Talsy held up a crystal vase and inspected it. With a nod, she handed it to her buyer, a short, balding man with a podgy face and a good eye for wares. He went off to finalise the deal, and she stared blindly at the book in front of her. The figures danced on the page, defying her to read them, and she rubbed her eyes. Late afternoon sunlight streamed in through the dusty windows of her office in a modest shop on Windall Street, an area between the poor quarter and the middle-class district. Damaged merchandise, papers and oddments cluttered the cramped room, whose walls were yellowed with age and neglect, its furnishing worn and drab. Two chairs faced her polished yew desk, a sagging bookshelf covered one wall and coarse curtains framed a window with a view of the busy street.
Talsy had found a thriving market here for trinkets from the far north, cities like Prenath and Gardellin, which made pretty things from cheap materials, like the vase she had just bought. It looked expensive, but the crystal was inferior. For denizens of the poor quarter, however, such things were previously unaffordable luxuries. Now, poor labourer husbands could buy their wives pretty vases, pots and crockery, and trade was good. She rented the shop from an ageing, retired merchant who had no son to inherit his business. It had improved since Talsy had taken over, and she had given the shop a fresh coat of whitewash three months ago.
Six months had passed since King Garsh's men had flung Chanter into the sea. It seemed like an eternity of grinding misery and constant sorrow. For days, she had scaled the barracks' walls in her desperate attempts to free him. Two guards had stood over the motionless, bleeding Mujar night and day, making her task impossible. Twice, the guards who patrolled the walls had caught and beaten her.
Then that terrible day had come, when he had been thrown into a cart and driven to the docks. People had spat on his torn and bloody form, jeered and shouted insults. The ship had set sail at sunset, foiling Talsy's longing to find out where they dumped him. Not that it would have done any good, for the currents would sweep him away, and the sea was too deep to rescue him.
Two weeks later, cold and hungry from living on the streets as a beggar, Talsy had taken Chanter’s ruby to a reputable dealer. The jeweller had paid her handsomely for it, and she had purchased the modest business, which provided a living and a distraction. She lived alone in a rented house, and had turned nineteen a month ago, but had not celebrated it.
The business' profit provided her with good clothes and fine food, but no amount of luxuries could ever blot out Chanter's memory. She missed him as much now as she had on the day he had been bound in gold, and often woke from dreams of him to weep until dawn. Though it seemed hopeless, she never stopped trying to think of ways to save him, refusing to accept his loss.
Several times, she had hired a boat and braved her fear of the sea to voyage out in a vain hope that she might find him drifting like wrack on the waves. The sight of the ocean that would one day become his grave moved her to tears, and she would spend hours weeping alone before returning to shore. She had no friends, but those who knew her thought her a little touched in the head. Every morning, she walked the beaches on either side of the harbour, hoping that Chanter would be washed ashore. All she had found was a scrap of frayed black leather, which she kept in a box beside her bed. Her unrelenting grief had aged her, thinned her face and figure and made her eyes sink into their sockets. She did not care; nothing mattered without Chanter.
Talsy was dragged from her reverie as her buyer, Tarn, re-entered her office, looking pale and sick.
She eyed him. "What is it?"
Tarn pulled up a chair and sat, frowning. "Bad news, I'm afraid, Miss Talsy. The man who brought the crystal came from Jishan, and he brought news of a rumour that the Black Riders are heading there."
She experienced a twinge of triumph and hid a smile. "Oh, dear."
Tarn nodded, as if she had said something far more appropriate. "I reckon it's time to move on."
"Of course. I'll pay you a good severance, so you'll have something to live on for a while. Where will you go?"
"North, I reckon. It'll take them Riders a long while to march all the way around the Narrow Sea, so we'll have a good head start."
Talsy opened her desk drawer and took out a bag of silver. "Would you like your pay now?"
Tarn nodded, and she counted out the coins. She was tempted to give him the whole bag, for it meant nothing to her now. Her life in Rashkar would soon be over. She counted out most of it, until Tarn's eyes bulged, then put the remainder back in the drawer. He stood up and gathered it into his purse, filling his pockets as well.
"You're welcome to join us, Miss Talsy. The wife and kids like you well enough, and you've always been generous with us."
Talsy rose and wandered over to the window to stare into the street, where life continued as usual. Once word got out, people would try to flee as they had in Horran, but she was sure that Garsh would also force his people to fight. Becoming aware of Tarn's words, she turned to smile at him.
