The Wildside Book of Fantasy: 20 Great Tales of Fantasy by Fritz Leiber, Gene Wolfe, Robert E. Howard, Paul di Filippo, Lin Carter, Tanith Lee, Clark Ashton Smith, E. Hoffmann Price, Thomas Burnett Swann, Brian Stableford, John Gregory Betancourt, Brian McNaughton, Nina Kiriki Hoffman, Lawrence Watt-Evans, Clive Jackson, Darrell Schwetizer, Achmed Abdullah Page A
Authors: Fritz Leiber, Gene Wolfe, Robert E. Howard, Paul di Filippo, Lin Carter, Tanith Lee, Clark Ashton Smith, E. Hoffmann Price, Thomas Burnett Swann, Brian Stableford, John Gregory Betancourt, Brian McNaughton, Nina Kiriki Hoffman, Lawrence Watt-Evans, Clive Jackson, Darrell Schwetizer, Achmed Abdullah
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scarcely know myself.”
“Atthis!” I cried, with stunned recognition. “You are changed, not shrunk: You must see yourself as a whole.”
I took her hand and led her, shaken and cowering, to a pool like a lily pad.
She looked at her face in the water, the pillared neck, the limbs and the ivory thighs, and understanding suffused her features, a roseate shadow on snow.
“I—I am one of you,” she said. “A woman?”
“You were always a woman. But now your body matches your heart. Enfolds it like marble ramparts.”
“I am one of you,” she repeated, “and—“
“Beautiful.”
She shook her head. “You say my body matches my heart. But my heart is evil. I tried to harm you, Bear. When I overturned your boat and Vel took you captive.”
“Why did you do that, Atthis?”
“Astyanax had told me you were going to look for Circe. Long before I was born, she was loved by the dolphins. She culled them her Naiades, her Maids of the Deep, and to them she was always The Lady. A white dolphin led her to Libya and then returned to Aeaea to keep it safe from strangers. Ever since, my people have swum those waters, guarding, waiting for her return. As one of the guardians, I did not want you to go and trouble her.”
“And when you had wrecked our boat?”
“I felt ashamed when I saw you in the water. I touched you and knew your heart, gentle and kind. No longer did I wish you harm. But I still did not want you to look for Circe. I followed the Turan to Graviscae.”
“And waited in the harbor until I found a ship?”
“Yes. And joined you, still divided. I thought that you would never find her anyway, and I could be your friend and then lead you home again. But after we found the wreck, I knew we were close to Circe—knew I would have to choose. Loving you both, I kept out of sight until I saw the pygmies. Then I made my choice. Was it too late?”
“Late?” I said. “Time is not hostile, Atthis. At the last minute, the last second, he will turn and smile and say, ‘Love. Forgive. Accept. It is not too late.’ Circe has taught me that. Friendship divided your heart. Not hatred, not anger. I honor you for serving Circe, and love you for choosing me.”
“Bear!” The cry whirred like a discus. He ran toward us on stalwart legs; he raced, he leaped, he kicked his heels in the air. Milkweed whirling in wind-pools, leaves in a river’s eddy, a deer, a rabbit, a boy with wings on his heels. He turned a somersault; laughing, he fell in my arms and called my name.
“And Atthis,” he cried, knowing her at once. “She has changed you too! She has given us legs like Bear. Now he will never leave us!”
Behind us someone laughed, kindly, a little sadly, and an old woman, her face as weathered as tree trunks near the sea, leaned on a cane and waved a slow farewell.
And we went on together.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I wish to acknowledge with thanks a considerable debt to the following books:
The Life and Times of Tarquin the Etruscan by Carlo Maria Franzero
The Etruscans by M. Pallottino
Ancient Greek Mariners by Walter Woodburn Hyde
The Cruise of the Dolphin by Ferdinand Lallemand
THE SWORDSMEN OF VARNIS, by Clive Jackson
The twin moons brooded over the red deserts of Mars and the ruined city of Khua-Loanis. The night wind sighed around the fragile spires and whispered at the fretted lattice windows of the empty temples, and the red dust made it like a city of copper.
