Magic Three of Solatia by Jane Yolen Page A

“There is nothing that happens that does not happen for a reason. Just as the shell pointed me to the boat and the boat brought me here, so perhaps this turtle will take me closer to my heart’s desire. Who knows?”
    So he settled himself more comfortably on the peak of the shell and took out his pack. He found he had squashed the cheese and bread by falling upon it, but still it was quite tasty. He ate the last of it. What was worse, though, was that he had lost his berry wine. It must have fallen down the turtle’s back and slid into the sea when he slipped. The sun was now high in the sky, and there was nothing to shade him from it. He was becoming very thirsty, and thinking of thirst made him crave something to drink even more.
    “Perhaps if I sing,” he thought, “I shall forget my fears.” So he put down the pack and picked up the lute, thinking to play a song.
    But he had no time to begin, for just as he picked the instrument up, the turtle began to slow down. Lann stood up shakily. He put his hand above his eyes to shade them from the glare of the sky. Far ahead, but coming closer with each stroke of the turtle’s powerful legs, was land.

6. Turtle Isle
    T HE GIANT TORTOISE SWAM directly to the land. As they came closer, Lann could see it was a verdant isle with trees of every size and shape and much lush undergrowth. But of houses or boats, of roads or chapels or humankind, there was no sign.
    There was a sudden bump as the turtle’s feet touched shore. The giant did not stop, though, and continued directly upon the land, walking with the same rolling gait it had had in the sea.
    “Enough for me,” thought Lann. And, clutching his empty pack in one hand, the lute in the other, he slid down the back end of the turtle’s shell and landed none too gracefully upon the shore.
    He looked about him in wonder. The island seemed to creep and crawl with every manner of tortoise. There were small turtles with patterned shells and turtles whose backs were seamed and leathery. There were green turtles and brown turtles and yellow turtles and turtles with vermilion designs. There were turtles as small as Lann’s smallest finger and some nearly as big as a horse.
    Yet strange to say, for all the movement in the undergrowth as the turtles moved slowly and clumsily onto the well-worn paths of the isle, there was no sound of life but the sound of a hiss.
    As Lann watched, the giant tortoise that had carried him to the isle moved up a central pathway to a high peak. And when it reached the peak, where surely it must have been seen by the entire island, it raised its monstrous head to the sky and opened and shut its terrible jaws. The loud snap-snap resounded all over the isle.
    As if at a signal, the turtles began to converge on Lann. Slowly, ponderously, but relentlessly, they came from all sides to the beach where he was standing. And before he could think of a plan of escape, he found himself surrounded by hundreds of turtles, their black, beady eyes staring at him, their mouths opening and shutting in imitation of their leader. But the only sound that emerged was that ever-present hiss.
    Lann felt cold, yet warm too, as if his body could not catch up to his fears. He could barely move. Was this, then, the end of his quest?
    As he pondered his fate, one especially large turtle pushed menacingly toward him and Lann stepped back awkwardly. As he moved, his elbow knocked the lute and set the strings a-quivering. At the strange new sound, the turtles all looked up and then down in a single motion, and stopped all movement as the sound of the humming strings died slowly in the air. When the sound could no longer be heard, the turtles began to move again.
    “So that is the way of it,” thought Lann. And he swung the lute in front of him and began to pluck a tune. As each note sang across the island, the turtles began to bob their heads on wrinkled necks up and down as if dancing. And soon Lann’s fears subsided and he