"Thank you, Tarn, but no, I shall stay here."
"That's certain death, Miss Talsy."
She longed to point out that no one would escape the Hashon Jahar in the end, but shook her head instead. "I'll be all right."
Tarn grunted, and left the office jingling with bounty. She wished him luck silently, for he was a nice man.
Two days later, Talsy looked up from the accounts on her desk as her doorway darkened. King Garsh's black-clad advisor stood framed in it, and she rose to her feet, her heart hammering with fury.
"Get out! How dare you come here?"
Yusan raised his hands. "I know you don't like me, but I need to know more about what you said."
"I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire, now get out!"
The advisor sidled into her office. "Tell me more about the Hashon Jahar. How do you know they're undying?"
"The King sent you, didn't he? Getting worried now that the Black Riders are on his doorstep, is he?" she sneered.
"Did the Mujar tell you about the Black Riders?"
"Why don't you go and ask him?"
Yusan turned away and ran a hand through his hair. "It wasn't my idea to throw -"
"But you went along with it!"
"I obeyed my king."
"As you are now."
"Yes!" he snarled, swinging back to face her. "The King can have you tortured if he wants, so just tell me!"
Talsy went cold and settled back into her chair. "I've told you what I know."
"Tell me again." Yusan pulled up a chair and sat forward with eager eyes.
"They're of this world, and they're undying."
"There's more to it than that."
"That's all I know," she snapped.
"How can they be stopped?"
Talsy smiled. "By a Mujar."
"Like Horran."
"Precisely."
"Was that your Mujar?"
Her eyes burnt at the mention of Chanter. "Yes."
"Why did he do it?"
"They made him."
"How?"
His persistent, snapped questions annoyed her. "What difference does it make? You don't have a Mujar here."
"Maybe we can find one."
"Why don't you go and dredge up the one you threw in the sea?"
"Perhaps we will."
Ridiculous hope flared in her, then died. "You'll never find him."
"We can get one from a Pit."
Talsy sat back. "Then try." She hesitated. "Why didn't you throw Chanter in a Pit? Why did you throw him in the sea?"
Yusan looked away, gnawing his lip. "The nearest Pit is many hundreds of leagues from here, and the Hashon Jahar had already cut us off from it."
"So, you knew then that the threat was approaching."
"No, they were passing by, heading west."
She smiled. "And now they're coming here. So, you can't rescue one from a Pit to save you, and Chanter is lost in the sea."
"What are the Hashon Jahar?"
"I've just told you."
"Not men?"
She shook her head. "No."
"Mujar."
"Mujar don't kill."
Yusan grunted. "Then what are they, and how can they be stopped? Why do they attack Truemen cities?"
"I don't know."
The advisor jumped up and paced about. "You seemed to know a lot the day we captured the Mujar, now you know nothing. You implied that if we hadn't thrown them into the Pits, the Mujar would have protected us from the Hashon Jahar."
She shrugged. "Maybe they would."
"If Rashkar falls, you'll die too."
"I know. But you took away my reason for living when you threw Chanter into the sea."
He glanced around. "You've done well for yourself. I'd say you have a reason to live."
"Bits of metal, wood and cloth. The Black Riders can burn it all."
"It's strange, the effect a Mujar can have on a person," he mused, stroking his chin. "I've seen it before."
Talsy's eyes narrowed. "It happened to you, didn't it? That's how you know about them."
"Yes, one tried to twist my mind."
"What happened to him?"
Yusan turned to stare out of the window. "I saw to it that he was thrown into a Pit."
"Of course, I should have guessed. Few Truemen have the ability to understand Mujar. Perhaps I'm the only one."
"No, there have been others. They withered away when they lost their Mujar to a Pit." His eyes raked her. "Just as you're doing."
She nodded. "It's hard to live in a world ruled by selfish savages when one has met a truly good being. At least they saw the light. At least they had that wonderful experience."
Yusan snorted and marched out.
"As you did!" she shouted after him, then slumped over her desk and buried her face in her hands.
