"I am cursed by our gods," I told him, "like your Neuri. And Hypereides will not believe us."
"Behold," Oior said, and drew the dagger from his belt. "Apia's prayer is scribed along the blade. It will send him to his grave, and I will heap stones upon it. Then he cannot return unless the stones are taken away. Will you look?"
I said, "Suppose I look and see nothing? Will you believe me?"
"You will not see nothing." Oior pointed to the crescent moon. "There is Artimpasa. You will see her in his eyes, or Apia's black wolf. Then you will know."
"But if I do not see," I insisted, "will you believe me?"
Oior nodded. "You are my friend. I will believe."
"Then I will look."
"Good!" He rose smiling. "Come with me. I will take you to the other bowmen. I will say, 'Here is Latro, friend to the Sons of Scoloti, friend to Oior, enemy to all that is evil.' I will speak the names, and you will take each by the hand and look into his eyes."
"I understand."
"The rest will be listening to the man in chains, but the bowmen do not listen, because this talk is like the cackling of geese to us. Come, it is not far, and I know the path."
It was not easy to see the way in the moonlight, for there was in fact no path, though Oior moved as readily as if there were. He was five strides or more ahead of me when an arm circled my throat.
CHAPTER XI-In the Grip of the Neurian
I fell backward, half-strangled. For an instant there was a long knife, its point at my chest; perhaps its owner hesitated for fear his blade would pierce his own heart.
Steel flashed and he cried out, his lips near my ear. Oior was rushing back toward us. I was flung to one side. As I drew breath, I heard bone snap-a horrible sound, but a joyful one because the bone was not mine.
When I got to my feet, Oior was wiping his dagger on the hair at his belt, and the bowman who had watched the prisoners lay dead, his head twisted to one side.
"Thank you," I gasped. "Thank you, Oior."
If he heard me, he gave no sign; his dagger cleaned to his satisfaction, he plunged it back into its sheath.
Louder I said, "Thank you, Oior. We were friends already; now we are friends forever."
He shrugged. "A lucky throw. If not… Indeed, the goddess was in it."
"I have no money, except for what you gave me. But I will tell Hypereides. He will reward you, I'm sure."
Oior shook his head. "As you are my friend, Latro, do not tell. To the men of this land, the Sons of Scoloti and the Neuri are one. This would bring dishonor upon all. Go to the fire. Hear the man in chains. I will dig a place here for this Neurian with his own knife and pile it with stones so he cannot rise. Tomorrow he will be here, and we will not."
"I understand," I said. "Oior, even what you did-I'm afraid I may forget. But we are friends forever. Tell me."
He held his dagger out to me and with his free hand drew the bow from his bowcase. "Put your hand on my bow," he said. "Put your hand on my dagger. So we swear."
I did as he asked, and he pointed dagger and bow toward the moon. "More than brothers," he pronounced. "Though I die."
"More than brothers," I replied, "though I die."
"When you forget, I will tell you, Latro," he said, "and then you will remember. Go now."
I gathered up the trenchers and cups, and turned to say good-bye to him. I wish I had not, and perhaps I will write of that later, when I find words to tell of what was, perhaps, only a trick of the moonlight.
Afterward I ran, and I had nearly reached the fire when I heard shouts and groans. A party of sailors was carrying something along the beach. Those who had been sitting about the fire rose and went to them, and I went too.
Blood still seeped from the dead man's ragged wounds. I turned aside from the sight, and the sailors from the fire crowded around him. In truth, I was thankful I could see him no longer.
Hypereides and the kybernetes pushed through to look at him. I heard the kybernetes ask where he had been found, and someone said, "At the edge of the water, sir."
The kybernetes must have felt the dead man's hair, though I did not see him do it. "And dripping wet. Washed up. He went for a swim at an unlucky time, I'm afraid. I've seen things pulled from the sea-" If he finished the thought, I did not hear him.
Hypereides said, "You, there. Go to the ship. There's a roll of sailcloth in the supplies. Cut off a piece big enough to wrap him in."
A sailor darted away.
The black man appeared beside me, asking by signs whether I had seen the dead man, or whether I knew what had befallen him; I could not be sure which. I shook my head.
Hypereides shouted, "We need an altar, and fast! Get to it, the rest of you. Pile up these rocks. Right here's as good a place as any."
I think the sailors were happy to have work to do. The altar seemed almost to lift itself from the ground, a heap of stones as high as my waist, as long as my outstretched arms and nearly as wide.
Pindaros joined us, bringing the woman and Io. "Where have you been?" he asked me. "Io said you were up on the ridge, and she seemed worried about you. I tried to go, but Hypereides wouldn't let me, or our friend here either; afraid we'd run off, I suppose." He lowered his voice. "He was right, too, at least so far as I was concerned."
I explained lamely, "There was someone Io couldn't see. And other things."
The woman said, "You and she had better stay with us in the future."
Hypereides came to speak to Pindaros. "I know some prayers, but if you could compose something special…?"
"I'll try," Pindaros said.
"You won't have long to work on it, I'm afraid."
"I'll do the best I can. What was his name?"
"Kekrops. He was an upper-bank man, if that helps." Hypereides hesitated. "Something short enough for me to remember after hearing it once or twice."
"I'll try," Pindaros said again. He turned away, lost in thought.
The dead man was laid before the altar and a fire of driftwood kindled upon it. Ten sailors who had sworn they had good voices and no blood guilt sang a litany to the sea god:
"Horse-Breaker, Earth-Shaker, Wave-Maker, spare us!
And so on.
When they were finished, Hypereides, in full armor with his blue crest upon his helmet, cast bread into the fire and poured wine from a golden cup.
Third brother of the greater gods, By destiny, Death's king, Accept for suffering Kekrops's sake, The food, the wine we bring. He labored for thy brother, Thy brother used him sore. Accept a sailor cast adrift, Beached on thy river's shore."
Some beast howled nearby, and little Io, sitting on my right, pressed herself against me. "It's only a dog," I whispered. "Don't be frightened."
The black man reached across her to touch my shoulder. When I looked at him, he shook his head and bared his teeth.
Hypereides finished the poem in a thundering voice I would not have believed he commanded.
"Yet should the old man slacken, You'll find no better oar, To row such souls as Ocean rolls Unto Death's bitter shore."
"By all the Twelve," whispered Pindaros. "He remembered the whole of it. I wouldn't have bet a spit on him."
Hypereides then cast beans, mussels, and meat into the fire, with other things. Two sailors rushed forward with leather buckets of seawater to quench it. Two more quickly wrapped the dead man and carried him away.