"Jeremy," she said. "Do something."
"Huh?"
"Do something. Get us back home. I don't care how you do it."
"Hey, we're trying, Melanie."
"You're not trying hard enough. If this up and down stuff goes on any longer, I'm going to puke all over the compartment."
"Don't get it on the controls, please!"
"Jeremy, it's going to go all over the place. I'm sick, Jeremy. It's coming up. I can feel it."
Jeremy made a face. "Oh, God, please don't. I can't stand it when that happens. Makes me wanna puke, too."
"Then do something, Jeremy. You're supposed to be a genius."
"Wait, I have an idea," Isis said. "Jeremy, you were taking readings on the location of the magical disturbance shortly before you took the ship out, weren't you?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Why don't we use the ship's sensors to detect the spell from non-space? That would give us the vector parameters for home, wouldn't it?"
Jeremy snapped his fingers. "It would if you recorded the readings for me to calibrate the sensors with."
Isis smiled. "I did, Jeremy. I automatically record everything you do at the work station. The buffer has it all."
"Great! Isis, I love you."
"Jeremy, darling!"
The two embraced as the ground rushed up yet again. Melanie screamed, "We are going to fucking crash if you people don't get on the stick!"
"Sorry!" Isis said and swiveled toward the control panel. She hit the thruster just in the nick of time. The Voyager slipped back into the temporary safety of non-space. Melanie nearly fainted.
"One thing," Jeremy said. "Those coordinates, the ones pinpointing the disturbance, could be anywhere in the castle. We'll materialize there. It could be a broom closet, for all we know. We have enough trouble landing in the graving dock, which is, like, huge."
"We will be cutting it very close, Jeremy dear. But if we get our entry velocity down as close to zero as we possibly can, we'll have a very good chance of making it with minimum casualties."
"That's going to take some fancy math," Jeremy said.
"Math is our business," Isis said brightly. "Now, dear, let's get to work. We have only forty-five seconds left before we have to dip back into normal space again."
"Right. Boost your clock speed to five hundred megahertz."
"Done, dearest Jeremy."
Melanie rolled her eyes. Minimum casualties. Wonderful. Suddenly realizing that the Gooch brothers hadn't uttered a peep in some time, Melanie looked back.
They were fast asleep.
BAY SHORE
The strand was deserted. The great ships were gone, but men had left their signs everywhere. Here a sandal, there a piece of armor; elsewhere a broken blade, already painted in verdigris, a blue-green shard in the sand. There were other things: abandoned fire pits; discarded articles of clothing, sun-bleached rags. More, much more. The shore was littered with refuse.
He walked by the edge of the water, snorting and sniffing. The water smelled fishy, brackish. He climbed a dune and bent to nibble beach grass. It was salty, otherwise tasteless. There was not much to eat and he was hungry. Sand flies tickled him, and he swished his tail absently.
The day had dawned clear. There had been no men about since the night before. They were all gone. He did not miss them much.
Not at all, in fact.
But now he again heard the voices of men. He turned his maned head to look.
Two men approached. They looked not unlike the other men, but wore different dress. More colorful.
"What a beauty this one is!"
"A white stallion, like the others. Why do you think they left them?"
"Who knows? Why did they leave so suddenly?"
"We beat them off, that's why! Here now, fellow. Easy, easy."
One of them petted him. He didn't quite like that. But he let a looped rope be put over his head and around his neck.
"Easy, boy. Gods, what a horse! Spirited, but wellbroken. Perfect."
"Big one. Too big for the saddle I've got."
"Oh? So, you won't mind if I take him."
"What? I saw him first."
"You just said your saddle isn't big enough."
"To hell with that. He's mine."
"Here, now. There may be others."
"Or there may not be. He's mine, I tell you."
"Shove off."
"You shove off! Oh, so it's going to be that way, eh?"
"You don't want to go up against me."
"Don't make me laugh. I'll slit you from gills to gullet before you can-"
"Hold off, you two!"
Another man, this one shorter but with a voice that seemed to carry more authority.
"Sheathe those swords! Now!"
"Yes, Sir."
"Where did this one come from?"
"Just wandering about like the others, sir."
"A fine specimen. The best of the lot. I'll relieve you of it, subaltern."
Reluctantly, "Yes, Sir. Very good, sir."
"What a magnificent horse! A gift of the gods, in honor of our victory. It must be so."
"Very likely, sir."
"Yes, yes. The Arkadians wouldn't have left anything so beautiful, so valuable."
The new man slapped his rump.
"The Arkadians didn't have much to leave behind, did they, boy? Except their dead." He laughed. "And now, with their war chests depleted, we'll take to raiding their coasts and plundering their towns at our leisure. Won't we, boy?"
Another slap on the rump, another burst of laughter: Weasel.
"You two take the other horses back. Put them in the palace stable."
"Not in your personal stable, sir?"
"Don't be absurd. All these animals are the property of His Majesty. Now, do as I tell you. I'll take this one to the palace myself."
"Yes, sir."
The first two left. The one remaining stroked his neck lovingly.
"Yes, you'll stay in the royal stables, but you're mine. I'll ride you down the main street of Mykos. You'll have new armor, burnished like the sun, and a new war mantle. No dragging chariots for you, my fine fellow. I'll be sitting on you when we watch them lop off old Anthaemion's head."
He was led away.
Yeah, right. You don't know it, pal, but you are going to get yours. Tonight.
The stables smelled bad but he didn't mind so much. The hay was good, what little there was of it. At midday, oats was served. It was tasty. But as the day wore on, the stable hands seemed to slack off. They missed the evening feed altogether. They were falling-down drunk by then.
There was much jubilation in the city. Voices were raised in triumphant shouts. He heard singing, much singing, heard crowds move about. He saw women run by; then, men running after them with hungry smiles on their faces.
Night fell, and the celebration went on. The citadel rang with laughter and song. A thousand lamps blazed up on the acropolis, where choruses sang hymns of thanks to the gods. Elsewhere there was feasting and drinking. Much drinking. Bonfires lit up the night.
There was a bay roan filly at the other end of the stable. She smelled good to him and he wanted to get to know her. But there was work to do. Later. Later that night. Besides, he must remember who he was and what he was.
The dead of night arrived. The city was quiet. Voices had stilled and the fires were embers now and all the lamps had gone out on the acropolis.
A dog barked, far away. A wind had come up, sounding over the unmanned walls of the citadel. Most of the lookouts had drunk themselves into a stupor. Most of the city's soldiery were sprawled in their wives' or lovers' beds, or in the stables, or in the gutter.