by M J Engh
“There's your chance, if you want to try again, Lethgro,” the Captain said cheerfully.
Lethgro, who had been stooping among the plants of this new field, looked up with no pleased expression, for he thought that even Repnomar had begun to mock him. But she was pointing inland; and when he straightened to look he saw another grazing herd moving placidly toward them.
He took out an arrow slowly. If the herd continued its present course and he timed his shots well, he thought, he might bring down a beast near at hand and so have a good chance of getting it on board without interruption by monsters; for he hoped that those green and flowery brutes would not venture into the desert country, where their coats would show like signal flags. But he scanned the field closely, for he did not intend to quarrel with such creatures again.
It was well that he did so. Gazing very earnestly downwind (for if meadow monsters were about, they would most likely be coming from that direction) he saw a patch of flowering grass that seemed to move the wrong way in the breeze; and after a little study, he saw that it was not quite following the herd. At this, he fitted arrow to bowstring, saying in a quiet voice, “Don't run, and don't act excited. But the sooner we get back to the boats, the likelier we are to die in bed.”
Now, Captain Repnomar was not entirely sure that she wanted to die in bed, and Captain Brask had never even considered the possibility (for it was an option that pirates seldom had); but both of them were fond of living, and they did not hesitate to take Lethgro's advice. Broz, feeling something wrong but not certain what he should do about it, growled softly, and Repnomar silenced him with a sharp word.
What Lethgro had realized at first sight and what was soon clear to the rest of them (except perhaps Brask, who could not make out the monsters at all and had to take the others’ word for them) was that it was not grazing beasts that were being hunted—it was themselves. Lethgro kept one eye on a certain pattern of blossoms that moved closer in slow undulations and sudden, silent bounds; yet even so he could not trace the outlines of the beast. Sometimes a green shape showed briefly against a boulder or one of the scrub trees that grew in scattered clumps, and disappeared again into the grass. They walked, keeping close together, at a good pace back toward the barren ground. The Exile carried a tuft of grass in his hand, so that he looked foolishly like a child just called home from play. Repnomar had drawn her knife, and Brask the sword she always wore.
They were well into the barren ground, and breathing easier, when Broz spun around with a roar of fury. They faced about, lifting their weapons, and Lethgro drew his bowstring and loosed an arrow faster than he had ever done before in his life; but there was not one of them who was not daunted in heart by what burst upon them now as a storm wave bursts upon a rock.
There were three of the monsters, huge to see as they came forward in great leaps, and hideous to hear, for they shrieked as they came with voices that cut the ear as their fellow's claws had cut Lethgro's flesh. Their grass-green coats stood out against the bare earth in discordant brilliance. The first of the three had taken Lethgro's arrow full in its chest, but it came on, and he had no time to shoot again. Broz sprang forward bravely, and Repnomar sprang with him; and for a moment it seemed that they might have the best of this encounter, for they took the wounded monster one on each side, striking for its throat with teeth and knife. But it lashed out left and right with its great forepaws, lightning-fast and screaming like a devil, and plunged past, leaving them both struck to earth.
Brask, who had not become captain of a pirate vessel by holding back from fights (though a fight like this one was new to her), held her sword low and forward-pointing; and when one of the monsters leaped upon her with its shriek, she drove the whole length of the blade into its chest. But its rush was not to be broken by one blow, however deep, and they went down together in a thrashing mass.
Lethgro had his chance now to try his knife on the beast that already carried his arrow. But while he was occupied with this (and indeed it was a business that left him little leisure, for though the beast was wounded, it might as well have been a wounded whirlwind) he was still aware that the third monster had stopped short to busy itself with Repnomar.
Now was an ugly time on the barren ground. All this affair had happened so swiftly that none of the sailors from either crew had had time to come to their aid, though many were running toward them. The Exile, with more pluck than good sense, had seized the stubby tail of the beast that was worrying Repnomar (being the easiest part to get hold of) and yanked hard. At that moment the creature had crunched Repnomar's knife arm in its jaws; but she, with great determination, took the knife in her right hand and drove it into the beast's throat, thus perhaps saving the Exile as well as herself. Lethgro had managed to stay out from under his monster, at the price of a terrible wound to one arm, and was now more or less astride it, with his teeth buried in the thick green fur of its neck (for with one arm dangling useless and the other occupied with his knife, he used what means he could to hang on). The monster curled itself, digging at his legs with its claws and sinking its teeth through his boot into the flesh of his foot, so that for the present it ceased its shrieks.
Indeed there was now a kind of silence that pounded in their ears, though none of them was conscious of it; for all the screeching had stopped. There was only the sound of Broz snarling as he dragged at the beast whose throat Repnomar had cut, and the yells of the approaching sailors, and the Exile's anxious queries as he tried to help first one and then another. Brask heaved herself from under the beast that had borne her down, pulling her dripping sword behind her; and they all straightened themselves as best they might and looked about them. The three monsters were dead.
