Grimoire X

 

Andre the Librarian hosting "Story Time" at the Cleveland Public Library ~ 1948

 

"Come on In! . . .Take a Seat! . . . and Settle Down! . . ."

 

As the Ghost of Andre shares with you a tale by one of the leading story tellers of the past century.

Once a Month (on the 1^st) We are going to post an original story by Andre Norton

During the showcase period you will be able to read it here free of charge.

Many were only published once.

 

So, it's a sure thing that there's going to be a few you have never heard of.

The order will be rather random in hopes you return often.

 

Happy Reading!

 

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Ship of Mist

By Andre Norton

I

Tam-sin, she who had been born Tamisan, the dreamer, stood in the narrow slit of the craig tower. Below the sea washed, tossing a lace of foam up so near that she might lean forward to gather the salt spinning into one hand. This was going to be a wild storm-troubled night. Yet, for all the rage growing in the lash of water below, she felt no fear, rather excitement, as heady as thorson wine, warmed her scantily clothed, pearl-fair body.

Behind her lay the room of her awakening, its nacre-coated walls, its shell bed, its hanging draperies and carpet of green-blue as much a part of the sea world as the people of the Nearer Sea were akin to the element guarding and encompassing their islands. Their sea was life, and what one feared the breath of life?

"My lady . . .” The voice came drowsily, lazy from that same shell bed, "it would seem that you seek . . .”

She turned slowly to face the man who still lounged at ease, the silk coverlet half drifting from his body.

"My lord," she raised her voice to a pitch above the less song of the waves. "I am remembering Kas."

His green eyes narrowed and that satisfied content which had a part of his smile was gone. In his face, this new face, she saw the elements which perhaps only she could see: the stoical repression of Starrex, the bewilderment of Hawarel, those he had been in past and now must still carry in his mind.

"Yes, there is Kas." Now his voice had lost its first warmth, sounded tired as if he had been awakened from a pleasant half dream to take up once more some burden.

Half dream? Now what held them now was more than any dream. Tarn-sin knew dreams; she had been able to summon and dismiss them at her own will, they and the people in them had been but toys with which could play at desire. Until she had dreamed for Lord Starrex and plunged them both into such a venture as she could not control. Fleeing that she had somehow brought them here; to new identities, new adventures, and doubtless, new dangers. But where was Kas, her Lord’s cousin and his enemy, who had striven to put an end to them both in two times, two worlds, and who must also have been wrenched with them into this, though not in their company?

The man sat up in the bed, His skin was as palely fair as her own. Where the cover lay against him that soft fabric seemed to impart a green reflection to his body. His hair was the red-brown of living seaweed, even as she could see her own in a polished mirror of silver metal on the wall.

"I am Kilwar, Lord of LockNar." he said slowly, as if to assure himself of the truth of that identification. "What dream have you wrought this time, my Tam-sin?”

“That of the world in which the Ill Cup of Nath came not to the lips of these, our people, Lord."

”The Ill Cup of Nath, the betrayal of the Sea Kings." He frowned a little as if it were an effort to remember, not with Kilwar’s memories but those of Starrex. "So that piece of black doing did not engulf Nath?”

"So I desired, Lord."

He smiled. “Tam-sin, if you can alter the writing of history then you are indeed a mighty dreamer. But I think that I shall find LockNar closer to my taste than was the world of Hawarel. Still, as you have said, there is the matter of Kas. And we shall have no easy dealings with that one. You did pull him with us,"

"We were tight-linked, Lord. We could not have come here was he not drawn with us."

"But it would seem not so closely," Kilwar stood up. His body was not as sturdy as that of Hawarel, and the gill pockets on his throat formed a half collar of loose skin. Yet there was about him, bare bodied as he now stood, the same aura of command which had been Starrex’s. "And," he added, "I do not altogether relish the thought that Kas is not here where I can keep an eye on him. Could he have gone back to the beginning?"

"Not so," Tam-sin was sure of that. "His dreamer awoke there, before I drew him through. No, he is linked too closely with us."

"My lady of power!" He crossed to her in two strides and her body melted against his, joyfully, in a way as if they were designed to do so by the very power which had given them birth. "You are very lovely," his breath was warm against her cheek. "And you are Tam-sin who has chosen life united with me.”

She surrendered to his caresses, aware that Tamisan, the dreamer, now faded, that she was indeed Tam-sin and he desired her. Within her was a warm content.

His lips touched her closed eyes gently, right and then left. Then the spell of their closeness was broken by a mournful, hooting call.

“The signal shell . . .” He loosed his hold upon her.

He was no longer lover, but Lord of the hold as he reached for shell-set belt and kilt of scaled skin. She held ready his sword, wrought from one of the huge, murderous saw snouts of a spallen, its toothed edges hidden in a sheath of the spallen's own tough hide.

As he belted it on, she herself tidied her short, sleeveless robe pulled thread loops about the pearls of its breast fastening, took up her dagger of curved taskan tooth. While they dressed thus, hastily the boom of the shell horn sounded twice more, echoing through rooms carved from the very stuff of the sea cliff.

The part of her which Tam-sin told her that the summons was such as might a forewarning of danger. And with that thought came again a wondering concerning Kas and what mischief he might be about.

He had striven with such power as she had hardly been able to meet to kill his cousin during the first dream she had been required to set. With Starrex gone the fortune and power he held would fall to Kas. But in the Ty-Kry Tamisan had first dreamed Kas had failed. Would he find here some mom potent threat?

She followed Kilwar from the chamber. The walls beyond lacked the smooth casing of the living quarters, were rather rock, rough and natural, with narrow, twisting inner ways between the larger rooms. They descended steps worn into hollows by centuries of use. And the rock carried through to them the vibration of the waves beating beyond the wall to their left.

Tam-sin knew they were now close to sea level and she was close on Kilwar’s heels as he passed through a tool-smoothed portal into a vast space which was rock roofed overhead, but into which the sea washed, forming a long ribbon between two level areas above the highest reach of the tides. A small ship rode the water there. Though the Sea People were at home in the waters, yet they also needed ships for the transport of their trade, and such a one was this. Men dropped from its deck, leaping expertly to the natural docks between which it now was anchored.

And other men, armed, yet with their swords and water guns still sheathed, saluted Kilwar as he passed through their lines to meet the seamen from the ship. They were all of the Nath, for though Land traders came, those did not use in the inner harbors. Their leader held up his hand in a greeting which Kilwar acknowledged in turn.

Only four of them, that was not a full crew. Yet no more showed from beneath the deck. And there was about them a strain which Tam-sin picked up as easily as if they had come shouting alarm.

She knew that captain, Pihuys. Not a man easily shaken. A hunter of spallen in their own waters was not one to know fear as a side-by-side comrade. Yet that uneasiness she had sensed, it held the substance of fear.

“Lord . . .“ Pihuys spoke that one word and then hesitated, as if what he had to say was such that he could not find the proper words with which to tell it.

"You have come," Kilwar moved to drop clan-chief’s grip on the other's shoulder, "with some news which is dire. Speak, Captain. Do the Land people show their teeth? But that would not rouse one who commanded at the Battle of the Narrows."

"Land scum?" Pihuys shook his head. "Not in whole truth, Lord. Though there may be some witchery of theirs behind this thing. It is thus . . .“ He drew a deep breath and then spoke, with one word tumbling over the next in his haste to explain.

"We were examining the reefs off Lochack, for there were reports that spallen have come inward to those shallows for some reason. There was the mist as comes then before the true day and in the mist we found a deserted ship. It was one of the Land traders, and its cargo hold was full, sealed. I think that it had drifted from the eastern lands. Salvage it was, for there was nothing living on board. Yet the small boats were all in place. Since the land scum cannot live long in the water they would have taken those.

"Within there was even food from which men had risen hastily yet there were no signs of any battle, nor other trouble, no battering as if a storm had hit them. We thought that Vlasta had smiled on us, the ship being sound in every way and heavy laden with goods. So I left on board four men and we looped a tow to the Talquin.

'The mist continued very thick and, even though we held the ship in tow, we could not see her as we went, only the rope which held her. I had told Riker, he who I left in command on board, to sound the shell at each turn of the sand glass. Three times he sounded: then. Lord, there was silence.

"We hailed and got no answer. Thus we swam back and boarded once again, Lord, my men were gone as if they had never been! Yet if they had taken to the sea there was no reason they would not have come to the Talquin. We found only the shell horn lying on the deck as if dropped."

"And the ship?”

