Chapter Twenty
ALTHOUGH Gwenay believed her efforts to save Felic from dying would be futile, she nevertheless worked for hours cleaning and binding his wounds. He regained consciousness the next day. He was burning with fever and his brain was muddled with delirium. She tried to get him to take food, but he was refighting his battle in the clouded and warped regurgitations of his memory. She kept his lips moistened and his brow cooled, talking to him constantly, trying to pull him into the present. Beyond that she was helpless. Toward evening he calmed down, drank a few swallows of water, then lapsed into a troubled sleep that lasted another full day.
Gwenay was sleeping beside him, exhausted from her two-day vigil when he woke up. The excruciating pressure in his head tried to pound him back into unconsciousness and he fought it with an involuntary moan. Gwenay was instantly awake.
"Felic?...Felic, can you hear me?"
His answer was a weak croak.
She laid her hand on his forehead. "Your fever is better, but you must be in terrible pain."
He worked his lips for a moment, forming silent words. Then he found his voice, hoarse and shaky. "Head...bad..."
"Shh...don't try to talk. I know your head hurts. You are lucky to live through the terrible wounds they gave you. I want you to try to eat something. Can you?"
His moan was affirmative. She fixed him a mixture of finely chopped oysters stirred into raw gull eggs, then spooned it to him with difficulty. He could only eat a small amount. She tried giving him water with more success. He drank eagerly and fell back asleep. His breathing was steadier and stronger.
As the days went by Gwenay got more help from her eyes. Concurrently, as her vision improved, her fight to keep Felic alive grew less hopeless. In a few days she could see shadow shapes in the sunlight, and it was easier to find her way to and from the oyster bed. Oysters, along with eggs from the nests along the spit, became their main food source. The Gamollian reavers had stolen the food and wine stockpiled by the lean-to, but they left the water cask untouched. In their search for valuables, Sinnihun's men had scattered the utensils, bedding and clothing about, but there were enough things left behind to meet their needs.
When Felic regained enough strength to move about, he searched the islet for Chessa. When he returned exhausted, Gwenay sensed what he had been doing.
"Did you find her?" she asked.
"No."
"And you are relieved," she paused, "are you not?"
"Yes. If I had found her she would have been dead."
Gwenay made no comment. She turned away, looking blindly toward the distant peaks of Antillia.
"There is more snow on the mountains," Felic said, forgetting that she couldn't see them. "We will be having snow here before long."
"Yes. I was cold last night."
"'We must get to the mainland. We can't survive here."
"I know."
"Even though I don't feel up to it," he continued, "I must start building a raft. Our water is almost gone. We must cross the channel as soon as possible. The longer we wait, the more likelihood of being caught in a winter storm."
"Perhaps some of the Sun-Eagle could be salvaged for a raft," she suggested.
"We still have the foresail over the lean-to." Felic's face brightened. "I can cut a couple of young trees and rig a raft with a proper mast and yard."
During the next low tide, Felic waded out to where the charred fingers of the yacht's frames poked up from the bottom. The lower third of the hull was intact. The water that had leaked in after the storm and the rising tide had stopped the fire on both sides of the hull. Felic considered the possibilities. He could try to strip off enough planking to build a raft, or, there was a chance that he could float the bottom section of the hull and use it as a boat. Excited by the prospect, he pulled a half-burned doorpost from its base and used it as a lever to pry on the sole planking of the hold. Standing in the gutted hull, the water came up to his knees. He worked until he was able to pull a plank aside, exposing the keelson and the bilge. The effort left him trembling and nauseated, but what he saw delighted him. The ballast stones were of a size that he and Gwenay could handle.
* * * *
During the following days Gwenay worked along with him, taking the stones that were handed up into her hands and dropping them over the side. They worked at low tide, scheduling their times to sleep and to gather food accordingly. Felic's appetite grew as his strength returned. The routines of eat, sleep and work suited him and his body rebuilt its ravaged tissues, improving each day.
With the ballast removed the hulk lifted off the bottom at high tide. Felic was elated. He knew that in a few days they could have the water out and a sail rigged. They would beat the winter storms, but more important to Felic, it would be the beginning of a vengeance that was crowding all other feelings from his heart.
He sorted through the pile of planks that had been removed, looking for a straight-grained length from which he could fashion a steering oar. In prying up the planking, Felic had exposed the hidden chest. He thought of hiding it ashore, but he knew Gwenay could not see it, so he left it as it was.
A bright noon sun gave it away. Gwenay was resting, propped against the blackened remnant of the wall of the great cabin. A ray of sunlight found the silver surface and reflected into her eyes. There was a scant foot of water covering the chest. The ray of light from within the dark area fascinated her. She thought at first it was a reflection off the water, but when it came persistently from the same spot, she bent down to investigate.
Working across from her, Felic's attention was arrested by the unexpected way in which she reached directly into the water to touch the chest. She ran her fingers over the decoration, slowly at first, then with mounting excitement.
"Felic, I know what this is!"
He watched in mild consternation, but didn't answer.
"Felic... it is the gem! I know it is the gem!"
She waited for his response, expecting him to share her excitement, but he remained silent. When she spoke her voice was brittle. "How long have you kept this from me? How long have you known?" Her anger, repressed for so long, seethed to the surface. "Why was I not informed?" She rose to a half-crouch, her fists clenched and shaking. "Felic, I want answers!"
He began with a weary sigh. "Yes...you are right. It is the gem." He went on to tell her the circumstances of its discovery.
"But why was I not told?" she insisted.
"I do not have a good answer for that," Felic admitted. "I was concerned and confused about giving you the power--the power of the complete Qalandor. I'm not sure, even now."
Gwenay studied him as though he were more than just a blurred form, as though she were reading his expression. There passed a long interval in which neither spoke.
"You have done wrong," she said finally. She stooped and ran her fingers over the chest again. "Have you opened it?"
"Yes."
"Is the gem within?"
"It is."
She crossed over to stand before him. She traced the line of his lips with her fingertips. "Forgive my anger, Felic. You should be concerned--justly concerned. One woman with so great a power..." She left the sentence hanging and smoothed his beard, grown out curly and soft during his recovery. "It does not have to be that way. I would share everything with you...everything. You must believe that."
His breathing became deep and agitated.
"No, don't answer," she pressed her hands against his bare chest, "...sometimes I talk like a foolish girl. I know where your heart is. Let us get on with our work. We will get to Calix. And when we do I will outfit you for a journey of revenge-all the provisions and weapons you desire. That is what you want, is it not?"
"Yes, it is," he answered softly. "With your blinded eyes you see into my soul."
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