Edith Pattou - Fire Arrow

She and Fara had been running steadily for a long time when Brie spotted something white and shining on the shoreline. Fara reached it first.

It was Sago. As in Brie's vision, he lay on his back, but now the waves Were washing up over his shoulders. When they receded, Brie could see his legs like two pale bones sticking out from under his crumpled, waterlogged singing robe. Rain pelted his exposed face and limbs. For a moment she thought he was dead, but as she came up alongside him, she saw his eyes were open. They blinked. Fara let out a sound and a large wave came and crashed over them, knocking Brie off balance. The undertow was pulling Sago to the sea, but Brie grabbed one of his arms and pulled him onto dry sand.

She crouched next to him, peering anxiously at his wet, pale face. Fara made another low sound, and Sago blinked again. He attempted to whisper something through barely moving, cracked lips.

Brie saw that one of his hands was swollen to almost twice its normal size and was an ugly purple-yellow color.

"A stonefish. In my amhantar."

Brie could see Sago's amhantar nearby, its contents spilled out on the sand. The stonefish, dead, lay faceup, its flat staring eyes gazing at nothing.

"How did it happen?" Brie asked.

"Back at the mote. A visitor, a villager put it there. Afterward, they brought me here, in a boat." The whispery voice paused, then resumed. "Rig a jig, jig; three men in a gig." His cracked lips curved into something that was meant to be a smile.

Brie remembered the boat she had seen. Then she hurriedly put her hands at Sago's armpits and lifted. He weighed little more than a small child. Indeed, most of the weight came from his sodden singing robe. Carefully Brie cradled him in her arms, carrying him like a baby, and began the long walk back to the mote through the rain.

When they arrived, she laid Sago on his pallet while Fara settled in a wet mass by the door. Numbly Brie followed Sago's whispered instructions, peeling the wet robe off him, rubbing his gaunt body with dry cloths, and covering him with blankets. Then she brewed a broth, using ingredients from jars Sago indicated. She poured the sour-smelling liquid into a shallow cup and held it to the sorcerer's lips. He drank and then closed his eyes. Exhausted, Brie sank down on the floor next to his pallet and slept.

She woke, sneezing. Her clothing stuck to her skin and her hair was still damp. Amazingly, a ragged piece of gillyflower was still pinned behind one ear. It seemed a lifetime ago that she had danced with Lom on the deck of the Storm Petrel, a flower behind each ear. She looked up to see Sago sitting on his pallet, smiling. His fingers were weaving something small out of strands of a red-orange seaweed called carragheen.

"Dry clothes are in the chest there," Sago said, his voice no longer a whisper.

Brie stood, her limbs stiff and aching. When Sago lay back again, his fingers still wove the seaweed, but he closed his eyes. Brie stripped off the green dress, now clammy and discolored with seawater, and put on a pale blue tunic that was soft to the skin but too long for her.

"Shall I make more of the healing drink?" she asked.

Sago shook his head. "It is time for you to leave Ardara."

"And go where?" she asked dryly.

Sago grinned. "Kesca too fay, kesca too fee, which is the way to go to sea?"

"What if I don't go?" Brie asked, sighing.

"Many will die," Sago answered calmly.

Brie drew in a sharp breath. "Why? What is it you know, Sago?"

"He knew a little, he knew a lot, he knew enough to stir the pot," the sorcerer responded, his expression birdlike, alert.

"Stop it!" Brie said loudly. "Enough of riddling. What villager put the stonefish in your amhantar?"

"The innkeeper, with the help of his friends. Rig a jig, jig..." Sago's eyes were still bright, but he had answered solemnly enough.

"Why?" Brie cut him off.

"They serve a dark master."

"Who?"

"Go," Sago said, suddenly severe. "There is little time. And none at all for good-byes."

"You speak of Lom."

Sago nodded.

Reluctantly Brie stood.

"Here..." The sorcerer held up the thing he had been making with his fingers. "It is a travel charm. To put in your boot, near the anklebone."

Brie took the charm and crossed the room. After all the dancing she had done, the long run along the coast, and the walk back carrying Sago, her legs felt as substantial as a pair of feathers, and her knees gave way for a moment. She had to grasp a chair to steady herself. Shaking her head, Brie whispered, "I cannot."

Sago said nothing.

Straightening, Brie forced her feather legs to move, one foot in front of the other. She looked back at the gaunt, pearl-colored face, the fey smile of the Sea Dyak sorcerer. Tears came unbidden to her eyes. Blinking them back, she whispered, "Farewell, Sago." And quickly she left the mote, Fara at her heels.

***

Dawn was just breaking as Brie passed the harbor. She caught sight of the Storm Petrel pulled up on the sand. No one appeared to be about, but she kept in the shadows, not wishing to be seen. As she moved away from the harbor, up the cobbled streets, Brie suddenly remembered standing barefoot on the sun-warmed planks of the Storm Petrel's deck, sea wind on her face. With a certainty that bewildered her, she knew she would never sail on the sturdy fishing ketch again. This time the tears fell unchecked, hot and wet, mingling with the rain on her face.

***

After a brief stop at the hut behind Jacan's house to change clothes and gather her belongings, Brie made her way through the streets of Ardara. She had seen no sign of Jacan or Ferg, and there was something different about the village this morning. Something unsettled, nervous. The villagers she saw walked with jerky movements, their faces shuttered, voices hushed.

She spotted a fisherman she knew hurrying along. "Is something amiss?" she asked after exchanging greetings.

"Aye. Been an attack down by shore. Old Ewsko and his son, both dead. Some kind of killer fish they're saying."

"Sumog!"

The fisherman looked at her sideways. "Mayhap. Some have gone down to the mote, but the sorcerer be half asleep, singing his nonsense songs." He soon hurried off.

Brie stood, irresolute. Perhaps she ought to stay, help the villagers somehow with the sumog. But Sago had told her it was time for her to go, and somehow she knew it to be true.

***

She stopped that night to make camp. As she lay on the ground, sleep eluding her, a bone-chilling loneliness overcame her. She rolled onto her back and, looking up at the sky, found the star pattern Casiope. She could hear Lom's voice, telling the story of Hela; then it mingled with Collun's, "The archer Casiope ... the arrow that doubles back..." Brie found herself reaching for the fire arrow. It was pleasantly warm to the touch. She closed her eyes and there, etched on the dark canvas of her eyelids, was the bell tower, the one she had dreamed before. She held very still, straining to make out the details; she thought she could just make out a figure standing beside the bell tower. Then the image faded.

Brie opened her eyes and, though she could not see, she sat up. The bell tower . That was where she journeyed.

***

The next morning, fording an ice-cold river, Brie thought that it was all very well to know you wanted to get to a certain bell tower, but it wasn't much good if you hadn't the least idea where the bell tower was. Or what awaited you there.

So Brie continued to head north. Sago's travel charm, lodged firmly inside her boot, seemed to make her feet ache less at the end of a long day's tramp. Fara, as always, was tireless, bounding along at the same pace at the end of the day as at the beginning, occasionally vanishing for short periods of time to reappear with a well-fed, smug expression on her face.