"Lord, for the second time, I made an evil choice. Wund, who was brother to Riker, and Vitkor, his sword-companion, demanded that I let them take up vigil and discover what manner of strange thing this boat was. And to that I agreed. Once more we were mist-hidden and the horn stopped. Once more the men were gone." Pihuys opened his hands in a small gesture of helplessness. "So I swore that I would bring in this ship that those of LockNar could examine it. But when we went once more into the Talquin and the mist closed . . . Lord, it sounds beyond a man's belief, but the rope went slack and when we pulled it aboard it was cut!"

II

"A Landsman's ship," Kilwar repeated thoughtfully. "I know you must have searched her well each time."

Pihuys nodded. "Lord, any place a man could go within, that we sought. And the cargo hatch was sealed with an unbroken seal."

"Yet somehow, Captain, there is an answer to your mystery!"

The voice was high pitched and so unpleasant was its tone that Tam-sin looked over her shoulder to where another man had come out upon the cave dock. He walked clumsily, with a sidewise lurch, and his face had a petulant twist. Under that there lay a resemblance to Kilwar. And Tam-sin, with the part memories of this time, knew him, Rhuys, Kilwar's brother, whose injuries during the winter hunting of two seasons ago left him sour and sharp of tongue.

There was another stir of knowledge within her mind. In the craig castle Rhuys was her enemy. Not openly, but with such an ill will as any sensitive (and above all a dreamer had to cultivate such sensitivity) could read. He did not even glance in her direction now, rather limped on to stand with Kilwar facing the Captain.

"Lord Rhuys," Pihuys's voice was far more formal in tone, "I Can only tell of what I saw. We searched the vessel from bow to stern; the small boats hung in their lashings, there was naught living aboard."

“Naught living?” Kilwar echoed those words. “That is said, Pihuys, as if you have some explanation which is not of the living world."

The Captain shrugged. "Lord, we have lived in, by, and of the sea for all our generations. Yet do we not still come upon mysteries none of us, nor our records, can explain? There are great depths into which our species cannot venture. What may lurk there: who knows?"

"But this," persisted Rhuys, "is not a tale of the Great Depths, but rather of the surface, and of a Landsman's ship. They do not deal in any of our mysteries: they fear us.”Tam-sin thought there a thread of pride in that statement. Perhaps, because he had lost so much in his life, Rhuys clung to the thought that their race was feared by others.

"I tell only what I saw, what I heard, what happened,” Pihuys repeated stolidly. And he did not look in Rhuys's direction at all, rather made a point of speaking directly to Kilwar. Rhuys was not greatly cherished within the hold of LockNar; his peevish temper too often flashed to life.

"I would have your chart, Pihuys," Kilwar said. "Perhaps the ship still floats free. You say the rope was cut, could it have been the work of a spallen?"

Pihuys half turned, gestured to one of his seamen. The man leaped back to the deck of the anchored vessel, returned with a coil of heavy rope slung over his shoulder. The Captain caught at the dangling end and held it out for their inspection. Even Tam-sin, knowing little of the ship's equipment, could see that end was cleanly cut, and it must have taken a sharp knife or hatchet to accomplish that so easily.

Kilwar ran his finger over the severed end, “This took strength." he commented, "as well as a sharp edge. Was it cut on board the ship, or when the rope lay between you and it?"

"Close on the ship. Lord, by the measurement." Pihuys answered at once. "There is no roughage as one would find at a saw-through. No, it was done by a single blow.”

Rhuys laughed spitefully. "It could have been cut by a man who determined that the cargo was worth the risk of losing his comrades. If the Landsmen's ship was as intact as you say, it could easily be sailed to Insigal which, as men know, is inhabited by those who are not honest."

Pihuys, for the first time, faced Rhuys squarely, "Lord, if there had been any man hidden on board, him we would have flushed out. We know ships and on that one we even sniffed into the bilges. And if it is suggested that my men thought of playing such a trick . . .“ The glare he turned now on Kilwar's brother was one verging on the murderous.

"Not so, Pihuys." Kilwar broke in. "No one would suggest that you or your men might be responsible for a ship taken to Insigal so that the salvage came not into our hands." He was frowning, but he did not glance at his brother.

Tam-sin sighed inwardly. Some time Kilwar would have to see Rhuys for what he was: a soured man, a troublemaker who stirred up many fires and depended upon Kilwar to see that he was not scorched when those burst into open flame. She could urge nothing on her Lord, that she knew. Rhuys was persuasive with Kilwar when he wished, and he hated her. She must allow no wedge to be driven between them.

"Bring me your chart," Kilwar was continuing. "Also I shall ask of the Lord of Lockriss and he of Lochack, what they might have seen or had reported. For if you came across this derelict off the Reefs, that territory is well patrolled by their forces."

The chart of the reef territory was spread out on the table in the council chamber and Kilwar made a point of assembling there those Elders whose knowledge of the strange tales of the sea outrivaled the many accounts in their archives. He had Pihuys relate his version of the mist-concealed ship and then looked to the Elders.

"Has there been a like happening known?" the Lord of LockNar asked, when the silence fell after Pihuys' detailed report.

For a long moment no one answered. Then Follan, who all men knew, had made the eastern voyage near a dozen times, arose and went to the map, using his forefinger to trace the line Pihuys had indicated.

"Lord, this has happened before, but not in these waters.”

"Where and when?" Kilwar’s question was brief.

"There is a place off Quinquare in the east in which ships have been sighted, yes, even boarded, to found deserted. Nor has any Captain been able to bring in those ships. At one time this was great a danger that men would no longer sail for Quinquare and that city’s trade died, its people fled inland or overseas, and it became a shadowed ruin. But years passed and the ghost ships were not seen. So Quinquare arose again, yet never was it the great city it had once been.”

"Quinquare," Kilwar mused. “That is a full sea away. But such ships have not seen on this coast?"

“That is so," Follan replied. "Lord, I do not like it. Just so acting were the ghost ships of Quinquare. If some power holds them that now lies on our lee, then it is trouble indeed.”

"Lord, the message hawks . . .” He who had charge of those swift flying birds moved to the table, one on either wrist. The birds looked about them with bright and fierce Eyes, moving their feet uneasily on the heavy gauntlets covering the Hawkmaster's wrists. They were sea eagles, able to wing tirelessly over the waves, bred for intelligence, and trained to carry the messages from one craig-island castle to the next for the Sea Kings.

Kilwar drew a small piece of cured sea snake skin and inked on it coded words. When he had done he took each bird in turn to fasten his message in the tube bound to one leg.

"Release them now," he ordered. "And be alert for any quick return."

"Lord, it is done."

"Meanwhile," Kilwar said, "let our battleship be made ready. We shall seek out this ghost vessel for ourselves, if it still floats and seeks men as a bait lies within a trap. Pihuys, what manner of seal lay upon the cargo hatch? Did you know it?"

"Lord, it was of this design," the Captain had picked up another square of snakeskin and the writing stick Kilwar had dropped. He sketched in some lines. "I have not seen it before," he added as he put aside the pen and pushed the sketch over to his Lord.

Tam-sin moved forward a pace or so, in spite of Rhuys’s Glare, to down over Kilwar's shoulder. She drew a gasping breath the significance of those lines became clear. Tam-sin of LockNar would not have recognized it, but Tamisan of Ty-Kry knew . . . And she saw, almost felt, the sudden tensing of Kilwar’s body as he made the same identification.

"It would seem brother," Rhuys said, "even if the brave Captain knows not this symbol, she who shares your does."

The six-point star with a jaggered bolt of lightning through it, Starrex's own badge out of Ty-Kry, the real Ty-Kry from which they had come, no, there was no mistaking That!

III

Tam-sin did not answer the words Rhuys had made into an accusation. She was sure that Kilwar himself had recognized instantly that sign of his own House in the other time before they had been caught, by Kas's planning, in these dreams. She would leave it to him to say yes or no. But it was Follan who spoke first, with a gravity which seemed a part of his personality.

"Lady Tam-sin, is this sign truly known to you?" She studied him, not sensing any of the hatred which her sensitive's power could pick up from Rhuys. And that part of her which was Tam-sin knew that Follan had been her friend from the beginning in this place, for she was not born of LochNar but had come from a small, less important craig keep which was nearer to the land.

"It is known to both of us," Kilwar replied before she could summon words. "It is the sign of a land house, one in its time of no little power. And now it can the sign of an enemy." He was thinking of Kas she was certain. Could it in this dream world Kas was Lord of Starrex’s clan, should that clan exist at all? "I do not like it being a part of this ghost-ship matter."

