smiled a greeting.
Jemma's eyes were failing, but her nose was sharp, and she breathed in the sea-scented air with a smile. She had spent most of her life inland, and the ocean was still a sweet pleasure to her. Once she had reached the dock, she rented the use of a small, single-person dory and a lantern. The fisherman knew Jemma, and the old woman's excuse that "there were certain seaweeds that I need to harvest after dark for my work" was accepted without question. Not for the first time, Jemma was glad that she had been born with the gift of Healing and had chosen to follow the goddess. Eccentricities went unquestioned in Blessers.
known antidote for snakebite.
The sun was gone now, though the stars had yet to appear. The ships anchored in the harbor bore lit lamps, and for now it was enough for Jemma to see by. She rowed out onto the velvety black waters of the Ver ocean. There were always plenty of fishing boats crowding the harbor, and recently Jemma had noticed an increasing number of official military vessels.
The darkness grew, and the other ships dwindled as she left them behind, until the Healer's small lamp was the only real light at hand. The lanterns on the ships and the lights of the town were far away and looked like summer's glowflies. Finally, Jemma stopped when she felt she was a safe distance from the port. Then she fumbled for the anchor, tying a large bunch of sage securely around it. Grunting with the effort, Jemma heaved the anchor overboard. It splashed softly, then sank, the rope snaking into the water after it.
A few moments later, the rope moved, pulling taut. There came a sudden jerk, and then the little craft fairly skimmed along the water until it was a good half mile away from shore.
In the warm yellow light cast by the single candle in the lantern, the ocean rippled. A sleek, human-looking head broke the water's surface. Candlelight illuminated slanted eyes and pointed ears. In daylight, Jemma knew, the creature's hair would be dark green, like the color of seaweed, and his skin a pale blue. His eyes were emerald.
"You are lucky I am here," said the creature, in a voice as soft and soothing as the waves on the shore. "I was not expecting you tonight, my friend." He smiled, and the gesture lightened the solemnity of his wise face. He extended a strong, sleek arm and handed a bunch of seaweed to Jemma. The Healer carefully placed the ocean gift in the bottom of the boat.
"I may need you every night from now on, Darshirin," apologized Jemma. "The king has deciphered the code, and we will be in daily contact. He's holding up well, but he's frightened." "Of course," said Darshirin politely, though he knew little of the landspeople's politics.
"Give Damir this message, found at evening on Lisdae: 'I am fighting the good tight, holding my own against the Snake. But I need protection. I send love to Cimarys. We will celebrate together— contact Byrn.'"
Darshirin nodded his head and repeated the message verbatim. "Anything else?"
"Not for the present. Darshirin —I know it was unusual enough for you to trust Damir. I appreciate the trust you put in me, as well. I know the People of the Sea don't get involved with us land dwellers much—"
Darshirin, bobbing up and down on the waves, shook his head and gently lifted a webbed hand in a gesture of courteous denial. "I owe Damir my life. To help him where I can is nothing; and you share his good spirit. And to help bring about the downfall of the pirates," and his sea-soft voice now sounded like a crashing wave on the word he loathed, "we would do anything."
Jemma gazed at her friend with sympathy. The pirates, she knew, hunted the People of the Sea. Humans were almost as frightened of them as of the elves, these beautiful ocean inhabitants who could turn from human form to dolphin shape in a heartbeat. The pirates often sold the People of the Sea to greedy organizers of traveling shows. The pitiful creatures, floating listlessly in the
Jemma's eyes were failing, but her nose was sharp, and she breathed in the sea-scented air with a smile. She had spent most of her life inland, and the ocean was still a sweet pleasure to her. Once she had reached the dock, she rented the use of a small, single-person dory and a lantern. The fisherman knew Jemma, and the old woman's excuse that "there were certain seaweeds that I need to harvest after dark for my work" was accepted without question. Not for the first time, Jemma was glad that she had been born with the gift of Healing and had chosen to follow the goddess. Eccentricities went unquestioned in Blessers.
known antidote for snakebite.
The sun was gone now, though the stars had yet to appear. The ships anchored in the harbor bore lit lamps, and for now it was enough for Jemma to see by. She rowed out onto the velvety black waters of the Ver ocean. There were always plenty of fishing boats crowding the harbor, and recently Jemma had noticed an increasing number of official military vessels.
The darkness grew, and the other ships dwindled as she left them behind, until the Healer's small lamp was the only real light at hand. The lanterns on the ships and the lights of the town were far away and looked like summer's glowflies. Finally, Jemma stopped when she felt she was a safe distance from the port. Then she fumbled for the anchor, tying a large bunch of sage securely around it. Grunting with the effort, Jemma heaved the anchor overboard. It splashed softly, then sank, the rope snaking into the water after it.
A few moments later, the rope moved, pulling taut. There came a sudden jerk, and then the little craft fairly skimmed along the water until it was a good half mile away from shore.
In the warm yellow light cast by the single candle in the lantern, the ocean rippled. A sleek, human-looking head broke the water's surface. Candlelight illuminated slanted eyes and pointed ears. In daylight, Jemma knew, the creature's hair would be dark green, like the color of seaweed, and his skin a pale blue. His eyes were emerald.
"You are lucky I am here," said the creature, in a voice as soft and soothing as the waves on the shore. "I was not expecting you tonight, my friend." He smiled, and the gesture lightened the solemnity of his wise face. He extended a strong, sleek arm and handed a bunch of seaweed to Jemma. The Healer carefully placed the ocean gift in the bottom of the boat.
"I may need you every night from now on, Darshirin," apologized Jemma. "The king has deciphered the code, and we will be in daily contact. He's holding up well, but he's frightened." "Of course," said Darshirin politely, though he knew little of the landspeople's politics.
"Give Damir this message, found at evening on Lisdae: 'I am fighting the good tight, holding my own against the Snake. But I need protection. I send love to Cimarys. We will celebrate together— contact Byrn.'"
Darshirin nodded his head and repeated the message verbatim. "Anything else?"
"Not for the present. Darshirin —I know it was unusual enough for you to trust Damir. I appreciate the trust you put in me, as well. I know the People of the Sea don't get involved with us land dwellers much—"
Darshirin, bobbing up and down on the waves, shook his head and gently lifted a webbed hand in a gesture of courteous denial. "I owe Damir my life. To help him where I can is nothing; and you share his good spirit. And to help bring about the downfall of the pirates," and his sea-soft voice now sounded like a crashing wave on the word he loathed, "we would do anything."
Jemma gazed at her friend with sympathy. The pirates, she knew, hunted the People of the Sea. Humans were almost as frightened of them as of the elves, these beautiful ocean inhabitants who could turn from human form to dolphin shape in a heartbeat. The pirates often sold the People of the Sea to greedy organizers of traveling shows. The pitiful creatures, floating listlessly in the
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