The next day, the first refugees arrived from Jishan. Ships ferried scores of women, children and old men in a constant stream across the Narrow Sea. The returning vessels took young, scared recruits to die defending Jishan. King Garsh kept his seasoned troops to defend Rashkar. He obviously did not hold out much hope of saving the stone city. Many seemed to think, quite rightly, that Rashkar was doomed too, and fled. Some sailed up the Narrow Sea to towns along the coast, others headed inland aboard wagons. Talsy was of the opinion that trying to flee the Hashon Jahar was like trying to outrun an avalanche on a mountain slope. She did not really know why she waited. While she had no wish to die, she could not leave Chanter behind. When they arrived, she would probably panic and try to escape, but until then, she would wait.
Two days later, the Black Riders laid siege to Jishan, which fell within hours. Sailors brought the news, along with a few soldiers they had fished out of the sea. Even Talsy was surprised. She had thought that Jishan, with its mighty walls, would hold out for a few days. The soldiers brought puzzling stories of the Hashon Jahar, claiming that they were men with twisted faces who could be killed, and that Jishan's stone walls had melted away like hot wax before them.
The strangest news of all was that, the day after they had reduced Jishan to rubble, the Black Riders had vanished. Most people maintained that the Riders had retreated over the mountains; others said that they marched up the coast, but coastal ships saw no sign of them. Talsy knew that the Hashon Jahar moved fast, but she could not understand how they could disappear so quickly.
A strange foreboding filled her, and she grew restless, tossed in her sleep at night and woke bleary-eyed and haggard. In her dreams, Chanter haunted her as he had never done before, urging her to flee the city.
Three days after Jishan fell, her restiveness peaked, and by noon she could bear her jitters no longer, so she closed the shop and headed home. There she dressed in tough leather leggings, strong boots, a linen shirt and a sturdy jacket. She packed a warm fur coat, tent and bedroll, dried food and pots into a bag. At the stables where she kept two riding horses, she selected the sturdier animal and ordered a groom to saddle him.
The guards at the city gates eyed her strange outfit when she rode past. Since the Hashon Jahar had vanished, the panic in Rashkar had abated, and life was almost normal. Talsy urged the horse into a canter and headed up the coast to a beach she frequented in her search for Chanter. Away from the city, her anxiety subsided, and she dismounted, tied the horse to a tree and wandered along the beach.
Waves pounded the sand with the steady rhythm of the ocean swells; gulls mewed as they rode the wind. She collected sand-washed shells, then threw them away and resorted to building sand castles. When the rising tide washed them away, she contemplated going home, but the thought did not appeal to her. Instead, she lighted a fire and cooked a meagre meal of bacon, corn and journey bread, picnicking on the shore as the sun set in a glorious medley of glowing clouds.
A distant roaring distracted her, and she looked at Rashkar, surprised by the amount of smoke rising from the city. Fires dotted the waterfront and dock area and spread into the warehouses that lined the wharf. The conflagration’s roar grew louder, and the screams and shouts of terrified people mingled with the clanging of alarm bells and rumble of hooves and feet.
Talsy squinted at the distant city, wishing she had a spyglass. Something black emerged from the sea like a creeping carpet of shadow, engulfed the docks and filtered into the city. Flames leapt in its wake, and a line of defenders tried to stem the sable tide. Talsy swallowed bile. So that was where the Black Riders had gone. Not over the mountains or up the coast.
The Hashon Jahar rode out of the sea. They swarmed into the city, unhindered by the walls that faced the landward side, and even Garsh's mighty army could not hold them back. Talsy sat on the warm sand and watched the city fall. In the gathering dusk, the ragged line of torch-bearing defenders marked the invaders’ progress, retreating before them. War drums boomed, summoning soldiers to fight, and trumpets bleated as officers tried to rally them.
The world seemed to become still and hushed as the cries of dying people carried on the wind. Talsy shivered, not only because of the frigid wind that blew in from the sea, but with horror at the carnage. As the number of torch-bearing defenders dwindled, lights fled the city like fireflies leaving a nest, filling the two coastal roads with streams of sparkles.
Within a few hours, the mighty city of Rashkar fell, the roads out of it clogged with terrified citizens. The Black Riders swarmed after them in a pitiless tide, snuffing out the torches along with the lives of those who bore them. The shadowy advance spread up the roads, extinguishing even the occasional twinkling light that broke away and headed into the wilderness. By midnight, the last few distant lights vanished, plunging the land into darkness, save for the garish flames of the burning city. As the fires died, a distant rumbling carried on the breeze, along with the stench of smoke and burning flesh.