Kilwar's answer drew their eyes from her. She caught only a malicious glance from Rhuys and her chin lifted determinedly as she allowed herself a return stare. Rhuys could not make trouble between this Kilwar and her, no matter how he had been able to deal in the past with that other Tam-sin who had given her form and body here. There was such a tie between this Sea Lord and herself that none standing here could understand nor trouble.

"Landsman!" the Captain exploded. 'They are ever a threat to us and whyfor? We do not want their territories ashore, and we do not forbid them the sea when they gather courage enough to venture out on it! Then why should they set themselves against us as they are ever minded to do?"

'They have a greed born in them," Follan answered. "What they have is never enough, always they want more. The High Queen likes it not that our Lords do not bow knee in her court nor send her gifts. Also they say that because we can live where they dare not, for the sake of their lives, venture . . .” his hand arose to finger the edge of his now closed gills, "we are not of their species. And what they do not understand, that they hate and fear. Nor can we say that we do not do the same occasion. This was a Landsman's ship, therefore it is natural that it bears a House seal."

"Bait for a trap." Rhuys lurched forward another step so that he stood to Kilwar’s other hand, flanking him on the left as did Tam-sin on the right. “This ship could the bait of a trap, brother. Have not already six of our men gone into it and not come out again? What they may want is for us to try it farther, losing more men each time. It would be better to use sea fire and destroy it utterly . . .”

“Thus making sure,” Pihuys commented dryly, "that we destroy also any means of learning where are our men and whether we can find them once again."

"Do you think they still live?" Rhuys flung at him. "Do not be a complete fool, Captain!"

Pihuys’s hand went to the hilt of the knife at his belt and Rhuys smiled. That he had deliberately provoked the Captain for some purpose of his own Tam-sin had no doubts.

"Be quiet, Rhuys." Kilwar's voice was calm but the tone of it was such as to raise a flush on his brother's bitter face. "We shall," he gave the final word, "await word from Lochack and Lochriss: if they have further news of this ship it would be well to have it. Then, at sunrise we shall take out the battleship and see what we can discover. Meanwhile, have you aught in the way to offer as advice, Elders, Captain, do you think upon it so that when we gather for further council that we may listen."

They went, silently, as men who had much upon their minds. Kilwar watched them through the doorway, his hand still resting on the chart. Only Rhuys did not move.

"I still say it is a trap."

"Perhaps you are right, brother. But we must make sure of what kind of a trap before we attempt to render it useless. And who set such a trap off Quinquare in yean past? We have no touch with the northeastern lands now, not since they were overrun by the Kamocks, who care nothing for the sea, and will not let traders into the borders of the lands they have seized. It might well be that whoever devised a way of leveling Quinquare has, because of those very Kamocks, changed his arena of action hither. Yet I cannot see the profit in this thing. They do not loot ships, it would seem, unless that bark was emptied and the hatch resealed, which I do not believe. Pihuys is too experienced a seaman not to tell between the riding of a ship in ballast and one which is well laden. Therefore, it seems a very elaborate trap indeed for the catching of a handful of venturesome seamen who lay aboard what they believe to be a derelict."

"Six men from a crew of ten, brother, is no small catch," Rhuys returned.

"Not by our counting. But if this game is played long . . .” Kilwar frowned. "Let me but hear from Lochack and Lochriss and we may know a little more. If the messages come I shall be in our chamber." He held out his hand and Tam-sin laid her fingers lightly on his wrist, as they both turned away from the table, leaving Rhuys alone.

Nor did they exchange any words until they were once more in the chamber where they had awakened together. Once there Kilwar walked to the window slit and looked out.

“There is a storm coming fast." he observed. "It may well be that no ship can sail no matter how pressing the need."

“Kilwar.”

At the sound of his name he swung about to face her. Tam-gin looked quickly right and left. She had a queer feeling that even here they were overlooked, perhaps spied upon. Yet the part of her who knew this keep well recognized no such form of spying was possible.

“The seal . . ." she continued.

"Yes, the seal." He came closer as if he, too, had that of being under observation. "You told me before that these dreams made us the people we would have been had history taken a different turn in the past."

"That is what I believed."

"You say now ‘believed, ‘ have you then changed your mind?"

"l don't know. I have no sea people in my ancestry. Have you, Lord?”

"Not that I know of. Yet it would seem that there is my House here, yet I am no longer a member of it."

“There is Kas."

"Yes, Kas. Could he be Clan Lord then by some quirk of fate? Is there any way you would know, Tam-sin?”

She shook her head. "Lord, as I told you, in our first venture, these are not ordinary dreams wherein I can influence the flow of action. I myself am enmeshed in them, which is not natural. I can break the dream, or I hope, but as you know there must the three of us together to do thing. And we have not Kas."

"Unless he is a part of this ghost-ship mystery and in searching out its secret we can fasten on him," commented Kilwar. "Meanwhile, I am not a man of uncontrolled fancy, but I sense trouble here, even as it awaited us at the court of the High Queen."

"Watch for Rhuys,” she gave the warning which seemed most important to her. "He is a bitter man, and, like Kas, he resents that you have what he lacks. Kas wants your clan leadership, your wealth. Rhuys wants the same, but with it burns resentment that you are a whole man, and he is maimed and cut off from a full life."

"Part of me, that which is native here," Kilwar said slowly, "resents that saying. But you are right. Ties of blood hold him fast so far: after all we are brothers. But brother-hate can be worse than many other rages. And you he hates even more. To him our mating is a shameful thing because you are a Tide-Singer and of a lesser House. Also he would have kept me if he could from any heir."

“Tide-Singer . . .” Tam-sin repeated slowly and searched the memories of this personality. Yes, she was indeed a Tide-Singer, once she released the memories of Tam-sin, knowledge awoke in her. It was strange knowledge, alien to any she knew. She must search those other memories, find more about this power which was of a different race and time.

There was a fierce blast of wind fingering at them through the window slit and Kilwar quickly drew the shield across the opening.

"A storm indeed," he observed.

But Tam-sin thought that one hardly less fierce might even now be gathering strength within this very pile.

IV

The storm battered and worried at the craig keep throughout the night. Tam-sin slept only in snatches, awakening at intervals to hear the drums of fury without. Twice as she did so, lying tense and shivering, Kilwar's hands sought her and she found comfort in his nearness and touch.

She tried to search the memories of Tam-sin and discover what powers that other whose form she now wore had. Once she had been a dreamer, then a Voice of Olava in a different world wherein she had fronted the anger of the High Queen; now she was a Tide-Singer, one who "sang" the fish into the nets, could "see" from a distance any ship of the Sea Kings. In each life she had talents which were not those of the common sort.

A Tide-Singer might follow a ship with her mind, if she were linked with any on board it. But she could not pick out such a ship unless those ties existed. And she herself must be given time to absorb from the Tam-sin personality what she could now put to use.

"Lord," she whispered, "What think you lies at the heart of this matter?"

"Any guess could equal mine," he returned in a murmur no louder than that she had used. "But I am uneasy that the cargo seal was the one I know."

He fell silent then and she lay as quiet, with her head upon his shoulder, knowing that, even as she, he sniffed danger for them ahead.

But they spoke no more and when the first gray light appeared around the edge of the shutter he had pulled across their outer window, he slipped from the bed, arousing her in an instant.

"Lord, let me go also when you hunt this derelict."

“You know I cannot. By the Law of these folk I am constrained not to take any female into what might battle."

That lay within the Tam-sin memory, too. Yet to have him vanish was more than she thought she could bear. To be alone . . .

As Tam-sin arose to face him she read in his face that he could or would not go against the customs of the Sea People.

"You know," she said, her lip feeling stiff even as she shaped those words, "that if aught happens to you and I am not near, then this dream will never broke."

Kilwar nodded. "I know. But there lies no other answer. I must, being who I am, follow this course. You are a Singer you can link with me."

"Well enough, but I have no power to aid, even if my thoughts ride with yours and I learn that dire fate befalls you.”

She turned away, not wishing him to read what might be written on her face. There was no appeal from his decision, from the customs of the Sea Kings. Kilwar would ride the waves when the storm had blown itself out. And she would be left alone . . . here.

Yet later she was able to master herself and stand outwardly unmoved to watch him aboard the battleship, his liegemen in their scaled armor and their sea given weapons raising a salute as he swung to the deck. And Tam-sin watched the ship loose off its mooring ropes, to slide under the direction of the helmsman into the passage leading to the sea.

The storm had indeed blown itself out. Also the birds had returned at an hour after first light, each bringing a message. The ghost ship had been sighted by those of Lockriss, who had lost four men to its mystery. But Lochack reported no such haunted vessel. However, each keep lord would now join with Kilwar at the Reefs.

