Chapter V:
Peril At Sea
When first the Serpent did they find,
Dalele left not a soul behind,
But bled red blood that they might be,
Saved from the master of the sea.
Three Spirits
'You always know more than you let on,' Folly complained as he sat atop the mainmast of the Fatewind. Death, standing upon nothing but the air itself, said nothing.
Old Man Sleep, also standing upon nothing, spoke saying, 'Together there are very few things we do not know. Yet what does knowledge avail us? For our steps our fixed from the beginning.'
'And whose steps are not?' Folly laughed. 'Whether you know your reasons or not, you have no more power than before.'
'So says Folly!' Sleep laughed gently.
'Enough,' Death whispered coldly. His black-cloaked arm stretched out from his side and pointed at Lord Pelas, who had just come out of his cabin to the deck. The other two spirits became silent in an instant.
Sleep sighed. 'It is the fourth night that he has forgone sleep,' he confessed. Folly's head pricked up and, grasping his robes between his fists he descended to the deck, landing without a sound beside the son of Parganas.
'Then he is mine!' Folly chuckled happily, 'and then after that-' his smile thinned and he looked up at the menacing form of black Death. 'He is mine now,' he said with a nod.
Lightning tore through the air, and Death stood between him and his prey.
'You would not rob me of my due, brother?' Folly laughed.
Death said nothing, but remained still, as if he were guarding Pelas.
Sleep, finally taking the form of an old man cloaked in gray, approached his brothers hurriedly. 'It is not fitting that we should be at odds one with another.'
'And why not?' Folly said, seeming to regain his joyfulness despite Death's intrusion upon his entertainment. 'Shall you impugn the Decree? Shall you question the Power?' Folly's voice was filled with a fierceness Death could scarcely have matched. But before either of his brothers could reply he burst into a grin and bellowed an embarrassing laugh.
'You know what I mean,' Sleep said sourly.
'Into the hands of Sleep near every man must pass, save those who perish at their mother's breast ere their first night falls. Into your hands,' Death said, turning toward Folly, 'fall only those who have forsaken Wisdom, whether through strong drink, through sorrow or through happenstance-'
Folly laughed even harder, repeating Death's words, 'happenstance!'
Death was unbothered by his mockery. 'Into my hands every soul must pass.'
'What of the Guarantor?' Sleep said with awe.
'What do you mean?' Death said, almost sounding troubled - he was disappointed at the very least.
'Together,' Sleep said with a nod, as if he was just now confirming what he had said before, 'we know many things. But on our own we are not so very different from these mortals in our knowledge.'
Folly snorted, 'Indeed, we are so VERY much like them!'
Death made no reply, but it was clear that, in this case at least, his attitude was closer to that of Folly's than that of Sleep.
'Your power shall not be usurped, brother,' Sleep said, smiling at Folly and putting a kind hand upon his shoulder.
Death met this news with all the somberness of the grave itself, saying, 'Let it be according to the Decree.'
'Moreover,' Sleep said, 'concerning our knowledge: There is no need for you two to duel over this man. He shall be touched by Folly once more this night, even as he was touched when he faced the emissaries of the Tower. But Death shall not so much as strike down a rat upon this ship tonight.'
'For the girl again?' Folly whined.
'Her fate must be made such as has been Decreed,' Sleep said.
Folly spat, but Death grinned. 'Tonight is your night, brother,' he said to Folly, stepping out of his way and vanishing into the air as he did so.
Sleep nodded to his brother and faded into nothingness as well. Folly put his hands together and looked at Pelas thoughtfully. Jarot stood at the elf's side, telling him many legends of the Serpent, none of which were true, but all of which might easily bring the ship to be wrecked by the monster's fury. 'The white haired one scarcely needs any prodding at all,' Folly mused within himself. 'He is a natural madman - if ever there was such a thing. But this Pelas; his is a rare mind. The spirit reached out and touched the brow of Pelas, saying in a voice unbearable, 'If you had credited the tales of the Snakilman before, then now you shall believe them with all your heart.' Then he smiled, 'Death shall not have you, I think. You are mine; for now and for an age at least.'
