a group of the women in focus. They were conferring amongst themselves. They seemed to be uncomfortable in their ivory armour which, at closer range, I could tell was not simply white but had all the shades from light yellow to brown which ivory possesses when it is used for artifacts. It was covered in fine engraving which reminded me a little of scrimshaw work. It was held together by bone pins and leather toggles and was marvelously articulated so as to enclose the entire body, making the wearers rather resemble elegant insects with unusually marked carapaces. They seemed taller than the average person and had a graceful way of moving in the restricting armour which I thought very attractive. It was hard to believe that people of such beauty could be slave-traders and cannibals.
Two of the women now put helmeted heads together to speak. One of them shook her head impatiently so that the other tried to repeat what she had said and then, in frustration, raised her visor.
I could now see part of the woman’s face.
She was both young and unusually beautiful. Her skin was fair and her eyes large and dark. She had the long, triangular face I associated with the Eldren and, as she turned towards me, I almost lost my grip on the spyglass.
I was looking full into the features of one of the women who had plagued my dreams, who had called for my sister Sharadim, who had spoken so desperately of a dragon and a sword…
But what had shocked me so thoroughly was that I had recognised the face.
It was the face of the woman I had searched the aeons to find again; the woman with whom I longed, night and day, to be reunited…
It was the face of my own Ermizhad!
5
I T SEEMED TO me that I remained staring at that face for an age. How I did not fall from the rigging I do not know. I was repeating her name over and over. Then, anxiously, I attempted to follow her with the glass as she moved. She smiled at the other woman, seemed to make some slight joke, then reached up her hand to bring her visor down again.
“No!” I did not want her to hide that exquisite face. “Ermizhad! No! It is I, Erekosë. Cannot you hear me? I have searched for you so long…”
I had the impression of hands trying to help me from the rigging. I tried to fight them off, but there were too many. Slowly I was borne to the deck while enquiring mouths wished to know what was wrong. All I could do was repeat her name and struggle to get free, to follow her. “Ermizhad!”
I knew in my heart that it was not really my Eldren wife but someone closely resembling her. I knew it, yet I resisted the understanding as thoroughly as I resisted the hands of my astonished companions.
“Daker! Herr Daker! What’s wrong? Is it an hallucination?” Count von Bek held my face and stared into my eyes. “You’re acting like a madman!”
I drew a breath. I was panting. I was sweating. I hated them all for holding me as they did. But I forced myself to grow calm. “I have seen a woman who might be Ermizhad’s sister,” I told him. “The same woman I saw in my dream last night. She must be related. It cannot be her. I am not so crazed that my logic is completely askew. Yet the sight strikes the same chords as if it were really Ermizhad I had seen. I must get to her, von Bek. I must question her.”
Bellanda was shouting from behind me. “You cannot go. It is the Law. All our encounters are formal. The true time of the Massing has not yet come. You must wait.”
“I cannot wait,” I told her simply. “I have already waited too long.” But I let my body relax, felt their grasp grow limp. “No other creature could believe how many lifetimes I have spent seeking her…”
They became sympathetic. I closed my eyes. Then I opened them a slit. I was looking at a likely route down to the shore.
A moment later I was up, diving from the side of the deck, vaulting the rail, flinging myself towards rigging, then sliding and clambering and dropping down, down to the
Two of the women now put helmeted heads together to speak. One of them shook her head impatiently so that the other tried to repeat what she had said and then, in frustration, raised her visor.
I could now see part of the woman’s face.
She was both young and unusually beautiful. Her skin was fair and her eyes large and dark. She had the long, triangular face I associated with the Eldren and, as she turned towards me, I almost lost my grip on the spyglass.
I was looking full into the features of one of the women who had plagued my dreams, who had called for my sister Sharadim, who had spoken so desperately of a dragon and a sword…
But what had shocked me so thoroughly was that I had recognised the face.
It was the face of the woman I had searched the aeons to find again; the woman with whom I longed, night and day, to be reunited…
It was the face of my own Ermizhad!
5
I T SEEMED TO me that I remained staring at that face for an age. How I did not fall from the rigging I do not know. I was repeating her name over and over. Then, anxiously, I attempted to follow her with the glass as she moved. She smiled at the other woman, seemed to make some slight joke, then reached up her hand to bring her visor down again.
“No!” I did not want her to hide that exquisite face. “Ermizhad! No! It is I, Erekosë. Cannot you hear me? I have searched for you so long…”
I had the impression of hands trying to help me from the rigging. I tried to fight them off, but there were too many. Slowly I was borne to the deck while enquiring mouths wished to know what was wrong. All I could do was repeat her name and struggle to get free, to follow her. “Ermizhad!”
I knew in my heart that it was not really my Eldren wife but someone closely resembling her. I knew it, yet I resisted the understanding as thoroughly as I resisted the hands of my astonished companions.
“Daker! Herr Daker! What’s wrong? Is it an hallucination?” Count von Bek held my face and stared into my eyes. “You’re acting like a madman!”
I drew a breath. I was panting. I was sweating. I hated them all for holding me as they did. But I forced myself to grow calm. “I have seen a woman who might be Ermizhad’s sister,” I told him. “The same woman I saw in my dream last night. She must be related. It cannot be her. I am not so crazed that my logic is completely askew. Yet the sight strikes the same chords as if it were really Ermizhad I had seen. I must get to her, von Bek. I must question her.”
Bellanda was shouting from behind me. “You cannot go. It is the Law. All our encounters are formal. The true time of the Massing has not yet come. You must wait.”
“I cannot wait,” I told her simply. “I have already waited too long.” But I let my body relax, felt their grasp grow limp. “No other creature could believe how many lifetimes I have spent seeking her…”
They became sympathetic. I closed my eyes. Then I opened them a slit. I was looking at a likely route down to the shore.
A moment later I was up, diving from the side of the deck, vaulting the rail, flinging myself towards rigging, then sliding and clambering and dropping down, down to the
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