I was relieved when the deal was concluded and Glaukos reappeared at my side, tutting with concern and ordering me off my feet. He sat companionably with me while Kazan's men loaded massive jars of oil into the hold, lashing them in place with ropes.
" 'Tis sleeping you should be, my lady," he said to me. "We'll be off again at first light, and no more than three hours' journey to port."
"Another trade venture?" I asked wearily. I was bone-tired, sick of the sea, and my skin itched fiercely from a fine coating of salt.
He made a hushing sound, glancing quickly about, al though there was no one to hear but the sailors, who spoke no Caerdicci. Kazan remained ashore, drinking toasts and laughing with the villagers. "We should not speak of this aloud. Who told you that?"
"He is right to fear," I murmured, "if what I saw was real."
"Who can say?" Raising his hands, Glaukos shrugged. "His mother cursed him, by the blood he shed himself. Ka zan believes if he ever returns to Epidauro, the
kríavbhog
will take him, for such were the words of her curse. Other than that, he thinks himself invulnerable. Because he be lieves it, his men believe it too, and follow him unquestion ing."
Dawn broke fair, pale violet sky giving way to orange, and the Illyrians sang as they sailed. With the relative safety of the coast on their side, holds full of goods and homeward bound, they were in high spirits. Glaukos had spoken true; 'twas still high morning when we came upon a small archipelago of islands. Six or eight, I made out at a distance, though only a few of them looked inhabited.
So I thought, until we rounded a sharp outcropping and Kazan Atrabiades shouted out a command. The sail cut loose, yard swinging abruptly as we heeled with that stomach-lurching swiftness. Then I saw, before us, a narrow inlet hidden in the shadows of the overhanging cliffs. The Illyrians trimmed the sails close and went to oars, jesting good-naturedly, and as the lead ship, we glided into the cool shade.
Cliff walls, high and grey, rose on either side of us to form a towering corridor. The water lapped softly at the sides of the ship, nearly black in the absence of sunlight. The splashing of the oars echoed oddly. So we proceeded, for several long minutes, hearing the sounds of the other ships following.
The sun shone bright overhead in a clear blue sky, and the water glittered aquamarine beneath it, dotted here and there with fishing boats. Along the half-moon of the shore, I saw a charming village. A low terrace rose on the hill behind it, invisible from the sea, planted with grapevines; further to the right, below the pine forests, I could make out white specks that were surely grazing sheep on the hillside.
"It's so..." I could hear the bewilderment in my voice, ". ..
pretty!"
He chuckled. "Ah now, did I not tell you I had no regrets?"
Throughout it all, Kazan Atrabiades stood in the prow of the lead ship, legs braced, arms upraised in a sign of victory. And the folk ashore cheered him mightily, men and women alike.
It did not last long. I saw the first glance, heard the first voice fall silent, a silence that spread like a ripple from a dropped stone, rings of soft murmurs following in its wake.
"Ështa në
Vila!" I heard more than once, knowing now what it meant; now, it merely made me glance uneasily at the mizzenmast, sail furled harmlessly. If the
kríavbhog
was there, it did not show itself.
"Djo, djo,"
Kazan Atrabiades said soothingly, holding up one hand for silence. Once they were listening, he pointed to me and spoke at length in Hlyrian.
I could see from the way the tension left their expressions that he was explaining I was no
Vila,
but a mortal hostage, reassuring them. Nonetheless, my inability to comprehend a word he spoke filled me with mingled fear and frustration. When I cast an imploring look in Glaukos' direction, he hurried to the dockside. "Ah, now, don't fear, my lady!" he exclaimed. "Kazan, he's telling them you're D'Angeline, that's all, and to be treated as an honored guest during your stay here. Didn't I promise you he'd honor the conventions?"
"You did," I said, taking little comfort in it. Kazan Atra biades' words were all too fresh in my mind.
If he lived, I
would give you to my brother.
I did not care overmuch to trust to the honor of a fratricide, no matter how much his people admired him. Better a hostage than a slave, but it came down to much the same. In the end, I was what I had been all too often for the duration of my short life: valuable goods.
"Sa të djambo!"
he snapped at me, and I did not need a translator to know I'd been told to keep quiet in the rudest possible terms. I closed my mouth sharply, and Kazan Atrabiades turned to Glaukos, giving him instructions in a string of rapid Ulyrian. Glaukos replied in the same tongue, ex plaining somewhat and pointing to my bandaged midsection. The exchange continued for some time, growing heated. In the end, Kazan shrugged and turned away, dismissing us.
"You're to come with me, for now, my lady," Glaukos informed me. His weathered face was flushed. "Come, my little Zilje will see to those wrappings and draw you a bath." His young wife—-for I learned later she was such—came forward with a half-curtsy, coloring to the roots of her red-blond hair.
And with that, Glaukos lent me his arm, and with young wife fluttering anxiously at his side, aided me in my slow, painful process across the hot sands toward his lodgings.
All told, I was three days in the house of Glaukos, re cuperating.
Young and resilient though I was, my ordeal had taken a greater toll than I cared to reckon. Each day I rose, insistent, by mid-morning; by mid-afternoon, I was limp with exhaustion and my ribs ached dully. Zilje scolded me in II-lyrian, regarding me with a certain proprietary awe, as if I were a willful and exotic pet her husband had brought back from his seafaring, while her younger sister Krísta, who dwelt with them, stared at me wide-eyed.
Since I had naught else to do save heal, I set myself with grim determination to mastering what I might of the Illyrian language. My task was complicated by the fact that Glaukos was often absent or unavailable, and Zilje and I shared no tongue in common. Still, I garnered some small stock of phrases, and was able by the end of my stay to say "please" and "thank you," along with a few simple courtesies. From these, I was able to extract a glimmering of the syntax of Illyrian. It was a beginning.
As to Glaukos' whereabouts, I learned that he served as bookkeeper to Kazan Atrabiades as well as physician, and had been busy cataloguing the inventory and distribution of their latest plunder, entrusting Zilje to see to the day-to-day needs of the villagers. There was genuine affection between the ex-slave and his young wife. I confess, it had been my first thought that she had been given him as reward for good service, but in this I was mistaken. He regarded her fondly, and she him; and so she should, for he had a kinder heart than many who served Kazan. Her sister Krísta treated him as an indulgent uncle, which seemed to suit all three.