Gods and Warriors (19 page)

She smiled. “Every Keftian knows about dolphins; they’re the guardians of the Sea. That’s why it’s death to harm one.”

“I knew that,” he lied.

Wading deeper, she put out her hand, and Spirit swam past and let her stroke him. “They say that a dolphin never stops moving,” she said. “They can hear everything in the Sea. And see in the dark. They can see
through
things too. A dolphin can see a flounder hiding under the sand, and a baby dolphin in its mother’s belly. It can see the heart beating in the chest of a man.” She paused. “But I never met anyone who could talk to them.”

“I can’t, not really,” Hylas admitted. “Not the way they talk to each other. But sometimes I can guess what he’s feeling. And when he looks at me, it’s—it’s like he can see into my spirit…” He broke off, embarrassed.

Spirit swam in a circle and flicked water in Pirra’s face with his flipper. She laughed.

Hylas found himself telling her about being adrift, and the shark, and the dolphins saving him. It was a relief to tell her; but when he mentioned the blue fire, she gasped.

“You
saw
the blue fire?”

“Why? What’s it mean?”

She hesitated. “Sometimes the Goddess summons dolphins to do Her bidding. They swim so close that they’re splashed with Her burning blue shadow.
Her shadow,
Hylas. That’s the blue fire. That’s what you saw.”

He waded ashore, and the night breeze chilled his skin. He thought of the first time he’d seen Spirit, rising out of the Sea in a fountain of luminous blue. He felt breathless and scared. He didn’t want Spirit to be sacred. He wanted him to be his friend.

Pirra waded after him, wringing out the hem of her tunic. “Not many people have seen the blue fire,” she said quietly. “I wonder why you did?”

He thought of the dying Keftian in the tomb, and the lock of hair floating on the waves. He had an alarming feeling that he was caught up in something far greater than he knew. Why had he ended up here, on the Island of the Goddess? What lay on the other side of those cliffs that barred the way inland?

“Hylas—who
are
you?” said Pirra. “Why are the Crows after you?”

Odd that she’d mentioned them first. “They’re after Outsiders,” he said warily.

“Is that what you are, an Outsider? What does that mean?”

He told her. “I think you Keftians call them the People of the Wild.”

She considered that. “I’ve heard of them. Though there aren’t many left on Keftiu. They’re said to keep to the high mountains. But I didn’t know there were any in Akea too. So why are the Crows after Outsiders?”

“You tell me, you camped with them.”

She bristled. “My mother might have dealings with
them—but
I’m
not in league with them, if that’s what you think.”

“But you must know something! Why did they come after me that night on the coast?”

“I don’t know! Userref said—”

“Who’s Userref?”

“My slave. He said they told him you’d tried to kill Thestor’s son, but we both thought that was just—”

“What?”
He was horrified. “That’s a lie!”

“Like I said, we didn’t believe them—”

“I’d never do anything to hurt Telamon—he’s my best friend!”

Her jaw dropped. “You’re
friends
with Thestor’s son? But—that doesn’t make sense.”

“Why, because he’s rich and I’m poor?”

“No, because he’s the boy I’m supposed to wed, and because he—”

“
Telamon?
He and you are supposed to wed? And you didn’t think to tell me that?”

“Why would I? It never occurred to me that you could be friends!”

“Why not?”

She opened her mouth to reply—then shut it again. Her face closed. Hylas could see her deciding not to say another word. She didn’t trust him any more than he trusted her.

“You’re hiding things,” he said accusingly.

“So are you,” she flung back. “Where did you get that
dagger? How come you know our name for Outsiders, if you’d never met a Keftian before you met me?”

He did not reply. The fragile ease that had sprung up between them was shattered. “We’d better get some sleep,” he said brusquely.

“Right,” snapped Pirra.

That night, Hylas lay in his shelter, listening to the black water lapping at the stones.

Telamon had never mentioned the deal with Keftiu. But then, he never did talk about what was going on at Lapithos; he said it was showing off. And he would have been embarrassed about having to wed.

Unless Pirra was lying about that. Unless she’d made it up, to distract attention from the Crows.

The Sea grew quiet and the crescent Moon rose, but still Hylas couldn’t sleep. Talking about the Crows had brought them much closer. He pictured sinister ships with black sails racing toward him. Would the Sea carry them here? Would Pirra betray him?

There was silence from her shelter, but he could tell from her breathing that she wasn’t asleep.

She was hiding things. She must be.

Well, one thing was certain. He couldn’t trust her. Once they’d built the raft, he was leaving her behind.

P
irra had thought that things were beginning to improve between her and Hylas, but last night had changed all that. If it was true that he was friends with the Chieftain’s son—which seemed impossible—then the less she said about anything, the better.

She decided to keep her head down and help Hylas build the raft; then, once they’d reached Akea, she would slip away.

She was vague about what would happen after that. Besides, she had more pressing concerns. She was beginning to worry that Hylas might be planning to leave her behind.

She told herself that she must be mistaken. He couldn’t be that ruthless, even though he was a Lykonian. But what if she was right?