The Storm
It is the way of the world, from time to time, to play tricks on the wills of men. Thus it was only when Pelas had at last forsaken the chase, and elected to return to Grenost that the path to the Serpent opened up.
They sailed almost due east under the direction of Jarot for nearly a week, but with no sign of their prey. Jarot's 'bones' told him a great many things, it seemed, and Pelas listened to each sensation as though it were the prophecy of a seer. He fed the old man from his own table and gave him fine clothing to wear. These honors seemed to inspire the man all the more to strange intuitions and foretellings, until even Oblis came to regard the man as a charlatan and a deceiver. But none dared speak such things to their lord. Pelas had proven himself to be in possession of a short temper and great wrath.
Seven Knariss sailors had been hung for stealing women from one of the Lakil villages. Pelas would hear nothing of their defense, though even the women themselves pleaded for an audience. That his servants would use this fateful voyage of his as a means to satisfy their own lusts and ambitions was more than he could tolerate. Another three sailors, one of them an elf, were locked away for six months because they questioned an order given by Bralohi.
Thus the crew of the Dadiiron could do nothing but clench their teeth to hold back their curses and criticisms - except for Falruvis, whose devotion to Pelas grew stronger in proportion to the praise his master showered upon him.
Bralohi was torn between affection and fear concerning his master. He still remembered how lost and naive Pelas had been when first he stumbled with his brother into the swamplands of Alwan. But Pelas' fierce trust in his Fate above all else made him fearful, both for Pelas and for himself. 'It was a hasty oath I swore, when I promised to serve him,' he told his brother Kolohi. 'And I was but half serious.'
He paused for a moment, as though he might find some ground for abandoning his loyalty on the ground that his oath was not given but in jest. But he knew that it would be naught but deceit to attempt such a thing. 'Regardless,' he resigned himself, 'I am already embarked on a journey; it is too late to turn aside.'
Of all Pelas' servants Bralohi was the most loyal and passionate. But this was more the result of his own fears, both for Pelas and his own safety, than it was for love. The only elves who truly bore such loyalty toward Pelas were Falruvis, Cheru and Oblis, the first on account of his pride, the second on account of his own viciousness and the last on account of his stupidity. The rest of his servants were his servants out of fear, in the case of the mortals, or for the sake of honor, as it was with the elves.
What patience his men had almost broke apart when Jarot, hoisting his moistened finger into the air and shouting, 'To the south! To the south!' led them into a hurricane.
Alsley clambored over the bulwark and swung upon a rope from the Dadiiron to the Fatewind to speak to Pelas face to face.
'My lord!' he said politely but fearfully.
'Speak, friend,' Pelas said, nodding at the Knariss sailor.
'I have seen seas like this before,' he explained. There is a storm coming,' he said without a hint of doubt in his voice. The two stood near the edge of the Fatewind's deck, both soaked from the spray of water that rained over the deck.
'You have risked these waves to tell me what I, ha
ving sailed far longer than you, already know?' Pelas asked, incredulous.
'But my lord,' Alsley said, suddenly realizing that there was nothing to be reasoned out. Lord Pelas had made his decision.
'According to the Snakil,' Pelas said, almost shouting to be heard over the wind, 'The Serpent makes such storms when it rises to breathe.'
'Is this true?' Alsley asked, looking over Pelas' shoulder at Jarot, who looked far fatter and healthier than he had been when he was rescued.
Jarot grinned, but said nothing. If his own life were not imperiled, Alsley would have accused him of conspiring against them, and trying to lead them to the grave. He was not convinced that this was not the case, though what motives the Snakilman might have he could not hope to guess.
'My lord,' Alsley attempted one last protest, 'it may be that this storm is the Serpent's doing. And perhaps it is not. Either way, a ship should not sail into it.'
