other. Almost nobody ever escapes from islands like that. This girl, though, she had the desire, you know, the dream. She wanted to leave the island and see the world.” He gestured at Leodora.
She said, “That’s a real dream, all right.”
“Oh, yes. But the villagers, now, they would have none of it. ‘You’re of us, you stay with us!’ is what they said to her. They gave her tasks to wear her down and wear her out, forced her to do the work of three, and fed her just enough to keep her alive. She was a slave, a prisoner, and her own family sided against her. That life was good enough for them, it should have been good enough for her. The village tried to break her will. That’s what they intended. It was a fishing village, so life was hard anyway, but it could always be made harder. The family, they treated her like a slave for her pride. No matter what they did, though, she clung to her dream of escape.
“These folk had trained generations of kraken—trained the tentacled beasts to carry the fishermen about upon their backs. Only the men were allowed to ride them. This idea became the law of the gods, and violation of it brought dire consequences.”
By now Leodora had become uneasy with the story, but she didn’t interrupt.
“One day while the men were off fishing, the girl escaped from her captors. On foot she traveled perhaps halfway around the island before she gave up. Continuing would only take her all the way around to where she’d started. Soon she saw that there was no escape, no friend willing to defy the whole village and sail her away—any such a friend would have had to stay away ever after, too. She came to realize that her life was doomed, her fate inescapable. She could only circle the island and come back to where she’d begun. And then they would treat her even worse than before.
“She turned and started back.
“It was then that she encountered a mystical kraken. It surfaced out of nowhere, stuck its head up out of the water and called to her. Called her name.
“It told her it had heard her anguish and had come to take her far away. All she had to do for this to happen was climb upon its back.
“You can imagine that she didn’t hesitate a single moment. She threw off her clothes and waded out to the beast, which lifted her in its tentacles and settled her upon its back, to ride as the fishermen did. The beast carried her out into the deep, but soon she realized that it wasn’t going where she wanted at all—it was headed straight for where the village men fished. She cried out for it to stop but it didn’t seem to understand. She beat upon it, but it didn’t flinch nor change its course. It was a kraken and this was what it did. The beast swam right through the fishing grounds, letting all the men see her, naked upon its back. They gave chase, driving her and the kraken back toward shore, toward the village. There was a spit of land there that projected like a finger into the sea, and the women—who by now had discovered her escape—came out and saw her. They shouted at her, called her a witch: the witch that conjured monsters.
“Seeing her displaying herself so wantonly, the women picked up stones and hurled them at her. They pelted her, pelted the kraken. The women shrieked at her like a flock of birds. And finally one stone struck the beast a mortal blow. Ribbons of black ink billowed out of it, turning the sea to darkness. It floundered and started to sink. Rolling its great eye toward her, it said, ‘Forgive me, forgive me, I’ve failed you.’
“In some other story, the beast might have transformed into her lover, or into an enchanted prince, or someone else special. But in this story, it was as it appeared, and it died. Then the girl was struck in the head and slid into the water beside it.”
Leodora could not conceal her horror at the specifics of the story. “Did . . . did the navigator tell you what became of her?”
“Oh, yes. The villagers drowned her in that black water, tore her body to pieces, and fed her to the fish, to the barbed and poisonous vermes. In one sense you could say the beast had