Building the raft turned out to be exhausting. Hylas would crawl over the makeshift bridge while she waited on the rocks; then he’d hack a piece of timber free with an axe he’d found in the hold, tie a rope around it, and throw her the other end. This was the worst bit, as she scrabbled about, failing to catch the rope, and being shouted at. When
she finally did catch it, Hylas would again make the perilous crossing and help her haul in the timber.

They also salvaged three beeswax tablets, which they could melt down and use for plugging gaps, and four unbroken jars, which Pirra guessed from their seals contained olives.

By nightfall they were too tired to fight, and sat numbly by the fire, picking out splinters.

The next day they lugged everything back to camp, as Hylas insisted on building the raft behind the boulders, where it couldn’t be seen from the Sea. The threat of the Crows was ever-present. They were constantly checking the horizon for ships.

Hylas worked with grim determination, pausing only to set a few fish traps or bird snares. He didn’t even ask her to show him where she fetched the water, and when she mentioned the cave, he just nodded and left her to it.

She wished he wouldn’t. She hated the cave. It was guarded by clumps of white asphodel with spikes taller than she was, and to get inside, she had to wriggle in backward with her arms against her chest, then drop into the chill, wet, gurgling darkness. It was too low to stand up in, and she felt the rocks pressing down on her. But she couldn’t ask Hylas to do it instead, because it was the one thing she knew more about than him.

On the whole, though, they got along all right, and she began to think that her suspicions might be unfounded. One time, he tossed her a pair of sandals which
he’d found on the wreck and trimmed to fit her. And he taught her to swim, by making her jump into a rock pool and shouting at her to use her arms and legs. She swallowed so much seawater she was sick, but she managed it in the end.

Then last night he had a nightmare, kicking his shelter and shouting, “Issi! Scram! Scram, where
are
you?” When she shook him awake he looked dazed, and not quite so tough. She asked about Issi, and he blinked and said she was his little sister who’d gone missing when the Crows attacked; and Scram was his dog who they’d killed. Pirra felt sorry for him, and envious because he’d had a dog. But she was pleased that he’d told her about Issi. She was also intrigued; she’d always wondered what it would be like to have a sister.

On the third day they built the raft. They’d salvaged nine longish timbers, two logs—which Hylas said would do for rollers, whatever they were—and four shorter planks. He laid two of the planks about three paces apart, then he and Pirra put the timbers side by side on top. The plan was to place the other two planks across the row of timbers, then lash each pair of planks together at the ends, thus clamping the timbers in between.

It proved extremely hard to do. To force the ends of each pair of planks together around the timbers, they had to pile rocks on them, and Hylas had to carve notches so that the ropes wouldn’t slip off. Steering the raft posed a problem too, until Pirra remembered a painting of
an Egyptian barge in her mother’s chambers, and suggested mounting an oar on a tripod of crossed sticks.

At last, it was finished.

“It looks fine,” Pirra said proudly.

“It’ll do,” said Hylas. He was busy gathering the dried mullets he’d prepared for the journey, and tying the other supplies to the raft. Pirra noticed that although he’d secured two of the jars they’d salvaged, he’d left off the other two, along with a second waterskin that he’d rescued from the hold.

With a sensation of falling, she realized that those provisions were meant for her. She’d been right all along. He really did intend to leave her behind.

Desolation, rage, and hurt battled within her. Rage won. Her palms prickled. Her blood roared in her ears. She wanted to batter him with her fists and scream, You rotten stinking
liar!

“Pass me that bit of rope, will you?” he muttered.

“Fetch it yourself,” she snarled.

He glanced around. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said sweetly. “Maybe I’m just a bit
annoyed
that I’ve been working like a slave for days, and you said you’d take me with you, and you
lied.
”

He flushed.

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he said.

“
Yes?
Is that all you can say?”

“Yes.”

She blinked. “Have you no—no
honor
?”

He snorted. “Honor’s for people who get enough to eat.”

“What about gratitude? I helped save Spirit! I helped
build
this wretched raft!”

He rose to his feet and met her eyes, and his gaze was level and unashamed. “I’m sorry,” he said flatly, “but I’ve got to find my sister. You’d be in the way.”

“In the way?”
she exploded. “If I hadn’t helped you—”

“Look. Pirra. It could take days to reach Lykonia. If there were two of us on the raft, what would we do for food? I couldn’t catch enough for both of us and you can’t fish. So either we’d both starve, or I’d have to chuck you overboard to be eaten by sharks. I’d rather leave you here to take your chances. You’ll be safer.”

“Oh, so I’m supposed to
thank
you?”

“No. You’re supposed to accept that this is how it’s got to be.”

“You’re
horrible
!” she shouted. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself!”

“Even if you did come,” he called after her, “what would you do when we got there? Lykonia’s what you were running away
from
! And you couldn’t go back to Keftiu. Where would you go?”

“I
hate
you!” she screamed. Snatching up the waterskins, she ran off toward the headland.