By the time the chill morning dew fell in a gentle haze, silence had descended upon the land. The first rays of dawn lighted a scene of utter devastation. A jumble of fallen walls and smouldering timbers lay under a pall of black smoke. Nothing remained of mighty Rashkar, capital of Manshur and seat of King Garsh's throne, but rubble. As the gathering light crept across the land, Talsy mounted and rode along the beach to a cave she had discovered on her earlier visits to the beach. There, she unsaddled the horse and tethered it, setting up a camp on the shelving rock. Being above the high water mark, the cave would make a dry home. Something told her that she was safe here, hidden from the Hashon Jahar. Shock and exhaustion forced her into an uneasy sleep.
When Talsy woke, the sun was past noon, and she went out to study the ruined city, which the Hashon Jahar’s black mass still filled. Smoke rose in lazy spirals, and the harbour was empty, the ships sunk or fled. An hour later, the Black Riders mounted their steeds and formed into their four-abreast columns. Two black lines emerged, one heading away, the other towards her, and she experienced a twinge of fear.
They rode along the coastal road, a mere two miles inland, too close for comfort. She contemplated staying to watch them pass, longing for a better look at them, but resisted the dangerous temptation and retreated into the cave. Within its cool confines, she listened to the approaching thunder of their steeds' hooves, remembering Horran. Harness and armour jingled and clinked. The steeds snorted, but the Black Riders rode in silence, apart from the rumble of galloping hooves.
Talsy’s heart thudded as they drew closer and passed by, and her horse tossed his head and rolled his eyes. She decided that if they discovered her, she would run into the sea, for she would rather drown than be torn apart. The thunder of their passage seemed to go on all afternoon. Their numbers must have been in tens of thousands, and it was only half of them. When at last the rumble faded, she ran outside to watch the last of them ride away at a full gallop. Rashkar was a sprawling mass of rubble and ashes. Amid the debris were the bodies of tens of thousands of people, yet she shed no tears for them. Perhaps she was so much like a Mujar now that she had even become as uncaring as one, she mused.
The following day, scavengers arrived in the form of clouds of crows, gulls and vultures, packs of wild dogs and wolves. A ship sailed up to the harbour, turned and headed along the coast. She did not doubt that whatever town had sent it would be massacred before the ship returned, so she resisted the urge to run onto the beach and wave to try to flag it down, for she was safer here now. Several ships came and went over the next few days, then no more arrived. After a week, the carrion-eaters left the remnants for the maggots and worms.
Each day, she took her horse out to let him graze, noticing that many horses had survived the battle and wandered around the city. Some still wore harness, and these she caught and divested of their badges of slavery. A few were injured, and she tended their wounds as well as she could. After a while, she realised that she did not need the beast she kept and released him to run with the others, since she could always catch him again if she needed.
As the weeks passed, her supplies ran out, so she resorted to fishing and hunting game for the pot. The cultivated lands filled with weeds and grass, but she found vegetables to dig up. She was occupied with this one day when a lone rider approached the city and stopped to stare at the ruins for several minutes. He turned his horse away, then spotted her and rode over.
"When did Rashkar fall?" he asked, as he reined in his horse.
She looked up at a rather plump man, pale now with shock. "About three weeks ago."
"How long was the battle?"
"About half a day."
He paled further. "How's that possible? Rashkar had the mightiest army in the land."
"They came out of the sea."
"Black Riders?"
She nodded.
"On ships?"
"No, they rode out of the sea."
He gaped at her, and Talsy turned away to continue her digging
He dismounted. "How did you survive?"
"I wasn't in the city. I was on the beach."
The man gazed at the sea, his expression dazed and hopeless. "All the great cities are falling. Jishan, Rashkar, Margan, Lorton, Vishnar, Horran..."
She looked up. "Horran's fallen?"
"Two months ago. Is that where you're from?"
"No. I passed through there." She dug up a potato and added it to her pile. The man watched her with hungry eyes.
"I could sure do with a good meal."
"Sorry." She shook her head. "I only have enough for myself."
"I could take you to a town."
"What for? It's safer here."
"I suppose you're right. Don't you get lonely?"
"No." She shot him a frown. "Be on your way, mister. If you need a fresh mount, there are plenty wandering around. Take your pick, no one owns them anymore."
The rider took the hint, caught a fresh horse and rode away.
