She entered the maze of the river; on a continent in which every other river ran east, this one ran west. She slid her boat into one of the river’s green and blue boxes, expecting to trigger secret panels and swiveling walls; all that was constant was the sky above her, latticed by the coils of the trees. She pushed the boat along with the oar, letting it guide itself. She descended farther into the maze of the river as the dark turned to day and the day turned to dark. She followed what she supposed to be an unerring instinct, waiting to emerge from the other side, out beyond the edge of everything that had been her world.
After many hours, when the sun rose to its apex and glared down into the river’s maze, Catherine saw her watercreature swimming right before her. Remembering how it had failed to devour the sailor at her command, she took the oar and smacked it on the head. A moment later it was there again, nagging her. I don’t want you here, she said angrily, go back to the village. It insisted on trailing along at the front of the boat. She made the disastrous mistake of turning her boat away from the creature in order to lose it behind her. Soon she was sailing down passages that looked distressingly familiar. Every time she glanced behind her the damned watercreature was still there, and the faster she sailed from it, the more familiar the maze became around her. She realized soon she was crossing her own path. She got so turned around in the maze that by dusk she was completely lost. In fury she stood in the boat and slammed the oar down hard on the watercreature over and over until the sun had set and, on a dark night, the creature vanished. If nothing else, she whispered to the water, I’ve finally killed you. She sailed on a little farther and came out of the maze, only to desperately discover she had emerged at the point she’d entered. A few minutes later she drifted back into her village, with the Crowd standing by the banks watching her return, and none too pleased about it either. She saw her father at the end of the slough, his face in conflict between the part of him overjoyed to see her again — when he’d thought he never would — and the part of him that feared for her. He folded her in his arms. When they tied the boat in the torchlight of the harbor she saw the watercreature, unbloodied and very much alive. She cursed it and it cursed her back.
The men of the Crowd became increasingly consumed with two things: what they considered Catherine’s sorcerous inclinations, and gambling. They couldn’t have too little of the former or too much of the latter. Moreover, the sailor linked the two in their minds: the queen of clubs became the very emblem of Catherine in his games, and the very appearance of the queen turned the men of the Crowd black with hate. As time went by Coba continued to lose his nest egg bit by bit, one coin after another going the way of the men in the Crowd. Both the men and Coba enjoyed the spectacle of it more and more, with the Crowd’s passion becoming more frenzied. Soon Coba wouldn’t have many coins left.
Catherine’s father was beside himself with worry. He grew alarmed at the way the others looked at her; there wasn’t much doubt they considered her a witch. He spoke to his wife from whose long deep stoicism he hoped to gather reassurance. But his wife’s stoicism was founded on her own doubts. She’s my daughter, the girl’s mother said, but I don’t know her. The other children were estranged from their sister as well. It’s nature’s fauIt, said Catherine’s father, for giving her no voluptuous gifts, rendering her without value. It’s nature’s fauIt, said Catherine’s mother, for giving her the face of a spot in space or a place in the middle of the earth. When she was young I should never have let her hair grow, I should have sewn a mask to her skull. But we never noticed it before, the father said. No one ever noticed it before, said the mother, it took them a long time.
It didn’t, said the father, take the sailor a long time.
The sailor had one coin left. He folded up his pack of cards in the squalid soggy little box from which it had come.
The men in the Crowd were in a tizzy. The games had come to an end. No more gambling. No more laughter from the man with the faggy yellow hair. But listen, said Coba sadly, I have only one coin left. He held it up between his fingers, moving it slowly in the air around the borders of the night fire so everyone in the circle could see it. My luck’s been bad. Coba shook his head miserably. You understand now the premise of a gamble? It’s not just the number of what one has but its relation to the whole of what one has. Another man may have five hundred coins. I have only one. Yet my one is worth more than four hundred ninety-nine of his because should he lose his four hundred ninety-nine, he still has one coin left. Should I lose my one, I have nothing left.
One more match, the men of the Crowd shouted. We’ll each put up ten of our coins against that one of yours.
It’s nothing, shrugged the sailor. He sighed deeply. It’s nothing, ten from each of you, because you don’t risk what I risk. You don’t risk everything.
All right, the men said. Twenty coins from each of us. Let’s play.
You haven’t understood the game, Coba said. He kept sighing more and more deeply. Of course I’d like to give you a match but it’s a violation of the code of what one risks. You have to match not coin for coin but risk for risk.
Meaning what? said the men.
Meaning I risk everything, Coba said, when I risk this single coin. He held it up again between his fingers. Each man sitting around the fire with a stack of coins before him gazed at Coba’s single coin and smacked his lips. All right then, they shouted. You risk everything, we risk everything, but get those cards out and let’s play. They pushed their coins into a pile and started jumping around as if their feet were on fire, excited about the big game.
But it’s nothing, Coba said, gesturing at the pile of coins. The men of the Crowd stopped dancing around and blinked at him, dumbfounded. How can you insuIt me this way? Coba said. You offer me my own money, which was never yours to begin with, and argue that you’re risking everything. He allowed himself a small smile. You see how it isn’t so, he said. What do you want, the men said, the whole fucking village? The sailor saw he couldn’t push things much further. Not necessary, he answered, waving his hands. Not necessary at all. The money, of course, is a good start, he said, pointing at the pile, but something of value of yours. .
Such as, the men said.
Such as your best boat. Not a fleet, mind you. One very good boat.
Anything else? the men asked dryly.
Coba locked the fingers of his two hands behind his head and moved his shoulders up and down. He considered the cool pleasant air of the evening. Not too obviously he let his eyes drift as though he were thinking. As though it had never occurred to him. He grimaced a little as though with the difficuIty of the decision before him. The men tapped their feet impatiently. Then he nodded. I think so, yes, he agreed. And he watched her across the water as he had done every day since he’d come. They don’t know what she has anyway, he thought. They don’t understand the irrational, nonfunctional, unprogenitive beauty of a woman’s face.
The queen of clubs, he said.
The men looked at him and at each other and back at him. There was silence and then one of them chortled. Another man laughed and then another, and soon they were all laughing, slapping the sides of trees and kicking red embers with hilarity. The witch, they said, you want the witch? Sailor, if you lose you can have the witch as far as we’re concerned. The sailor laughed along with them as if to say, Yes, it’s foolish, isn’t it? What an idea, gambling the witch. Then they stopped laughing and there was a nervous moment and it started up again for a while. They were all struck by the oddest notion that the sailor wasn’t joking, this wasn’t another of his wild stories. The men looked around for Catherine’s father and then back at Coba. He wouldn’t think this was so funny, they said, your gambling for his daughter.