It was a warm night, and the three ate companionably, the animals ranged around them. The broiled clams, the fresh bread, Sago's sepoa tea, and the honey wine were all delicious. Brie lay on her side on the sand, feeling peaceful, her stomach full. Then Hanna broke the silence. "I leave tomorrow," she said. "The dark months are soon upon us and it is time I journeyed north. I will return to Ardara by the winter solstice."
"Breo-Saight and I will have stories to tell you, of hunting beasties in dark waters," said Sago, winking at Brie. Hanna raised an eyebrow, then called to Jip, who was trying to get at a hermit crab.
***
Brie and Hanna said their good-byes the next morning, and, after thanking Farmer Garmon and Lotte for their kindness to her, Brie moved her few belongings to the stone hut behind Jacan's house. Then she headed for the Storm Petrel.
The night of the full moon, Brie set out for Sago's mote. Fara was not with her, having disappeared at twilight as she occasionally did. When Fara reappeared the next morning she would no doubt have a sleek, well-fed look, and Brie guessed that hunting forays accounted for her absences.
It was a warm night and the moon hung in the darkness, swollen and heavy. Brie walked quickly, feeling jittery.
Sago was readying his boat, a small one-masted ketch he called Gor-gwynt or Western Wind, after the wind direction that all right-thinking fishermen favor. The sorcerer worked quickly and with easy skill. He brought aboard his fishing pole, a lantern, a small basket, and a handheld landing net. Brie saw no weapon of any kind.
They cast off, and Brie took the tiller while Sago raised the sail. The night wind was fresh and came from the east. "We are lucky," Sago said, making fast several ropes in quick succession. "Dwy-gwynt means we don't have to row out of the inlet." Brie recognized dwy-gwynt as the name for the east wind on the table of the airts.
They came out of the harbor into the long waves. Sago took over the tiller, and, though the moon was bright, he bade Brie light the lantern. Then Sago had them change places again, and, as she gripped the straining tiller, Sago lay belly-down on the bow of the boat, holding the lantern just above the surface of the water. He stayed motionless for a time, then rejoined Brie.
"It is early yet" was all he said. The boat, poised and eminently sure of herself, skimmed over the rippled surface of the ocean.
"Where do the sumog come from?" asked Brie as she rehung the lantern on the iron forkel at the bow.
"Oona, moona, mollopy, mite; show me little fishies that bite!" chanted Sago gleefully.
"Sago," Brie said, impatient. "Truly, tell me what place they come from. The north?" she said, thinking of Scath, and of faraway Usna and Uneach, where the morgs lived; even the north wind on Jacan's table of the airts wore the face of a viper.
Sago made his face serious and shook his head. "There is much of value that comes out of the north. The corals of Usna. The bearded yellowfish of the Grissol Sea. The mountain sheep of Sola. No. Not the north. It is from man that evil always comes."
"But man did not make the sumog."
"Did he not?"
"Then are the sumog from the Cave?" Brie asked slowly.
Long ago an evil sorcerer named Cruachan had unleashed a horde of malformed, deadly creatures on Eirren. They were caught and contained in a vast cave by the great hero-king Amergin and his allies. Henceforth it was called the Cave of Cruachan. But in recent times Medb, Queen of Scath, had found a way to unseal the cave, using the cailceadon stone, and from the cave she released Naid, the Firewurme; Nemian, the black-winged creature that had nearly sucked the life out of Brie; and Moccus, the eyeless boar.
"There was an evil man who walked an evil mile..." Sago began. "No, not Cruachan; not this time."
"Medb?"
"Riddle me this, and riddle me that," Sago said with an air of finality. He stood and lowered the sail, letting the boat drift. Then he reached for his fishing pole. As he baited the hook with a mudminnow, he said mildly, "The sumog is a beaked fish and beaked fish always circle bait before swallowing it. And we will need something large to catch the eye of a sumog." He cast the line, and a few moments later it jerked. Sago pulled in a small chub, then threw it back. He caught several more small fish and threw them back as well. Finally he hooked a good-size mullet, and he set down his pole. He proceeded to kill the fish, slice it in half, and remove its spine. After inserting a hook in its head, he deftly sewed the fish back up using a thin clear thread. Then he set the whole thing aside, floating the dead fish in a bucket of seawater. He passed Brie a skin bag filled with tepid sepoa tea, and several of the small fish-and-potato cakes called taten-pisc.
They ate in silence in the rocking, drifting boat, the moonlit sea whispering around them.
Halfway through her second taten-pisc, Brie saw Sago's body go still. He slowly set down the skin bag and took up his fishing pole.
Sago moved silently to the bow and looked across the water. Then, with a set face, he cast his line, the dead fish shining silver in the moonlight as it arched through the air, dropping into the sea with a small splash. Brie joined Sago at the bow. She caught sight of a blur of darkness moving swiftly toward the bait fish. Sago gestured at the lantern, and Brie quickly took it from the forkel. She held it up over the water and saw a school of five sumog converge on the dead fish.
Teeth flashed and powerful jaws tore, and in a matter of minutes there was nothing left of the fish. Sago quickly pulled in the line and the iron hook was bitten in half.
Suddenly there was a thudding sound from the hull.Sago looked surprised, but he gave a manic grin as the boat lurched. Then another thud and the boat rocked violently. Brie was thrown off balance and clutched the side of the boat to keep from falling. A sumog cleaved out of the water, slicing at her fingers with its knife-sharp teeth. She let out a cry and pulled in her hand, several drops of blood falling into the water.
A pair of sumog threshed around in a frenzy where Brie's blood had spilled, and she caught a glimpse of their round, bulging eyes rimmed by shiny orange. Then she spotted more dark shapes flowing toward the boat.
Brie crouched in the bottom of the rocking boat, cradling her torn fingers. She looked over at Sago, who stood, holding on to the mast, still with that wide, reckless smile on his face. The boat pitched from side to side as the sumog continued butting against the hull.
They were trying to capsize the boat.
"Raise the sail!" Brie cried out.
Sago shook his head, smiling, his eyes fixed on the water.
"Sago!" she shouted.
"A sailor sailed the sea, sea, sea, to see what he could see, see, see...," Sago sang.
Thump went the sumog.
Brie turned cold. What had possessed her to follow this ancient wraithlike man out into the middle of the sea, to hunt sumog? She must have been as mad as he.
The tilting boat suddenly seemed very small in the vast dark sea.
THIRTEEN
The Wedding Dance
Brie rose and took a step toward Sago, thinking to push him aside so she could get to the sail, but she stopped and stared. Some kind of light was coming from the Sea Dyak sorcerer, a golden glow from under his skin. His face, his hands, even his stalklike legs, were lit with a fiery radiance, burning brighter than a hundred lanterns. Then he gestured with a golden hand toward the sumog.
Brie turned her gaze on the writhing, undulating mass under the boat. There must have been fifty or more sumog in the water. She could feel the evil pulsing from them.
Turning to look back at Sago, she had to shield her eyes, for bursts of light began to appear on the surface of the water all around the boat, like tongues of flame. As she watched, transfixed, the movements of the sumog began to slow. The bright shafts of light were widening and thrusting down under the water, spreading like some kind of undersea wildfire. The sumog had gone still, and as the light lapped over them, they too began to glow, the brown serpentine bodies becoming suffused with light.