James White - The First Protector

Lastly she had bent over Tomas, raised his head slowly in one hand while holding a small cup to his lips with the other.

'Tomas," she said gently, "this night your body has worked harder than it has ever done in a month of labor, and endured more pain than most men are called on to suffer in a lifetime. It is all that hard work and pain, more than the mind-dulling potion I have administered, or the soft, warm hammock that awaits you, that will put you to sleep.

"So rest easy, Tomas," she said, laying her hand gently on his forehead, "you have done very well."

Excerpts from Ma'el Report. Days 112,557 to 112,584

The weather remained fair and the winds favorable until we passed through the Pillars of Hercules and turned eastward into the Mediterranean, whereafter the wind continued westerly and mild. In spite of explaining that this good fortune was due simply to the operation of the meteorological laws of chance, the crew believed me responsible and thanked me many times for it.

"I am deliberately curtailing the use of my 'magic map' because it would be an unkindness to make the captain too dependent on it before I leave his ship.

"On the second day after repelling the Roman boarding craft off Finisterre there was a ceremonial disposal of the form of flesh that had recently housed the young man Liam. The rite involved the officers and some of the crew speaking words of praise and admiration about his short life and I, although present, did not take part because the philosophical reasoning behind it was unclear to me as there is nothing with any resemblance to this ceremony among the Taelon.

"The damaged helmsman, Tomas. is progressing well after giving the healer initial cause for concern when his stump became inflamed for a few days and required constant poulticing. Now, when the sea is calm, he moves about the deck on two crutches made for him by the ship's carpenter, who has also promised to make him a thick, wooden peg and attachment straps so that he will be able to balance his weight naturally and discard the crutches. The healer insists that this should not be done for several weeks so as to enable the fleshy pad at the end of the leg stump to heal and harden to the point where it will support the helmsman's weight without pain. By now all of the crew know that the healer is female, but they maintain the pretense and use only her title rather than her name, and from conversations I have overheard on my sound sensor it is clear that they would be willing to die rather than allow any harm to befall her.

"I am particularly impressed by the way the helmsman, Tomas, has been able to overcome his disability. The idea of a physically crippled Taelon is inconceivable and repugnant to me.

"Apart from my servants, who are still not entirely at ease with each other, the psychological behavior of the humans on board is very good, a condition which Captain Nolan describes as being in good spirits. When they are not otherwise engaged and the sun is out, they have taken to projecting hand pictures on the deck or superstructure and compete with each other to see who can make the most realistic subjects. As the person who saved them by showing the first picture, the healer is called on to judge the competitions. At times they have a tendency to behave like children, which is strange because their life spans are too ephemeral to waste on activities that are nonessential. But from time to time they do this, and in spite of the desirability of remaining emotionally detached from the specimens under evaluation, 1 am aware of a strange feeling for these ridiculously short-lived beings that is analogous to the affection felt by them for their even more transient and non-sapient work animals and pets.

"It was this strange feeling, as well as the inconvenience of losing and having to replace servants, which caused me once again to intervene secretly so that their lives could be saved

…"

–

They were passing between the southern extremities of Sardinia and the north coast of Africa and turning northeast with a light following wind onto the heading that would take them to Rome, when the triangular sails of two ships were sighted astern. Within moments Seamus joined them beside the wagon.

"Healer, Declan,'" he said, his voice unnecessarily loud because it was plain that he wanted Ma'el, who was resting in the wagon, to overhear him as well. "They are pirate craft out of Carthage by the look of them, with about the same spread of sail as ourselves but with the advantage of rested oarsmen or, more likely, galley slaves who can be whipped half to death to give them the speed they need. A stern chase is usually a long chase, but the captain estimates that they will catch us by midafternoon unless…"

He left the word hanging.

"You want Brian and I to take an oar…?" Declan began.

"No," Seamus broke in, glancing at his long-axe and gladius. "We need you rested if you are to fight well."

Sinead looked at Declan and made an obvious attempt to force calmness into her voice as she said, "If they catch us as early as that, there can be no fearsome beast to threaten them from the sails. Or were you suggesting something else?"

"I don't know what I'm suggesting," said Seamus grimly as he was turning to leave. "These pirates are worse, much worse, believe me, than the Romans we fought off at Finisterre. But Ma'el has withdrawn from us.

Even though he remains friendly he will not even show us his magic map. I was hoping that you would ask your master to help us."

When he had gone, Declan looked up at the wagon and said, "We'd better tell Ma'el about this."

Sinead shook her head. "There's no need," she said, "I have the feeling that he hears and knows everything that is happening on this ship. Whether he will do anything about it is another matter."

They watched without speaking as the pursuing ships crept closer and the climbing sun began to warm the deck timbers around them, the silence broken only by the steady creaking and splashing of the oars, and the drum that gave them their timing. But something incredible was happening, and the suddenly excited voices of the captain and Seamus aft showed that they, too, had seen it. Gradually, and in spite of their filled sails and the sunlight flashing off their oars, the pirate ships were falling behind.

Seamus returned when the ships were shrunken with distance, his teeth making an uneven white line across his bearded face. "The captain says that we must have encountered a strong, northeasterly current," he said jubilantly, "one that our enemies have not been able to find. It is aiding both sails and oarsmen and if we can stay in it the pirates will be out of sight by sunset…" He paused to glance at the wagon, "… So if you haven't done so already, there is no need to worry the old man about this matter."

When he had gone, Declan grasped one of the ropes, many of which the crew had considered unnecessary, that anchored Ma'el's wagon to the vessel's structure, and felt it thrumming in his hand like the string of a silent lute before he looked at Sinead.

"It is not a fortuitous current that is helping us," he said quietly. "I think we both know that it is…"

She raised a warning finger to her lips and said, "He will hear you."

"Yes," said Declan, "but on our first night out of Cobh he told Brian that he did not want to control our minds or how we used them. But I would not want Ma'el to think that my mind was a stupid one."

She didn't speak and he went on quietly, "Look at the ropes holding Ma'el's wagon. They encircle or are tightly attached to the strongest and best-supported cross-members of the hull. When the ship pitches and rolls and the vehicle's weight moves off center, the ropes on one side should tighten and on the other loosen, yet they all remain the same and as tight as…" He groped for a suitable word without finding it and went on, "You are not stupid, either, and must know what is happening because I remember you telling me that Ma'el used to lighten his wagon for the horse's sake."