Another month passed in an endless routine of fishing or hunting, digging vegetables and cooking simple meals. In between, she sat on the beach and stared out to sea, lost in memories of the gentle man who had been her companion and friend. She missed him terribly, and cursed the hateful people who had condemned him to a living death because he was different.
Two months after Rashkar's fall, weird creatures emerged from the sea to sun themselves on the beach. The beasts had rainbow skins, frond-like fins and fin-tipped tails. They slipped back into the ocean when she approached, but more and more of them appeared, gathering at times to sing strange moaning songs. Sometimes, at night, she would listen to their mournful dirges, and once she crept out in the moonlight to watch them dance on the glittering moon path in the sea.
When she ran to join them, they vanished beneath the waves without a ripple, but she danced anyway and sang a song of sorrow. Peculiar beasts also emerged from the forests or flew down from the sky. Some were huge, bird-like creatures with butterfly wings of many iridescent colours, long necks and beaks. They settled on the sand and scooped it up until their crops were full, then flew away. The land creatures were equally colourful and strange, like no animal she had ever seen before. They splayed upon the ground and spread wings of multi-coloured skin to bask in the sun. They did not appear to eat at all.
Even more bizarre, were the horse-sized beasts with stilt-like legs, which selected a spot and drilled their legs into the ground. They stood for hours, hooting occasionally, before plucking their thin limbs out and wandering off. They seemed to like the soft soil around the city, and many came to stand there all day. Like the other alien beasts, their skins were patterned with many brilliant colours, making them appear unreal. None would allow Talsy to approach, and she observed them from a distance, marvelling at their weirdness. The horses left them alone, and many quit the area, as if afraid of the peculiar creatures.
Talsy wandered along the beach, humming a tuneless song, when a man walked out of the sea. She froze in disbelief, then gave a glad cry and ran towards him, soon tiring in the soft sand. The creature’s skin gleamed silver and translucent flaps joined his arms and legs like the wings of a ray. He turned to face her, but then marched back into the waves. Talsy shouted and tried to catch up with him, running into the surf. The waves drove her back, and her puny struggles made no headway against the sea's might.
The man dived into the waves with a flash of silver and vanished beneath them. Talsy stumbled back up the beach and sank down on the sand, tears of frustration stinging her eyes. The strange man was clearly an ocean creature, and might be able to find Chanter, if she could only tell him of the Mujar's plight. She sat on the beach until dusk, her heart aching with the loneliness of her vigil and the pain of her loss.
The next day, the silver man reappeared, but this time she just sat and watched him roam the beach. He wandered up and down the beach, foraged in the sand and ate whatever it was he found, but stayed away from her. Two days later, he appeared again, and she observed him with growing despair, the hope that he might come close enough to talk to fading as he stayed out of earshot. The following day he returned, and she approached him again, this time at a sedate pace, so as not to alarm him, but he slipped into the sea before she could get close enough to speak to him.
The next night, as she sat before the cave staring out at the calm, moon-silvered sea, a flash of movement in the water caught her attention. A winged man-shape swam along the shore, making the ocean's sparkling black surface seem magical and inviting. The man always escaped into the wild sea, but now the ocean's tranquillity and his proximity offered a rare opportunity to approach him in his element. Perhaps then he would not be so afraid of her.
Talsy rose and marched down the beach, determined to communicate her need to this creature, who might be able to help Chanter. The ocean welcomed her into its cold embrace, and the waves pulled her in and sucked her out to sea. She swam towards the silver man, trying to keep him in sight while she fought her dread of the black depths below. He turned towards her, probably alerted by her splashing, but, as she opened her mouth to call out to him, he dived. She trod water, waiting for him to surface again.
Several minutes passed, and her legs grew weary. Turning back to the shore, she swam towards it, surprised at how far she was from the beach. It receded despite her swift strokes, and she shivered as she realised that a powerful undertow washed her away from it. She increased her efforts, but, no matter how hard she swam, her futile exertion merely sapped her strength, and despair chilled her.
Gasping with fear and fatigue, she forced her aching legs to kick, coughing as water splashed into her mouth. The pale strip of beach dwindled to a faint line, and the waves grew bigger as she encountered the deep ocean swells. With the last of her strength, she redoubled her efforts, knowing that if she was swept any further away, she would never make it back. She cursed herself for swimming out into the ocean as if it was no more dangerous than a mill pond. Her limbs grew numb with cold and tiredness, and waves washed over her face.
