Mr. Druffle was indeed among the rowers. Looking miserable and cold, the wiry man glanced southward. Pazel looked, too: there was indeed a broad mantle of fog upon the Gulf, two or three miles off. Like the shreds of mist he had glimpsed from the dunes, it was thick as white wool, an unnatural sight under the gleaming sun. But this fog bank stretched in an unbroken line from the southern shore deep into the Gulf. And it was creeping relentlessly their way.
Arunis screamed at the rowers again, and they increased their speed. Pazel flipped over and swam straight down. One calamity at a time.
Below, he found no sign of man or murth. Clownfish darted; the scarlet ray swept by near the wreck. Otherwise the sea was still.
A hunch came to him suddenly. Before he sank any farther, Pazel moved well into the ribbon kelp. Then, hand over hand, he pulled himself into the depths. If the weed could hide murths it could hide him, too.
After descending another thirty feet he held still. He could see the whole clearing, from the Lythra to the coral wall, but it would take a sharp eye indeed to spot him.
No one came. No silver laughter reached him. But strangely, the scarlet ray kept up its circling of the wreck. What was it up to? Not feeding: scores of fish passed right under its nose, and the giant ignored them all.
Long minutes passed. Then the ray did something odd. It stopped, pivoted its huge, flat body left and right and dived behind the wreck.
Pazel burst from the weeds. That was no normal behavior for a ray. He swam low, hiding behind the wreck as long as possible. When he could go no farther he shot upward, across the topdeck, and peered down along the side of the ruined hull.
The ray was hovering beside a gunport, its deadly tail writhing. Pazel heard its voice, like that of a weird overgrown bird: "Gone-gone-gone, Lady Klyst! Come out, find your kin, land-boy loses, murth-friends win."
The ray withdrew slightly and the girl's face appeared-his girl. Timidly she pulled herself halfway through the gunport. The golden joy coursed through Pazel again. He could not be silent.
"Klyst!"
She looked up in horror. And vanished back into the wreck. The ray, however, turned with a furious roar. "Land-boy! Land-boy! Kill you! Kill you!"
Pazel knew he was no match for a humiliated scarlet ray. He kicked off the broken gunwale and shot down the length of the Lythra's topdeck with the beast howling behind him. He would never reach the kelp beds: the wreck itself was his only hope. Under the broken foremast he swam, dodging a skeleton snagged on the pinrail. The foreward hatch was blocked with debris. He swam on desperately. The ray's fleshy horns brushed his toes.
He jackknifed through the main hatch. The ray roared and stabbed with its tail, missing Pazel's head by an inch. Pazel seized at timbers, dragging himself farther inside as the ray tried to squeeze in after him. It succeeded, but it could not spread its wings in the cluttered wreck, and only managed to beat the algae, sand and debris into a whirlwind. Pazel choked (he was breathing it, after all) but pushed on, slamming a rotted compartment door behind him.
He passed dark cabins, broken ladderways. One of the fanged fish that had so alarmed him before rushed out of the gloom. Heedless with longing, Pazel smacked it away.
She was still there on the gun deck, her body glowing behind a mass of broken beams. She saw him and turned to flee.
"Don't go!" he cried out, and his words froze her where she stood. Amazed, Pazel swam a little closer. "Come out, Klyst, if that's your name. Why are you so afraid of me?"
She stepped out, hugging herself, literally shaking with fear.
"You could be miles away by now, if I'm so frightening. Why did you stay? Please explain all this to me!"
Her sharp teeth were chattering. She shook her head. "Can't go. Can't disobey. I love you."
"You love me! Why on earth? I mean… that's extremely… Why}"
"You used ripestry. Humans shouldn't! Humans never could!"
Pazel's Gift told him that ripestry was Murthish for "language." But then he started. It was also telling him the word meant "magic."
"What! Are they the same thing, to sea-murths?"
"They}" she said.
"Ripestry and ri-" Pazel stopped. Even his Gift couldn't provide another word. It was true: language and magic were one notion to her. To speak was to enchant.
"But for Rin's sake," he said, "you were the one doing love-ripestry to me. Weren't you?"
"Yes, yes," she said. "But when you said my name you turned it back on me. And since I'd already touched you I… I-"
She leaped forward and wrapped her strange arms around his legs. She pressed her face to his knees and wept-"Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!"
Her tears glowed luminescent as they left her eyes, in the instant before the sea diluted them.
"Why are you crying?"
"Land-boy! Land-boy! I love you!"
Her charm had backfired: he was free, she was madly in love. He tried to make her stand up.
"I'll release you," he said. "Just tell me how."
"Hoo-hoo-hoo!"
"Klyst!" he said as gently as he could. "Please stop crying. We'll find a way out of this."
At once she made an effort to hold in her tears.
"That's grand," he said. "Now tell me, why did you give us water-breathing, and make us love you?"
"Can't help it," she said. "We have to drive you away."
"Well, that's a blary strange way to do it!"
She shook her head. "It always works."
"But why not just talk to us?"
"Because you're monsters," she said. "Your people, I mean. Wherever you go the ripestry dies. And then so do we. Starved for ripestry, starved to death."
Her silver eyes stared into his, beseeching, and Pazel stared back without a word. The Volpeks were right, in a sense: the murths were dying out in the Quiet Sea. And if he understood her, mankind was the reason. Men dispelled magic; and her people could not live without it.
"But you have ripestry," she said at last, smiling. "You can stay! You can stay with me!"
Darkness. She began to kiss his hands.
"There are many men here," he said.
"Too many," she said. "They've been coming for weeks, and more all the time. Always before, for centuries, men feared the murths and ghosts and spirit-tides, and hurried off. But these men are not afraid. There is an evil ripestry with them that breaks our spells. My father says we must abandon these gardens, where we have lived for ten thousand years-move south, away from the monsters. But our elders are too weak for such a journey. They'll certainly die."
"You don't have to go!" Pazel said. "I know what they want. And I promise you, Klyst, they'll leave as soon as they get it. They serve a mage called Arunis. He's the one with the bad ripestry. But all he wants is some Red Wolf."
The light returned; he saw her look of disbelief. "That thing? That old iron wolf?"
"You know it!" he said.
"Of course. It went down with this ship forty years ago, when my father was a boy. But the Red Wolf is… ugly, bad. Why would anyone care about it?"
"I don't know. But believe me, Arunis won't leave without it. Will you take me to it, Klyst?"
"Will you marry me?"
What could he tell her? The truth? That except for a few moments under her spell he had never thought of marrying anyone, never longed in that way for anyone, except (in moments of lunacy or insight) for a land-girl named Thasha Isiq?
Feeling rather a cad, he said, "I can't breathe water forever, now, can I?"
She beamed at him. "You can if you're with me! A kiss on the hand, that's good for a whole day. You can stay as long as you like. The others will be getting air-thirst soon, of course."
"Air-thirst? What's air-thirst?"
Klyst just looked at him. Then she crossed her eyes and made desperate motions with her mouth: gulp gulp gulp.
"Drowning!" he cried. "They'll drown soon? We've got to find them! Oh, Neeps! Where are they, Klyst, where?"