'Do you fear death?' Pelas laughed. 'You, who carry death upon your shoulder. You are a mortal; you are already dying - today, tomorrow, ten years. You cannot choose to live forever, as we elves may, but you can choose the manner in which you live.'
'I do not fear death,' Alsley said almost too quietly to be heard. 'But, being mortal, as you say, I am close to it at every moment, and I know enough of it to understand that it ought not be sought instead of life.'
'I do not seek death, Alsley,' Pelas said sternly, with signs of impatience in his voice. 'I seek Glory. And Glory is not to be found save on the very threshold of Death's dominion. Besides,' and he looked up into the heavens as if he spoke to the wind itself, 'Death has no power but what Fate gives him.'
The Serpent
With unwavering courage, or Folly as his servants saw it, Pelas led his fleet into a storm such as few sailors live to recount. Lightning tore through the air, leaping and rushing around the ships, bringing thunder so loud that they thought the very sound of it would rend their ships asunder. The warships spun and dipped, sliding down the slopes of great waves and then rising anew in an instant upon what seemed like mountains of water. They were tossed about like leafs in a whirlwind, sometimes almost sinking beneath the surface, and other times leaving the water altogether only to come crashing down upon the surface, wood creaking, men shouting and the wind drowning out every other sound.
'To the south!' Jarot continued to bellow, as if the sailors could do aught but cling to the ropes and pray to the heavens for their lives. But when the night had passed, the ships emerged from the storm into an area of great calm. The wind still swirled about them, and thunder and lightning still tore the sky, but with the rising of the sun they saw the Serpent.
It's great head rose from the water slowly - at least, so it seemed. As the ships drew nearer to the monster they could see that it was not moving slowly at all, but its massive size, even at its great speed, made it seem as though its every motion were retarded. But when at last it came crashing down into the sea, the enormous waves that followed it revealed that this was no lumbering brute. Every sailor came up on the deck, and every man stared in awe at the monster.
It's head alone was the size of two entire warships. The head was covered in scales; not the scales of a fish, but the tough armor of a lizard. Its red snakelike eyes were the size of the archway of Ijjan's palace, cold and unfeeling. The men stared at those glowing red orbs in terror, as if the beast would turn and look at them at any moment. But the monster gave no sign that it had even noticed their warships. Upon the crest of its head there was series of great spikes, rising into the sky like a crown of towers. It's jaw was stronger than a mountain, and when it opened to fill the creature's lungs it pulled everything toward the monster. A stream of hot steam rose from its nostrils, and when he exhaled, the steam filled the air like the morning mist in a river valley.
When the Serpent dove beneath the water, its back arching above its head as it plunged below, spine after spine seemed to march in succession, revealing to the elves that those towering spikes they saw upon the monster's head continued all the way down its back.
'One of those spines could split a ship in twain,' Amro said, marveling at the beast's might.
'We will die,' Dalia said quietly, as one who had forsaken all hope.
'Not if we turn away before the monster sees us,' Ghastin said.
'We will not turn away,' Falruvis said, trying very hard to sound as though he was not afraid. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted to the Fatewind, 'Master Pelas! What shall we do?'
Pelas started as one awakened from a deep slumber. His hands gripped the rails so tightly that his fingers had turned almost completely white.
Jarot stood at his side, awe upon his face. His madness seemed to have been tempered by the sight of the monster. 'So this is what you have become,' he said softly. No one understood him, and no one had the time to ask him for his meaning. Under his breath he muttered, 'My son, my son, my son!'
'Harpoons!' Pelas shouted. 'Harpoons! Ready the harpoons!' Sink them deep into the monster's flesh! Bind him and haul him to the shore!'
The warships began to deftly encircle the place where the Serpent descended. The water still swirled and raged to fill the space left by the diving beast. Men rushed about the decks, shouting and cursing as they prepared to make their assault upon the monster.