Chill hands gripped her and pulled her back to the surface, allowing her to gasp air. Her unknown rescuer towed her towards the beach with the ease of a fish, unhindered by the strong current that had defeated her. She tried to grab hold of her saviour, her hands encountering fragile wings of soft skin that made her recoil with a snort of shock. The shore approached at an amazing speed, the sea foaming around her with the swiftness of her travel, and soon her rubbery legs touched sand. The sea man dragged her onto the beach, his long webbed fingers gripping her sodden jacket. Talsy sobbed with relief and gratitude, wiping stinging brine from her eyes as she peered at him in the moonlight.
A jagged, knife-thin ridge of bone ran over his skull in a short crest, ending in a pair of tiny nostrils just above a gash of a mouth, and deep-set green eyes glowed on either side of it. His ears were flat areas of skin, designed for hearing underwater, and parallel gill slits, like a shark's, ran along his jawline. The moonlight gleamed on his smooth silver skin and shone through the translucent wings that joined his wrists to his ankles.
The sea man carried her up the beach and dumped her on the dry sand, then turned to leave. Talsy made a grab for him and caught hold of a slippery wing. He paused and tried to pry her fingers free.
"Don't go!" she cried. "Wait, I need your help!"
He cocked his head and stared her, nictitating membranes flicking across his round eyes.
"He's in the sea, somewhere out there! I need you to find him!"
The man cocked his head the other way. He clearly did not understand her, but was merely entranced by her voice.
Talsy strengthened her grip on his fin. "He's Mujar! Out there! In the sea!"
He stiffened at the name, his eyes becoming intent.
Talsy grasped at the straw of hope. "Mujar! Out there!" She pointed at the sea, and the silver man's head turned to follow her finger. She tried to shake him, desperate to get through, but her fingers slipped from the translucent webbing, and she lunged at him to renew her hold. He slipped away, pausing out of reach.
"Mujar! Mujar!" She pointed at the sea, and he studied her. He mimicked her gesture, and she nodded. "Mujar!"
Talsy crawled towards the water, but he returned to pull her back and push her down, adroitly avoiding her clutching hands. His meaning was clear. He did not want her in the sea, but it could have been because her corpse would foul the water, not because he was concerned for her life. She gave up and pointed at the moon-silvered waves, repeating, "Mujar."
The silver-skinned sea man turned away, walked down to the sea and dived in with hardly a ripple. Talsy relaxed, grateful to be alive, but too tired to walk to the cave and dry herself. Fortunately, the night was warm and still, and her exertions had banished the cold. After the ocean's biting chill, the beach seemed comfortable. Resolving to rest until some strength seeped back into her leaden limbs, she closed her eyes.
A crab crawling over her leg woke Talsy in the morning, and she walked to the cave, where she nibbled cold potato and drank water to wash away the sour taste of salt.
Chanter's awareness was little more than a numb sensation. Before, he had rolled around on a sandy seabed, and the currents had played with him, washing him this way and that. Now he had become wedged into a rock shelf. The sea ran past him in gentle currents, and seaweed brushed his skin. He vaguely remembered the soft thud of hooves on sand, muted by the water. Now only the currents whispered to him. The sea's song reached him in warped, muted dirges, mixed with skirls of sound that prickled his dull mind. Fish brushed against him, and he was aware that he was being incorporated into the reef, growing attached to it as it made him a part of it. The gold around his neck blocked the Powers and reduced the world to a blurred, senseless muddle.
Time had no meaning, no way of being measured. He might have been here for a day, a month or a year, he had no idea. Chanter remembered the pain of being thrown into the sea so badly injured. The rush of Shissar's healing, so sudden and strong, had transcended even the gold's muting to lash him into a screaming frenzy of agony. That, too, was gone now, however, like his powers, like the world of air, and Talsy. None of that concerned him anymore. He knew only the gentle tug of water and the soft sea sounds. At least it was probably better than a Pit.
Talsy sat at the cave mouth and stared out across the ocean. Days had passed since the silver sea man had vanished back into the water. She had not seen him roaming the beach or playing in the waves since then. Was he searching for Chanter? Would he find him in the vast expanse of ocean? The Mujar might have been washed far away by now, up or down the coast, depending on the current and how far out he was. Had the sea man understood her? Did he even care?