“Well, Rep,” Lethgro said wearily. And she answered with a ghastly grin, “We may die in bed sooner than we thought.” For they were both sorely hurt. By now some of the Blue Crow's sailors had come up, marveling at the dead monsters, and these helped them along, though neither Repnomar nor Lethgro would consent to be carried outright. And the Exile scampered about, looking for the clump of grass he had dropped and picking up the arrows that had spilled from Lethgro's quiver.
So they hunted no more that watch. A few of the pirates had begun hastily to skin one of the monsters, Captain Brask telling them coarsely that if they were killed by the monster's mates it would be their own fault, and that she for one would say no prayers for them. But they were not interrupted, and finished the job so expeditiously that they caught up with the others before they reached the landing place (for Lethgro's progress, with his bitten foot, was very slow, and Repnomar's little better, going with her hands clasped to her belly).
By then the whole landing party had crowded around them, all talking at a great rate, telling each other what had happened and making much of the wounds and skill and courage of the monster-killers. These three themselves were less noisy, sunk each in their own thoughts; for to fight a meadow monster to the death was not a thing to be shrugged off lightly. So they only blinked their eyes and answered curtly when they were questioned, and Brask was exceedingly rude, offering to stick her sword into anyone who might be curious about how it felt.
When they had come to the landing place, one of the pirates who had skinned the monster unrolled its hide, thinking to make a soft seat for Captain Brask in her boat (for Brask too was hurt, though not so much as Repnomar or Lethgro); and all stared at it in surprise. Its brilliant colors had faded—the rich green to a dingy gray with only a tinge of greenness left in it, the beautiful reds and blues and yellows of the flowerlike spots to dull black. This seemed so bad an omen that the pirates, and others as well, began to mutter prayers and make signs against evil, and Brask waved the skin away violently, saying she would not have such a thing on her ship or boat. Now the Exile begged for the hide, calling it harmless and interesting, and Captain Repnomar would have let him take it; but the sailors of the Blue Crow objected strenuously, and Lethgro thought best to command that the hide be left on shore
.
So when they were on board their ships, and all wounds dressed, they raised sail and followed along the Low Coast, determined not to land again till they were in the Dreeg.
26
Downstream
It would have been an easy voyage, all in all, but for the trouble that hung over them. Lethgro (whom Captain Repnomar always referred to as the Warden, in spite of his demotion) was more severely wounded than he had been willing to admit, and for a time there was talk of his likely death. Repnomar herself was not much better off; but, as she observed brusquely, she was too busy to die, what with managing the Blue Crow and tending the Warden and keeping an eye on Brask.
For the pirate captain, disgruntled by her first experience of the Low Coast and seeing little promise of plunder, was thinking of breaking her agreement. Repnomar knew this from one of the Blue Crow's sailors who had made friends among the pirates (for the two captains had grown very chatty, and not only communicated by signals and message crows but sent boats between the ships every few watches, exchanging news and consulting on their course; so that there was much coming and going of sailors).
This was a worry, but no crisis; for the pirates could not well turn back across the Soll, against the wind and without the help of the Current, unless after much replenishing of supplies. For this reason, Repnomar kept the Blue Crow close to the pirate ship and discouraged all talk of shore parties, saying that meadow monsters were nothing to the monsters of the Dreeg; which impressed the sailors.
The Exile grieved that he had lost his medicines; for with them, he said, he could quickly have healed the Warden and both captains, and he might even have saved Broz's eye. To which Repnomar replied philosophically, “It's the next one that counts.” But in fact she was much moved by the injury to Broz. The first stroke of the monster's forepaw had raked a claw through the ball of his left eye; and though he had later fought gallantly, taking several lesser wounds without complaint, he was from that moment blind on one side. This puzzled him badly, so that he kept turning in circles, trying to see where he could not. But none of his other wounds was severe, and the Captain was pleased, all things considered, that he had gotten off so easily.
She herself had been slashed about the face, her left arm mangled in the monster's jaws, and, worst of all, the brute's hind claws had sliced into her belly, so that the entrails showed. This was what gave the Exile the most anxiety; but by good luck nothing inside had been opened, and in due time the wound healed, leaving a scar that, as Repnomar said, would be a good argument if anybody disbelieved her story.
But Lethgro was in worse case. He had lost much blood, and some of his wounds turned bad, so that for a long while he had a fever and was sometimes out of his head, talking restlessly of the affairs of Sollet Castle and arguing with the Councils of Beng and Rotl. And when the burning and the oozing subsided and it seemed clear that he would live, they found that he had lost the use of his right arm. No bones had been broken in it, but the muscles and sinews had been so torn that it was all he could do to move his fingers, and he could not lift the arm at all. This was awkward, and depressed him more than he liked to admit; for, he felt, it did not well become the Warden of Sollet Castle to carry a uselessly flapping fin, and he took it as an omen that he would never get back his post.
