James White - The First Protector

When the ship rolled to port he saw a sky filled with wind-tattered clouds, and to starboard only the churning, gray sea, but during the moment when the view was moving from one to the other he had a glimpse of Cape Finisterre and the sea bursting in a continuous high, white curtain of spray over the rocks at its base. It was close, he thought, but was it coming any closer? The answer came when the ship veered toward it so that his field of view moved aft taking it out of his sight. They were in danger of being blown farther out to sea.

He swore loudly and long, knowing that the squall of hail that was beating against the shelter would prevent the other oarsmen from hearing him and, if they did, they would probably consider his language mild in the extreme.

Captain Nolan's intention was to round Finisterre and run south to find a bay or inlet where the enclosing land mass would diminish the force of the northerly storm. The proximity of a coastline would also ensure that the waves would not be able to build up to a height that would swamp and wreck them. But if they were to be blown past the sheltering inlets, they would certainly be lost and the promising and very interesting life he had found in the service of Ma'el would come to a premature end.

For some odd reason the thought made him feel more angry than afraid. He swore again and transferred his anger into the steady and regular pulling on his oar until the growing ache in his arm and back muscles pushed fear and anger alike to the back of his mind.

But Declan was becoming very tired, tireder than he could ever remember being in his whole life and, with the sun obscured by hurrying storm clouds, he had no way of knowing for how long he had been pulling with his blistering hands on this stupid oar other than that it felt like a goodly fraction of eternity. By now Seamus should have ordered someone to relieve him, but more time passed with no sign of that being done. He thought of shipping his oar so that the other would see it pointing skyward and know that Declan was exhausted and in need of a relief, but everyone else on deck would also see it and know of his weakness and he did not think that he could bear the shame of that. Even so, he was about to surrender to his fatigue by sliding the oar handle into its retaining loop when the bottom edge of the weather shelter lifted to admit a blast of spray-filled wind and the roaring voice of Seamus. Declan laughed aloud, thinking that his back-breaking term on the oars had ended just before he had to embarrass himself by calling quits, but that was not to be.

It was the oarsman directly in from of him who was relieved and his position taken by Brian, who received the same shouted advice that Declan had been given what seemed like an eternity earlier. Only then did Seamus turn to him with a white-fanged snarl of approval.

"You have rowed strongly and well, Declan," he shouted, "and you will be relieved shortly. But before them Brian wanted a few words with you."

"For which opportunity," Brian called loudly over his shoulder, "I had to volunteer to become an accursed galley slave even though, Seamus tells me, we have rowed to the lee of land and are no longer in imminent peril of being blown out to sea, so that my sacrifice was an unnecessary one." He nodded toward the line of oarsmen in front of them. "My words to you are private. May we converse in Latin?"

Declan returned happily to stroking his oar now that he knew his rest would not be long delayed, and shouted back, "I speak and comprehend a little, but have no fluency in it."

"Then tell me when my meaning is unclear," Brian replied, interrupting his speech and twisting his head backward at the end of every pull to resume it, "and I shall use simpler words… I am curious and would learn more about Ma'el, your master."

When Declan remained silent, the other went on. "In my time I have met many charlatans and so-called wizards… But now I believe that I have at last met a true magician… and in my stupidity have grievously insulted and angered him… I would like to make my peace with this Ma'el the Magician… But if I am to give my apology proper form and substance… I must learn more of his ways and his thoughts as well as of the full extent of his wizardry…"

"I am in his service but two weeks," Declan interrupted. "In that time he said nothing about himself… so in truth I, too, know nothing about him."

"But you must know something about him," Brian said, then stopped speaking to make a few strokes. He was sounding breathless as well as impatient when he went on, "Something he did or said, perhaps… that seemed of no importance to you at the time The workings of that enchanted map of his… would be of enormous value to the rulers of any seafaring nation in the world… and those who obtained its secrets could find themselves wealthy and powerful indeed

… The wage paid to a servant, no matter how generous, would be as nothing… And what of the other magic devices his wagon contains?"

Brian was talking so much as he pulled on his oar that he was almost gasping for breath. Declan would have laughed if he had not been so tired, both of rowing and of the other trying so obviously to subvert him. He pressed his teeth together and remained silent.

"I find subtlety of speech difficult," the other went on, "while playing the part of a damned galley slave… I do not suggest that you betray your new master… I only want to know what you know… and think about him… Speak to me, Declan… Surely you must have wanted to delve into Ma'el's secrets when his wagon was unattended…? Your pardon, I did not mean to suggest… that a trusted servant like you would steal… only that you would want to satisfy your curiosity… Have you been inside his wagon… and what did you see?"

"No," Declan replied, "and nothing. Ma'el forbids entry to Sinead and myself."

He took a deep breath and went on without pause, "Once when I tried to look inside, there was an outer screen of animal hide that moved aside easily, and an inner one that looked to be the same but was as solid and immovable as a wall of stone. When I persisted, strange and frightening pictures came into my mind and so I moved back quickly."

Brian was silent for several strokes, then he said, "With respect, Declan, there was no stone wall… It, and the fearful phantasms you imagined… were but an enchantment of Ma'el's given substance by your own imaginings… I have heard of magicians and sorcerers from the East who could work such a spell… What if by accident you had tripped and fallen against that imaginary wall… or thrown a stone at it…?"

"Enough!" said Declan, making no attempt to hide his anger as he shouted above the din of wind-driven hail rattling off the weather shelter, the slow beating of the hortator, and the other noises made by the ship and the sea. 'These are questions you should ask of Ma'el himself. To his servants he seems to be a gentle old man who is slow to anger. After your recent unmannerly behavior toward him, if he had wanted to change you into a toad he would have done so last night."

Brian said nothing after that and he did not look around when Seamus returned with the relief oarsman and beckoned Declan outside. He was surprised to find that many hours had passed, that daylight was fading into a stormy twilight, and that the high, sheltering cliffs looming on their port bow were checking the wind and reducing the height of the waves around them. Seamus followed him to the lee of the wagon where Sinead was sheltering and seeming not to have moved since he had last seen her.

"Your Declan has done well this day," Seamus said, showing his teeth, "but he is unused to hard work. Would you be so kind, healer, as to attend to his blistered hands?"