Tiny fish jumped in the shallows in waves of silver sparkles. The thought of cooked fish made her mouth water, but she had nothing with which to catch them. She threw away the piece of potato she had been nibbling, and a gull swooped down to snatch it and wing away, pursued by others. On the rocks below the cave, she used her knife to pry open shells and scooped out the salty meat. The shells that covered the rocks at low tide were nutritious, and she gathered more to take back to the cave and cook for dinner. She hoped the sea man had understood her, and searched for Chanter.
Chanter became aware that something tugged at him, making the coral that held him creak. The sudden, unknown stimulation made him jerk away, breaking the strange hold. A cold hand grasped his wrist again and pulled, and the coral cracked, but held. The sea, with its endless washing and surging, had wedged him far into the rocks, and coral had grown around him. He opened his eyes, but the gold blurred the images of soft blue light, dark coral and seaweed. Something flashed silver nearby, and the tugging on his arm strengthened. He pulled back in an instinctive, muddled reaction, and flashes of pain came from his torso. More confused now, he retreated from the strangeness of his senseless surroundings and relaxed.
The pulling continued, first on his arms, then his legs. For a while it stopped, allowing him to sink back into the peacefulness of unknowing, the gentle washing of the sea and the brushing of weeds against his skin.
The tugging returned with renewed vigour and strength, other hands joining the task. He opened his eyes. Blurred silver shapes surrounded him, and he reacted to the abuse with savage jerks that banged his head against the rocks and threw off his attackers. The stimulation dragged him slightly from the fog that clouded his mind, and he became aware of his coral prison crumbling. Tiny creatures scuttled for cover as their homes broke. Pain flared in his back, and the blueness around him became tinged with brown.
Buoyancy returned as he drifted partially free of the rocks that had trapped him in their cold embrace for so long. A leg held him back, and his attackers concentrated on the limb, twisting and pulling. More pain shot from his ankle, but the silver flashes persisted. They tugged and twisted, turning him over to try to free him. Swinging limply in their grasp, he stared at the blurred world that moved around as it had not done for a long time. In their efforts to free his leg, his attackers paid little attention to the rest of him, and his face hit the seabed. He closed his eyes as his collision kicked up a cloud of sand. Masses of matted blackness covered his face when he opened them again, strands of pink and brown mixed with it.
The silver flashes seemed to have a great deal of difficulty freeing his ankle, and slime engulfed the offending limb. The silver flashes gripped him with many hands and pulled mightily. Some slipped and drifted past, returning to renew their hold. The pain in his ankle made him jerk and kick. The silver flashes hung on, and the water cushioned his mindless reactions to a harmless flopping. With a burning pain, his foot slid free, and he shot from his attackers' grip to drift away on the current. The silver flashes caught up and took hold of him again, pulling him through the water.
Now that the pain and tugging had ceased, the water's soothing flow lulled him back into his deep fog. He closed his eyes to block out the blurred world that the collar denied him.
Talsy sat on the beach and tossed coral pebbles into the sea. The midday sun warmed her back and the sea wind chilled her front. She lay back and gazed at the clouds that drifted past, changing shape as they did. The wind blew over her and the sun warmed her more. Gulls wheeled and mewed high above, riding the wind on narrow wings. She envied their freedom, longing to fly like they did. The breakers' pounding died away to a soft swishing as the tide ebbed, revealing white sand sprinkled with seaweed and shells.
Sitting up, she scanned the beach with idle eyes, and a movement caught her attention. A man rose from the sea and moved towards the beach, pulling something. She wondered who he was. The object he dragged looked like another man, his head swathed in black hair and seaweed. Curious, she rose to her feet. The sun glinted on silver skin, and her heart leapt. Talsy ran along the beach, the soft sand dragging at her feet.
The sea man dragged his burden up the beach and dumped it on the sand. The matted black shape lay still as the sea man looked up and down the beach before he spotted her floundering towards him. Water dripped from his ridge nose and pointed chin. When she reached him, he stepped aside, and she stumbled past to fall to her knees beside his prize.
She cried, "Chanter!"
Talsy hesitated, her hands hovering over the Mujar. A film of green slime covered him, and patches of barnacles crusted his hands and knees, as well as the tattered remnants of his vest and leggings. The sea's action had worn away his clothes until little remained but a few strings. With eager, trembling hands, she parted his matted hair and pushed it back from his face.