By this time they were well into the Dreeg, and bowling swiftly downstream. Repnomar thought it safe now to anchor where a rocky outthrust of the bank made a little cove, and send out hunters and foragers, telling them that they were past the worst of the monsters. Nevertheless, they went in large parties and well armed. The Captain trusted that Brask, having no experience of rivers, would not be likely to turn upstream without some assurance of profit. “Otherwise,” as Repnomar put it to Lethgro, “she's thief enough to try it.” And when he objected that ships could no more float upstream on the Dreeg than on the Sollet, the Captain answered with a strange glint of triumph in her eye, “Not float, Lethgro—sail! On the Dreeg, the winds blow upstream,” which gave Lethgro new cause for worry. But it the same thought had occurred to Brask, she kept it to herself (or to her own crew) and the foraging parties returned successful. Monsters were heard, but not surely seen; and afterwards they went on with stomachs and larders well stocked, and the crews cheerful.
The Exile, for all his anxiousness and trouble, was pleased by the things he had learned on this voyage. He was very proud when a cluster of tiny eggs (attached to the stems of the grass clump he had gathered on shore just before they met the meadow monsters, and had kept carefully ever since) hatched out into what were certainly midges. This confirmed him in an idea he had already propounded: that when the midges, by smothering and choking every other living thing and eating the remains, had reduced one tract of land to desert, they moved on to another. It was his belief that the wormlike creatures they had seen, so doggedly trudging over the barren ground, were another form of midge, competent to crawl straight ahead and to lay eggs in a good place when they came to one, but for nothing else.
“I don't know about that,” Lethgro said. (He was well enough now to sit at the Blue Crow's rail and watch the passing banks). “But I know there was a difference between the two places where we met monsters. That meadow before the desert was all new growth, like a fresh-planted garden. But the high ground on this side has been overgrown for years.”
“How do you know?” Repnomar asked; and he answered, “I know land, Rep, if you know water. I knew by the look and feel and smell of the plants, and the roots and matted stems between the grass stalks.” And he added thoughtfully, “And the monsters there were a different shade of green, to match the difference.”
“And I know why those Low Coasters worshipped Broz,” the Captain put in, laughing. “They didn't take him for a god; they took him for a meadow monster.”
The Exile eagerly agreed with these remarks, and for some time they talked of the Low Coast and its curiosities. The Exile wondered why even plants died out where the midges came, guessing that perhaps their seeds would not grow till they had passed through the gut of some animal. And Lethgro asked gloomily what the midges would do when they reached the Dreeg, and whether they would turn back and round the Soll, desolating as they went till at last they reached Sollet mouth.
But the Captain soon lost interest in all this, answering absently, with her eyes fixed on the river bank. In a little while she sprang up, calling for a signal flag and a boat; for, she said, “It's time to talk to Captain Brask. We're almost there.”
They had come to a bend that she recognized; and, as she said presently, when they were anchored alongside the bank, “I came to get my ship back, not lose another one.” And she sent crows down the river, to make sure of where the waterfall lay. These were the same two birds that had been already once around the world with her; and to the leg of one of them she attached a message, instructing that crow to carry it to the Mouse. “But if the bird doesn't come back,” she said sternly to all within hearing, “that won't mean anything.” For she was determined not to jump to conclusions about what had happened to her Mouse and her crew, when a few more hours would bring sure knowledge.
Now they held council on the shore. They were well prepared, for Captain Repnomar had made her plans and laid in her supplies before ever she left the pirates’ nest below Rotl (pirates having generally good stocks of many things). There were stout cables coiled in the holds of both ships, and plenty of muscle in both crews, and it was with these that the Captain proposed to take off the Mouse. “And if that fails,” she said, “we'll see then what help we can get from beyond the clouds.”
This was assuming, of course, that the Mouse was still there, and worth taking off. The closer they came, the more uneasy the Captain was for her crew, and the more she thought of the sailors who had already died in her service. But she did not speak of this, and when Brask inquired coarsely what she meant to do if the crew of the Mouse were all dead, she merely answered that a good ship was worth something even without a crew.
The truth was that Repnomar did not like the notion of anyone else seeing that island before she did. By now everyone was ill-tempered—even Broz and the Exile, neither of whom was usually snappish. When all preparations were finished, they weighed anchor and moved on downstream, with oars at the ready and no sails set, keeping close to the left bank.
This time—whether because there was little wind to carry the sound, or because all eyes were straining and eager—they saw before they heard. Above the smooth edge of nothing, where the river swept downward out of sight, white mist hovered, and dark specks of birds. The wooded island sat as if poised to plunge over the precipice, and at its near end they could already see the Mouse.
Now boats were lowered: one from the pirate ship and one from the Blue Crow, with Captain Repnomar herself in the latter. She had insisted on this, declaring that the Mouse was her ship and that there was nothing to do at this end of the cable except heave, which any fool could do. The boats moved out into midstream, rowing hard across the current, so that they were borne steadily toward the island and the Mouse; and the cables they carried hung from the ships’ decks behind them and drooped into the water. The ships themselves kept well inshore, to be sure of firm anchorage. Lethgro, standing in the bow of the Blue Crow, watched the boats make their sidling way, swiftly downstream and slowly crosswise. His eyes were so glued to this sight that he saw nothing on the island, and it was one of the Crow's sailors who cried out, “They're alive!”