Tam-sin watched the ship bearing her lord slip into the open beyond the anchor cave. There a weak sunlight made brighter scale armor, the banner of LockNar was the scarlet of new-shed blood as the wind played with its flods.

She still watched, until that vanished. Only then was she aware of Rhuys, who was not looking toward the going of the battle vessel, but rather regarding her through narrowed eyes. His stare was boldly measuring, as if she were some spell book whose hidden secrets he would make his own.

Tam-sin returned that study with a level gaze.

Rhuys’s lips parted, for a moment she expected him to speak. But he did not, merely hunched his shoulders as if to face into a stiff sea wind, and limped away, his back turned insolently upon her, leaving her without any form of courtesy, to return to the inner ways alone.

She held her head high; no one lingering here among the women who had watched their men sally forth on such a dubious mission must think that she felt aught of embarrassment at this open flaunting of her rank within LochNar.

Instead, returning to the inner passages, she sought one with a narrow, steep stair hacked out to rise and rise, past all the levels of the keep, until she came out on the crown of the Craig. There, though the wind whipped her, she cupped her hands about her eyes and searched for last sighting of Kilwar's ship. But it must now have drawn farther out, enough to be hidden behind the rising craig of Lochack which stood between this keep and the norther reefs.

Seabirds called and shrieked about her, swooping to search among the storm wrack piled below for the debris of the storm, fish or other things, entrapped by high waves washing among the sharp lacework of the rocks. As she looked down she could see many of the women and children of LochNar were already busied there, seeking the sea's lavish bounty even as did the birds. But Tam-sin had no mind to join them.

Instead she settled down with a rise of rock to her back, her arms about her knees, crouched small under the freshness of the wind, her eyes still on the sea. Again she searched diligently the memory of Tam-sin, putting into order all she might learn from this other self of hers.

There was much to astonish her therein. Even as the occult learning of the Voice of Olava had come to her in the last dream, so now did seep or rush into her mind those talents which were Tam-sin's. Some she pushed aside, working ever to find what might serve them best now. But for the moment she did not try linkage with Kilwar, rather she wished to learn what she might against that time when such linkage became vital.

"My Lady."

The voice startled her so quickly out of that study that she gave a gasp as she turned her head. It was the Elder Follan who had followed her here. And he was watching her with an intentness which matched that Rhuys had earlier turned upon her, yet this study had no twinge of malice such as she knew moved Rhuys whenever he thought or looked at her.

"Follan," she asked. "what else do you know of these ships of Quinquare?"

"No more than told our Lord, Lady. It was a puzzle which had no ending that I have ever heard."

"But how can men vanish from the deck of a ship, one in tow, and no way known?"

"I do not know. With Landsmen . . . yes, a sudden panic, a quick squall which might threaten a ship with upturning . . . even a madness of mind to grip one and all, sending them plunging to their deaths. There is such a madness which comes with the eating of spoiled grain. Men can list such explanations. But those would not account for what happened to Pihuys's men. And the Captain is a wary and careful ship master. There might be some hidden place on board which searchers could not find . . ."

“With what menace in that?” Tam-sin urged when Follan hesitated.

"Lady, there are a many things in this world, or in the sea of which there has never been any report. But . . .” again he paused and then added somberly. "Lady, you are faithful to my Lord in all things and his chosen. Now I must warn you: walk carefully."

"Well have guessed that, Elder. I am not loved elsewhere in LochNar.”

There was a shadow of relief on his face as if he were glad that she accepted his warning so promptly.

“There is always talk," he said. "And for thoughtless hearers talk holds a shadow of truth, or so they believe. You are an out-craig, and there are those who believe, and now say, that our Lord could have done better. Nor does one who is a Tide-Singer seem close to others."

"Follan, my thanks for your plain speaking. I had already known there were those who wished me away from this place. But I had not thought they were becoming so open.”

Her hand clenched tightly. Rhuys had supporters, but had she ever believed that he did not? What sort of tale could he spin for her undoing? What if Kilwar did not return?

"You are our Lord's chosen." Follan returned. "As such, Lady, you have only to command, you will find the most of us ready to harken to those commands."

She smiled a little thinly. "Elder, such words are as a shield and a blade to me. I only hope that I shall not have to take up such weapons."

But his expression remained troubled. "Lady, walk carefully. After our custom the Lord Rhuys commands while our Lord is gone. He is maimed and we would not choose him Sea King, but that fact adds to his desire to give orders while he can."

V

Tam-sin lay within the shell bed. Her eyes were wide open but she did not see the intricate mosaic of shells set in the ceiling over her. Rather she drew upon that other sight of hers so that Kilwar was before her, standing brace-legged on a ship's deck which was never still. Around him wreathed tendrils of fog, gray as the bones of men long dead.

So clearly was he in her mind that it seemed she need only reach out her hand, which arose a little from the bed cover at  her thought, and lay it upon the well-muscled arm of the Sea King, to make him turn and look eye to eye with her. Yet there were distances separating them in body, if not in mind.

"Kilwar," her lips shaped his name, though she did not speak it aloud. And she was sure that somehow he heard her summons, soundless, as it was, for his head turned a little as if to glance over his shoulder.

But at that very moment he started and his tensed. So Tam-sin was aware he must have heard something which she did not. For it was the nature of this mind-linkage that it could not carry any sound, only sight with it. Sight, and a kind of nonverbal communication which she was still hesitant to use, lest she distract him from what must his primary concern.

Another man loomed out of the wreathing mist. Tam-Sin could it was Pihuys, even though his image wavered and did not show as plainly as that of Kilwar, perhaps because there was no true linkage.

The Captain waved an arm toward the left, as if calling his Lord's full attention to something there. And, when Kilwar strode to the rail to into the ever-thickening fog, Tarn-sin could see it, too . . . the narrow prow of a vessel piercing the folds of the mist as a needle might prick cloth.

Yet the strange vessel did not keep its course, but shifted with every wave. And she could believe there was no helmsmen in control. She saw Kilwar's head turn again, the movement of his lips. Men appeared on the deck behind him, a small boat was loosed, lowered over the side. So her Lord had indeed come upon the ghost ship of the mists!

At that moment a stab of terror struck into her so deeply that she lost control. Kilwar, the mist-hung ships---all were gone and Tam-sin lay panting, her palms damp, her mouth feeling dry. This fear . . . she assessed it as well as she could. It was not the normal fear of one who faces an unknown danger. No, it was a panic which she had not felt before. As if there was some charnel house emanation from the strange vessel which had struck directly at the seat of her own sensitive talent.

No, she must go back, see Kilwar, even though her flesh crawled and her body shook as if she lay bare under the ice-rimmed wind of full winter.

Kilwar! Once more she strove to steady herself, to push away the fear and renew the linkage. There was . . . death? No, something else, but as devastating for her kind, which crouched waiting on the half-visible ship. Tam-sin knew that as well as she had seen a monster rise up behind the rail, reach forth claws to capture its prey.

Kilwar! Tam-sin summoned her nearly demoralized forces, built his image in her mind. There was a queasy shaking of the world, and she was back, but in a different place. For with the Sea Lord she stood on what could only be the deck of the derelict.

It was a vessel, she judged from what the fog would allow her to see, of a size between that of Pilhuys’s ship and the battle one her Lord commanded. Nor did it have the clean lines of a sea-folks' design, but was rounder, fashioned to carry more cargo than any Sea King's possession. There was a hatch before Kilwar, the fastenings of which were stoutly tied and impressed with a seal as big her palm. When Kilwar went down on one knee inspect the pattern on that, she was not in the least surprised to see the impression Pilhuys had drawn for them.

Kilwar gestured, gave orders, she could not hear. Men climbed from the boat below, spread out, going in pairs and with drawn weapons, to the search. As Kilwar himself ventured into the officers' quarters drawing far sight with him.

There was the table, bolted to the floor for safety in times of storm. A single-backed chair, a bench, and against the far wall a bunk covered with salt-stained crimson cloth. On the deck rolled a jar which had dribbled its contents long since in a meaningless, sticky swirl across the planks. And there was a rack in which hung swords, none missing; set upright below those a stand of double-headed boarding axes. But there was no trace of any living thing save Kilwar and the men who had come with him. And, as the Sea King sat in the chair and men reported to him, coming in pairs, Tam-sin could tell from his expression that he was learning nothing save that which Pilhuys had already reported: the ship was empty.

Yet that menace which she had felt with the thrust of panic, still lurked here, and she held linkage only by all the willpower she could summon. It seemed to her that it was unbelievable that she did not sight some lurking thing which was more substance than shadow. Yet, for all the determined use of her powers, she could fasten on nothing concrete, save the knowledge that it was indeed present.

