taken it and flung it over the outer wall. Pirra had climbed to the upper balcony and spotted it lying in a clump of poppies. She’d envied it. It was flawed, but it had gotten away.
At the time, she hadn’t thought any further than that. But now…
Damaged things had no value in the House of the Goddess. Damaged things got away.
She was jolted out of her plans by a change in the ship’s motion. It was no longer rolling from side to side, but bobbing up and down. She heard men calling to each other, and loud grinding sounds; she guessed that was the oars being pulled in. Suddenly the planks above her were being levered aside, and she was taking great gulps of salty air, and Userref was reaching down to pull her out.
The Sun was blinding. She heard the splash of surf and the cawing of a crow. “Are we—is this L-Lykonia?” she stammered.
Userref’s grip tightened on her hand. “Be brave, Pirra,” he said. “This is your new home.”
8
T he crow in the thorn tree stared at Hylas with bright, unfriendly eyes.
“Go ’way,” he panted.
The crow laughed at him. In the time he took to wipe the sweat off his face, it could fly as far as he’d come all day. The coast was a tangle of spiny yellow gorse and mastic scrub that gave off an eye-watering smell of tar, and the glare was merciless. He’d long since emptied his waterskin. The Sea was taunting him: So much water, and nothing to drink.
He was furious with himself for losing the raft. He’d only left it for a while to scout out the coast, but when he’d returned the Sea had taken it, carrying it out of reach across the waves. Since then he’d been struggling over one rocky headland after another.
We’ll find a boat and follow the coast,
Telamon had said,
then make land on the other side and head in from there.
Find a boat? How? Apart from a few shepherds’ huts on the hills, there were no signs of people. And this was the third day that Issi had been alone in the mountains.
Again the crow laughed. Hylas lobbed a stone at it. The crow lifted into the sky and flew away—purposefully, as if carrying a message.
Hylas wished he hadn’t thrown that stone.
The monster ship floated in the bay. It was ten times bigger than any boat Hylas had ever seen. It had a beak-like prow with a great yellow all-seeing eye. Oars jutted from its flanks like the legs of an enormous centipede, and from its back grew a tree with vast green wings. Once, Telamon had mentioned that some ships had wings so that they could fly before the wind, but Hylas hadn’t believed him.
Below him, on the shore, men were pitching tents and heading into the surrounding pine forests to look for firewood. They weren’t Crows; they were Keftians. Like the young man in the tomb, they were beardless, and wore kilts bordered with spirals and cinched at the waist. Their weapons were splendid bronze double axes with curving twin blades, like back-to-back crescent Moons; but they’d left them casually propped against the rocks, as if they didn’t think they’d need them. Didn’t they know about the Crows? Weren’t they afraid?
Then Hylas saw something that made his heart race. Tethered to the stern of the ship was a little wooden boat. Like a calf keeping close to its mother, it bobbed in the shallows. He could swim for it.
As dusk came on, he picked his way down the slope intothe scrub between the tents and the woods, and settled down to wait.
The Keftians had brought animals with them; he watched them kill and skin a ewe. While it was sizzling on a spit, they gutted a netful of fish and set them to bake in the embers, then poured wine from jars and mixed it with water, toasted barley meal and crumbled cheese. Soon Hylas caught the dizzying smells of roast mutton and sizzling fat.
The flaps of the largest tent twitched and a woman stepped out—and suddenly stealing the boat became a whole lot harder.
She wasn’t a woman, she was a priestess. Her tight green bodice was cut away to
At the time, she hadn’t thought any further than that. But now…
Damaged things had no value in the House of the Goddess. Damaged things got away.
She was jolted out of her plans by a change in the ship’s motion. It was no longer rolling from side to side, but bobbing up and down. She heard men calling to each other, and loud grinding sounds; she guessed that was the oars being pulled in. Suddenly the planks above her were being levered aside, and she was taking great gulps of salty air, and Userref was reaching down to pull her out.
The Sun was blinding. She heard the splash of surf and the cawing of a crow. “Are we—is this L-Lykonia?” she stammered.
Userref’s grip tightened on her hand. “Be brave, Pirra,” he said. “This is your new home.”
8
T he crow in the thorn tree stared at Hylas with bright, unfriendly eyes.
“Go ’way,” he panted.
The crow laughed at him. In the time he took to wipe the sweat off his face, it could fly as far as he’d come all day. The coast was a tangle of spiny yellow gorse and mastic scrub that gave off an eye-watering smell of tar, and the glare was merciless. He’d long since emptied his waterskin. The Sea was taunting him: So much water, and nothing to drink.
He was furious with himself for losing the raft. He’d only left it for a while to scout out the coast, but when he’d returned the Sea had taken it, carrying it out of reach across the waves. Since then he’d been struggling over one rocky headland after another.
We’ll find a boat and follow the coast,
Telamon had said,
then make land on the other side and head in from there.
Find a boat? How? Apart from a few shepherds’ huts on the hills, there were no signs of people. And this was the third day that Issi had been alone in the mountains.
Again the crow laughed. Hylas lobbed a stone at it. The crow lifted into the sky and flew away—purposefully, as if carrying a message.
Hylas wished he hadn’t thrown that stone.
The monster ship floated in the bay. It was ten times bigger than any boat Hylas had ever seen. It had a beak-like prow with a great yellow all-seeing eye. Oars jutted from its flanks like the legs of an enormous centipede, and from its back grew a tree with vast green wings. Once, Telamon had mentioned that some ships had wings so that they could fly before the wind, but Hylas hadn’t believed him.
Below him, on the shore, men were pitching tents and heading into the surrounding pine forests to look for firewood. They weren’t Crows; they were Keftians. Like the young man in the tomb, they were beardless, and wore kilts bordered with spirals and cinched at the waist. Their weapons were splendid bronze double axes with curving twin blades, like back-to-back crescent Moons; but they’d left them casually propped against the rocks, as if they didn’t think they’d need them. Didn’t they know about the Crows? Weren’t they afraid?
Then Hylas saw something that made his heart race. Tethered to the stern of the ship was a little wooden boat. Like a calf keeping close to its mother, it bobbed in the shallows. He could swim for it.
As dusk came on, he picked his way down the slope intothe scrub between the tents and the woods, and settled down to wait.
The Keftians had brought animals with them; he watched them kill and skin a ewe. While it was sizzling on a spit, they gutted a netful of fish and set them to bake in the embers, then poured wine from jars and mixed it with water, toasted barley meal and crumbled cheese. Soon Hylas caught the dizzying smells of roast mutton and sizzling fat.
The flaps of the largest tent twitched and a woman stepped out—and suddenly stealing the boat became a whole lot harder.
She wasn’t a woman, she was a priestess. Her tight green bodice was cut away to
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