed to the largest of them, a man called Nat who seemed to be the richest too, "are to leave at once. How many of these horses and mules are yours?"
He had sixteen.
"Take them and go. Travel as fast as you can. We will rest here for a time before we follow you. When we ride again, it will be with the blond man in front, the one with the red cap between my son and me, and this one [by which I meant Ziek] behind my daughter. In an hour or so, I will send him ahead just as I'm sending you. In another hour another, and so on."
Nat protested. "What if I'm robbed? One man alone can't resist."
"Of course he can. He may be killed, but that is the risk he runs when he quarrels with his friends. Have your drivers collect your animals and go."
"Man go," Oreb seconded me.
He looked at me for a few seconds that seemed much longer, his eyes blazing with hatred. "I won't!"
"Then arrest him," I told the other three. "You've sworn to do as I tell you. Drag him off his horse and throw him down."
He drew a needler, but I struck his wrist with my staff. We have him still, I regret to say, with a valet, two drivers, eight horses, and ten mules. I had intended to have Hide untie him and remove his gag tonight so that he could eat, but I was tired and Hide was busy unloading and unsaddling our own horses, and hobbling them, and I forgot. From his size and the redness of his face, a missed meal is more apt to help then harm him, I believe. It will be enough to feed him in the morning before we let him go.
I am sleepy enough for two, but before I sleep I ought to say here that here we have four horses, not counting Jahlee's mule. That makes twenty-three animals, not counting Oreb, who seems to have gone exploring: Nat's mount, his valet's and his pack animals, my own mount and Hide's, the white mule, and two pack horses we took from the bandits, loaded with our scant baggage and some loot.
Chapter 2. GREAT PAS'S GODLING
Her husband held the lamp while the woman poured warm water on his wounds. "What happened to you?"
He shook his head, and her husband snorted.
She said, "He doesn't know. Can't you see his face?" Then to him: "You can put that one down now. Hold out the other one. Over the bucket."
He obeyed as meekly as a child.
"Your cousin Firefly-"
"Firebrat," her husband said.
"He didn't know his name after he fell that time."
"You fall?" the husband asked. "Hit your head?"
"What's your name?"
He hesitated. "Horn."
"Don't want us to know," the husband remarked.
"They're clean now," the woman said. "Lots of people say wash them in wine, but water that's boiled is about as good, and wine costs."
He nodded gratefully.
She picked up the bucket, which was of wood bound with iron, carried it to the sink, and poured out pink water. "Where you from?"
"Lizard." (It had slipped out.)
"Lizard sent you? Who is he?"
"Are we in the Whorl?"
Her husband said, "Still here. They're tryin' to run us out, but we'll run them out 'fore we're through."
The woman sniffed. "Big talk."
"Then I'm from Viron. I was born there, and I grew up there." He felt a twinge of fear. "You're not at war with Viron here?"
The husband said, "They don't care about us out here."