The last pair of searchers had reported. Now Kilwar sat, elbow planted on the table, his firm jaw supported by his fist, a considering look about him. When he spoke Pilhuys made a gesture of dissent. It was apparent he launched into some vehement argument. But Kilwar cut him off with a word or two. And, looking beyond the Captain, he pointed to two of the waiting warriors, both of whom the Tam-sin part of her recognized as being men long battle-bound to their Lord. At his gesture they raised naked blades to salute him.

Once more Pilhuys made protest but at Kilwar's manifest order he tramped from the cabin. With him went all but the two the Sea King had selected. Tam-sin could guess what Kilwar's orders were. He, himself, chose to remain on board the haunted ship, seeking to solve its mystery. Again that panic overwhelmed her, so that her talent failed, returning her to the keep and to another battle with that strong fear.

This time her struggle was more protracted. Perhaps her will had been a little weakened in the first encounter. Yet she fought valiantly, with all the strength she could summon. When she at last won to Kilwar it was to see a shadowed cabin. Two ship's lanterns were set on the table, the light flaring low within them, giving radiance only to the section immediately about them. She could see Kilwar who was still, or again, seated in the chair.

On the board before him lay not only a bared sword, but two of the double-headed axes, also placed close to his hand. The rack wherein those and the swords had was now empty. Tam-sin guessed that he had taken the armament. determined that no one, or nothing, could secretly equip itself from that collection.

His attitude was one of listening, though she believed had not yet heard anything suspicious but waited for such to manifest itself. Now and then his mouth opened and she believed that he called to his men, doubtless checking them at sentry posts without.

It seemed as if time dragged on thus forever. The lantern light flickered. Sometimes Kilwar arose to his feet and tramped back and forth. When he did so he went sword in hand, as if he did not intend to be caught unawares by the unknown enemy.

Suddenly he shouted again, whirled to the table and snatched up one of the waiting axes with his left hand. Then he leaped into the shadows beyond the reach of the lantern light. The deck, was he bound for the deck?

That must be so, for now Tam-sin saw a curtain of mist, silvery light. This was no normal mist, that she knew, for within it were small motes of glitter which were like insects flying back and forth. Through this blundered a dark form, staggering. The shadow man fell just as Kilwar broke into the thickness of the mist. He made a second leap, until he stood one foot on either side of that supine body, his sword ready to slash, and his head a little bent as if he had difficulty in seeing.

At that moment the terror which had exiled her twice struck full. Tam-sin was swept into a darkness of sheer horror, racing ahead of that which she dared not see, could never to imagine. Until, at last, she knew nothing at all, taking a last refuge in mindlessness.

VI

"Lady!"

It was a calling from far off; she would not listen. Here was safety . . . there . . .

"Lady!"

Tam-sin became aware of her body, though not yet would she open her eyes. Memory had returned to her bringing the last mind picture of her l.xrd wrapped round by that mist sparkling with unholy light. But there was a hand on her shoulder and for the third time the voice came urgently:

"Lady!"

Reluctantly 'he opened her eyes. Althama, who was her own waiting woman, leaned over her, her face showing distress. Behind her shoulder Tam-sin saw Follan. That the Elder would come thus into her inner chamber argued some dire happening.

Tam-sin sat up. "Our Lord . . ." she croaked the words as if for too long she had been without speech. "He faces the danger."

"Lady," Follan replied somberly, "word has come by hawk that when he of Lochriss and he of Lochack came to meeting place, our Lord was gone to gather with two of his men, and the derelict drifted, empty of life."

"He is not dead!"

"Lady, they have searched the ghost ship once again. They found no life, no sign of any on board her."

"He is not dead." she repeated sharply. "For that I would Know, Elder. When one is mind-linked and death comes, then there is such a shock of loss as no one can mistake. I stood mind-linked when our Lord went to battle . . .”

“To battle what?" Follan demanded eagerly. "What saw you then, Lady?"

"Naught but a mist filled with whirling specks of light. But it was not of any energy that I know- And I was cut off---“

Follan shook his head. "Lady, the news has been too clear. Our Lord is gone from us, dead or no, yet he has gone. Now it is Rhuys’s day, for when the message came he proclaimed a regency. A man of twisted body may not rule the keep, but he can hold the power until time passes and men at last agree our Lord is truly dead."

"But I shall say that our Lord lives."

"Lady, which one of the men now pledged to Rhuys will harken to an assurance they believe you make only to hold sway here? Rhuys has spoken much during the past hours. It is his tale that you have laid a bewitchment upon our Lord since your first meeting, and that it is because of this bewitchment, Kilwar went to his death, He tells a logical story and one those without your talents can well believe."

Tam-sin ran her tongue across her lips, which suddenly felt dry. She could, indeed, see the logic in Rhuys's argument and what had she to stand against it? She was a Tide-Singer right enough, but those who had not such gifts were wary of the ones who had, resenting often their own lack.

"What would he do with me?" she asked directly of Follan.

"Lady, there are already two guards without your door. What lies in his mind I cannot say, save that it means good to you."

"Yet you came hither to warn me."

"Lady, I have known you since the first day my Lord went wooing. You are his chosen and to my mind you have never worked any mischief. Now you say my Lord lives, but where is he?”

He leaned forward, his eyes holding her. There was something fierce and demanding in his gaze. Just so did the sea eagles look upon one.

"I do not know, only am I sure he is not dead. And now there is that I must do . . . go in search of him. We have been mind-linked: there must lie some trace on board that evil ship which I can trace. But I cannot do it from here. And you say there ax guards without the door . . ." Now she looked swiftly to her maid.

"Althama, how much will you serve me?" Tam-sin demanded bluntly.

"Lady, I am your woman," the maid replied simply. "What is your wish is my desire."

"Will they let you go forth?"

“I think so, Lady. After they make sure that I am no messenger."

"What do you plan?" the Elder wanted to know.

“That which is my only hope. Follan, you have ever shown yourself a true liegeman to my Lord, how stand you for me?”

"You say our Lord is not dead, and yours is said to be the talent which can separate life from death in such matters. Lady, I am with you. What is your plan?"

"There is this," she looked again to Althama, "I can use my talent to set upon me the look of Althama. Such a disguise cannot be long held, but perhaps it would get me out of here. And that she may not be held by Rhuys for my escapement, I shall leave her bound upon this bed. How say you?”

The maid nodded vigorously. "Lady, if you can do this thing, then do it speedily. There are many whispers among the women and some of them are ill to hear. Lord Rhuys holds power now and you he fears and hates. But where will you go? There cannot any ship set forth from here without the knowledge of those who will tell him of it, or prevent its sailing."

"I will not go by ship. And, Althama, neither shall I say how I go, thus they cannot press you for such an answer. Put on the pretense of hatred for me, saying that I am wild of thought because of my Lord's loss and that you believe I have taken the Dark Road of self-destruction because of my love for him and my fear of Rhuys. To think that I fear him So much will be pleasant hearing for that one."

She arose from the bed and it was Follan who made tight the bonds about Althama’s wrists and ankles, also putting a gag of cloth within her mouth, but in such a way that she could work that out and then call to the guards for deliverment.

Tam-sin set on the maid's kilt and then she stood with closed eyes for a long moment, willing upon herself the dream talent to be what she was not. She heard a gasp from Follan as she opened her eyes once again.

"Lady, had I not seen this, I would have said it could not be so.”

"I cannot hold the illusion long," she told him. "Let me get to the beach where they glean among the storm wrack."

“That I can insure you will do," he replied readily.

So, wearing the illusion of Althama, she went along the corridors a respectful two paces behind the Elder who brushed past the guards as if they were unseen. Down they traveled by a narrow stair, and then by a wider one. She could hear now the calls of the women who were busy with the storm gift the shore as they came out into the open. There Tam-sin hurried before the Elder, as if, having been somehow kept from this treasure hunt she was now the more eager to reach the debris. But since all that nearer the keep entrance was already well swept she needs must hunt farther toward the point.

Once there she clambered up over a tumble of rocks which were water washed, to find beyond a pocket of cover wherein but two women tugged and pulled apart the water-sodden strands of weed to see what might lie within its broken folds.

Follan caught up with her. "Lady, there is no ship to launched from here."

She nodded. "Well do I know that, Elder. But I have my own talents and such can bring me to where my Lord disappeared." She went again toward farther rocks about which spray tossed, wetting their surfaces and streaming from their sides.

As Tam-sin climbed up on the outermost of those she looked down and back at Follan.

"Elder, what will Rhuys do if he finds you have given me such countenance."