The Serpent rose from the water, its cold eyes looking upon the ships almost with curiosity. This changed in a flash when Pelas, taking three leaping steps, hurled a great javelin through the air, piercing the monster just below the jaw. The harpoons were fired next, pinning great cords into the beast's scaly flesh. Some of these missiles glanced aside upon the tough skin of the Serpent, but others, passing between the scales, pierced soft flesh. Blood poured from the wounds and the monster shook with rage. The harpoons were bound with strong ropes to the ships, and as the monster flailed about the sailors could feel their ships reel and and rock. More harpoons shot into the beast, until there were sixteen ropes binding the Serpent to the fleet.
The Serpent, its eyes wide with terror, plunged beneath the surface, pulling hard at the ships. But the resistance was more than the beast seemed to have expected. It bobbed upon the surface of the water like a log.
'Fate shines upon us, men!' Pelas shouted. 'Nay! I call you not men, but heroes, every one of you!'
Bralohi began a cheer, and soon the whole fleet rang with the sound of praise. The Monster of the Sea was ensnared and entangled. Aboard the Dadiiron the mood was not any less elevated. Even Amro broke into a smile, marveling at the fact that Pelas could have succeeded so easily.
Cheru's celebrations nearly brought him over the edge of the deck into the swirling waters.
Oblis cheered, but it was clear that, for once, he had seen what others had not. 'Why the cheering?' he thought within his thick skull, 'The monster is not yet dead.'
This was noticed in greater detail by Ghastin and Dalia, who had been eyeing the celebrations with suspicion. Neither of them had it within them to clap and holler the praises of Pelas, Ghastin because he cared for no one save his own close kin, and Dalia because her separation from her beloved hung upon her like a storm cloud, always darkening the sky under which she stood.
Ghastin shook his head, 'If ever there was a proof that the gods care not for us, it is this!'
'What is "this?"' Dalia asked, 'For "this" admits of many interpretations.'
Ghastin smirked, 'True enough. This joy. This reveling. If there were gods, would they truly shine upon Pelas of all men? I still remember-' he stopped speaking abruptly, realizing that Dalia did not know that her mother had been taken to Ilvas as little better than a captive.
'What is it?' she asked. 'What do you remember?' She was suddenly as interested in her kinsman as she was in the hulking sea monster that was yet tethered to their ship.
'Nothing. Forget about it Dalele.' He turned away from her and leaned miserably over the railing.
'Ghastin,' she began, but whe
n she saw his furrowed brow and sorrowful eyes she cut her words short. She looked out into the water.
There, just more than a bowshot away she saw a great spike crest the surface of the water. 'No, there can't be more of them!' she said in disbelief. But as she looked out over the water she saw that it was not a new monster, but simply the hindquarters of the very Serpent Pelas now strove against. She watched in disbelief as the great Serpent's body passed beneath the Dadiiron, its tall spikes barely missing the hull as it passed. The great length of its body was beyond anything she could have imagined. Though the Serpent cut through the water faster than any boat it still took more than a minute for the very end of the beast to vanish beneath the hull.
'Ghastin!' she screamed.
'What is it Dalele?' Ghastin said, looking at her with frustration.
'The Serpent! It is bigger than we could have dreamed. It will drag us all to the darkest depths!'
Ghastin looked into the water and beheld the Serpents gigantic body coiling beneath its head as it prepared to use all of its might to bury itself beneath the waves. It was smart enough at least, it seemed, to know that the deep water was safe from its assailants.
'Cut the ropes!' Dalia cried out, as if she now commanded the Dadiiron and Fatewind alike. 'Sever the ties to the Serpent! Release it! It is about to dive!'
