“What is doing in the north?” I said. “Where are you bound?”
He regarded me. His eyes, oddly, reminded me of those of a snake.
“Forgive me,” I said.
“Welcome aboard,” he said.
Chapter Nine
The voyage to the north, I gather from Brundisium, had taken several days, and for us, kept most of the time in a lower portion of the ship, in darkness, on damp sand, unable even to stand upright, was unspeakably miserable. We were also put in collars and chained together by the neck, seventeen of us. We lived for the moments when the hatch would be opened, and we would be allowed to climb the ladder and emerge on the open deck. There was another ship, like ours, astern. We had several soldiers aboard, as well as mariners. We were too small and weak to be put to the great levers drawn by the oarsmen. The time is kept by a drum. Mostly we proceeded under sail. Several nights the ship was beached and the crew and soldiers went ashore to sleep and cook, and, I suppose, to hunt, take on water, and such. We were kept in the hold. Watches were doubtless kept. If there is an alarm, the ship may be launched in a matter of Ihn. I know this, for a drill was done twice. Each man knows where he is to be, and what he is to do. Perhaps that is why we were not taken ashore. Certainly, given our chaining, there was no possibility that we could have slipped away, perhaps to starve or be eaten in the wild. In some places, farther south, there are women in the forest who do not belong to men. They are free women and hate us, for we belong to men. If they capture us they beat us and sell us. But if they are captured, it is said that they, too, quickly, learn they belong to men. Apparently they sell well.
Once we were brought to the deck, and placed at the rail. There, one by one, our hands were tied behind us. A third ship, low in the water, was abeam, parallel to us.
Our captain had a glass of the Builders and was surveying the third ship. “She flies the pennons of Brundisium,” said one of his officers. “I do not think she is of Brundisium,” said the captain, soberly. “Port Kar?” asked the officer. “I do not know,” said the captain. “Fly the code flags. We shall await the countersign.” Pennons were raised on a halyard. “No response,” said the officer. “She is thinking of closing,” said the captain. “Keep the armsmen out of sight.” “If she closes,” said the officer, “it will be the end of her.” “Yes,” said the captain. “That is the purpose of the slaves,” said the officer, “to lure her in?” “Rather,” said the captain, “to seem to lure her in. That will make them wary. Too, we have a fellow astern, so there would be two ships to one. I think she is merely scouting us.” “It is, then, a corsair,” said the officer. “Yes,” said the captain. “I think so. At least she is not of Brundisium, despite her pennons.” “Do you anticipate an engagement?” asked the officer. “No,” said the captain. We remained, neck-chained, and back-bound, for nearly an Ahn at the rail. Then the strange ship turned away.
At last we reached some point on the northern coast, in the vicinity of the great forests. We were brought to the deck, and then, when the ship had the beach abeam, and was a few yards from shore, we were plunged over the rail, and found ourselves awash in the surf. My head went under water for a moment, and the roaring of the sea thundered in my ears. I was for a moment terrified, and disoriented. But the weight of the chain oriented me, and, struggling, I got my legs under me and, sputtering, coughing, my eyes half blinded with salt water, I stood up. The water was not deep, but it was cold. It came only to my waist. We were waded to the shore and knelt there, in the surf, it washing up about our knees and calves. I shivered, and wiped the water from my eyes. I could see the beach before me, which was a mix of sand and rock. It seemed rough, cold, and forbidding. But beyond it I could see the forest, which seemed lonely and