Follan smiled wryly. "Nothing. I shall be witness to your giving yourself to the sea, Our Mother, in your frenzy of mind. But be sure of this, my Lady, Rhuys will not find it easy to rule in LochNar, regnant or no. And I shall not give him any countenance at all."

"Good friend." Tam-sin smiled a little unsteadily. Follan was not a man easy to fathom but that he had done this for her, that was enough to give near kin-kindness. "Say what you will, but perhaps not the truth."

She unfastened the kilt, to stand bare of body save for a belt which held the long-bladed knife Kilwar had given her at their choosing. Then she swung to the sea and, cupping her hands about her mouth, she sent forth a high ringing call. Three times did she so call, and at the third she saw the distant form leap above the waves for an instant and knew that she had been heard and answered.

Content for so much, Tam-sin slid into the embrace of the choosing well her moment that she might not be crushed between wave and rock, and began to swim. She was not far beyond the rocks when those she had summoned flanked her on either side, their round, bluish bodies only half seen. She flung out a hand to each, felt that hand seized in a gentle but firm grip by mouths which were armed with wicked teeth, but whose weapons would never be turned on one who had the secret of their calling. Now she was drawn forward at a speed no swimmer, not even the sea-born of the keeps could equal. She needed no ship to reach the Reefs with these at her service.

VII

At intervals Tam-sin swam by herself but the loxsas still flanked her, ready to offer help when she tired. That weak sunlight was gone and the sky, whenever she arose to the surface for a sighting, bore the deep purplish red of the after-glow. The water world through which she now headed was as known to the Tam-sin part of her as her own room in the Hive of the dreamers from which the other person in her had come. Though there were dark bulks which plowed these ways, yet none would turn toward her with the loxsas on watch.

Those were of high intelligence, but of a thinking pattern so alien to her own that it was a difficult effort to contact them. So the messages of such communication were necessarily very limited. They knew where she would go, the why was not needed for they would ask no explanation of her.

The moon arose and once more she was towed by her finned companions. Then, out of the waters, whirled two more of their kind swiftly efficiently taking their places to offer her the same aid.

She he was hungry and thirsty, but the needs of her body could be set aside for now. Let her but reach the Reefs and she could relax the inflexible will which kept rein on the loxsas and carried her along.

Time ceased to have any real meaning. Tam-sin felt as if she had so traveled for hours without number. Then she sighted, during a surfacing, the dark bulk of a ship. For a single wild moment she thought perhaps this was the ghost vessel, until she heard the sound of a gong ring across the water and knew that it must be one of those set on guard by the Sea People.

At this moment she had no desire to seek out any ship save the ominous one which drifted in the billows of the fog. Should she chance to picked up by Kilwar's own vessel there was good chance of taken into custody by those among the crew who might be Rhuys's men. For she never doubted that he had his spies on And, were she to hail the battleships of either Lochack and Lochriss, the result might well be the same in the end. Therefore, she must head for the Reef itself and there await a chance to find the ghostly trap which had taken Kilwar’s party.

The loxsas angled left now, drawing her away from proximity with the ship. And they swam underwater, where at night they could not be detected. There arose rocks high before them, and the girl knew she had reached the roots of that wall whose jaggered crest formed the surface Reefs. Getting the loxsas to loose their hold she swam slowly toward that and, sought hand- and footholds to raise her out of the waves and into the night air which was so frosty cold on her bare skin that she gave a gasp as she crept up the jaggered surface. Huddling below the crest line where the movement of her body might well reveal her to some keen-eyed watcher, she breathed deeply to loose the action of her gills and return once again to that of her lungs.

From this point she could see lights on three ships. They were apparently riding at anchor well off the danger of the Reef. There was no mist and she began to wonder if the ghost vessel itself had something to do with that as a cloak for the evil which undoubtedly inhabited it.

Her eyes could not serve her now, she must seek with that other talent, search out through the cloak of the night for the mind to which she could link. There was a faint in-and-out pattern which she caught first, but did not attempt to clarify. That was loxsas' thoughts and of no value to her. Farther, wider, she must spread her net, hoping to catch in it faintest flicker of Kilwar to guide her. But it would seem that she could not find . . .

She had pushed near to the limit such a seeking could go if it were unfed by linkage. Then she tightened her hands into fists, her head whipped left, to the north. Again she summoned the full of her power and sent it probbing in that direction.

Not true linkage, no. It was like finding only an end of a raveling thread when one sought the whole piece of weaving. But there was enough to assure her that in that direction lay her field of search. So heartened, Tam-sin slipped once more into the water, her sea guard closing in about her without her call.

Her escort had grown to six now. The loxsas had a vast curiosity, especially about men. It was well known that they often accompanied Sea People at a distance, merely, it would seem, to watch their actions. That they came so close to her was because she had used the old summoning. Now they sped along beside her, and her sea ears caught the faintest traces of their shrill cries which, as their thoughts, sped in and out of her own range of consciousness. Their sleek bodies, twice as long as her own, made a formidable ring of defense, but that they would serve her so once her goal was found, that she knew could not happen.

Since they swam now the surface and towed her at the speed they could easily maintain, Tam-sin left her transport to her companions and centered all her mind upon picking up holding that trace which had lured her in this direction.

It was not a true linkage, that she already knew. Rather it was closer to seeing a thin shadow in place of the substance of a man. But she knew that she not mistaken, some form of contact With Kilwar endured.

Only that grew no stronger as they went, though she had expected it would. And in that she was disappointed. Finally she loosed her ties with the loxsas and swam to the surface. About her . . .

Her heart raced with mingled triumph and apprehension. The mist lay heavy, a rolling fog. It hid the surface of the sea that she could not tell now east, west, north, or south. The loxsas who had last borne her company raised their snouts free from the waves and faced ahead. She strove once more for communication and got a faint reassurance. The fog did not baffle the sea creatures---here was a man-made thing there.

That could only be the ghost ship! With all her will Tam-sin sent forth her desire---to come beside the thing hidden in the mist. But, to her astonishment, for the first time the creatures refused their help.

She could sense their protest even though she could not hear their supersonic voices, nor meet them squarely thought to thought. Whatever swung with the roll of wave within the fog frightened them.

Just as it frightened her. Yet she would not yield to that fear and she swam resolutely ahead, aware that the loxsas, upset, flashed around her at a distance, striving to herd her back to what they considered less dangerous territory.

It was only the strength of her will which made them reluctantly give way. Now they no longer flanked her, rather drifted back, following her at a distance which grew the greater as she kept determinedly on. Their breed feared nothing in the sea as she well knew. So that this present uneasiness of theirs was a warning of what she deliberately took the wild chance to face.

Here the fog was so thick that it seemed a wall to ward her off. She dropped below the surface where she could not see it. Ahead, ahead was a trail of phosphorescence outlining what could only be the keel of a ship. That phosphorescence was a warning in itself, for it was born from the shells of those creatures who lived best on long washed by salt waves. And for so many to gather in one place meant that this ship had been far too long at sea . . . no attention given to the cleaning of its hull.

Tam-sin headed directly for the source of the wan light. She knew that the loxsas had dropped completely behind and her all thought was for how she might win aboard. Unless there remained some line dropped along the side she might not be able to win to the deck.

Surfacing one more she raised her head, treading water, one hand against the weed-grown side of the derelict. As far as she could see there was no rope or trailing line here. The anchor chain?

She paddled toward the stern and there she saw it, heard it, too, rasping along the wood it had already polished bare of weed and shell. The anchor was gone, but the chain still hung as if weighted, near enough so that Tam-sin managed a push upward to hook a hand in a half-open link.

It was a difficult climb and one which left her breathless. However, she reached the opening where the chain fed in. That was too small for even her slight-boned figure to use, so she sought for a hold above and, gasping with effort, at least swung over a splintered ran onto the deck. The mist hid all from view except for perhaps an arm's-length away. She crouched to listen, with her ears, not her mind.

VIII

There was life here, she could sense it. But it was as alien as that of the loxsas, overlying and near smothering the traces of Kilwar which she sought. Of one thing was Tam-sin sure, she would not find anything in the common cabins and passages of the wallowing vessel. The searches which had been made there had not been slighted. There was naught left for any seeker to find.

Yet something brooded here . . .

The girl's bare feet were silent on the deck as she crept forward, her knife ready in her hand. To draw that was only instinct for she was sure that what lurked in hiding was nothing one could overcome by any blade, no matter how skillfully wielded.

Not in the ship, then where?

The curdling of the fog cloaked near all the deck save that which was immediately about her. Though she listened, all she could hear was the slap of waves against the vessel’s side, the scrape of the anchor chain rubbing ever back and forth like a pendulum.