It was close to midnight when the distant rumble of racing hooves reached the city, and soon the riders thundered in under the ancient gateway. Tharn, Warrior Lord of Loanis, leading his pursuers by a scant twenty yards, realized wearily that his lead was shortening and raked the scaly flanks of his six-legged vorkl with cruel spurs. The faithful beast gave a low cry of despair as it tried to obey and failed.
In front of Tharn in the big double saddle sat Lehni-tal-Loanis, Royal Lady of Mars, riding the ungainly animal with easy grace,
“Atthis!” I cried, with stunned recognition. “You are changed, not shrunk: You must see yourself as a whole.”
I took her hand and led her, shaken and cowering, to a pool like a lily pad.
She looked at her face in the water, the pillared neck, the limbs and the ivory thighs, and understanding suffused her features, a roseate shadow on snow.
“I—I am one of you,” she said. “A woman?”
“You were always a woman. But now your body matches your heart. Enfolds it like marble ramparts.”
“I am one of you,” she repeated, “and—“
“Beautiful.”
She shook her head. “You say my body matches my heart. But my heart is evil. I tried to harm you, Bear. When I overturned your boat and Vel took you captive.”
“Why did you do that, Atthis?”
“Astyanax had told me you were going to look for Circe. Long before I was born, she was loved by the dolphins. She culled them her Naiades, her Maids of the Deep, and to them she was always The Lady. A white dolphin led her to Libya and then returned to Aeaea to keep it safe from strangers. Ever since, my people have swum those waters, guarding, waiting for her return. As one of the guardians, I did not want you to go and trouble her.”
“And when you had wrecked our boat?”
“I felt ashamed when I saw you in the water. I touched you and knew your heart, gentle and kind. No longer did I wish you harm. But I still did not want you to look for Circe. I followed the Turan to Graviscae.”
“And waited in the harbor until I found a ship?”
“Yes. And joined you, still divided. I thought that you would never find her anyway, and I could be your friend and then lead you home again. But after we found the wreck, I knew we were close to Circe—knew I would have to choose. Loving you both, I kept out of sight until I saw the pygmies. Then I made my choice. Was it too late?”
“Late?” I said. “Time is not hostile, Atthis. At the last minute, the last second, he will turn and smile and say, ‘Love. Forgive. Accept. It is not too late.’ Circe has taught me that. Friendship divided your heart. Not hatred, not anger. I honor you for serving Circe, and love you for choosing me.”
“Bear!” The cry whirred like a discus. He ran toward us on stalwart legs; he raced, he leaped, he kicked his heels in the air. Milkweed whirling in wind-pools, leaves in a river’s eddy, a deer, a rabbit, a boy with wings on his heels. He turned a somersault; laughing, he fell in my arms and called my name.
“And Atthis,” he cried, knowing her at once. “She has changed you too! She has given us legs like Bear. Now he will never leave us!”
Behind us someone laughed, kindly, a little sadly, and an old woman, her face as weathered as tree trunks near the sea, leaned on a cane and waved a slow farewell.
And we went on together.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I wish to acknowledge with thanks a considerable debt to the following books:
The Life and Times of Tarquin the Etruscan by Carlo Maria Franzero
The Etruscans by M. Pallottino
Ancient Greek Mariners by Walter Woodburn Hyde
The Cruise of the Dolphin by Ferdinand Lallemand
THE SWORDSMEN OF VARNIS, by Clive Jackson
The twin moons brooded over the red deserts of Mars and the ruined city of Khua-Loanis. The night wind sighed around the fragile spires and whispered at the fretted lattice windows of the empty temples, and the red dust made it like a city of copper.
It was close to midnight when the distant rumble of racing hooves reached the city, and soon the riders thundered in under the ancient gateway. Tharn, Warrior Lord of Loanis, leading his pursuers by a scant twenty yards, realized wearily that his lead was shortening and raked the scaly flanks of his six-legged vorkl with cruel spurs. The faithful beast gave a low cry of despair as it tried to obey and failed.
In front of Tharn in the big double saddle sat Lehni-tal-Loanis, Royal Lady of Mars, riding the ungainly animal with easy grace,
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