'Madness!' Falruvis thundered, 'Stupid woman! Get below; this fleet is not yours to command. You sow discord! You cannot-'
Falrvuis stopped in mid-sentence as he too became aware of the monster's intentions. 'Cut the lines!' he bellowed, abandoning his pride in an effort to retain his very life. In an instant the Dadiiron's cords were severed and the ship was free of the monster. Falruvis then turned his ship about and, circling the Serpent, began to warn the other captains. Some obeyed without delay while others looked to Pelas for their orders. Soon all but Pelas' own ship were cut free. The Fatewind alone remained bound to the Serpent, its crew torn between the ire of their captain and the ire of the beast.
'What can we do?' Dalia asked Ghastin fearfully.
'Rejoice, Dalele, like all the others,' Ghastin answered.
'But the Fatewind!' she said, shaking her head.
'There is nothing to be done,' he replied. 'We would sooner slay the monster with our teeth than make Lord Pelas see reason.'
'But if we do nothing he will be brought down with the monster!'
Ghastin made no response, either in word or in expression. Dalia took it to mean that he thought it would be just as well if things happened as she had said. As they spoke, the Dadiiron drew up alongside the Fatewind. Ghastin growled and cursed, grabbing from the deck a harpoon and line. He threw the harpoon from the Dadiiron to the Fatewind, lodging the spike into the center of the deck, much to the surprise of its crew. He then leaped from the Dadiiron and swung over to the Fatewind, rappelling up the starboard side of its hull. Not knowing his intentions, Bralohi quickly helped him over the bulwark and onto the deck. 'What is it, Ghastin? What is the meaning of this?'
Ghastin made no reply, but grabbed the sword from Bralohi's hilt and ran to the other side of the ship where the lines still bound the Fatewind to the Serpent. He cut three of them loose and cast the sword spiraling through the air to cut the ship free from its final cord.
Pelas leaped from the aft castle in a fury. 'How dare you?' he cried, bellowing as though Ghastin had slain his only child rather than merely cutting a few lengths of rope.
Before he could get his hands on Ghastin, Cheru and Oblis were present, pummeling him with all the hatred they could muster. It is a terror, they say, to be present when the patience of an immortal comes to an end. They beat his face until it was covered with blood, breaking his nose and cracking his ribs. In a moment Amro was there on the deck of the Fatewind, pulling them away from his brother with great anger. He threw Oblis against the bulwark where he crashed to the deck senselessly. Cheru drew his blade, but Amro slashed at it with his own sword, severing the sword with his dwarf-steel blade as though it were made of cheese. Cheru stared at him in a rage, but dared not fight him unarmed.
Amro immediately turned his full attention to Ghastin, checking his wounds and looking intently upon his injured face. Fury seemed to come over him in flashes, but he did not leave his brother's side.
'Pelas!' came the voice of Falruvis, flying over the water with great urgency. 'The Serpent dives, and we must flee!'
Pelas and his crew finally seemed to comprehend the reason behind Ghastin's deed as they watched the Serpent dive beneath the water with the strength of a thousand gods in his neck, and all the bulk of the earth following in his train. Spine after spine, each set nearly twenty feet apart, passed above the water and sank once more as the Serpent pushed itself into the deep places of the sea, where no mortal or immortal would dare to go. Bralohi marveled as he counted thirty-five spikes altogether. 'The beast must be the better part of a thousand feet long!' he whispered to himself, awestruck. 'It will take a fleet of five hundred ships to hold this monster at the surface.'
Trial
With a great effort of both will and skill, Pelas drew his fleet away from the Serpent. At its departure the sea grew still once again, and the storm vanished without a trace, almost as if it had, itself, been dragged into the depths with the Serpent. The sailors cheered and roared, shouting thanks and praise to the Dadiiron. But this was cut short when an order was given by Pelas to, 'Take the Dadiiron and its crew under your power, Bralohi!'
'My lord?' Bralohi said with horror in his voice.
'They have turned against me; for good or ill, such deeds cannot be tolerated upon the sea,' Pelas explained.
'But Lord Pelas-' Bralohi began, but Pelas cut him short with a wrathful glance.