There was something in the mist, close to the desk. Very slowly Tam-sin edged toward that shadow. This could only be the edge of that hatch so battened down and sealed. With her left hand resting on it, slipping over the web of ropings that kept it secure, she made the circuit of the wide square. This was the only place they had not searched, those who had been drawn into the trap of the ghost ship.

Because the lashings were taut and looked undisturbed, because of the seal, none boarding the derelict had given it a second thought. But it was the only place left to hide whatever made derelict a menace.

Tam-sin had reached the seal. It was near as wide as her Palm, and, through the wan light which seemed a part of fog itself, she could see that impression of the House which Starrex ruled in the real world.

Tam-sin sank to her knees. The deck was runneled with damp, perhaps condensed from the fog. And there was a cold which made her shiver. But she raised the seal where it crossed the final knotting of the ropes and gave it a hard tug.

It seemed to her that something in the crisscross of ropes had yielded to her grasp. She pulled again, harder. The seal slipped free and rope ends fell away, far too easily. This had not been truly sealed after all, merely the appearance of being so had been craftily given.

She worked hurriedly, throwing off the latchings of the hatch. Whether she would have the strength to raise the cover was another problem. It divided into two leaves, which split down the middle. Putting her knife between her teeth for safekeeping, the girl hooked fingers in that center crack and heaved with all her might.

She nearly lost her balance as the half she worried at arose  swiftly as if it were far lighter than she had thought it, or as if she had activated some spring to aid in the opening. From the void below burst a light: pale, greenish, and wholly unpleasant. And with the light there arose a stench, the foul like of which she had been forced to inhale before.

Choking with nausea Tam-sin fell back, waiting for whatever horror might then dare to show. But there was nothing save the light and the smell. With one hand over her nose to ward off all she could of the latter, Tam-sin once more approached the half-open hatch.

She made herself look down, though all her sensitive’s  warnings, every fiber of her body, opposed that act.

What she saw she could not first understand, the horror of it was too great. But she forced herself to study the contents of the hold below, catalogue them with her mind.

Immediately below the center break of the hatch was a long box or coffer. And in that lay a man. At his head rested a globe of light from which spread the greenish illuminance.

On either side of the open coffer were tumbled . . . bodies! Tam-Sin pressed her hand, knuckles hard against her lips, so stifling a scream. Some sprawling there must have been old, the skin was only parchment stretched over bone, husks of what had once been men. But slumped against that open coffer, close by the head was Kilwar! And with him his liegemen, beyond those three others which must be some of those Pihuys had sent on board, though they had a curious sunken and wasted look and she was sure they were dead.

Kilwar! Her seeking thought probbed into mind of the limp body. No, not dead!

But how could she get him free of that pestilent prison?

The ropes which had lashed down the hatch! She caught at the fog-wet lengths, striving to knot the longer together. The meaning of what she had uncovered she did not know, but that there might be very little time left for Kilwar, of that she was sure.

Tam-sin made fast her rope to the nearest deck rail, testing each knot as she came back along her improvised ladder to the edge of the hatch.

She had to face now what was the greatest test of all: she must descend herself into that charnel house and seek to rouse Kilwar, and his men, if those still lived. And it took all her resolution to climb over and work her way down the ropes.

It was when she stood over the Sea Lord that she realized whatever power this terrifying trap was rousing. For that was the sensation she caught, something horribly sated stirred from a gluttoned sleep. She would be caught in turn . . . only the fact that it had feasted well had so far served her.

Reaching down she caught at Kilwar's sword. It was far heavier than her knife and she drew it awkwardly, not being schooled in the use of such a weapon. The light, that was growing stronger. She glanced to the globe, saw a swirling deep inside.

There was . . . life!

The globe . . .

Something closed upon her, wrapped her around as if to smother, driving air from her lungs, leaving only the nauseating stench which made her retch. It would . . . take . . . her!

She dug fingers into Kilwar's shoulder, shook him. There was still a spark of life flickering in him, of that she was sure. He must awaken, help himself. For she now faced a power which far outreached any she had fronted, in dreams or out.

“Kilwar!” Tam-sin shrieked his name, felt him stir feebly. She could not pull him nearer to the rope; he was too heavy for her as a dead weight. Instead he toppled a little toward her, driving her back against the side of the coffer. For the first time she saw directly the face of the man within it. Saw and knew . . .

Kas! Was he dead, drained of life force as the others here, or did he sleep?

The globe pulsated with light. A vast, arrogant confidence spread from it to her. This thing had never known defeat, it had gathered its victims as It chose and none could stand against it.

Tam-sin drew upon that part of her which was dreamer, Tide-Singer. The thing was not man as she knew it, but something far beyond any classification her knowledge could offer her. Only to find Kas lying here . . . in a queer way that steadied and strengthened that part of her which had never been defeated either.

It was the globe which fed, fed the man it guarded or itself? There was no sign of corruption about Kas's body. She thought she even saw his breast rise and fall in a very shallow breathing.

The globe . . .

That which abode within it was growing stronger---ready to overpower her. Tam-sin reversed the sword she still held. Though the sharp-toothed edges cut painfully into her flesh, she raised it high, and brought the pommel down on the globe.

That did not shatter as she had hoped, though under her blow the light whirled malignantly and she swayed under return blow of willed force. A second time she struck at the bubble, blood from her scored hands making the blade slippery in her grip.

It would not break. And in another breath, perhaps two, she would be overtaken by its power. What . . .

Once more Tam-sin reversed the weapon, the blood flowing down her wrists. She had only a second left, and a wild guess which was only that. Holding the sword as best she could, she aimed the point straight down, into the breast of the man in the coffer, realizing that she had no other choice.

IX

There was a howling screech which did not burst from Tam-sin's throat, mainly because she could not at that moment make a sound. All sense failed her under a vicious blow. She reeled and fell among the tangle of bodies, clinging desperately to the spark of life within her.

The howling was a torture to her ears. And there was surge of light as blinding. She moaned feebly. No longer could she muster any strength, she could only endure as best she might.

There was movement beside her.

The thing in the coffer, she had not known in that back lash of power whether she had struck true or not. No, no, and no!

Somehow Tam-sin drew on her last dregs of strength. She struggled up, loathing what lay beneath, about her. The light, it no longer seared her tearing eyes. It was flickering in the globe, as if it, too, now fought extinction.

That terrible hate which had struck at her . . . she was free of it. Tam-sin set one hand to the side of the coffer, her fingers clamping on the edge. And by that hold she fought to draw herself upright again.

That within the globe coiled back and forth as might a serpent sore wounded. She longed for an ax and the power to strike without mercy or hindrance.

Though the howling had lessened she could barely hear her name. Rather she was staring down into the coder. There Kilwar's sword stood hilt upright, caught between the ribs of the sleeper. But this was no sleeper . . . the flesh fast shriveled, dropped away, to pull skin tightly over bones.

"Tam-sin," there an arm around her shoulders as she fought the heaving nausea which gripped her.

"Kas," she pointed a shaking hand into what lay there, now with the seeming of a man many months dead.

Anger, incredulous anger, impotent anger. Though she felt an arm about her she could not look away from the globe. That was no longer a perfect sphere of light, it bulged as if that which lay within were fighting to free.

"Out," she mouthed the word twice before she could say it aloud, "out."

The arm about her was drawing her back toward the rope, away from the coffer, the globe. The greenish glow in that still writhed, but its struggles were weakening. Another's hands swung her around to face the rude ladder, lifted her body from the noisome mass on the floor. Only half conscious of what she did, Tam-sin gripped the rope.

But there was no strength left in her. To climb . . . she could not make it.

"Tam-sin, climb!"

The sharpness of that order broke through the daze, long enough for her to weakly strive to obey. There was someone still behind her urging her up. Somehow she gathered a last spurt of both courage and energy fell out upon the mist-clouded deck.

There was not even strength enough left in her now to raise herself from where she lay.

"Stay!" Again that sharp order. “I go for Trusend and Lother."

Her eyelids dropped, never had she been tired. That which now fought in the globe had seemed to suck from her all energy and purpose. She no longer cared, it was enough to be out of that pestilent hold, into the sea wind.

But at length she edged around so she might see the hatch. The rope was drawn very taut, and it moved in little jerks.

A head arose over the hatch edge and a man stood on deck.

Kilwar. She did not even feel relief at seeing him. Too much had gone from her. He turned and began to pull on the rope, until a second head drooped limply into sight. Then he drew that still body to fall beside her own, and once more disappeared into the depths. Only to bring out a second man as unconscious as the first had been.