'You have already questioned me,' he said shortly. 'Shall this continue perpetually, or will you learn to accept your master's reasons.
'There was a day when your life was in my hands,' Bralohi thought, but he said, 'Yes, my lord,' accepting that his master would not budge. He turned from Pelas and began giving orders to his men, to prepare a crew for boarding.
The Dadiiron gave no resistance; Ghastin was already bound and beaten. Amro made no protest, though none dared to actually put his arms in chains. Even Falruvis was put under guard and brought over the planks onto the Fatewind while Aebral was given command over his ship with a crew gleaned from the other ships. Every man, from Alsley the first mate of Falruvis down to the ship's cook, was placed in chains and locked away beneath the deck.
For three days they remained below, until Pelas was ready to oversea their trials. Dalia was brought before him first, while his rage was yet at its height. After three days in the black darkness below decks, the light of the noonday sun stung her eyes, blinding her. Pelas appeared radiant, seated before the aft castle with the sun shining on his white tunic. He looked to her prison darkened eyes like the god he would someday think himself to be. At his side sat Bralohi and, standing in rows, twelve armed guards. She was brought before him and forced to her knees. 'Remain silent,' she was told. After a while Pelas rose from his seat and took one purposeful step toward her.
'You understand,' he said coldly, 'that in war men must obey without fail. The whole endeavor is senseless if the captain cannot rely upon his servants to do as he wills. You think too highly of yourself, daughter of Dalta!'
She opened her mouth as if to speak, but Pelas cut her off. 'Moreover, you did not merely dishonor and disobey a lord of Sunlan, but you also led others - even my whole fleet, to follow you in your rebellion. Were you a man, I would cut off your head where you kneel.' Dalia's face turned pale, but she made no reply; her thoughts seemed distant, though her peril was quite immanent.
'My lord,' Bralohi began, shifting in his seat.
Pelas turned struck Bralohi upon the cheek with the back of his hand, sending him to topple backwards over his chair. The elf rolled to his feet like a cat prepared to pounce, but he regained control of his passions. He touched his knee
to the deck and said, 'Forgive me, my lord.'
Pelas looked around at the doubtful faces of his crew.
'Send her below!' Pelas bellowed. 'We will continue her trial on the morrow.'
The Good Servant
The ships sailed on through the night while Pelas and Bralohi held council with Aebral present and several other elf captains. Pelas' cabin was lit by three bright lanterns, each hanging above his table. Their light was steady, but the motions of the ship bent the shadows back and forth as the ocean demanded. On the table was a disordered jumble of papers, some of which were maps and charts, while others were various legal documents. Pelas brought their attention to the passages which spoke of the absolute authority of the ship's captain. 'You know the disorder that can come of a disobedient servant,' Pelas said. 'And you also know how magnified such disorder can become while at sea.'
'But my lord,' Bralohi said, not afraid of angering his master. It was generally, he was beginning to understand, when Pelas was questioned in public that his wrath would so violently manifest itself. In private he could at least explain himself. 'Truly the daughter of your servant Dalta has done well by you, saving not only your fleet, but your own ship and life. You understand this, my lord. How then can you condemn her - for would that not be to condemn your own soul to the depths?'
'It is true that she saved us all,' Pelas acknowledged. 'But such is the reasoning of every dissenter. Every man who turns upon his master does so because he judges his own counsel to be the greater. Where shall it end, Bralohi, save in perpetual license? Who shall then judge when a man must serve or when a man must make his own way?'
'But for what end all this obedience? Why should they obey?'
'I have said already, and I will only repeat myself once,' Pelas said impatiently. 'To allow this sort of rebellion, saying, "It is for the best," is to allow all rebellion. For men know only their own wills; how then shall they judge what is whim and what is heroic? No, the whole order of things depends upon the obedience of servants to their masters.'