Hard upon their rescue there came a flare of eye blinding light. Flames spurted up from the hatch, clawing spitefully at the rescuer as he drew the second man to safety.

"Fire!" Kilwar shouted. "By the Face of Vlasta there is no fighting this!"

He stooped and caught at her, dragging her to her unsteady feet. "Get you down," he had pulled her as far as the rail.

As she clung to that she watched him jerk at the open cover of the hatch, hacking at part of it with a sword. Then he drew the length of seasoned wood to the rail, heaved it over. Having seen it hit the waves, Kilwar turned and shook Tam-sin.

“Get down! I will lower them to you. Hold them on that raft.”

Somehow she was able to leap out and down, cleaving the water not too cleanly, but welcoming the wash of the cleansing sea about her body. She swam for the raft and worked her way up on it. Then Kilwar lowered the bodies of his liegemen to that half-awash surface, leaped to swim and join her where she lay flat, one hand locked upon each of the unconscious men's belts.

Behind the mist glowed as if it, also, had caught fire. Tam-sin watched dully a line of flames creep along the rail she had left only moments earlier. And something, perhaps the heat of the burning ship, was conquering the mist, drying it away as they bobbed off from the side of ghost vessel.

 Kilwar unhooked her fingers from the belts, rolled the bodies together in the center of his improvised raft.

“That," he gestured toward the burning ship, "should bring them to investigate. We can hold here until that happens."

“The fire . . .” Tam-sin watched the destruction of the ghost ship with no emotion. Feeling seemed to have been wrung out of her by the experiences of this night.

'The thing, that which rested in the globe," he told her, "it broke its dwelling place, and this is the result."

There was something else she must tell him, but her mind seemed unable to think logically. Something important, but was too spent to care.

"Rrrruuuu!”

Out beyond the derelict someone had sounded a shell horn. Kilwar rose to his knees, balancing carefully on the bobbing raft. He sent back a call as ringing as the blast of the horn. A second later a shout answered him.

'Tam-sin," his hand was warm and gentle on her shoulder, "they are coming for us."

She could not answer, even when he raised her head to rest upon his knee. Through the haze of fatigue she saw one of those others Kilwar had saved, turn his head, look to his Lord.

The mist was fast going. She could see the wink of a star overhead. While the fierce burning of the ship sent a full light over the water. The nose of a ship cut into that light, heading toward them.

She was hardly conscious of being hoisted aboard, carried to a bunk where Kilwar left her, a soft quilt pulled over her. He was back before she was aware fully that he was gone, holding a goblet. Bracing her against his shoulder he put the container to her lips, and, because she was too tired to protest, though she smelled the strongness of the wine it held, she swallowed what was liquid fire.

“The . . . the thing," she half whispered. "If it got out . . ."

A nightmare shadow built in her mind. What if the thing, now freed from its container, could follow to haunt them?

"It is dead, or at least it is gone," he reassured her quickly. "Now sleep my lady, and know that naught can harm us here.”

She allowed him to her back on the bunk. Something she must sort out what had happened. Now she longer cared, and sleep waited.

X

There was an edge of gray light spreading from one of the cabin windows, touching upon Kilwar as he sprawled in a chair, his head thrown back, his eyes closed. Tam-sin watched him sleep as she marshaled a host of broken memories from the immediate past: the ghost ship, and what lay in its hold. Once more she looked down upon one who seemed to sleep under the baneful light of that globe.

Kas!

Then only did she understand what might have come from her attack upon that sleeper. The three of them were bound together in this dream which existed seemingly beyond her control. And if Kas was dead . . .

But the evidence of her eyes, the body which, when she had used the sword, certainly it had withered, shrunk into the corpse of one who had been dead, not for moments, but for days, or longer. Could this have been the same ship which had haunted the coast off Quinquare? If that was so, then Kas on this plane had been dead for a long time, or in a half-life secured by the globe.

What matter of strange and frightening sorcery lay behind what had existed in the hold of that ship?

Kilwar stirred, his eyes opened, and he straightened in the chair. Then he looked quickly to her and from somewhere Tam-sin drew the strength to smile.

"My Lady!"

He was quickly at her side.

"My Lord!" She warmed to his concern, felt his need of her as an anchor in the midst of so much she could not understand.

"You dared to go . . . there." He caught her hands, held them in a grip too tight for comfort, but she would have it otherwise.

"When there was such a need, how else could it be?” she asked. "But it was your strength that got us forth in the end, Kilwar. What was that thing?”

He shook his head slowly. “That I cannot name. It . . . it fed . . . upon the life force of those it took. And it had many victims.”

Tam-sin shivered, remembering what had lain about that coffer. Now she slid her tongue over her lips. If he did not know she must tell him at once. And it was a thing which laid heavy on her.

"Kilwar, did you see what lay within the coffer?"

"Another of the dead . . . “

"Not wholly . . . I think. Not until I slew it with your sword. Kilwar, it was Kas who lay there."

"Kas!" He stared at her. "You saw him so?"

"I saw him, knew him. He was not changed as are you and I, but wore the face I first knew. And . . . do you understand, Kilwar . . . I killed him!"

The astonishment had not left his face.

"Kas?" he repeated wonderingly. "But that ship, it must have voyaged so for a long time."

She knew a sudden sickness rising in her as the fun meaning of what she had witnessed flashed into her mind. Kas transported to this dream world, imprisoned in his counterpart here, part of a dead-alive body ruled by the globe thing! Had he been conscious of what happened to him? No, she could not, dared not believe that!

Kilwar's arms were about her, drawing her close to the warmth of his body, as if he would keep her safe even from her thoughts . . . those thoughts now spinning out sheer horror.

"If that was the Kas in this world, then had part of it.”

"But, Lord, it was my power and will which brought us here.”

"Out of very certain death," he reminded her. “I do not know what was the reason for the death ship. Since the globe strove to keep alive the counterpart of my cousin, perhaps he was the one who fashioned such a trap in the beginning. It must have that the two were close linked for as you slew him, then the globe went wild. It was a murderous being whatever its nature. And the blame for none of this can you take upon yourself. Tam-sin."

"But I brought him here . . . to that . . .” her voice was near a whisper.

"You brought us all to what meant safety as you could see it. Kas on this plane must have dealt with devilment, or he would not have been linked to that cater of men's life force."

"We cannot be sure." she wanted to be comforted, to believe that Kilwar had guessed rightly, but how could they ever know?

"I was there, remember," he brushed her hair from her forehead with a tender hand. "I was the prey that thing sought. If it meant slaying half a hundred men and them all blood kin to me, then I would have given the order, for that unclean thing was not fit to endure in this world. It had slain and slain again, ruthlessly and for a greed which sickens a man to think on. Kas, dead or alive, was what tied it to that trap. Do you think that any will say that his death under those circumstances was not merited."

"You do not yet understand," Tam-sin tried to pull out of his hold. "Kas is dead I cannot break dream! We can never go back."

The expression smoothed from his face, even eyes seemed turned inward. He knew now, and he would not, could not forgive what she had done. They were lost in a Dream . . . there would be no return to Ty-Kry where he ruled a sky tower kingdom.

“This is so, you are sure?" his question came evenly, in a voice as expressionless as his face.

"It is so," she replied desolately. She had hated Kas for what he tried to do, his plot to see Starrex dead within some dream she herself had spun. But she should have

preserved him, if she could, that they might return.

“So be it!”

Kilwar was smiling, his face lighting as she had never seen Starrex appear.

"Do you not remember, my Tam-sin? In that Ty-Kry I was but half a man, tied to a body which would no longer obey my commands. As Harrel I was half a man in another way, for there was a simplicity of thought in that one which I could not live with for long. But here," his head lifted proudly, "here I have what I sought! Do I think the past is better than the present? Not so! I am lord in LochNar and I have my lady. If Kas is dead, then let us accept that as a fact and turn our faces to the future. Look," gently he lifted her higher, took her up and bore her to the cabin window.

There was the sunlight topping the waves without. A dark body leaped from the water, hung a moment in the air, its snouted face turned in her direction and Tam-sin had no doubt that the loxsa had seen and recognized her.

“Tam-sin, this is another day. We have won from the night of mists into the day which is given us to use . . . that we shall do. Do you regret the past?"

Nor did she. Dreamer she' had been, but whether this was a dream without substance in which they were now entirely entrapped she no longer cared. Perhaps her real body lay in Ty-Kry's tower, but she refused to believe that that was real . . . not now. She was Tam-sin and this was Kilwar not Starrex; and they were both free to follow, not the devious path of a planned dream, but life itself. She laughed joyfully until Kilwar's lips closed upon her own and another kind of happiness followed.

 

THE END

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