'And the whole order of things depends, also, upon the survival of masters. Dalele might have obeyed, and even now we would be lost in the cavernous belly of the Serpent. Or she might have saved her own life, and been free of her master altogether. But she chose rebellion over that loss - she spared your life, for her master is of greater worth to her than her own reputation. Which is the more loyal servant? He who sacrifices his master and his mission for the sake of honor, or he who, sacrificing honor, saves master and mission alike?'
Pelas sat in silence for a moment as he considered Bralohi's words.
'Nonetheless,' he said, as he looked down at the pages on the table. 'Law is not law for being open to discussion and exception. She shall not die, for she is kin to lord Dalta, and a woman. But she shall not serve me either. This is the gift I shall give to her. She shall not be part of my crew, and she shall have no part in our victory - but I shall spare her life.'
The Servant's Rights
The next morning Dalia was brought once again before Lord Pelas, who was all the more impatient for presiding once again over the very same trial. Again the bright sun pained her eyes as she was escorted to Pelas' chair. He began to speak without waiting for her to regain her composure, and he spoke with no hint of feeling or emotion, as if what he said had been written already.
'Dalele, Dalta's daughter, like a comet your time has been, lighting the sky for your glory. But like a comet it burns too fast, and is gone as soon as it passes. You have usurped the power of your master, be your reasons what they may, and such a servant is no servant. As such I forbid you to serve aboard any ship that I command, or any ship that belongs to the kingdom of Sunlan or that is under the dominion of Ijjan. You shall be returned to Sunlan in safety, however, for the mercy of Lord Pelas is great and deep.'
At those words she made as though she might protest, but as she fully digested their meaning, her legs gave out and she fell to the deck in anguish of spirit. There was not a soul present who could look upon her without pity. 'Thuruvis!' she moaned beneath her hair and through her hands, clawing at her face in sorrow. 'Thuruvis!' she cried again, still hunched over, clutching her hair in her hands.
A whisper rose up among the witnesses, who had been called upon to watch the trial. 'The rights?' they asked, not realizing she had called the name of her lover, and not demanded justice.
'She calls for the rights?' another sailor marveled. Pelas turned to Bralohi, who was as amazed as the others.
'I cannot,' Pelas insisted.
'Yet you must, my lord,' Bralohi replied, liking it no more than his master. 'It is the law,' he said, not feeling it prudent or necessary to add, 'and the law is not law for being open to discussion and exception.'
'Send her below!' Pelas ordered again. 'Get her out of my sight!'
Her eyes had scarcely adapted to the light of day when she was plunged once again into darkness. She was brought back to the other prisoners and passed carefully into the arms of Amro, who had risen to meet her.
'What happened?' he asked, concerned with her quick return. 'It has not been half an hour since they took you.'
'Hush,' she said, waiting for the guard to close and lock the door. 'The rights! what are the rights?'
'What do you mean?' Amro asked bewildered. 'What rights? You don't mean - Dalele! You did not claim the rights of the Servant!?'
'Tell me,' Dalia said desperately.
'If you do not know, then I shall not tell you - not until we return to Sunlan.'
'Then I shall cast myself into the sea, if ever these bonds are removed from my hands,' she said without any insincerity. Amro looked around in the dark room frantically, as if he might, not being able to escape the cell, escape the conversation at least. At last he cursed, and looked straight into her eyes.
'The rights of the Servant,' he began, 'is an old code, scarcely remembered except among the sailors of the Knariss. From them it passed into the customs of the Sunlan elves. If a man is falsely accused, he can choose to submit to fifty lashes with a scourge.'
She looked at him with a puzzled expression. 'Why would-' she started, and then turned toward the door. She lifted her trembling hand to knock, but hesitated, turning again toward Amro. 'What happens after the scourging, Amro?'
'If,' he spoke slowly and with pleading, as if his tone by itself would deter her, 'IF,' he emphasized again, 'IF the servant lives, he is vindicated, even if he was guilty.'
She turned and pounded upon the door, calling out, this time in truth, 'The Rights! I demand the Rights!'